#I have a feeling I’ll be able to do some pretty harmonies for this one

[doctorsiren]

okay I’m also making a serizawa song 😁😁😁

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

Something Great

Harry Styles x reader

2019 Harry era

Y/N lived a pretty simple life, well, for a 24 year old. She was a US history teacher at her local high school, and she loved what she did. When her mother calls her for a family dinner to meet a longtime friend, her life changes.

*Ding. Ding. Ding*

First thing in the morning and I was not ready for the days events. My students began to collect their things and just before I could yell to them, my mom calls. I quickly answer her FaceTime call and hold my finger up to her.

“Hold on Ma. Your cheat sheets need to be turned in Monday! If you don’t turn them in, you won’t be able to use it on your final!”

“But Miss-!”

“I have spoken! Now get outta here, all of you! Get to class and have a good weekend if I don’t see you again today.”

I hear a harmony of groans as they walk out of my room and I turn my attention to my mom.

“For someone that babies her nephews, you are kind of mean to your students, Y/N/N.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

“They’re teenagers, mama. You can’t baby them. And your grandsons are both under 3. Now what’s up? I don’t have long to chat.”

She glares and rolls her eyes at me.

“Well I just wanted to make sure it was okay to stop by in a bit. My friend is in town and we really want our families to meet and I’ll be in the area.”

I let out a small laugh as my eyes shift to the door to see my 2nd period students starting to pile in.

“I mean, I’ll be at dinner tonight so I’d just meet them then, but if you insist on stopping by, my 4th is free now since my seniors are gone. It’s just another prep period and I was just gonna do some grading.”

She nods and turns her head. She starts talking to someone and another female- with a posh British accent responds. They talk for a minute before she turns back to me.

“I’ll be there in a bit then. Love you!”

Before I can respond, she hangs up.

I sigh and prep for my next class, pushing my mother out of my mind.

>>>————->

My 3rd period just ended, so I take the opportunity to grade the essays I had assigned for one of my classes. My door opens and I look up to see my mom before looking back down. I can feel the presence of other people, but I’m far too distracted to pay them any mind.

“Yes ma’am?”

My mom only scoffs.

“I wanted to make sure you were coming to dinner. Dad misses you and he wants to see you. Your sisters will also be there. Also, I want you to meet-.”

My mom is quickly interrupted by the back door of my classroom opening. I turn my attention to the door and roll my eyes at who walks in.

“Michael, I’ve asked you not to use that door. That’s the emergency exit door.”

“But Miss, it is an emergency! You gave me a 0 for an essay that you never assigned to me!”

I sigh and shake my head. My mom lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it and I hear her walk out the room.

“I did give it to you, Michael. You folded the rubric into a paper airplane and somehow managed to poke yourself in the eye with it.”

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. My mom pats my shoulder and leaves while I deal with Michael.

I love my job but… teenagers. They’re too much sometimes…

I pull up to my parents Los Angeles home, my backpack on my shoulder as I walk in. The second I open the door, I’m tackled by my dad.

“Ay mija! Why haven’t you come to see me? You like the teenagers more?”

I laugh and shake my head as I hug him.

“I’m sorry! And you’ve been busy too with all your projects so I don’t want to hear it! But I’m here now!”

He smiles and squeezes me one more time before he sets me down. I set my backpack down on the floor by the couch and pick up my two year old nephew, Ollie, who squeals in excitement and laughter.

“Ayyy, my monkey! I heard you’ve been cursing like a sailor, haven’t you?”

He giggles and shakes his head. I talk to my dad for a bit and my dad pulls out a few of his new vinyls to show me.

“Really dad? Harry Styles? Mama is gonna kill you.”

He waves me off and shakes his head at me.

“You love his music! I bought it so we could listen to it while you’re here!”

He slips the vinyl out of the book and sets it on the record player. He places the needle on the record and music begins to pour through. My sister walks into the living room from the hallways and dad quickly grabs her, pulling her into his arms to dance.

Golden, golden, golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus, hoping

Take me back to the light

I dance around with the two year old as he giggles and I sing along. We all dance around and when my sister’s favorite song comes on, she takes her son from my arms and hands him to our dad, before taking my hands in hers as we scream out the lyrics together.

And I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry

Don’t call me “baby” again

You got your reasons

I know that you’re tryna be friends

I know you mean-

We’re cut off by my mom, whose hand is on the needle with an annoyed face.

“I’ve been calling you idiots for 10 minutes! Pedro! You came into the kitchen and I told you to get the girls! And they’re just screwing around!”

“Cariño, I was trying to let them finish! They were having fun, and unwinding without drinking! That’s a lot to be said for the both of them!”

My sister and I glare at him and we let out a scoff.

“Heyyyy….!”

My dad only rolls his eyes and puts the vinyl away. My eyes finally turn back to my mom and I’m now noticing her guests. A woman, around my mom’s age, another around my sister’s and- holy shit.

“Hey, Y/N, isn’t he…”

I blush and immediately advert my eyes. My mom scoffs but I refuse to look up.

“Y/N, seriously. Be polite. Look at our guests like the adult that you are and stop hiding like you’re 14.”

I groan but nod, finally making eye contact with his gorgeous, smiling face.

“Y/N, Sofia, this is Anne. This is her daughter Gemma and her son Harry.”

It’s quiet for a minute until a little voice, belonging to Ollie, speaks up.

“Oh fuck.”

Sofia and I fight to hold back our laughter as my mom glares at us, until we can’t take it anymore. Sofia snorts and I pick up Ollie as I laugh and turn to my sister.

“You see, he is learning Sof! He’s a little genius!”

My mom rolls her eyes and huffs as she storms off into the kitchen. It’s quiet for a minute before my mom shouts from the kitchen.

“Sofia Alexandra! Get in here! Now!”

Sofia and I begin to laugh again. She saunters off to the kitchen, laughing her ass off, leaving me in the living room with my dad, my mom’s friend and her children. It’s quiet for another second when I hear a baby start to cry and I look at Ollie, only to find out he wasn’t the one crying.

I turn my foot and head down the hallway and open the door to the guest room. My eyes catch the almost one year old, my youngest nephew Grayson, crying his eyes out while standing in the pack and play. My expression lightens and I take him into my arms.

“Did you just wake up little man? Do you want some snuggles? Yeah?”

His little hands grasp my shirt tightly and I can’t help but smile. He sniffles and whimpers as I carry him out of the room and rejoin the others in the living room. Ollie and my dad smile when they see us and Ollie reaches out to me.

“Atie!”

I smile and Ollie begins to kick in my dad’s arms.

“Oliver Thomas, we don’t kick, remember? That’s not nice. Be nice to Papa. Use your big words.”

Ollie stops and looks at my dad.

“Papa atie? Atie?”

Dad laughs and nods. He sets down Ollie and takes Grayson from me. I pick up Ollie and look at my dad.

“Will you get Gray a bottle? He’ll probably start crying again in a minute or two.”

Dad nods and smiles and looks to the older woman next to him.

“Anne, would you like to join me? Maybe keep my wife from killing anyone and burning the food.”

She laughs and nods before following him into the kitchen and they disappear. It’s quiet for a minute until Ollie wiggles in my arms.

“Coco? Coco Atie?”

I sigh and shake my head.

“Let’s watch Coco later, monkey. We like these nice new people and they shouldn’t have to suffer through Coco. How about SpongeBob?”

“Sponbob?”

He wiggles again and I nod. I set up the tv and he starts to dance around and sing along to the theme song quietly. I smile and check my phone for a second when I hear my mom call from the kitchen.

“Y/N! Could you put on some music please?”

“No!”

My dad sticks his head out, raising his eyebrow at me and I only smirk and he laughs, going back to what he was doing. I plug in my phone to the house surround system and immediately panic at the song that comes on.

Counted all my mistakes and there's only one

Standing out from the list of the things I've done

All the rest of my crimes don't come-

I skip it immediately and I blush. He clears his throat and I look up, finally meeting his eyes.

“You don’t have to skip it- I like that song.”

I blush even more and I shake me head.

“No it’s okay. My mom will flip out. She doesn’t um- really like the music that I listen to? She would um… Want to listen to that… I was just gonna put on her playlist. Not that she doesn’t like you! She just-.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone has their own taste in music.”

I bite my lip and nod, not knowing what else to say to break the silence.

It isn’t until after dinner that I really get to talk to him.

I sit in my usual spot on the balcony while everyone else sits outside enjoying the summer heat. I hear the door open and I turn my head to see Harry walking towards me with a smile before taking a seat at the table.

“I was wondering where you had disappeared too. Your mum thought you went home.”

I sigh and shake my head, gripping the red pen in my hand.

“I’m just grading papers. It’s quiet here. My roommates are at my house so I can’t focus with all the noise.”

He smiles and nods and I go back to my grading.

“You’re a teacher, right? I liked your classroom-.”

My eyes widen and I cough.

“Wait you saw my classroom?!”

He chuckles and smiles.

“Earlier. For a few minutes. Your mum was showing us around. She was so excited. You had a giant tapestry with my face on it-.”

I blush and bite my lip, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Birthday surprise from my seniors. They um- know how much I like you…”

He smiles and takes the pen out of my hand, causing me to look into his eyes.

“Well I like you too. Would you want to get dinner some time? I’m about to start touring soon but I’d really love to see you more.”

My face burns up and even more.

“God I um- I don’t even know what to say…”

I put my papers down on the table and turn all my attention to his smiling face.

“Have dinner with me, Y/N. I’ll cook for you. My place? Maybe tomorrow night? If it would make you uncomfortable I understand but-.”

I smile and kiss his cheek, causing him to blush.

“I’d love to Harry. Dinner sounds great.”

I smile and his eyes light up. We continue to talk and laugh as I grade papers.

A month later

“Specially delivery for Miss Y/N!”

I look up from my desk and see Harry walking into my classroom with a bouquet of flowers and a plastic bag.

“Oh you are definitely the sweetest. You didn’t have to do this Harry!”

He smiles and shakes his head as he kisses my cheek before sitting down in the seat in front of my desk.

“I couldn’t let you suffer! I know you didn’t exactly want to teach summer school-.”

Before he can say anything else, my door opens to reveal one of my seniors, now a graduate, pushing a big box in.

“Ally! What are you doing here? You’ve graduated, you don’t have to be here.”

She laughs and shakes her head, disregarding the fact that Harry is there.

“Oh I know miss Y/N but your birthday present finally came in! I’m sorry it’s so late but I wanted to deliver it as soon as I could. Open it!”

I laugh and walk around my desk, opening the big box.

“Good god Allison.”

She laughs and I sigh as I pull it out of the box.

“A cardboard cutout of Draco Malfoy? At this point I’m gonna have an army of these things.”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Wait you have more? Where?”

Ally gasps and goes for the closet behind my desk.

“Wait you hid them again?! Come on!”

She starts to pull out the other cutouts and place them where they were before.

“Come on Miss. Y/N. You love them! Be proud!”

I roll my eyes and blush.

“Thank you, Ally! Now get out of here! I have a class in a bit and you’re not supposed to be here!”

She laughs and waves before running out of the room. Harry looks around and laughs.

“You have cutouts of both myself and Niall?! How did I not know this?”

I sigh and lean into his arms.

“Gag gifts from students. And the day you came last, I had an eval with the principal do I hid them.”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my head.

“Did you ever kiss that cutout of me? Pretending it was the real thing?”

I groan and look him in the eyes.

“Oh god! Harry!”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“Guess you don’t need to do that anymore. Why don’t you give the real Harry a kiss?”

I snort and shake my head, pecking his lips. We spend the rest of my lunch together and I am thankful for every ounce of time I have.

>>>—————->

Hope this was okay! I struggled with this one for a bit!

Please like and reblog!

@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran @babyiamperfectforyou @freedomfireflies @kaminokatiee @harrysmimi@violetsandfluff @fruitmans @fruitmansrecs @strwbrrydaydreams @rafaaoli @kimmi-kat @erggggggggg

[screechthemighty]

More fanfic updates?? What is this, the blog of a productive writer??? It happens sometimes. Note that this chapter pretty heavily features an OC for this canon, so if you haven't read "steal my heart and break my pride", her showing up might not make sense. But also with the fandom being made up of ten people and a shoe, I assume you guys already have, lol. Anyways, on with the show!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanfic part four

The first thing Cooper did when they entered Harmony’s orbit was contact Alicia. He’d already confirmed she was stationed there—a fact that cast the planet’s near-demise in a new and more terrifying light—so it was just a matter of contacting the right department and asking if she was in.

“Jack?” Alicia said.

Hearing her voice again made him suddenly, fiercely homesick. “Hey,” Cooper mumbled. “So, uh…guess who’ll be in town soon?”

“Hang on.” Cooper heard her phone being put down and the distant sound of a door closing. When Alicia returned to the call, she had the same tone she used whenever the local farm gossip was especially juicy: “Dude, did you guys really blow a hole in a planet?!”

Cooper made a strangled noise that felt like either a laugh or a sob. Not even he was sure which. “I…” He took a second to collect himself. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to answer that.”

“In that case, I won’t ask. Just promise me I’ll be the first one you tell when it’s declassified.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Are you okay?”

“Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally…” He had to take another second. “I understand if you’re busy, but if you have time…I could really use a familiar face.”

 “Absolutely.” She heard the sound of a keyboard in the background as she kept talking. “What time are you landing?”

“Hour or so, but I know I have to talk to some other people first. I can meet you wherever you are if that works?”

“Sounds good. I should be able to get off early. A few people owe me one." She gave him her number and instructions on how to find the main supply headquarters. “There’s a lot of signage, so you shouldn’t get too lost. Give me a call whenever you’re available. I can always come to you if anything goes wrong.”

“Copy that. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Jack.”

At least he’d have that to look forward to. Cooper tried to focus on the upcoming meeting, not the negatives of what landing would mean.

It was hard when he had to put back on his old rifleman gear—the only other clothes he had—and carefully fold up Lastimosa’s gear. He might have been a pilot now, but wearing Lastimosa’s gear when he went to see his family felt wrong. He didn’t want to get Cassie’s hopes up.

What do I say to her? What does anyone say in this situation? He wasn’t sure who to ask. He’d actually dug up a blank death report as they approached the planet, just to get an idea of the script. The form felt so impersonal, cold. That wasn’t going to work at all. Not when Lastimosa had meant something to him, too.

Maybe start there? We both lost someone important to us. Could be a point of connection.

Hopefully it would read as empathetic and not that he was trying to make it all about him.

Cooper joined the rest of the SRS as they readied to depart. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone. He tried not to look at any of the Titans. He kept his arms wrapped around Lastimosa’s gear and tried to rehearse what he’d say to Cassie.

I’m sorry…he died a hero…no, not that, it doesn’t make any of it better.

I’m sorry. He saved my life. That just makes it my fault, doesn’t it?

I’m sorry. I know what you’re going through. No, no, that does feel like I’m making it all about me…

The doors opened, letting in a flood of late afternoon sunlight. There were people outside, families and friends of the other people. There was a lot less decorum this time; everyone departed in a formless crowd, running to the people they recognized. Cooper stepped out slowly, carefully scanning the clusters of people.

I’m sorry. He was a good man. I only hope I’m half the pilot he is…

His heart caught in his throat.

He’d seen Cassie’s picture once. It was an older picture, but she hadn’t changed too much since it had been taken. She was standing next to a blond woman in a technician’s jumpsuit. Cassie looked right past Cooper as she scanned the crowds; the blond woman looked right at him.

She knows. Cassie doesn’t. So he would be the one to break the news to her. Cooper swallowed hard as he approached. Cassie finally noticed him as he got closer, then noticed what he was holding.

“I’m sorry…” Cooper croaked out.

“No,” Cassie interrupted. “No.” There were tears in her eyes immediately; when the blond woman tried to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, Cassie shook it off and bolted.

Do I go after her? What should I do? Cooper looked helplessly at the woman Cassie was with, but she was frozen, too, her eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry,” Cooper repeated.

“It’s not your fault.” The woman shook her head. “I should go after her. I was hoping to have a word, but it can wait.”

She must have been the woman from R&D that Briggs had mentioned. Cooper was glad she wasn’t going to try and go through with the meeting. He didn’t have it in him to talk right now. “That’s fine,” he managed to choke out, though he wasn’t sure she heard. She was already jogging in the same direction as Cassie.

That was that, Cooper supposed. Some homecoming.

Someone approached him. “You okay?” Briggs asked.

He wasn’t.

“Can I go?” Cooper asked.  It wasn’t very professional, but he couldn’t be there anymore.

“Of course. We’ll send you your room assignment. Do what you have to.”

Cooper nodded and walked off, hugging Lastimosa’s gear to his chest. He didn’t think he’d be able to talk, but all he could think about was seeing Alicia. Just having someone around who really knew him.

He didn’t want to be Jack Cooper, freshly minted pilot and hero. He just wanted to be Jack.

.

Alicia was able to give him very clear instructions on how to get to employee parking. She was already there when Jack arrived, standing next to a motorbike. She hadn’t changed all that much since he’d seen her last. Cooper knew she’d cut her hair, but she’d worn it up all the time back on Persephone, so he didn’t really notice a difference. It was a relief to see that at least one of them hadn’t changed. “This is all I’ve got,” she said apologetically. “Are you okay to ride double, or do you want me to find something else?”

Cooper had hoped he’d be up for talking when he saw her again, but no dice. Alicia caught on quickly, though. “Right hand for bike, left hand for other?” she offered. Cooper raised his right hand. “Cool. Hop on.”

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were home, sharing a ride because the other person’s bike had broken down or another family member needed it. He allowed himself to dwell in that fantasy while the ride lasted, to imagine that he could smell the crops and hear harvesting machines off in the distance. He was almost hesitant to open his eyes when the bike stopped, but what he saw when he did wasn’t awful. It looked like a public garden, one not too occupied, either. It wasn’t home, but he could work with it.

Alicia led him to an isolated corner near a fountain. They sat together on a bench, staring out over a sea of green and brightly-colored flowers. The temperature here really was good for growing, Cooper noticed. If he’d been in a better headspace, he probably would’ve tried to identify some of the plants in sight. All he could do now was appreciate that they were still there.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alicia said, “and I’ll be quiet if that’s what you need. But I’m really glad you’re okay, Jack.”

Cooper nodded. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself and closed his eyes. He let the quiet and the presence of his friend settle over him. He couldn’t say that he felt peaceful, but he slowly started to feel better than he had. Eventually, he was able to speak.

“I can’t talk about it yet.”

Alicia nodded. “That’s fine. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Some of it might be confidential. Have to worry about that now.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re pretty good at keeping secrets, at least. Are you hungry yet?”

Cooper took a deep breath and carefully considered the question. “Not yet. Might have to force something. I can’t…actually remember when I ate last.”

“I can make congee. Show you my place. It’s not a bad little apartment, all things considered. Bigger than my room at home, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He could probably handle congee. “Might fall asleep on your couch.”

“You won’t. It’s an awful couch. Trust me. You’d be better off on the floor.”

He’d fall asleep on a pile of rocks at this point. Anything to make the aching feeling in his body go away.

“You’re not alone anymore, Jack,” Alicia added. “You’ve got me now, too. Just…try to remember that.”

He was glad she hadn’t said like before. Nothing about this situation was like the good old days. They could never go back…and honestly, the good old days hadn’t been that good since he was a kid.

But he’d take any improvement he could get. Especially since it involved her.

[barbiebutgayer]

Rating Talia al Ghul’s Outfits:

*disclaimer this is just my personal opinion based on my style/taste and everyone style’s different so take this with a grain a salt*

1. Starting out LOVE the Matcha green color on her and we already know this girly can rock a skin tight leather anything at this point. Personally, wouldn’t have added a belt but we know if miss girl can incorporate an accessory to her look she will take the opportunity. It does bring more attention to her shape because it hits right under her natural waistline that, mixed with how the neckline hits, creates a nice harmony that compliments her figure well. I’ll give the nails a bonus point as well. My only downside is that while cute it would be a headache to wear with that fabric all day. I know queen is picking the wedgies out left and right when she wears this. Also she only has a front zipper which means she has to peel off that entire suit just to use the bathroom especially when it’s hot outside. With all that being said I’ll give it 6/10. The color of the suit with the nails is to die for but while it’s aesthetically is cute it’s a little underwhelming. Also the idea of trying to peel that off at the end of a long day is a no for me.

2. Love Love Lovveeee this one!! Her in vibrant pinks slay every time it’s always a vibe like you go you dramatic lil groovy barbiecore gal 💞 Anyways getting onto the look the waistline is gorgeous it looks like either gold boning or fabric draped down along the body whatever it is it’s stunning and adds a dramatic yet dainty detail. I’m also loving the pleats on the skirt and the sleek sophisticated yet playful feel the fabric and sleeves gives her. I know this one is a specific type of taste but personally it’s a yes for me I’d give this one an 10/10 Ik Ik it’s only the 2nd one I’ve rated but I’m a big fan of this look and am always here for a good high neck moment also feeling the slit yes queen get the airflow. That is one downside of the dress is the slit fairly high so prone it accidentally flashing and some people could find the high neck stiff and restricting but overall with the shape, color, fabric, the gold on the dress paired with matching gold bracelets the look gives a very feminine elegance that while soft makes a powerful statement.

3. …..total early 2010s vibes with the chunky bracelet paired with the even chunkier necklace. It’s perfect for the era of when this comic came out but I’m sorry it’s not the vibe personally. Love the shoes and the blouse but just maybe not with that skirt paired together. Or you know what the outfit is do able I take that back the combo isn’t too bad. It’s just not the best for what she’s trying to do like I’m sorry this doesn’t scream “I’m the woman who’s going to world dominate and take your business” she’s still girl bossing and dominating yes, but in a Vegas Nightclub Receptionist way. Which isn’t a bad thing I say that as someone from there. It’s just idk something about it ain’t hitting. My baby is always pretty and her hair flows gorgeously in harmony with her blouse maybe it’s her stance the photo but idk I’d give it a 3.5/10. 🤷‍♀️

4. A simple look but she does her job bringing back the hot pink in the form of cargo pants. It’s Talia’s world and everyone else just lives in to when she walks around in pink. Her blouse is super cute and length of her sleeves give her a “let’s get down to business” energy. It’s not her most over the top and flashier moments but it’s giving effortless intelligent beauty who might or might not be some sort of doctor/professor. I’d give it a 7/10 nothing bad aesthetic wise and comfort wise you’re pretty set. A little bit on the basic side for someone like Talia but for someone who constantly wears statement pieces. A casual civilian moment is refreshing to see on someone like her. Definitely a perfect outfit to for a cute hiking date or mission with Bruce. Not high enough to be a 10 but too cute of an outfit to be a 5.

5. Yeah you know not really feeling this one either. I know different artist have done variants of this suit but no matter the art style it just doesn’t do any thing for me aesthetic wise. Like idk what it is about it because I ofc love white on her and I can appreciate the symbolism behind the suit but idk i feel like they could of gone different directions. The suit just is a little stiff looking. Which I know that is the point of the look but I’m sure she definitely not comfortable imagine getting a back itch in this outfit not the vibe. The gloves are little too medical feeling especially with the straight jacket looking bands. I know I’m tearing into this one but a positive of the look is the texture of the suit I do like that added detailing gives her a bite of a regal white knight in shining armor feel. Overall would give it only a 3/10.

6. Idk about y’all but I’m feeling the long slit midi skirt with the black garter or weapon giving a free little show. The whole ensemble all together gave camp steampunk pirate feel in the best way. What I’ve learned making this post is that our girl loves a good blouse and any outfit she pair with it. The sleeves on this one is a lot more of a puffier bishop than the ones she’d d normally wear. I also really like the little belt she has sitting at her natural waist with the gold in the center. It’s a tiny detail but the gold on the belt pick up on the gold rose on her skirt. I’d rate this one a solid 8/10 maybe that’s too high of a rating but it’s different it’s dramatic without it being too over the top. Very Talia as well. 🏴‍☠️

7. It’s iconic, it’s an OG style on the queen we all know and love just with added accessories. Always the moment whenever she wears this type of style dress and she knows it. It’s a 9.5/10 ofccc! Love the plunging neckline again personally wouldn’t of done a belt if so maybe a gold one to pair with the gold jewelry but maybe that would of been too much gold and draw too much attention. Her shoes are so cute and look comfy which is a plus. Her cape piece and how the fabric falls gives her such an ethereal but modern essence when she walks through the door.

8. -10000/10 Love an orange moment on her just not when it’s a prison uniform…. #freemygirl

9. Another iconic look from an iconic moment. She reminds me of the blue fairy from Pinocchio. The twinkle in the night serving femme fatale but also girl next door at the same time with the pink dainty shoes. A simple but timeless dress comfortable enough to tend to Bruce’s wounds while also looking good. Some people might say it give night gown vibes but in a 13 going on 30 way. I’d give it a 7/10

10. Basically her high neck pink dress but in a sun-kissed orange and more gold accents with a ruby gem draped over her waistline with a slit. My god and though SLEEVES giving Shakespearean vibes ! 😍 Since it’s a version of the other one ofc I’m going to give it a 10/10 🧡

But yeah that’s it maybe I’ll make a part 2

[bolin-and-pabu]

Avatar Twins

So there’s a few ways this can go and I’ll explain them all as much as I can, you’re welcome to suggest feedback just don’t be rude about it 😕 please.

#1 One Twin

This version is when only one of the twins becomes the Avatar which is probably the most logical since Raava is only one entity therefore only one Avatar.

If I were to choose this way I’d have the other twin be jealous or envious of the Avatar due to all the attention they got, how many friends they made just for being the Avatar, stuff like that.

Then we can have the non Avatar twin either explain to the Avatar how they feel or they can become the villain and we get twin angst.

#2 Both Twins

This version is less likely to happen but it’s when both twins end up becoming the Avatar. One can help with the spirits and the spirit world while the other helps the people or they can do them together.

For rivalry if wanted it can be that one twin learnt the elements faster than the other or that one of them has a stronger spiritual connection.

#3 Vaatu

In this scenario it is destiny that the twins grow to be enemies, one being the Avatar and possessing Raava while the other grows hateful and seeks out Vaatu to become the Anti-Avatar.

And so it becomes destiny that Avatar Twins are destined to fight just like Raava and Vaatu every 10,000 years. Which may end in death of one twin or a pair of twins decide they don’t want to fight each other.

#4 My Idea

Now my idea is probably the most far fetched among these ideas. My idea is that both twins are the Avatar but they only posses two elements each for me to explain this we’re going to call one twin Lia and the other Loki (not the offical names) just so we don’t get them confused.

Lia for example will be able to bend Fire and Air while Loki can bend Water and Earth, making Lia able to talk to the spirits and Loki can heal people as for sub bending Lia will be able to bend lightning and Loki can metal bend, they may or may not have had some accidental zaps.

My idea for the Avatar State is that both twins have to fight together in harmony (get it harmonic convergence) as if they’re fighting as one. Which for Lia and Loki is hard at the beginning since everyone knows siblings have their usual bickers, there could be jealousy involved about which twin got which elements or maybe Lia is reckless and gets hurt a lot causing Loki to have to heal her quite frequently.

My idea for genders is that they were born identical girls but Loki decided he was a boy, so face wise they’re still pretty identical with face shape and all that. I will provide drawings for this whenever I’m able but don’t expect anything good 😭 I’m not that good I just wanna make visuals incase my words aren’t getting my idea across.

Personality wise they’re gonna pretty much stick to canon with Lia being fearless, stubborn, aggressive, strong, reckless and rebellious. While Loki is gentle, sweet, empathetic, caring, worried easily and innocent. Not saying Lia isn’t those things as well, as they face their enemies they may begin to change and adapt each others personality.

Finding out the twins were the Avatar was pretty tricky, their parents are an Earth bender and Fire bender so they didn’t question when Lia was bending Fire and Loki was bending Earth, it wasn’t until the twins were 15 on a particularly hot Summer where Lia just couldn’t stand the heat and decided to cool her and Loki down with Air bending. At this point their parents think that Lia is the Avatar but no matter how good the Earth and Water teacher are she can’t learn them. It’s during one day at practice that Lia gets too frustrated and accidentally throws Fire towards Loki who puts it out with a Water bender move which shocks everybody there.

They travel to see the Air Nomads lead by Jinora and Kai (Who are very grown), Kai is pretty shocked at this discovery but Jinora just smiles having already been told by the Spirits that something like this might happen. The twins are sent to each nation to learn from the best teachers available, Loki learns Water bending from the Northern Tribe, Lia learns Air bending from Jinora and Kai, Loki learns Earth and Metal bending from the Beifong family and Lia learns Fire bending in Republic City by a Pro bender.

Their animal guides are a white wolf and a black wolf (Ying Yang)

Their first time in the Avatar state isn’t for a while since at first they can’t really seem to work together due to how different their styles are. The first time they do they’re 17 years old and are fighting Chi blockers causing Lia to be the right arm and leg and Loki to be the left making them fight together as one.

I think I covered everything?? If there’s anything else you’d like to know about them just ask! 🤗

[greenlikethesea]

five songs you listen to - greenie gets personal edition

🎶✨ when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to. then send this ask or tag 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)✨🎶

tagged by @tolkientrash! thank you!

i just did one of these, but i think that whenever i’m tagged, i’m gonna do one of these. i do listen to these songs on the regular, but these hold very specific memories for me. get ready! i like writing them, and you all seem to like them. maybe they’re self indulgent, but it’s been nice to share. I have a few tags to catch up on and I will get there!

1. Whiskey - Nicole Reynolds

when i was newly 19, i went to a house party that was also sort of a jam session, a few blocks away from my house. i brought my ukulele, inside my big coat because i didn’t have a case for it, even though i only knew a few chords. there was a girl there -- we’ll call her b -- that intrigued me, but i wasn’t sure why. my own feelings about girls were rich and complicated, having been burned by my ex-girlfriend in high school, but i wanted her to notice me. after a while of mingling, i ducked into a side room, where she was fiddling around on her guitar -- a far better player than i ever will be. she started playing this song, whiskey, a tune about loving someone despite their flaws. the tune is easy to discern, so i was able to pick up a harmony pretty quickly, and our eyes met. i figured it out -- i liked her. i wanted to know her the way nicole reynolds knew her lover.

2. Puzzle Pieces - Tiger Trap

as some of you know, i dated the same person on and off for seven years. we dated all throughout high school, took a break (where i dated b -- i’ve never cheated), and then resumed the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college. i went to his house in the guise of going to a hike, but that was a bullshit ruse -- i went over to have sex with him. and we did. and we laid together, me unsure of what had happened, because he always kept his feelings to his chest. but he got his ipod and put one earbud in each ear, and started to play this song. “whenever i played this song, i thought of you. it was your song.” he had never gotten over me. i was, at least for a time, his puzzle piece.

3. everyone blooms - The Front Bottoms

after I broke up with the person mentioned in 2, we attempted to maintain a friendship. this, predictably, did not go well, but a safe topic for us was always the music we had in common. when this album came out, we both discussed our favorite tracks and his happiness about the return to form (i had liked going grey, nut he hated it for being too poppy.) we both carefully avoided talking about this particular track, which felt too familiar for comfort. “sometimes we talk/it’s a total mistake/just the memories of us/feel so real, must be fake.” this, in turn with the music, dizzying and the sonic equivalent of banging your head on a wall after spinning in a circle, contributes to the crushing, quiet desperation of it being too late to change, but that’s okay. “wherever you are, don’t worry/you’re gonna be fine, fine, fine/everyone blooms in their own time”

4. So Unaware - Best Coast

the corniest thing about me, probably, is that I like to listen to music by California artists when I’m in California. best coast, to me, represents what SoCal is now — dreamy, lonely, vast, vacuous but for pockets where you find meaning. Bethany Cosentino is a lyricist who gets straight to the point, and her arrangement work with Bobb Bruno on this album is all structured around a descending arpeggio of a guitar riff. the primary lyrical theme is myopia, either on her part or the part of her departed lover. and man, there,s something about winding around mountains, 65 in a 40, with the exasperated plea, “I’ll never understand you, never understand you, never understand you now.”

5. West Coast - Coconut Records

alright, so I will own that this pick is me being sentimental and romantic. lyrically, this song is so subtly artful that you barely notice it on the first lesson. I’m a real fan of two things this song masters: a simple image being a stand-in for an evocative feeling (“I love you, standing all alone in a black coat” — small, stark, a pop of inky dark in east coast grey, singular in the eye of the beholder) and a chorus beginning and ending with the same line, with the meat of the sandwich changing the line from start to finish (“I miss you, I’m going back home to the west coast” — in the beginning, a simple statement of intent, but by the end, the narrator wishing his love would stop him).

Sorry, that was deeply personal and you did not ask for all that! But welcome to my brain!

Do not feel obligated at allllll — Tagging some of the usual suspects and a few newbies @friendship-switchblades @sparklyslug @serskets @gothbat99 @sea-heaux @dallae @xstevex-world @dodger-chan @leftofus @geddyqueer

[shiningwonderland]

Ranmaru Kurosaki (All Star)

Translator: Raine (Twitter: amagiyas)

Proofreader: Shu (Twitter: coldcagelord), Belen (Twitter: reiharus)

Editors: Lacey (Twitter: fairyharp), Maddy (Twitter: plantboness), Mae (Twitter: itoshikimaegirl)

Chapter Three — Stray Cats' Harmony

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ...y. … Hey.

Mmm… huh…? Just where… am I?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey… you can’t sleep here.

“Here”…?

If I recall, I'm in one of the meeting rooms sorting out some documents….

Haruka Nanami: Uhh… ah…. I’m not done yet…. I’ll do it now….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You—oi, don’t pull my sleeve. … What are you, half asleep? I’m tellin’ you to wake up!!

Kurosaki… senpai…?

I wake up with a jolt.

Haruka Nanami: Good morning!!

I raise my head from the desk and jump to my feet.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Don’t gimme “good morning.” You looked pretty comfortable there, sleepin' without a care in the world. But this ain’t your bedroom, it’s a meeting room.

I’m gonna start reading over the documents for my next job here, so get a move on and clean up.

He starts tapping his fingers on the desk as he finishes speaking.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, right away!

I gather up the documents and memos that are scattered across the desk.

After the phone call from Kurosaki-senpai, I was able to receive his guidance a couple of times in between various tasks and continued to work on the unit song.

In addition, there was the drama job I had from before, for which the BGM needs to be recorded again due to a change in content, and the mixdown for the PV that was shot last month.

A lot of different jobs have piled up, and so I was up until dawn last night, working in my room.

It’s difficult to meet all of the demands, but every job is important to me, so I don’t want to compromise on any of them.

With that in mind, I’ve been trying to do my best but… it seems I’ve reached my limit. While calculating expenses and doing routine tasks such as sorting out documents in this room, I must have fallen asleep.

The tempo at which Kurosaki-senpai is tapping on the desk gradually gets faster.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry! I’m almost done.

While feeling his cold gaze on me, I quickly tidy up the desk.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah…. So, how’s the song coming along?

Haruka Nanami: Mm, I’m working on it little by little.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ”Little by little”? You idiot, it’s already December. This ain’t the time to be taking things slowly. The show’ll be over before you know it.

Taking a seat, Kurosaki-senpai begins to spread out his documents.

Haruka Nanami: December… ah, but my drama work and the mixdown for the PV is finished now. So I should be able to pick up the pace a little. And I think I’ll be able to sleep a little from tonight.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You tellin’ me you haven’t slept ‘til today?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, for about two or three days….

As I say that, my body suddenly starts to waver. When I stretch out my hands to steady myself, my bag, which had been on the seat next to me, falls over and the contents spill out.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey, what are you…. What’s this? An apron…?

He picks up the apron from Kitchen Parsley.

It’s almost the same as the one worn by the Old Woman and he can instantly tell by the embroidery on the pocket.

Haruka Nanami: Um, this is….

I’m lost for words.

The truth is, the work I was tasked to do by the president finished at the end of last month.

However, the new part-timer might not be able to come yet, so I offered to stay for an extra two weeks to help them out. At the time, my schedule wasn’t that full, and I was worried about the restaurant, so….

If Kurosaki-senpai knew about that, he would surely get angry. What should I say?

Select the phrase!

It’s the apron from Kitchen Parsley. (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s the apron… from Kitchen Parsley.

He places the apron on the desk in front of me with a thud.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I know that. I can tell just by lookin’ at it. I’m asking why you have it.

Haruka Nanami: Well you see, that….

I’ve been practicing my cooking. (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: The truth is I’ve started to take lessons in cooking!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oh, that’s great. Where is it? Some Western-style restaurant outta town?

Haruka Nanami: Uh….

He already saw through my lie.

It’s a cosplay. (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: You see, that’s um… a cosplay.

I begin to tell a lie in desperation.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You expect me to believe that? Your lies ain’t convincing at all. Someone can tell right away.

I give in and explain to him what had happened.

At first, I was tasked with the job of helping Kitchen Parsley as an order from the president. After that, I continued to help them of my own accord.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I didn’t know at all…. I haven’t been to the restaurant recently, but I can’t believe you were working there….

He sighs deeply.

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry, it was hard to tell you….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I don’t care about the work, but you’re too soft. In your case, focusing on your current task should be your first priority.

First, you should complete the unit song and work towards debuting from there. You haven’t been able to finish even one thing, so helping people….

In my drowsiness, Kurosaki-senpai’s voice drifts further and further away.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Don’t fall asleep while standing up!

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry!!

Once I lose focus, I’m suddenly overcome by drowsiness. I quickly slap my cheeks.

As I’m hitting myself and glance up, my eyes catch sight of the clock in the meeting room. The time is 4:30 p.m.

Haruka Nanami: Wah!? It’s that time already. I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re talking, but I have to be going now!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Going… to work?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, I promised the Old Woman that I would be there today. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.

As I say that, I begin to stumble.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Look at you, you’re staggering. If you go to work as you are now, you’ll just be in the way. Don’t hurt their sales.

Haruka Nanami: But we have lots of reservations today, and if I don’t go…. I was able to sleep for a little bit before, so I’ll be fine.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Even though you were standing there, falling asleep while I was scoldin’ ya? Geez….

After heaving a sigh, Kurosaki-senpai picks up his documents and stands, making his way to the door at the entrance.

Haruka Nanami: Um….

Of course I made him angry. He must be tired of me by now….

I thought that he was leaving, but he gets to the door and looks back at me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What’re you standing around for? You said there’s no time, didn’t ya?

Haruka Nanami: Yes…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’ve finished up my work for the day. I can look over those documents later.

Haruka Nanami: What are you trying to say…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’m sayin’ I’m gonna go with you and help out, so follow me! C’mon, let’s get moving!

Banging on the wall with his fist, he opens the door.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!!

I hurriedly go after him.

We made a rush for it and got to the restaurant, barely making it in time.

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry for being late!

The Old Woman is standing in front of the restaurant, having just displayed the signboard for the dinner menu.

Old Woman: Ah, thank you for the hard work. It’s okay, you didn’t have to rush. Oh my, Ranmaru-chan!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Y-yo….

Old Woman: Look, dear! Ranmaru-chan is here!

The Old Woman runs back inside the restaurant with light, quick steps. The customers who are already inside look our way, wondering what’s happened.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: H-hey hold up, hold up! Don’t use such a loud voice! Argh… how you doin’, Gramps?

Kurosaki-senpai enters the restaurant, and I follow after him.

Haruka Nanami: Wow….

Returning to the kitchen after getting changed, I find Kurosaki-senpai already there, also wearing a chef’s jacket.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You’re late! We’ve already got orders coming in!

Banging the edge of the pot with his ladle, Kurosaki-senpai raises his voice.

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, you look good in that chef’s jacket.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Is it really the time t' be saying that? Well, I used to work here, so of course it would suit me. But I didn’t think that the one I used to wear back then would still be here.

He touches the edge of the jacket as he says this.

There’s a sense that there's some history behind the chef’s jacket. It's been washed and arranged neatly, but there's still a slight burn mark left on the cuff. I guess the old couple took good care of it and kept it here all this time.

Kurosaki-senpai stirs some homemade tomato sauce in a pot.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Gramps, did ya change the recipe for the sauce? It's gotten sweeter.

Old Man: Really? I've had a bit of a cold recently, so my tongue might not be as sharp as usual. Ranmaru-chan, you have a good tongue.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I added some more tomato puree, so we should give it another taste. Gramps… is no good. 'Kay, you then.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You eat it all the time right? Here.

He suddenly presents me with a spoon. There’s some tomato sauce on it—the same one that's served in our chicken rice. I take the spoon in my hand and taste it.

Haruka Nanami: Mmm… it's good.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Kay. If it wasn't good, it would be a problem. Remember that taste, got it?

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

Kurosaki-senpai nods in satisfaction and continues preparing the chicken rice.

I should do something to help as well….

Select the phrase!

Set the plates (+30 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I'm going to leave the plates here, okay?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Ahh, yeah. Thanks.

Haruka Nanami: This one is for the omurice. And this is the garnish for the hamburg steak. I'm going to keep the sauce warm in this pan, okay? Alright, I'm going to help the Old Woman with service now!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oh, sure. You're surprisingly pretty sensible with this….

That's it, keep goin' just like that.

Ahh… I received praise from Kurosaki-senpai. I have to keep doing my best.

Wipe his sweat (+10 Love)

I take a handkerchief from the pocket of my apron and wipe the sweat forming on Kurosaki-senpai's brow.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … What are you doing?

Haruka Nanami: The sweat looked like it was getting into your eye so….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … This ain't an operating room. I can wipe my own sweat, so go on and set the plates or somethin'.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!

I quickly go and look for the plates.

Ask what to do (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: What can I help with?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Aah? Well, how 'bout you start setting the plates and adding the garnish?

He promptly starts giving me instructions.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! And then?

I quickly go to retrieve the plates.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Prepare the cutlery in between and wash any dishes that come back to the kitchen. After that, you should think for yourself and look for jobs to do on your own.

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

Next to the Old Man, Kurosaki-senpai skillfully finishes cooking.

Haruka Nanami: Um, next up is two omurice. One is for a child, so please make the portion a little smaller.

“Okay,” comes the brief reply from the kitchen. The Old Man had been having some problems with his hip today, so he’s happy to have someone helping him out and wears a smile the whole time.

While Kurosaki-senpai is frying the chicken rice, he breaks an egg in one hand and pours it into another frypan. The way that he uses his hands to shake the frypan shows how he’s mastered the skill.

After I’ve finished taking orders, I return to watch him at work.

Haruka Nanami: Amazing…. I think this might be the first time I've seen rice floating in the air like that.

The chicken rice dances on top of the frypan in a rhythmical manner.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It's nothing much. I haven't been in the kitchen for a while, but it looks like my body hasn't forgotten how it's done.

He smiles a little, as if he's having fun.

After skillfully wrapping the chicken rice in the fried egg, he slides it onto a plate for serving.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It’s done, careful with it. I cut the chicken into smaller pieces for the kid, otherwise it’ll be too hard to eat.

He casually presents the plated omurice over the counter.

Haruka Nanami: Wow, thank you very much! I’ll serve it now!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Sure you can handle all those plates? You tend to be pretty clumsy…. Careful not to drop ‘em.

Even as he says that, he doesn’t let go of the plate in his hand and waits until I’m ready to receive it.

Haruka Nanami: It will be okay! I’m quite used to it by now.

As I hold the plate in my hands, Kurosaki-senpai seems to notice something.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey, hold on a sec. Forgot the finishing touch.

He turns back to the kitchen for a moment. Leaning across the counter, he places a bit of parsley on top of the omurice.

Haruka Nanami: … Parsley?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Back when I used to make it, I’d always finish it like that. Remember it well.

Kurosaki-senpai grins at me.

In the midst of the rush, we eventually find the time to catch our breath.

Old Man: Goodness, that was intense wasn’t it? Thanks for the hard work, both of you.

Haruka Nanami: Hah… if not for Kurosaki-senpai, we might have been in trouble.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: No one told me it was a group that made the reservation. Man, my arms are killin’ me. Whatever, as long as it doesn’t stop me from playing the bass…

After the dining party leaves, we all take a break in the kitchen. Having made eight servings of extra-large omurice in a row, it’s to be expected that he would be feeling tired.

Business is almost finished for the day. I pour a glass of cold water and hand it to Kurosaki-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Here you are, Senpai.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Thanks. Hey, I dunno what happened, but it looks like a lot of people have started coming here.

Gulping down the iced water in his glass, he glances in my direction.

Haruka Nanami: Thank goodness. If we keep going like this, then the restaurant will be just fine.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Optimistic, aren’t ya? Well, with the number of people who came in today, it’s almost as much as we used to have back when Gramps, Gran, and I were running the place.

Haruka Nanami: So this is what it was like.

The two of us idly look out at the restaurant, which had been full of customers up until a moment ago.

Haruka Nanami: Now, all that’s left to do is tidy up and prepare for tomorrow. Let’s keep at it for just a little while longer!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … I won’t be around to help out tomorrow. But I can deal with the preparation.

Setting down his glass of cold water with a clink, he begins talking about the demi-glace sauce with the Old Man.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oi you, start washing up. I’m gonna pass you the pot. It’s big, so make sure you handle it carefully.

Haruka Nanami: Okay!

I rush over into the kitchen.

Right after the Old Woman has shown the last customer out, the door to the restaurant opens.

Old Woman: Oh my, I’m sorry. The last orders for today have….

Thug B: We’re comin’ in! Hah, would ya look at that? Business seems to be doin’ pretty well at the moment, judging by the grandma’s expression!

Old Woman: Ah…. you’re….

In the restaurant, I can hear the voice of the Old Woman as she was closing the register, alongside a familiar male voice that I had heard somewhere before.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah? What’s going on…?

From the counter, we turn our eyes towards the dining area.

Old Woman: If it’s about the money, that should have been paid already.

Thug A: That’s only what was owed from last month! We wanted t’ come and make sure you guys were doing your work properly.

Those people are….

Haruka Nanami: Those people are… it’s the same pair of guys who came last time!

Old Man: What did you say? Agh, ow-ow-ow….

The Old Man appears from the kitchen, crouching and holding his back.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Gramps, take a seat! And you, stay right here! Got it?

Haruka Nanami: Kurosaki-senpai!

Kurosaki-senpai leaves the kitchen and heads towards the dining area.

Thug B: Don’t think that just ‘cause you paid a little of it back, you can relax. That would be a problem. If you don’t pay up then… whoops!

The man in sunglasses pretends to stagger and kicks the leg of a table. The tableware and condiments that had been on it clatter and fall to the floor.

Rolling up his sleeves, Kurosaki-senpai steps forward in front of the two men.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oi, what do you think you’re doin’? We’re closed for the day. If you’re not a customer, then hurry up and get outta here.

Saying that, he looks straight ahead at the two men.

Thug B: Who’re you, tough guy? The new cook? Hahaa.

Thug A: If ya got the funds to hire a new cook, then hurry up and give us our money back, dammit!

The irritated thug kicks a chair over with all his might.

Old Woman: Aaahh!

Taken by surprise, the Old Woman stumbles and crouches down in place. Seeing this, the other thug begins to cackle.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You’re laughin’ just ‘cause you managed to scare some old lady? What bad taste. How ‘bout you hurry up and get outta here?

Thug A: Hah, you sure talk big…. Don’t tell us what to do! If you’d like, how about you take us on, tough guy?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: No thanks.

Thug A: What’d you say?! So you don’t care what happens to these guys, do ya!

The man in the sunglasses kicks up the chair that had fallen over.

Haruka Nanami: Look out!

The chair is going to hit the Old Woman. Thinking that, I immediately rush over to where she is.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You idiot! I told you not to come out, didn’t I?!

He protects us from the flying chair as we crouch down. The chair strikes Kurosaki-senpai’s foot with full force.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Argh….

The chair makes a noise as it tumbles over.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Quit messing around, you bastards!! What kinda guy goes around kicking things towards women!

Angered, he turns his body, looking as though he’s about to face the men.

Haruka Nanami: … No…. Y-you can’t!

At that moment, I reach out my hand and grab hold of his right leg.

Senpai is an idol. If things were to become violent, I don’t know what would happen.

Haruka Nanami: You can’t…. you can’t lay a hand on them….

If you put up a fight here….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … Ow…. Hey, let go!

With a shaking hand, I take out my mobile phone from the pocket of my apron.

I start up the camera and face it towards the people in the room.

Haruka Nanami: Acting violent won’t get you anywhere! If you continue any further, I’ll record everything and report it to the police! You hear me?

Hearing my words, the two men turn towards us.

Thug A: You’re from that time….

W-what should I do? If they decide to pick a fight with us even after that….

Without thinking, I turn my gaze towards the ground when someone grasps my head.

Haruka Nanami: Augh...?!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah, how annoying, but I’ve had a moment to cool my head. It’s just as she said, there’s nothing to gain if we take this any further.

From above, I hear Kurosaki-senpai’s low voice.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Sure, there’s the problem of not paying up the money owed, but that doesn’t give you the right t’ do whatever ya like in someone’s place.

Discuss it properly if needed; it’s better to settle things the right way, instead of whatever sneaky methods you guys’ve been up to.

Upon him saying that, the two men are utterly overwhelmed. I can see them shrinking back from Senpai’s impact.

Thug B: Hey, this doesn’t sound good…. Let’s leave for now. We should contact the higher-ups and let ‘em know.

Thug A: Nothin’ good ever comes outta this shop every time we visit…. I got it. We’re leavin’, that’s what you wanted right, freakin’ cook!!

With those harsh, parting words, the two men leave the restaurant.

All of us help to clean up the mess inside the restaurant.

The Old Man is very dejected, and goes as far as to say that maybe they should close the restaurant after all. Even though customers have just started to come back, why did things turn out like this?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: If you want to close up shop, then do it. But… the thing I hate more than anything is remaining powerless.

Gramps, you had some sorta faith, and that’s why you’ve kept running the restaurant all this time right? Don't give up just ‘cause of something like this.

While mopping the floor, he says that as if talking to himself. The way he speaks is still as harsh as always, but it seems that’s Senpai’s own way of showing kindness as he still considers the restaurant.

Old Man: Thank you…. Ranmaru-chan….

Perhaps he is glad, but tears well up in the Old Man ’s eyes as a smile makes its way onto his face.

In the end, the cleaning continues until late into the night before we finally finish.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: See ya later…. I’m headed this way, y’see.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you for your hard work. And um… thank you very much.

Senpai turns to push his bike and begins walking away. However….

Haruka Nanami: Ah, your leg….

Senpai is dragging his right leg.

Haruka Nanami: … Is it from when you were hit by the chair? Are you okay? Maybe you should go to a hospital….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Somethin’ like this is nothing. Even if I did go to the hospital, having to explain what happened would just be troublesome.

Haruka Nanami: But… you look like you’re in pain. If you don’t get it treated properly….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I said I’m fine, okay?

Haruka Nanami: But…!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Even after I said that, why do you insist on following me?

He glares at me as if annoyed.

Haruka Nanami: That’s because….

Select the phrase!

You protected me. (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s because you protected me….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I didn’t do much. Those thugs just thought I was bein’ annoying and so they kicked up a fuss.

Haruka Nanami: F-for me, this is my “debt”! Just as you said, I want to return the debt properly!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah… saying whatever you like….

Heaving a sigh, Kurosaki-senpai turns and starts walking away, dragging his leg.

I’m worried about you. (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Well, I’m a little worried about you….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … I don’t like shallow sympathy. In any case, it’s just for your own self-satisfaction.

Haruka Nanami: But I really am worried about you.

Senpai looks at me for a fleeting moment, then pushes his bike along as he begins to walk slowly.

I got you involved. (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Well for starters, it was because of me that you came to help out and got involved in all this. I’m sorry….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Even if you say that, it’s not something you could have handled on your own. You don’t have to apologize for everything.

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…. Ah….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … It’s fine. Apologize as much as you want.

Exhaling as if he’s had enough, Kurosaki-senpai turns his back and starts walking away, dragging his leg.

His foot must be in pain, as I can see his eyebrows knit together as he walks slowly. For a while, I stare at his retreating back. What should I do…?

Select the phrase!

Push forward (+20 Love)

Camus-senpai’s words come to mind.

Haruka Nanami: … I have to push forward.

There’s no way that I can pull back now.

Quickening my pace, I catch up to Kurosaki-senpai.

Think of something that could be done (+15 Love)

As expected, he obviously seems to be pushing himself. If he doesn’t want to go to the hospital, then at the very least, we should treat it….

Haruka Nanami: Maybe the pharmacy will still be open. Okay!

I trot over to him.

Remain silent (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: This is worrying….

Is it really okay for me to just see him off like this? But… there should be something I can do.

While remaining silent, I run up to him.

Haruka Nanami: Please give me your bike.

With a little added force, I seize the handlebars that Kurosaki-senpai had been pushing.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Wha—hey, what are you….

Haruka Nanami: I’ll push it for you until we reach your house.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Haaah? Wait up! You don’t need to, I said ’m fine. You don’t have to bother with me. That hurts… hey!

Kurosaki-senpai follows after me while protecting his right leg.

Haruka Nanami: Do you have a compress and bandages at your place?

Senpai shakes his head.

Haruka Nanami: Then, let’s buy some on the way there. If I recall, I think there was a 24-hour pharmacy just past here….

I once went there to buy a compress for the Old Man’s back.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Don’t tell me…. Ya planning on comin’ into my house?

Haruka Nanami: I’ll go home as soon as I’m done treating you. Um, at this corner… was it a left turn?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You idiot, it’s not that way! Right! You wanna take the right road!!

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I’m sorry.

I push the bike along hurriedly.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Geez, don’t lead when you don’t even know the way. ‘Sides, why am I the one giving directions?

Having given in, Kurosaki-senpai sighs loudly.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hahh…. C’mon, it’s this way.

He quickens his pace a little and overtakes me. I follow Kurosaki-senpai, still pushing the bike.

Haruka Nanami: Here…?

After stopping at the pharmacy, we finally reach Kurosaki-senpai’s house, which is located in a two-story apartment that stands modestly at the back of the residential area. It’s a little worn-down, and there are patches of rust on the handrail of the staircase.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What’s wrong? Nervous ‘cause it’s not very idol-like?

Haruka Nanami: N-no, not at all….

Seeing my slightly perplexed look, he gives a wry smile and pulls a key from his pocket, opening the door to the room.

As we head inside and turn on the lights, a large number of CDs leap into view.

Haruka Nanami: Wahh… so many CDs. Ah, and there’s records too….

At the back of the room stands a high-grade audio set and a number of bass guitars.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’ll say this first, but I don’t have any tea. And I don’t have coffee either.

Haruka Nanami: Oh no, please don’t worry about it. Ah…!

I’m taking my shoes off when I end up kicking some sort of silver object that had been at the front door.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry! … What is this?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Aah…. I feed the stray cats that come to settle around ‘ere. I did it on a whim once and now they come every day….

Kurosaki-senpai feeding cats. I can’t imagine it, but….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: If you’re gonna come in, then hurry up and come inside. Ain’t it cold standin’ around out there?

Haruka Nanami: Oh, right. Excuse me!

I quickly take my shoes off and enter the room. It’s a one-room apartment with a small stove and sink. There are the CDs and audio set I saw earlier, along with a black sofa. Apart from those, there isn’t much else and is a very simple room.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Sit where you like. I’m gonna warm the room up now, so just bear with it for a little while.

Senpai brings out the heater from the back of the room and puts it in front of me.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I’m sorry. Thank you very much.

After that, I begin to treat his leg using the compress and bandages we bought.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: That hurts!! Ugh… don’t just… go and touch it suddenly. You surprised me.

A moment after his body starts trembling, Senpai hangs his head wearily.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry. Um… it was somewhere around here, right?

I look over his right foot when Senpai sits on the sofa; sure enough, the injury has gradually become red.

Haruka Nanami: Ahh, it’s started to swell…. Does it hurt?

I move it around to check there’s no fracture or anything.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Argh!! I told you already, that hurts! Urk, don’t move it! The heck… you trying to break my foot or somethin’?!

After shifting his body around, he glares at me in protest.

Haruka Nanami: T-t-t-that’s not it! I wouldn’t be sure without moving it…. But it seems like the bone is fine.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It ain’t that fragile…. Whatever, I’ll endure it so just hurry up and get it over with.

As if to say he’s surrendered, he sticks out his leg and looks the other way. From this angle, his face looks just like that of a child.

Haruka Nanami: Hehe, I’ll make it quick.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … Quit laughin’.

As we sit there quietly, I do my best to treat him carefully.

Haruka Nanami: There we go, all finished. If the swelling doesn’t go down, please go and visit a hospital, okay?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Sure…. I think… it’s a bit better than before.

He answers me while leaning against the sofa, swinging his leg loosely.

Haruka Nanami: That’s good to hear. Well then, I’ll be going….

As I say that and stand up, Senpai stretches out his hand and pulls me back.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I’ll call a taxi to take you back.

Haruka Nanami: Huh? I’ll be okay, I think? I more or less remember the way….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Idiot, it’s already late at night. This ain’t the time for a woman to be walkin’ around outside by herself. I would take you back myself, but not with this leg….

Kurosaki-senpai pulls his phone from his pocket and calls a taxi. I might have made things more troublesome for him instead.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Speakin’ of, what’re you gonna do about the lyrics for the unit song?

After calling the taxi, Kurosaki-senpai opens his mouth almost hesitantly.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I haven’t decided yet… I’m a little bit stumped. Writing them myself would feel off somehow....

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … I’ll write ‘em then. Give me the sheet music and a sample of the track.

Haruka Nanami: Eh… you will…?

Surprised, I ask that without thinking.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Don’t misunderstand, it’s not like I’m doing it for you or anything, okay?! We can’t sing without any lyrics and I just want to hype up the stage I’m gonna be standin' on.

Plus, I won’t be able to stand it if you start acting all full of yourself just ‘cause I let you treat me. With this… we can call it even.

Senpai says that so bluntly, but….

He’s put a lot of thought into the live show happening this month. I’m also really happy that he offered to write the lyrics.

Haruka Nanami: I understand. I’m leaving it to you!

I gladly accept his offer to help.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, the music….

I give him the CD and sheet music that I happen to keep in my bag.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ‘Kay, I’ll let you know when it’s done. Finish off the song well.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, thank you very much.

Haruka Nanami: The taxi still isn’t here yet….

A while later, there's still no sign of the taxi. Senpai sits on the sofa, lazily shaking his leg without saying a word.

Upon looking around again, there really is nothing aside from music-related things in Kurosaki-senpai’s room.

Haruka Nanami: When I first came in, I was just thinking that you have an amazing number of CDs…. Oh, and bass guitars as well.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah. As long as I have this, I don’t need anything else.

Narrowing his eyes, he looks over at the CDs and records lined up on the shelves.

Haruka Nanami: As expected, there’s a lot of rock music but… ah, there’s jazz as well.

Without realising it, my whole body leans forward.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … You interested in any of it? Pick somethin’ out and we’ll give it a listen.

His words come as a surprise.

Haruka Nanami: Eh, can I!? Um, alright then… is it okay if I ask you for your recommendation?

Kurosaki-senpai stares at me blankly.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: My recommendation? I s’pose…. There’s one I’ve been listenin’ to a lot lately. I think it should be on the highest shelf.

And so, as we wait for the taxi to come, I manage to listen to some of his collection. Leaning on the edge of the sofa, I turn my ears towards the sound as it flows from the audio set.

Even though the volume is turned down because it’s late at night, the room becomes filled with sound.

Haruka Nanami: This is great, I’m so happy….

Holding my knees, I close my eyes. Suddenly, there’s a faint laugh.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Being happy just from music alone… huh…. You really are crazy about music, aren’t ya? Well, same could be said for me….

Senpai’s voice is also more gentle than usual….

Haruka Nanami: Tee hee, we make… a good match….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah, what’re you talking about? Don’t lump me with you.

The heater has warmed up the room. One song, then two. Giving in to the music, I feel myself nodding off.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Wha—h-hey… quit leaning against me. And ‘sides… you shouldn’t be sleeping here. This ain’t some sorta lullaby.

Haruka Nanami: Mmm, it’s fine….

Slowly, all of the strength leaves my body. Kurosaki-senpai’s voice fades away as if melting into a pleasant world of music.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: That’s why I said, don’t sleep here…. Idiot, if you fall forward like that your head’s gonna…. Ah, geez… it’s no use….

Finally, I feel something like a hand touching my shoulder lightly before I fall sound asleep.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: “Meow, meow,” noisy lot aren’t you? Just be good and wait, I‘m getting it now. … Eat slowly, no need to rush.

Haruka Nanami: … Hmm…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Man, you haven’t changed a bit. Always the first to finish. H-hey wait, don’t go there. The girl’s still asleep….

I hear a cat meowing close to my ear.

Haruka Nanami: ...!?

I open my eyes.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oh, you’re up.

Haruka Nanami: Huh!? What!?

In my surprise, I spring wide awake. I realize that somehow I’ve fallen asleep on top of the black sofa. The moment I sit up, a hand towel falls away with a thud.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Barging into a man’s room and then falling asleep when you feel like it, you’ve got some nerve haven’t you?

Kurosaki-senpai is in front of me, holding a silver plate in hand. I can hear the chirping of sparrows coming from outside.

Haruka Nanami: Um… is it morning?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah.

There’s a cat clinging to his legs, circling him round and round. So that means… what he’s holding in his hand is cat food, right?

… No. This isn’t the right time to think about this.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: By the time I realized, you were out like a light next to me. You wouldn’t wake up no matter how many times I called. I can’t believe you.

… Come to think of it, I pulled an all-nighter and then went to work after that. As expected, I must have reached my limit.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You were leaning on me, so I couldn’t move for a while. I had to turn away the taxi, and on top of that my sofa was taken up for the night. You really gave me a hard time.

Haruka Nanami: Urk, I’m sorry… for causing trouble….

As I lower my head, the sheet music on top of the audio set suddenly catches my attention. Across the scattered papers, there are a number of words scribbled down.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, don’t tell me… have you written the lyrics already?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah, it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. It ain’t finished yet—we can look at them once I’m done.

To my surprise, another cat passes through my line of vision.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What are you doing, Tama? You’re late. I’ve already put all the food away.

The cat meows like a spoiled child, demanding to be fed.

Haruka Nanami: Tama?

Realizing he doesn’t have a choice, Kurosaki-senpai begins putting out some more cat food on the plate. He turns his back to me, sits at the window where there’s a lot of sun, and sets the plate down.

A striped brown cat—the one named Tama—comes running after Kurosaki-senpai.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Tama’s a simple name for a cat, right? The pattern ain’t calico, and its colour ain’t black or white either….

Under the morning sun that comes streaming through the window, Kurosaki-senpai’s hair shimmers as it sways.

Haruka Nanami: Then, how about “Tiger”? It kinda looks like a tabby cat….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: This one doesn’t have a face like a tiger at all, don’t ya think? If anythin’, its carefree expression kinda reminds me of you. … C’mon, eat.

For the time being, Kurosaki-senpai watches the cat as it eats. Then, he turns back to me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You can be really reckless, y’know. You should be more aware of your surroundings. Man, you’re so vulnerable.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, y-yes. Um, I’ll be careful!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Sure you get it? Geez… I don’t remember feeding you.

Kurosaki-senpai mutters to himself.

After that day, I devote myself to completing the unit song. I receive a message from Kurosaki-senpai a couple days after leaving his place.

In it, he asks me to finish the unit song and then come to the office meeting room in one week’s time. He also adds that he will finish writing the lyrics by that time.

I wonder what Kurosaki-senpai’s lyrics will be like. In a way, I’m kind of excited to see them.

One week later, after finishing the unit song, I come to the office.

Haruka Nanami: Good morning… huh?

Reiji Kotobuki: Hear me out, I’m not saying the lyrics are bad or anything like that!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Then what’s the problem? Just come out and say it.

Ai Mikaze: The ones who will sing it are Japanese, and so are the people who will listen to the song. So it’s not really necessary to use so much English, am I correct?

Camus: Well, I’m not Japanese. But I’m strongly opposed to singing the English word “lips.”

It seems like the four of them are facing each other and talking in a group.

Haruka Nanami: What seems to be the problem? You’ve all gathered together….

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah, Kouhai-chan. Morninnnnng~! Well you see, Ranran….

Haruka Nanami: What about Kurosaki-senpai?

Reiji Kotobuki: Since he added lyrics to the unit song, we thought we would sing it together and let you hear it. Y’know, as a way of showing his love for you as a partner!

Haruka Nanami: Huh?!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You, quit talkin’ about stuff that never happened! All I said was that I wouldn’t know if the lyrics were finished or not without singing the song for real!

Kurosaki-senpai gets heated up as he tries to stop Kotobuki-senpai.

Camus: But you see… those lyrics present some slight inconvenience….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Geez, would ya just tell me what the problem is already?!

I peer at the sheet music sitting on top of the desk, which now has lyrics filled in.

Haruka Nanami: Uhm? This is….

The sheet music that Kurosaki-senpai filled with his lyrics is almost completely in English.

Ai Mikaze: That’s why I’m saying. Why did you go and write every single word in English?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well y’know… that’s definitely the rock way of doing things. I wrote those lyrics by putting my soul into them. The words that just happened to spring to mind were English, that’s it.

Mikaze-senpai stares intently at the lyrics for a while.

Ai Mikaze: But they’re difficult to understand. Well, I’m going to write them myself, okay?

Taking the lyrics in hand, he runs over them with a pen smoothly.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oi… you planning on rewriting them?

Ai Mikaze: Only my own part. I’m leaving your part alone so it’s fine.

Camus: I’ll do the same. Mikaze, hand that over to me when you’re done.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You guys’ve gotta be kidding me. Those lyrics took me a week to write!

Ai Mikaze: Why did it take you one week?

Mikaze-senpai looks at Kurosaki-senpai in bewilderment.

Camus: Kurosaki is slow when it comes to writing lyrics. Or rather, should I say that it takes him ages to refine them?

When I ask about it, I’m told Kurosaki-senpai is quick to make a start on writing lyrics, but after finishing them, he’ll sleep on it a bit before revising them once, and then sleep on it again before refining it further….

Apparently that’s his style; he’ll repeat the process several times until it’s completed.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It shows how much of my soul I put into that part! ‘Sides, don't drag the time I take to write the lyrics into this!

Kotobuki-senpai smiles bitterly as he sees my face.

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh dear~, we’re in quite a pinch. What should we do? I respect the wonderful love you have for your partner, but if everything is in English, this is all gonna be a bit much, even for me.

He took a lot of time to write those lyrics so carefully, but it seems the other three have their own opinions about it.

What should I do? Looking at the lyrics on hand, I think about what I should suggest.

Select the phrase!

Translate as much as possible (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s true that a large majority of the people attending the live show will be Japanese. It will certainly be difficult to understand, so why don’t we translate the lyrics as much as possible?

Camus: Hmph… ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’ as they say.

Haruka Nanami: Ahh… something along that line, I guess. I want to keep the original meaning as much as possible….

Ai Mikaze: I see. Let’s translate it quickly then. This sort of thing is my specialty. Leave it to me.

Haruka Nanami: U-um…. Is this okay with you… Kurosaki-senpai?

Nervously, I wait for his reaction.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … Guess it’s no use, I get it. Even if the words are changed, it can still contain the soul. If we’re gonna do it anyway, I’ll see it through to the end.

Haruka Nanami: Okay!

With him having taken the sheet music in hand, I follow Kurosaki-senpai’s lead and join the discussion as well.

Talk about it (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Um, I personally think it sounds cool the way it is now but…. If it’s difficult to sing, why don’t we talk about it?

“That is also true,” Camus-senpai says while nodding and holds out his hands.

Camus: Quiet down, fools. Now then, how about mixing in the language of Silk Palace here and there….

Ai Mikaze: If you do that, it will become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Won’t that just make things worse?

Haruka Nanami: I-in any case, let’s talk about this carefully! I’m sure that however the lyrics turn out, they’ll be great if it’s the four of you singing it!

Camus: Well… of course that’s to be expected.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Guess it’s no use, I’ll let it go this once. Oi, gimme the sheet music. Let’s decide where we’re gonna fix things up.

Kurosaki-senpai takes the sheet music in his hands.

Start over from scratch (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Let’s completely rewrite it from the start!

A long silence comes over the meeting room.

Ai Mikaze: In other words, a reset? Is that okay? It’s true that it would be faster than simply making poor changes.

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s true, but…! All of it!? Kouhai-chan, shouldn’t you consider Ranran’s feelings a little more here!?

Haruka Nanami: Well, you see…. I feel that it would be more effective to rewrite everything.

Camus: It’s scary how you can say that so naturally….

Even Camus-senpai had a shocked expression on his face.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: …

A cold gaze pierces right through me. Maybe I’m acting quite rudely.

In the end, using Kurosaki-senpai’s lyrics as a base, we decide to rewrite it while incorporating everyone’s opinions.

Taking on the role of a clerk, Mikaze-senpai runs his pen across the page.

Ai Mikaze: It would have been more efficient if we had done it like this from the start…. Don’t you think this was a waste of time?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Shut up, I just did what I wanted. Quit complainin’.

Reiji Kotobuki: Heh, so you thought to write all those lyrics especially for Kouhai-chan?

From beside him, Kotobuki-senpai breaks out into a grin.

Ai Mikaze: Even though you were against the idea of being partners. I don’t know what happened between you two to have changed that.

Camus: My, so that’s how excited you are about it now.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Shut it. And you, wipe that smirk off your face.

Haruka Nanami: Eh… um, well I’m not sure why, but I feel happy.

Seeing the four of them like this, working together to complete the unit song, it makes me feel happy and full of gratitude.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ooh, what do we have here, mutual affection~? Ah, but! Idols are prohibited from romaaance! ☆ And there you have it! I’m counting on you!

Haruka Nanami: Huh? Ehh!? No, it’s not like that, I was just happy to see the song coming together….

With a giggle, a suggestive smile plays across Kotobuki-senpai’s face.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Reiji! If you keep saying such unnecessary crap, I’ll throw you out the window.

Kurosaki-senpai slowly stands up in one, large motion and grabs Kotobuki-senpai by his collar.

Ai Mikaze: By the way, non-combustible trash is being collected today.

Reiji Kotobuki: No waaaaaaay! I’m being treated like trashhhhh!!

Despite the chaos, somehow it seems they were able to find a middle ground.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ‘Kay, let’s give it a go. You’ve got the song, right?

Haruka Nanami: Yes.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Start playin’ when I give you the signal. I won’t forgive you if this turns out t’ be a half-assed song.

The four of them enter the booth.

Once we confirm that the setup is okay on our end, I see Kurosaki-senpai snapping his fingers from inside the booth.

I take a deep breath and begin to play the song.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (S RANK)

Reiji Kotobuki: Heh, this is all thanks to Ranran’s love guiding you, isn’t it? Excellent, excellent!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I thought I told you before, quit it with the weird comments….

Camus: Well, if it’s like this, I wouldn’t mind singing it. Depending on the situation, I might even try dancing to it.

Ai Mikaze: For you to say that much, Camus… how very interesting.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, I thought it was alright. It gets a pass for the time being. Keep your focus up ‘til the very end.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!

It seems that they’ve acknowledged me.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (A-B RANK)

The four of them exit from the booth.

Ai Mikaze: Well, that wasn’t bad. I would say it passes, but just barely.

Camus: It’s not at a level for dancing. But I wouldn’t mind singing to it.

Seeing the other two nodding their heads, Kotobuki-senpai smiles in satisfaction.

Reiji Kotobuki: Good job, Kouhai-chan. Ranran is pretty proud too, right?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It doesn’t really have anything to do with me…. However, there’s still some parts we need to fix up.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, yes.

As everyone is watching me, Kurosaki-senpai points out many of the faults in the song.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (C-D RANK)

Ranmaru Kurosaki: You! Gimme a hundred points that need to be reflected on again!

As soon as he comes out of the booth, he hits the desk firmly. In a panic, I quickly straighten my back.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry!!

Kurosaki-senpai’s rage comes at me in a rush, with him pointing out all of the faults in the song.

Argh… but even as I say that now, my notes can’t keep up…!

Reiji Kotobuki: Ahh… so this is tough love….

Ai Mikaze: Well…? How long should we be here waiting for you?

Camus: How absurd. I’m leaving.

Haruka Nanami: P-please wait!!

Hmm, it still needs a lot of work. I’ll try reviewing it once again….

______________________________

Haruka Nanami: T-thank you very much! Thank you for your hard work.

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep, thanks for your hard work as well! With this, the Christmas Live is gonna be super exciting. No doubt about that!!

Kotobuki-senpai claps his hands above his head.

Ai Mikaze: Ranmaru will nag you regarding the finer details, correct? Well, I leave it to you.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What do you take me for, a naggin’ sister-in-law?

Camus: Yes, I’m counting on you for the rest, Kurosaki. Be sure to guide her well.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I already told you, this has nothing to do with me!

Reiji Kotobuki: There he goes again~. You keep saying that, but it seems like you’re gonna put Kouhai-chan through a looooot of punishment.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It ain’t punishment, I’m just pointing out the flaws!

Ai Mikaze: Well then, I’m going. I’m required to perform some maintenance before the live show.

Haruka Nanami: Maintenance?

Maybe it’s just strange wording… perhaps he’s referring to regulating his condition?

Camus: I must also investigate… rather, I have something I need to research so I’ll be leaving.

Camus-senpai also begins to walk at a brisk pace.

The last one left is Kotobuki-senpai, who, after looking between myself and Kurosaki-senpai for a brief moment, breaks out into a grin….

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh, deary me! I forgot I was meant to help with the preparations at home for our Christmas bento. Well then, I’m counting on you!

With that, he leaves the studio in a hurry.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What a noisy lot, those guys….

Left by himself, Kurosaki-senpai sinks into his chair, looking exhausted.

Haruka Nanami: Um, thank you very much.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah? What for?

Haruka Nanami: Thanks to Kurosaki-senpai’s guidance, I was acknowledged by the other senpai. On top of that, you even called everyone here today….

Kurosaki-senpai raises his upper body and repositions himself on the chair.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I wouldn’t really call it guidance. An’ either way, I would’ve eventually needed to meet up with them to talk about the song.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much. It made me happy to know you had written the lyrics. Ah, is your leg okay now?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hmm? It’s fine now. It could be ‘cause you helped treat it so quickly… maybe somethin’ like that.

As he says that, the heel of his shoes makes a clunking noise.

Haruka Nanami: That’s good to hear.

When I sigh deeply, Senpai briefly glances at me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hey….

Haruka Nanami: Yes?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Are you free after the Christmas Live?

Haruka Nanami: Yes? Um….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Geez, I’m askin’ you if you’ve already got plans for somethin’ after the Christmas Live.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I don’t really have anything planned…. Why?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Good, keep it that way. Got it?

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes!

As I nod, Kurosaki-senpai also nods with satisfaction.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ‘Kay then. Let’s fix up the song right here and now. I’ll be watching you from here, so give it a shot.

Haruka Nanami: I-I understand!

I take out my notes and head towards the equipment.

From there, we go over all of the faults thus far, and are finally able to complete the unit song.

In between their busy schedules, Kurosaki-senpai and the others are able to check the costumes and put together the choreography.

Before we know it, the day of the Christmas Live is upon us.

Today is the day of the Christmas Live.

I’m waiting for everyone to arrive backstage.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What’s the matter? The show hasn’t even started and yet your face is so pale. You doin’ okay?

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Kurosaki-senpai. I don’t know, suddenly I feel nervous.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Nervous? You aren’t even the one goin’ on stage.

Haruka Nanami: That is true… but the success of this live show is also one of the conditions for my debut.

Furthermore, this Christmas Live will feature many talented people from the agency. As the opening act for them, I’m feeling a lot of pressure.

Haruka Nanami: You could say that I’m nervous because I’m feeling anxious….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: When it comes to singing, myself and the rest of ‘em are serious. We won’t settle for second-best. You’ve finished making the song, so just be confident.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes….

Even so, my heart continues to pound and won’t be stilled.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … If you’re that nervous, you should write the word for “person” on your hand and swallow ‘em up. Here.

Kurosaki-senpai takes my hand in his.

Haruka Nanami: Waahh!? Senpai!?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What the heck… your hands are shakin’ all over. Guess I got no choice. Today, I’ll treat you to something special.

Holding the palm of my hand, he writes “person” exactly three times with his finger, before drawing some sort of extra mark at the end.

Haruka Nanami: What was that just now?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: It’s my signature. For extra good luck. C’mon, swallow up.

I do as I’m told and swallow up the words on my palm.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, you’re right. Somehow I feel better now.

Strangely, it feels like my nervousness has gone away.

Kurosaki-senpai looks at me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Pfft… hahahahaa!

Suddenly he starts laughing.

Haruka Nanami: S-Senpai…? But it really did work…!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Nah, you really are a simple person, aren’t ya? I envy you.

Stifling his laughter, Kurosaki-senpai looks at me.

Haruka Nanami: C-calling me “simple”… I mean, it might be true!

However, as we talk, my nerves completely fade away. And then….

Reiji Kotobuki: Whoa!! Ranran is laughing…. The chances of that are like finding a golden ticket….

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Kotobuki-senpai. Mikaze-senpai and Camus-senpai, you’re here too.

At some point, the three of them had found their way backstage.

Camus: What’s so funny, Kurosaki? Have you dropped your hat?

Ai Mikaze: None of us are wearing hats here. Even if we were, Ranmaru would never laugh about that, even if a hundred hats were to drop.

Reiji Kotobuki: Erm, I don’t think the number of them is the issue here. Putting that aside, what happened Ranran? Huh? Is the world gonna end today or something?

Meanwhile, as the opening for the show draws closer, the noise from the audience grows louder.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hahaha, it’s nothing. ‘Kay, let’s do this you guys.

As he laughs, Kurosaki-senpai quickly rubs at the tears around his eyes.

Camus: Hey, why are you the one suddenly taking the lead!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Hah? Right now, I’m in a really good mood.

Kurosaki-senpai begins to move towards the stage wing ahead of everyone else.

The theatre goes dark as cheers start to rise from the audience. It’s almost time for the show to begin.

Haruka Nanami: Well then, everyone. I’m counting on you.

The four of them nod and take a step forward.

Reiji Kotobuki: Alright, let’s show all of my girls around the country who we are as idols, shall we? Ranran, if you’d like to say a few words!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ‘Kay, let’s go and liven things up! FIRE!!

Ai Mikaze: His choice in words is terrible….

Camus: Terrible, isn’t it….

Reiji Kotobuki: FIIIIIIRRE!! Yahoo!!

They all jump onto the stage at once.

In the midst of the dim light, their voices resound, causing the audience’s voices to rise even higher.

As expected, they’re really amazing when they give it their all. Just as Kurosaki-senpai said, the four of them show how serious they are on stage.

Kurosaki-senpai in particular takes charge today, going up to the audience and riling them up. Extending his hand to them, he lets his voice resonate all around. That profile of his face is so handsome, it also gets me excited as well.

Their dance is in perfect form, and the combined dance of the four of them during the interlude gets the venue heated up. Kotobuki-senpai even shows off his special backflip move.

As an opening performance for a live show, it's the greatest result.

Thanks to the excitement of the opening, the Christmas Live is a big success.

After the show ends, the four of them return to the dressing rooms.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you for your hard work, everyone!

Camus: Why you! You went back to singing the original lyrics after all of the work we put into rewriting them!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: To me, those were more natural. And how ‘bout you, using a bunch of meaningless words for an audience call-and-response. They couldn’t get into it at all!

Ai Mikaze: It’s over now, so you don’t need to fight about it. You’re adults, right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Ahaha! Man, that was so much fun. And everything turned out a-okay in the end!

Haruka Nanami: Ah, thank you so much! I-it’s thanks to all of you.

I bow very deeply.

Haruka Nanami: … Huh?

Hearing the sound of a knock, I rush over to open the door.

Ren Jinguji:Hey there, lady. Great work, it was a good song.

Haruka Nanami: Jinguji-san!

Masato Hijirikawa:Yes, you could say it was a big success.

Haruka Nanami: Hijirikawa-san too! So you both came to watch!

As I’m talking in front of the door, Kurosaki-senpai suddenly comes and interrupts us.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What’re you guys doing here? Come here to make fun of us? What’d ya come here for if it’s not for work?

Ren Jinguji:You’re so cold. We came to cheer you on from the audience.

Masato Hijirikawa:Good work to you as well, Kurosaki-san. It was a fantastic performance…. I learned a lot.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Tch, quit trying to flatter me.

As soon as Kurosaki-senpai says that, he turns his face away. But somehow, he seems happy that the two of them came.

Ryuya Hyuga: Yo, great work with the composition. It was a good song, and the audience got pretty excited too.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Hyuga-sensei. And the president as well.

Ryuya Hyuga: And the fact you had to work with those guys, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

As he gazes at them, he grins widely.

Haruka Nanami: Oh no… it wasn’t that hard….

I quickly wave my hands.

Shining Saotome: Miss Nanami, you came up with quite a GOOD song. The first trial has been overcome!

Haruka Nanami: President, thank you very much!!

Shining Saotome: BUT the real hard work starts from here!! Don’t relax just yet!!

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

At the president’s words, I quickly straighten up.

Shining Saotome: In sickness and in health~, work with your partner and give us a mooooost fantastic song!! So then EVERYOOOOOONE, Merry Merry Merry Christmas! Oft!

The president runs away while spreading out both of his hands.

Ryuya Hyuga: We’ll see you later. It will still be difficult from here on out, but do your best.

Sighing as he watches the president retreating, Hyuga-sensei also leaves with him.

Haruka Nanami: … This is where you wanted to take me?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I hadn’t planned to come here, but then Gran suddenly asked me to bring you to the restaurant. She wouldn’t stop asking, so I didn’t have a choice….

After the live show, Kurosaki-senpai brings me to visit Kitchen Parsley.

We end up seated at a table inside the restaurant past closing time.

Old Woman: We have something we want to share with you today.

Old Man: As of today, we’ve finally been able to repay all of our debt.

Haruka Nanami: Wha—? Whaat!? Congratulations!!

I’m very surprised by the sudden news.

Old Man: Goodness, we were worried about how things would turn out, but everything’s all clear now. I’m glad we were able to clear it within this year. With this, I have no regrets in this world.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … What are you saying, stupid Old Man. You still have the shop, so you should keep working until your last, dying breath.

“Hahaha,” the Old Man laughs.

Kurosaki-senpai holds a glass of cold water to his mouth, a sullen look on his face.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Geez, after causing such a huge fuss…. And what about those thugs?

Old Man: I can proudly tell them that we already paid it off. Our Kitchen Parsley is eternal and immortal. Ranmaru-chan, thank you for looking after us.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Y-yeah….

Old Woman: Young lady, thank you for all of your help as well. Surely, this was thanks to your input on the menu and all of your advice.

Haruka Nanami: Yes! Ah, I’m so glad. Now I can finish my time at the restaurant with no worries!

It’s been about one month since the president ordered me to help the old couple. It was busy and a lot of work, but I feel like I got to know Kurosaki-senpai a little better through the restaurant.

Right now, I’m very thankful to the restaurant and to the old couple for giving me the chance to interact with him in this way.

Old Man: With that said, let us feast today in celebration of many things. Have whatever you like.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Huh? Oi, Gramps. You bein’ serious?

Old Man: Oh, but in the hustle and bustle of the Christmas rush today, I went a bit too far and now my back is sore.

It will all be self-service, including doing your own cooking. Ranmaru-chan, I’m counting on you.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Whaaaaat!? What’s with that!

Old Woman: I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean for it to be like this.

Haruka Nanami: Um, in that case… Kurosaki-senpai! One omurice please!

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Wait, hold up! I just finished up a live show! Didn’t I just sing with all my might for you back then!?

Haruka Nanami: F-for me…!?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Argh...! F-forget I said anything!

The moment that Kurosaki-senpai immediately looks away to the side….

We hear a low gurgling sound.

Haruka Nanami: Uhh….

As if on cue, my stomach starts to grumble.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ...

Haruka Nanami: W-well you see, I couldn’t eat anything today because I was so nervous about the live show….

We exchange glances with one another, feeling embarrassed and shy about many things.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: W-well… as it is I’m pretty hungry too… ‘kay? Should be simple enough to make for four people! I’ll do it and make it quick!

Rolling up his sleeves and standing, he makes his way to the kitchen.

Haruka Nanami: I’ll help too!

Following him, I make my way to the kitchen to help.

After that, the four of us all sit around the table.

After saying our goodbyes to the old couple, we leave the restaurant. There are many stars shining in the sky.

“We’re gonna take a detour before headin’ back” he says, so I find myself walking beside Kurosaki-senpai as he pushes his bike along.

Soon, we arrive at….

Haruka Nanami: A park…?

A cold wind blows by, stirring the plants to rustle in the breeze.

It’s a park with a large pond. There’s no one else around, and the area is completely silent.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: This is where I wanted to bring you originally. Although, that plan kinda fell apart in the end.

Haruka Nanami: Why did you bring me here?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Seems unusual, but I thought I would tell you about old times.

Parking his bike beside the bench, he stands and looks out towards the pond.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … A long time ago, this is where the Kurosaki mansion used to be.

Haruka Nanami: Mansion? You mean your parents’ house?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Nah, our main house was in Miyagi, so this was another place. I used to come here with my Old Man every now and then.

In the stillness of the park, only Kurosaki-senpai’s low voice can be heard.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Well, it’s ended up as a park now. This is where the garden used t’be, and the mansion used to stand over there.

He points to an area in the distance, beyond the pond. Far away on the opposite shore, I can only make out the lights of the street lamps.

Haruka Nanami: It must have been… quite a large mansion, wasn’t it….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah. My little sis couldn’t walk yet, so I would play by myself in the garden. It was right around here.

He taps at the edge of the pond with the tip of his shoes.

Haruka Nanami: You had a little sister?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah. Fortunately, aside from my Old Man, the rest of my family is still alive. As the son of the Kurosaki family, I have to do something about them as well.

When the Kurosaki household fell apart, we sold off the mansion and anythin’ else that could be sold for money and moved in with my mother’s family.

Under the starry, winter sky, Kurosaki-senpai lets out a sigh, his breath appearing as white mist.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: After my Old Man passed away due to anxiety, all that was left was a huge debt.

When my band started gaining popularity in my hometown, I took advantage of it and thought that I would take everything back with music. So I came back here with nothing but a single bass on my back.

Haruka Nanami: With music, you say…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Pretty reckless move, don’t ya think? But for me, that was all I could think of at the time. I was crazy about music, you see.

It was an amount of money that would never be paid off by normal means. In order to survive, I had no choice but to take action. That’s why I took off from my own house believin’ only in my music and my own strength.

Haruka Nanami: And what of your family, at the time…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: They cried. It’s a serious matter, after all. If I failed, then everything would be over. So that’s how I got here all on my own.

Haruka Nanami: All by yourself….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … Anyway. That’s what I wanted t’ tell you.

As he says that, he throws a stone into the pond. It makes a short noise and the ripples slowly spread across the surface of the water.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I approve of your music. But I still can’t trust in others. That ain’t limited to you. I’m a more troublesome person than you think.

He says that, taking a breath before looking at me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: If you’re okay with that, I’ll be your partner ‘til the Song Festival. How ‘bout it?

It feels like a single line has been drawn in front of me.

Kurosaki-senpai’s music is made so that he can survive. His fight is still ongoing even now, and it’s a battle that he wants to fight on his own.

But now, as he faces me across the line he’s drawn, he’s asking if I want to be his partner. Even if there’s something that I won’t be able to tread into, we will still be able to understand each other through music.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, please.

I look straight at him as I say those words.

Haruka Nanami: At the time, I thought that I would ask you to be my partner after I was drawn in by your music.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: That so…?

He looks a little bit happy as he says that.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: ‘Kay, I’ll join you until the Song Festival. But don’t expect anything past that. I’ve said I’m gonna take the top prize, and I intend to do that.

Haruka Nanami: Okay!

He puts his hands on the bike.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, that’s right. Please take this… it’s my Christmas present to you!

I hand him the paper bag that I brought with me.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Thought somethin’ was up when I saw you with that huge paper bag…. What are you, Santa Claus or somethin’?

Haruka Nanami: It’s a thank you for looking after me during this time! Here, please open it!

Accepting it without a word, he takes out the bundle inside the paper bag and undoes the wrapping.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: What… is this?

Haruka Nanami: It’s a cushion.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I can see that by lookin’ at it. I’m talking about this pattern.

Kurosaki-senpai lightly thumps the cushion.

Haruka Nanami: I tried to embroider it with something you would like so….

Wordlessly, he stares fixated on the cushion.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: … Cats.

Maybe it was a little too cute for him after all….

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Dammit, I haven’t prepared anything.

Haruka Nanami: Oh no, please don’t worry about it.

Kurosaki-senpai stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jacket.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: But it seems uncool, right? Receiving something from a girl and not having anything… hm?

Haruka Nanami: What’s the matter?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I just found something good. I’ll give this t’ya.

As he says that, he flicks up something from his pocket and throws it towards me. It makes a large arc as it flies through the air and I manage to catch it in a fluster.

Haruka Nanami: Phew…. What is it…?

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Oh, that’s a specially-made Ranmaru Kurosaki bass pick. It’s one-of-a-kind.

Kurosaki-senpai grins at me with his still-outstretched hand.

It’s a slightly-rounded, red pick with a small signature on it.

Haruka Nanami: Oh wow, it’s Senpai’s signature…. Thank you so much! I’ll look after it well.

He looks satisfied, the ends of his mouth curling upwards.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah, better not lose it. ‘Kay, once the new year begins, let’s jump right into it and hold a meeting about the Song Festival.

Since we’re doing this, we’ll do whatever it takes to win and take that top prize. You ready for this?

He says that with the cushion still under his arm, pointing right at me.

Haruka Nanami: Yes! I’m looking forward to working with you!

Grasping the pick tightly, I deeply bow my head.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: Yeah. I’m countin’ on you.

His large palm gently touches the top of my head for a moment.

Haruka Nanami: Kurosaki… senpai…?

Surprised, I raise my head, but by that time he’s already pulled away, and is making his way towards his bike.

With his back turned to me, I can’t see his expression.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: That’s enough talk. I’ll see you home, so come follow me. Speakin’ of, just where is your place anyway?

He asks me that as he turns around.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, I’m in the dorms! From here, we… ah, which way is it? Which way is the station…?

I’m not familiar with this park, so I don’t know where we are.

Ranmaru Kurosaki: I can’t believe you…. So I gotta lead the way, huh? It’s a pretty fair distance from here. You wanna ride on the back?

Haruka Nanami: Eh?! N-no I can’t…. I’m wearing heels today….

Grasping the pick in my hand tightly, I follow Kurosaki-senpai as he starts walking away.

Watching his back, I can see strength, but also a hidden kindness….

Inside my head, a number of melodies have already started coming to mind.

(Chapter End)

[vitaminwaterreviews]

Tzuyu - abouTZU

I dunno what I think to be honest. It’s exactly what I expected, but unlike the Jihyo album, it did enough for me that I wasn’t totally bored all the way though. I definitely started to understand what her voice sounds like, which is neat; I’ve been a fan of Twice for 3 years now, and I’ve never been able to pick her voice out, so maybe if I listen to these then I’ll be able to do that. As far as the album itself goes: the ballad was nice, the harmonies in Lazy Baby were so neat, the beat in One Love was really neat too. I don’t think there’s anything truly special in this album, but it was a good listen, and I’ll add a few songs to my playlist and see how long they last. 7.5.

-

Run Away

The MV is interesting

Oh okay, it’s not a ballad

Actually I’m kinda getting Lady Gaga out of this so far

Not her voice, but like, everything else

It’s the first post-chorus and I can already tell you that this song is gonna get a 7 from me

It’s good enough to be enjoyable but it’s nothing special at all

(As the Twice solos tend to be so far)

In fact, of the Twice solos, this one feels the most like Twice’s current sound

Honestly? I wasn’t sure when I first heard that she was gonna do a solo album, and … I’m still not sure about it

7/10

Heartbreak in Heaven

Holy reverb

Haha okay and now we’re all low and intimate

Maybe it’s actually a tight echo?

The snares in the chorus are certainly a choice

Also who is Peniel and when does he come in? It’s already the second chorus

Yeah honestly idk why but the repeated snares in the chorus make this feel like something I’d put together in garageband

2:30 and finally we get the feature

They totally missed an opportunity to add the line “Hell in Heaven”

I’m starting to warm up to Tzuyu’s voice though

It’s one that I have trouble recognizing in Twice songs

Haha no no no we did not earn an outro, absolutely not

This feels so forced lmao

7/10

Lazy Baby

I do like the beat here

I dunno about her voice over it though

Woah okay and now we’re all high-energy

This kinda reminds me of f(x) for some reason

Lol did someone just snore in my ear

Ohhhh the duet harmonies are So good wow

That totally just saved the song for me

8/10 I guess

Losing Sleep

Chuu vibes

Or actually, this could be right off of the Jihyo album

7/10, good song but nothing special

One Love

Haha what in the Red Velvet

Okay, I think I enjoy this? Kind of a weird beat but it’s pretty fun

Actually it reminds me of in love with a ghost

The chorus very much diverges from the feel of the verses

Although I think I can hear some of the same synths

Is this all-english by the way?

No, I don’t think it is

8/10

Fly

Nice and dramatic, a ballad maybe?

Oh I just love the high piano here in the chorus

Honestly this is a vibe, I enjoy this

This feels like something from a kid’s show

Like idk why but I’m thinking of Dragon Tales

8/10

[back-and-totheleft]

From Oliver's official website

The following is a recent Q&A from my Facebook and Twitter pages.

Q: From Jack Forbes Oliver, the Yellow Shirts in Thailand want to displace the current Prime Minister, Yingluck Shinawatra, and her Administration, with an unelected "People's Council" and have gone to great lengths to disrupt elections and disrupt commerce in Bangkok to achieve their goals. They demand "reforms" pertaining to elections procedures and perceived corruption, but have little to show for what reforms they wish and what corruption they suspect. The military is, so far, taking a "hands off" approach but has not ruled out a coup. Yingluck is making her case for democracy, asking the protestors to vote and to integrate into the Thai political system to resolve political differences. There seems to be no end in sight and experts believe that civil war is possible for the near future. What is your take on all of this?

Oliver: My take is as an outsider. I’ve traveled many times to the country and admire their collective sense of harmony in all things. Makes this recent civil strife almost incomprehensible to me. I’m hardly knowledgeable about the complex interior politics of the country, but my feeling is generally ‘the majority rules’—in other words, live with it. As bad as Thaksin may have been and may be, I would imagine time has, and will, softened his impact. Things change. Do not fracture this beautiful country.

Q: From Ben Bracken It seems everyone successful in film has a connection to some rich people or a rich dad in the film business that gets them in the door. I have neither. I have no money, just the ambition to succeed everyday in a world where 20% of American males ages 25-54 are unemployed. I'm not lazy and will never collect unemployment, so I work everyday at a shit restaurant for $4.95 an hour plus tips (that you never get anyway) and work harder than anyone you've ever met. I have self taught myself to be a DP, an actor, and barely afforded to put myself in school for screenwriting. I don't know anyone famous or anyone's rich uncle to help me get my foot in the door. So, my question to you, Mr. Stone, is a simple one. Would you please hire me? I don't care if it's shoveling the elephants shit on the set of Alexander or getting you coffee. I will still be the hardest worker you've ever seen. I humbly thank you for even reading this as I know you will probably not respond to my question as I've seen the other questions people way smarter than me have posted about you and your work. Either way you're still one of my heroes. Thanks, Ben Stiller

Oliver: This is a tough question but I’ll try to answer it. Just to keep things clear, I had no strong connections to get me into this business. I wrote my way in, and it took many scripts and much rejection until some of them were read and gradually I was able to find more and more work.

That said, when I actually penetrated it as a writer and then moved, after a few setbacks, onto being a director. I found that many young people and outsiders were vying for jobs as assistants and interns, but that the union rules were pretty strict on this matter, and that the best way in was through the assistant directors’ department. After the union regulations were fulfilled, the producer, production managers, and assistant director would interview new people for roles as assistants and interns. Generally speaking the job is a tough one—long hours—and often takes place far off the set around the trailer camps and various messengering jobs. Often people would be frustrated that they didn’t get enough time inside or close to the set (On the other hand, being inside the set all the time can be—believe me—quite boring and I think many people would be disappointed.).

Perhaps the best way to approach this is to work on low budget films as a production assistant, where one probably gets a lot closer to the action. I worked on a soft porno back in the early 70s in NYC hauling heavy dollies up and down staircases in New York City.

When, and if, we do start up a film, we crew up like a pirate ship or whaling expedition for the journey. At that time the producer/production manager/assistant director make their choices as to whom they want to work with. Sometimes I weigh in.

Q: Ben Norbeetz Why in many of your films do you repeat certain phrases, ideas and metaphors. "Kiss the snake with no hesitation" was in the doors and alexander and a motif in Natural Born Killers, your close up shots on a single eye was apart of both any given sunday and the doors, the "world is yours" is in scarface and alexander. is there something all of your works mean to say?

Oliver: Each motif is different and probably for a different reason. I wasn’t aware of the similarities until you brought them up, but certainly, I think the idea of the snake in “Doors,” “Alexander,” and “Natural Born Killers” represents a sensitivity to the issue of fear. That by going through the fear, one finds a courage that was not available before. Jim Morrison was writing about the snake long before we made the film. And of course the analogies of snakes and dragons appear again and again in mythology. Although I walked among many rattle snakes in “Natural Born Killers” and lived through my share of snakes in Vietnam, I’m still not comfortable around them.

As to eyes, I’ve been shooting close ups of eyes for so many years I don’t know which exact mention you have in mind. I think it’s a striking visual. The eye is the window of the soul and often speaks an inner truth to us that is beyond the word. And people’s eyes in general, if you look closely at them, reveal much. Movie stars often have blue eyes, because I think they give more access than brown/black eyes.

As to the “World is yours,” well, that’s a subjective frame of mind, and it can well be true if you believe it.

Q: Patrick Dailey Please give us some details about the new "Alexander : The Ultimate Cut" blu-ray/DVD. Will it have new features, new transfer, etc. Thanks!

Oliver: I can tell you the new “Alexander” is 8 minutes shorter and has some structural changes of significance. I think it’s cleaned up. It’s a real final to me. In the 2007 version I was trying to get out all the stuff that I wasn’t able to get out in 2004. And then I was able to look at the 2007 version in various film festivals around the world (San Sebastian, Taormina, and New York.) After seeing it in public like that, I was able to go back and see some of the things that I had added were not necessary—as well as remove some of the complexity that still existed. That’s why I trimmed it. I’m very happy with this new version and it’s definitely a final one. There is no new transfer—not necessary because everything was beautifully transferred the first time.

Q: Attila Peter Of all the empires which one would you prefer?

Oliver: Very good question. I think as a Roman it would’ve been very dangerous to stay alive. There seems to have been a poison in the air, and in the capital too many Romans were killing each other. I think in some ways the British Empire must have been perhaps one of the best, at least if you were an Englishman! But not a native. The idea of going to Eton or Oxford, joining the military, or being a businessman when most people around you are ethnocentric, you think of yourself as superior. It’s an amazing illusion—but produced some amazing results.

We’re now living in the American Empire. So you make up your own mind. Many are happy with it and comfortable. Depends on your consciousness of our history. If interested see “Untold History.”

As to the best Empire, I’m not sure, but I think the Mongol Empire of the 13th/14th centuries makes a lot of sense. Although bloody (who wasn’t at that time), they had an amazing degree of intelligence. As tribal nomads and outsiders, they brought to the sense of empire a newness and ability to see beyond parochial concerns. And because they were a small tribe they were concerned about their universality. They truly brought a modern order to feudalism and tribalism, and their influence is still strongly felt today in the East.

I also deeply respect Alexander’s Empire because of his respect for local laws and customs—as did the Mongols—and the fact that he did not loot and rape the place, as the English and Americans, in their benign way, did. So I vote for the Mongols.

Q: Matthew McKenna Is there a person or persons who have been a major influence on your life?

Oliver: Huge question. We can talk in the personal sphere or artistic sphere, but let’s say we’re talking of the American political sphere. I’d say Roosevelt and JFK. And in a negative way Reagan, LBJ, Nixon, Bush (father), Bush (son), Truman, and Eisenhower. Without a doubt the U.S. has had its share of awful Presidents who’ve really destroyed what this thing could’ve been after WW2. Please see “Untold History” to understand my feelings. These are people who have directly influenced our life in a very powerful way.

Q: Mary F. Nugent On behalf of WH Wisecarver: I was on the Capital Hill in 1991 when JFK was released. It was surprising to me the controversy and re-evaluations it provoked amongst my younger peers. In lieu of your recent post on the prohibition of being able to do your MLK movie and the rehash of contrived political thrillers in today’s films, do you see a time when real thought provoking cutting edge films can be made in Hollywood again?

Oliver: You’re asking a bit of a rhetorical question. Films don’t necessarily have to be cutting edge to be thought provoking. For example, “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel” (2011) was a beautiful film about older people that really had a point. It wasn’t cutting edge in the sense of what people normally think, but who cares as long as it move you and provokes your feelings and thoughts. I said earlier on another post I really was struck by “All is Lost,” I think that “Blue Jasmine” in its way make you think about people that I knew in New York. It’s a great character study. I think good movies are coming along all the time from abroad, from here, and I wouldn’t dismiss the industry for that. We filmmakers are always struggling to get something fresh and different done. Few of us succeed. But we try.

I think that the concentration on money, as with the rest of the culture, has hollowed out the business. I know that studios are just not developing dramas unless you’re a top of the line director, and they rarely do that without making you compromise. It’s hard to get things great things made in that way. If the directors stick to their guns and develop stuff they really believe in, I think it’s possible to get films made. I know that we have many more markets available to us, as well as different forms of financing, but sometimes you have to assume you’re not going to make much money making a film, and you’re going to live with whatever distribution you can get. So I think it’s a very harsh playing field—but good stuff does get turned out because people are ‘burning’ to tell a story. I sometimes feel we’re the like that medieval acting troupe in Bergman’s “Seventh Seal.”

Q: Nathan Paul Oliver as a filmmaker myself I come across a predicament often behind the camera. Do you ever sacrifice continuity of a shot for your vision?

Oliver: Yes, I often do. The logic of the technician is often in conflict with the heart. Especially as the sun is going down and fast decisions have to be made. Best to make those decisions early in the day.

But as you can see from my editing, it’s sometimes discontinuous, and probably far more interesting because of it.

Q: Matt Higgins How is it that you were able to turn your horrific experience of being a combat soldier in Vietnam into something productive- producing great films that brought Vietnam into the focus of the American mainstream, instead of becoming one of the many casualties of PTSD?

Oliver: Well, I probably did have my share of PTSD, but I didn’t know it at the time because it wasn’t called by that name. I think that terminology started in the late 70s (not sure). I think the fact that I met a good woman who helped me reintegrate, and I did gradually join back into a film school at NYU and was inspired. I think willpower played a role in it. There was much rejection. Remember, it took 10 years (‘76–‘86) from when I wrote “Platoon” to when it was actually filmed, as well as 10 years (‘79–‘89) for “Born on the Fourth of July.”

This is the point of the artistic journey isn’t it? To take the ordinary and the oppression that’s sometimes served up to us, and make of it something celebratory.

-Archived version here from Feb 13 2014

[ffive-by-fivee]

An Open Letter

To a year that taught me that change can be good, brought me the truest love I’ll ever know, and the biggest smiles I’ve ever had. I experienced personal growth like never before, followed my favorite band on tour (and met incredible people while doing it), almost legally adopted a teenager, saw high school me’s favorite band play their first show in 10 years, took a 24 hour whirlwind trip to see my love do her thing, had the best birthday I’ve ever had, rekindled an important friendship, damn near lost another, almost died in a couple pits, had some really heartbreaking realizations in therapy, got a promotion, learned how to process trauma and be a better friend and partner, took trips to the mountains, the desert, and the middle of nowhere, let go of the idea of closure, accepted my role in other’s lives, started recording music again, loved harder than I ever have, learned to be patient with myself in the same way that I’m patient with others, given myself room to fuck up, realized that there are people who will love me despite those fuck ups, had the 2 best nights of my entire life, almost donated a kidney (still might), gained some weight from just being well mentally, hugged a lot, got some tattoos, ate some incredible food, went on too many amazing road trips to count, went on one really bad one, followed my heart at every turn instead of my head, and let go of what no longer served me.

I developed a love for myself that no other person will ever be able to take away. I’m so much more well equipped to handle situations that trigger me than I ever have been before. I’m surrounded by people that truly love me, and love me in the way that I need. I never feel like I’m asking for too much or being a burden. Those self-loathing feelings are gone. I’m completely happy and comfortable being independent but I’ve also learned that it’s okay to lean on others sometimes. I’m great at understanding my wants and needs and communicating them. I’m patient with myself. I’m patient with others. My greatest strength is my ability to see other’s perspectives. I’m full of empathy. But I’ve also learned how to set boundaries, stick by them, and not over extend myself for others to the point of losing myself in it. I’ve found balance and harmony in all aspects of my personality. I’ve really found who I am, for myself and for the people I love.

But all of that growth hasn’t been without pain. I learned that resentment and love can exist side by side. I let go of something that I thought I would always have. Something that I put almost a decade of love and hope and tears and pain and compassion into. Something that I lost myself to. Something I wanted to salvage more than anything in the world, but in the end it just chewed me up and spit me out. Sometimes love isn’t enough, especially if it’s one sided. Sometimes you have to choose yourself and leave behind what won’t move with you. But it taught me a lot of lessons. I learned what selfless love looks like. I learned how to respect myself. I learned my worth. I learned that it’s okay to feel anger when it’s deserved. I learned to stop making excuses for other people and to hold them accountable. I learned how to understand what I’m feeling, sit with it, and then move on. I don’t think I’ve addressed you or the situation directly publicly since we last spoke but I’m going to do it now since I doubt you’ll ever see this: it makes me so angry that I still have any love for you in my heart. I love with my whole body, so I know it’ll always be there, but it makes me angry. It makes me angry because I know that you don’t care. I gave up on closure awhile ago but this feeling will always be with me. This soft spot will never go away. I’ve written pretty prose and waxed lyrical about it, but my relationship with those feelings have changed. I no longer think the love I have for you is beautiful. It’s always, always been a selfless love on my part, sure, but it was misplaced. It wasn’t earned or deserved. It was given because that’s who I am and how I love. I no longer have a tie to you, you gave that back last week. And you’ve made it very clear that you don’t care, so I don’t either. It gets under my skin that I even care enough to resent you. I’ve made my peace with the fact that you will always be right where I left you. I’m glad that works for you, but I’m taking steps forward every day. It does make me sad that I spent years of my life pouring myself into something to not even be able to salvage a friendship out of it. I am haunted by a past I cannot go back to. The reality is that those versions of us don’t exist anymore, and they never will again. Whoever I knew, whoever I loved, she’s no longer there. I’ll carry those lessons with me for the rest of my life, so in a way you’ll always be with me, but this is where I leave you. I’m the happiest and healthiest I’ve ever been, and it makes me sad that you’ll never be able to witness it. I sincerely want to thank you for leading me to myself. It’s the best gift you could’ve given me. I’m trying my best every day to let go of the resentment and think of those memories with fondness and not disdain, but that’s where I’m at right now. I hope you’re well, and I want you to know that I only ever wanted you to want better for yourself. I have a lot of things to apologize for, but I’ll never get the chance. I’ll always love you, but I can’t care anymore. Someone told me that “letting go doesn’t mean that you love them any less, it just means you love yourself more.” And I do love myself more. So I’m letting you go. Maybe there’s a timeline where we got to be friends. I hope there is, because I would’ve loved nothing more.

If 2022 was about letting go, 2023 is about finding. Finding more of who I am, my place, consistency, adventure, balance, more love. The goal for next year is 5 countries, I’m checking off 2 in a couple weeks, and another 2 a few months later. So I just need to throw 1 more in there. And then a bunch more US travel plans (I’m looking at you, 12 hour LA trip 😬). I want to see the world. I want to experience new things and new people. I want to walk in beautiful places. I want to eat weird shit. I want to learn new languages. I want to plan and be impulsive and save my money just to spend it. I want to love life the way life has loved me the last year. I want to live my life with intention. And I want to do it with the people I love.

So maybe change isn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe I was wrong. Continuity and transformation always travel together.

[perpetual-fool]

Feelings

(12/06/22, 3.1k) I was in the hospital again, with my bad heart. I spent the time just thinking, lamenting my past mistakes.

What I don't understand, is when I imagine what I might say if we met again, the only one I ever think of is her. I've gotten attached to a few people over the years, gotten to know some of them pretty well. I wish things had gone differently, but I don't miss any of them, really. The only one I miss is you. still. It's been so long. and we really didn't know each other that well. I know once I told you that, and you just asked "what do you want to know?". And I deeply regret that couldn't just ask. I was broken, I've been broken. I'm only just now starting to stitch myself back together. You've only known someone who was afraid to speak at all, and later someone who flipped between heartless and thoughtless. I've never really been myself before.

I know that doesn't matter. I'm sure you despise me by now. I doubt you'd want to hear another word from me, even if I have changed. I'm sorry you only knew my as I was. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend. Not that that would matter either. Empathy isn't enough; it's meaningless without understanding. And I am incompatible. If I'm not being vain, I think the way you put it was "a light that no one can imitate". So I don't try to connect anymore. That also means I don't need to keep things buried, mostly. Maybe you'd actually like me if you'd met me like this. But then, I'm only like this because I know I'm alone. There's no scenario I can imagine where we could have been, I dunno, anything? I don't have the context to understand my feelings. It doesn't make any sense. 

I'm starting to cut my own path into music now. Did you know I never actually learned to read it? I learned them as finger placements instead of tones. I'm going to need to come up with my own notation. I know I'll have to just memorize letter notation eventually, but it doesn't make any sense to me; seven letters for twelve tones, and starting on C? If it was used relatively, like how people refer to the tonic, third, fifth and whatever, that would make sense. It's like it started out relative and was forced into the role of being absolute. And I think eight years of orchestra trained my ear too well. I know once you expressed.. something, about people not being able to hear that they're not in tune, but how can you stand playing guitar? The intonation is all fucked up. I know it's not just me because there's a company in Sweden that makes adjusted fretboards, and they sound heavenly. But when I sat down an really listened to my guitar, it sounded all wrong. Nothing harmonized quite right, if I moved diads from one location to another they were off. It drove me nuts, I don't know why you don't hear it. Or do you just ignore it? So I'm starting with bass; fretless so I can actually play in tune, and acoustic so I don't have to worry about an amp. It is pretty quiet, maybe half as loud as a guitar. That shouldn't be a problem until I can project with my voice. I'm also working on that, current range is about D2-D4. I thought bass would be good for me to harmonize with, as it seems like harmonies more than an octave apart sound off. Like, guitar and viola sounds a lot better to me than guitar and violin. But also notes that low blend together and sound muddy, as I'm sure you know. So if can get the hang of subharmonics I may want to swap out for a 5 string for that B0. I know I'm getting ahead of myself with that though.

And if I recall correctly, I know I said and did a lot of dumb shit the last time we talked. Like, the bad drawing and such. I know it was bad, that wasn't the point. In part I didn't know what else to do, but if you'd told me "wow, that's so bad it looks like a child drew it with their feet" that would've been.. something? Again, I don't understand feelings. And I may be naive but I'm not stupid. When I told you that I could "make noises" from, X to Y, whatever it was, I know that barely audible squeaks and rumbles aren't useful for singing. Although, I think it was C2-E4, so I wasn't that far off. I thought it was patronizing, but maybe you knew something I didn't, Mrs. vocal coach. But I get the impression you were trying to fit me in some box when you called that my range; normalize what I'm saying into something you already understand.

On the topic of patronizing, I really was trying to be civil. I'm not sure if you took it as damning with faint praise or if I just failed to hide my hatred. This is going to be less civil. Maybe you would have preferred that? It doesn't matter I guess, you're not going to read this.

I can't play shell games with my beliefs. Mundane example: when my uncle tried to push me into guitar I needed some picks, and I chose a pack at random because I had no idea what I was doing. They happened to be heavies. And he told me never to use heavies unless I'm playing bass. But later he told me about this guy who played with a quarter because he liked the tone, and I think he fed me some meaningless platitude about how music can be whatever you want. "Do whatever you want, but don't do that" is not a belief I can maintain; I cannot maintain contradictions. My uncle is either a liar or a hypocrite.

I'm sure your denomination doesn't ride the guilt as heavy as mine did. They joke about it, praying for forgiveness three, four, five times during the service. "How much sinning could be happening when we're sitting in the pews?" But the core is the same. We are innately evil, and nothing we can do can ever make up for that. That's the belief that broke me into what I was. Believing every feeling was wrong and every thought not good enough. I'm sure you'd have at least a dozen excuses as to why you should feel good about yourself again after you take the magic bath. I'm wouldn't be surprised if you even genuinely meant them, but they don't work on me. It would only make me think that you are either a hypocrite or a heretic. Aside, I think you're a heretic regardless. As I heard one rando online put it, "If you aren't Catholic or Eastern Orthodox, then you aren't a fucking Christian". Reason being, you have the impudence to reinterpret that book. Catholics at least have their clergy to claim as an authority, but the only authority Protestants have is the book itself. So to interpret the book as anything but strictly literal, then you are judging it by something else. And you have no right, no authority to do that. I've heard the excuse, unless flames start appearing over people's heads and they all spontaneously agree on the same interpretation, you can fuck off with that. So if you dare decide that, say, "women should remain silent in church" was just Paul being a misogynist, then I think all you really believe in is yourself. Not that that's a bad thing. But I think you could be shining all the more brightly.

It was the mission trip that really hammered home that this was not about doing good, it was about making more Christians. And I don't mean the obvious stuff like: sure it's great that we're donating pencils to the needy children, but why aren't we solving whatever problem that's preventing them from getting pencils in the first place? I mean like how they warned us that they actually used wine for communion, because the people there wouldn't believe it had power if it was just grape juice; outright trickery. Or, when we visited a church in the town, it had bare cinder block walls, sheet metal roof, and a dirt floor. There was no door, no windows, they at least had simple wood benches. But the pastor there was telling the people, that anyone could give to the church. If you have no money, weave straw mats, sell them, and then give that money to the church. Heaven forbid we at least make sure these people have enough fucking food to eat before bleeding them dry. There's a couple more things I could get into, a shopkeeper by the waterfall told me there was rivalry between the Catholics and the CoCs, or why the fuck did they fly high school students to Africa to move bags and scoop cabbage. But I think that's enough.

I'm sure your church did substantially more good than mine did. But again, the core is the same. Any good the church does is just to sweeten the poison. It makes me sick to my stomach to step into a church these days, and the chords they use in gospel music grate on me like nails on a chalkboard.

I don't think I'll ever be well enough for this, but I'd like to go back and do things right. Do some volunteer work that actually makes a difference. Maybe learn sign. But there's no way I could withstand the social pressure. And I don't even have the will to take care of myself. That's why I'm getting back into music. I'm hoping, if I can find something that actually brings me joy, something I can understand on my terms, maybe things could get better somehow.

Ya' know, I never really liked playing viola. Not the instrument's fault. In fourth grade music class they brought in some kids from the orchestra to show off. I liked how the cello and the viola sounded, but I thought the cello would be a pain to lug around. Ironically my next door neighbor who was smaller than me picked cello. We walked home together, I could've handled it better than him. Fuck, I'd forgotten he played at all. I was right about the hassle, but then fifth grade we actually started playing some basic shit, and it sucked. It was mildly stimulating I suppose, but filling out the middle of the harmony is boring. I might've enjoyed it just a little more if they'd ever told us that's what we were doing. But despite that, there weren't many violas in the class, so I felt obligated to stay. The next year there were only two of us. I guess I just acquiesced to the role after that. Then I just coasted. I think past that first year, or at least past elementary, I never practiced at all. The time spent in class was more than sufficient for me to keep up. I guess there was just never anything for me to engage with. The only time I recall being excited for the music was when we allegedly had the chance to play the Halo theme. The viola part still wasn't great of course, but was so.. fun? to hear the piece starting to come together. And then she stopped us and said that we, or was it 'they'?, didn't understand the piece. To this day I do not know what that means, or why it couldn't have just been explained, or why that would even be necessary. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing; I didn't learn music, I only learned to operate a viola. About which I am still mildly upset. But if everyone else was already doing their best while I was running on autopilot, then maybe she had a point. Aside from that, the only thing that ever motivated me was you. I could've sat next to you one more year if Mrs. Smith hadn't doubted me. I finally had a reason to care and there was nothing I could do.

I did try just playing on my own but it really didn't appeal to me. Maybe that just wasn't complex enough? I think at this point my old viola is now a loaner instrument at an elementary school for use by larger kids. I'm happy with that ending for it. But I also feel like it wasn't really mine. Same with my guitars, which I also gave away. I feel they were all foisted upon me. I wasn't really engaged, people just kept pushing me. And, I wasn't really myself. I still like how the viola sounds. And a bow can much more expressive than anything you can do with a pick. Maybe if I ever start writing instrumental melody I'll pick up an electric five-string. The seven-string Viper looks cool but I think a violin might be too small for my hands. And maybe I'd want acoustic too, I dunno.

I'm not sure how I should feel about this, but I mostly don't remember you, what we did. In my self-loathing I've blocked most of it out. A few things stuck. I remember your favorite candy was those chocolate-caramel things. I remember you don't drink coffee, though I don't know if that was because you don't like it or because it's bad for your voice; you had tea instead. I remember the nickname you said only your mom called you. I remember Zoe Jane, The Way, and The Kids Aren't Alright have special meanings for you. I remember you wore that key, and when people would ask if that's the key to your heart you'd say it was the key to your dungeon. I remember you had a cross necklace that would flip upside-down, and you'd get flustered when people said they liked your inverted cross. At least, so you said. I remember we drew all over our music. I remember labeling that one section that was just a long rest "the ninjas", and it still amuses me to remember your reaction when you realized there was nothing there to play after saying "I'm gonna play the shit out of that part". I think that's what you said, I'm not sure anymore. I remember I was too afraid to hold your hand even though you told me not to be. I remember I did my best to give you "the world" for that Christmas thing. I remember we used to talk online a lot, and I remember blowing all my minutes for that prepaid phone just talking to you. I mostly don't remember what we talked about. Maybe it'd be nice to reminisce or maybe it'd just dig up old pain, I dunno.

I remember being too hurt to look at you after I thought we couldn't be whatever we were anymore. I remember I kept trying to sit next to you that trip, but you weren't having it. I remember the only reason I wanted to go in the first place was to be with you. I remember I spent most of the trip listening to this one song on repeat that went "can we be us again". I remember the last stop on the trip was this theme park, and they had a glass blower. There was this beautiful glass rose that I wanted to buy for you. But I couldn't afford it, so I bought a smaller one instead. I remember the last time we spoke you said you still have it, and that it was sweet, and that you care for me. And I remember, since you said it in those words, I didn't believe you. And I remember I said something stupid after that. I remember feeling devastated when I found out you'd probably lied to me about keeping your old name. I think at the time I thought you might've been messing with me as a joke, though now I think it's more likely it was so I couldn't find you. Maybe you were right to hide from me. And despite finding you anyway, I still feel like I should've believed you, trusted you. I remember I sent you one last message that was probably completely incoherent. I don't remember what I said. I probably don't want to.

Not that it means anything anymore, but if you were trying to be delicate with me, polite, that was entirely the wrong approach. I really can't read people. If you'd just directly told me to fuck off, I would have. I know this was never going to happen, but what I really needed was someone to tell me, directly and in concrete terms: what it was I did that was wrong, an explanation of why it was wrong, and what doing it 'right' would entail. At best all I ever got was an assessment of my intentions; some variant of "you're being ___". And that is completely meaningless to me, because that was not my intent. The stupid, simple answer to "how dare you say that" is that no one had told me not to yet. And, if all people tell me is to not say that, all I learn is that I shouldn't say anything. So there's certain things I just keep buried now. Maybe you'd think that's a good thing.

I don't know why I'm like this. I can black out the memories, but not the feelings, I guess. Shouldn't it have been long enough regardless? Hasn't enough changed? Haven't I failed completely enough? Still, I miss you. I hope you're happy. I hope you have a nice comfortable home without any screaming or broken glass or a man who overestimates their ability to diy. I hope my memory is not a bother to you. I hope you still have friends to play music with.

And I presume you don't have the rose anymore.

[kaunis-sielu]

Burning Rose: 3

How in the world is he supposed to gain your trust if you’re never in the shop when he swings by? Your sister, Maria he thinks, is the one who takes his order, glaring the whole time. For some reason she doesn’t trust him either, which as an Alpha he isn’t overly surprised that she doesn’t want him around her sister. He doesn’t want Pietro around his sister and he’s a Beta.

“Maria right?” He asks as she rings up his order.

“Yes.”

“Is your sister okay? I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“She’s fine.” She says shortly, “your total is $32.06.” He again gives her forty and when she gives him the change he shoves it into the jar.

“You should leave her alone. She doesn’t date.” Maria says looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Just then the door swings open and he doesn’t have to look to know that it’s you, he can smell you. He turns slowly, making sure that his movements are easy to read.

“Hi,” He say softly but all you do is stare at him. Did he do something wrong? He’d gotten the impression that you’d wanted to see him again last time he was here.

“H-hi.” You stutter and the way that you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours makes his heart race.

“I never got your name Darlin’.”

“Oh, you can call me Blossom, everyone else does.”

“That’s pretty.” He says with a smile, “I came to ask if you maybe wanted to go get lunch.”

“No.” Maria answers for you but you scowl at your sister, “Blossom, no.”

“That sounds nice, but I brought lunch today. Maybe another time?” You offer and Bucky hums softly, he attempts to radiate calm and it seems to work because you edge closer to him. You smell so sweet, like Jasmine and Rose, which shouldn’t surprise him because you work at a flower shop but you just smell so sweet. There might even be a hint of orange in there too but that might just be because you spend so much time with your sister.

“How about tomorrow?” Maria growls from behind him and Bucky tenses, “Maria can come too if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Thank you Bucky.” You say softly, “I’ll think about it.”

“If it’s a no then you can tell me no. I won’t be offended.” Heartbroken yes, but not offended. Becca is right, there’s more going on here. “You’ve got my number, you let me know what you’re thinkin’ okay?” He says and you nod, your eyes on him as he makes his way slowly toward the door.

“Thank you.” You practically whisper and Bucky gives a single nod before he leaves.

🌹🔥🌹🔥

After the door swings shut you glare over at Maria again. “I know he’s an Alpha and I know you think you’re doing what’s best for me but they’re not all going to be Wilson.” You haven’t said his name in so long, that you’re almost surprised you have now.

“I just, want you safe.” Maria says looking a little stunned by your outburst.

“I feel safe around him. I know that might sound crazy but I do.” You tell her, Maria doesn’t say anything back, she just scowls.

Two days later a group of women come into the shop. There’s two Omegas, a Beta and two Alphas but the scent of the group is so harmonious that the Alphas don’t have you even remotely concerned.

“Hi!” One of the Omegas calls and you suddenly realize that it’s Becca.”

“Becca, hi. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, this is Fawn our pack Omega and bride to be.”

“Hi,” She says, “I hope that you can help me out, I got a bouquet from you not long ago and they still look lovely.”

“Oh good, if you put them in fresh water after a few days they’ll last even longer.”

“That’s really good to know.”

“Alright, why don’t we look at some flowers and see what I have for you.”

“Do I need to go with what you have in the shop?”

“That depends, there are some that I’ll be able to get my hands on quickly so if I need to get more then I can. There are a few that I can’t do but we’ll come to that if you chose them.”

“Would it be best to look at arrangements?”

“Why don’t you just wander the shop and jot down some names. Everything is really well labeled because I want people to be able to design their own bouquets.”

“I love that.” She says with a soft smile, you really like her, she smells like her Alpha but the way their scents mingle is so pleasant.

She picks out two flowers, which is somewhat surprising considering the bouquet that Bucky picked for her that had several different flowers in it. The bouquet is pale pink roses and sunflowers and with some greenery it’s going to be absolutely stunning. Fawn orders a bridal bouquet, two bridesmaids, a half dozen table and five boutonnières, a groom and four groomsmen.

“Why did you get five boutonnières?” The pregnant Alpha, you think her name is Wanda, asks.

“One for Steve, Bucky, Sam and Peter, since he’s walking me down the aisle.” Then she pauses and she looks a little embarrassed, “the last one is for Cooper.”

“That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard.” Becca says giving her friend’s arm a little squeeze. “Do you have a way to attach a boutonnière to a dog?” Becca asks you,

“The only thing I can think would be to attach it to a collar, would that work?”

“It would, he also has a vest that he can wear. He’s a service-therapy dog.”

“I can come up with something for a dog.” You assure her with a smile as you finish writing up her order. “When do we need these by?”

“Next Saturday.”

“Okay, I can absolutely do that. I’ll bring them to you and do the arrangements for the tables at your venue.”

“Oh, okay.” She gives you her address and it’s just outside the city, “Is that okay? That I’m outside of the city?”

“That’ll totally fine. I’ll probably bring my sister, who is an Alpha is that alright?”

“Of course. Whatever you need to do to be comfortable. I know what it can be like to be an Omega in an unfamiliar place.” God you want to be friends with her, she is truly so sweet.

“What color do you want them wrapped in?”

“The girls are wearing a champagne color. Do you think that would look okay or should I do something a little more bold.”

“Are the men in black tuxes?”

“I can find out.” Becca offers pulling her phone out, you suspect that she’s texting Bucky.

“Thank you for all of your help.” Fawn says as the bell rings signaling that the door has opened. She stiffens for a second and both the Alphas with her tense. You take a quick breath, it’s not Maria but you do know who it is.

“That’s my friend Clark Kent. He’s mated and one of the only Alphas outside of my family that I trust.” You tell them softly and Fawn slowly relaxes, she gets a phone call and smiles down at her phone before answering.

“Hi Alpha, I’m fine.” Their connection must be astounding if he could sense her stress that quickly.

“They’re wearing blue tuxes.” Becca says pulling your attention from Fawn.

“Sorry Blossom, I didn’t realize you’d be so busy.” Clark says softly, you watch as he makes himself look smaller, not that it helps much because he’s still massive.

“It’s alright, I should’ve closed up for the wedding party.”

“No, no you have to make a living.” Fawn says as she hangs up her phone, “My Alpha is just very in tune with my emotions.” She says with a reassuring smile, she opens her wallet and passes you her card and after running it you pass it back and she sees the donation jar. “Oh, I love this. She digs some cash out of her wallet and shoves it in. “My Alpha is a fire Captain.”

“Oh, I wish I would’ve known, I give a discount for first responders.”

“Keep it as a tip. I know it’s hard being an Omega business owner.”

“Thank you. So since the groom and groomsmen are going to be wearing blue what if I wrap the bouquets with a light blue ribbon to give them a little color?”

“I love that. Thank you! Becca do you mind leaving your number and being in charge of flowers on wedding day?”

“Not a problem.” She tells you with a little smile you write down Becca’s number as a contact number then the group of women leave. You get Clark his bouquet that he’d ordered and with a smile he’s off.

The next few days are kind of busy but you don’t mind. You kind of like being busy, it’s far better than being bored. Your order of sunflowers shows up first and after cutting all the stems you get them in water, the bell over your door chimes, when you go to see who it is there’s a guy in a tracksuit, a Beta, in the shop.

“Can I help you?”

“Just looking.” He says with a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Okay, well let me know.” You tell him, as you check the email again, you don’t know why but you really feel like you don’t want him alone in your shop.

🌹🔥🌹🔥

Bucky tugs on the collar of his shirt. Something is bugging him and he doesn’t know what it is. His first thought is Becca but she’s been with Fawn, Pepper and Wanda all day.

“Buck? You good?” Steve asks glancing over at him. They’ve been looking at places to surprise Fawn and hold the ceremony at but suddenly Bucky can’t focus.

“Yea, somethin’ just feels off.”

“Wanna call Becca?”

“I just talked to her and everything seemed fine.” Bucky pauses, it couldn’t be you could it? “I’m gonna go get somethin’ to drink. You want anything?”

“Just water? I think I found a place.”

“Good, I’ll be right back.” He slips into Steve and Fawn’s kitchen and pulls up your website, he clicks on the phone number and practically prays that you answer and not Maria.

“Burning Rose this is Blossom.”

“Hi Darlin’ it’s Bucky.”

“Oh, hi Bucky.”

“Is everything okay?” He can practically hear the surprise in your silence.

“I think so.” You say softly, “But I’m not sure.”

“Is Maria there?”

“No.”

“If it’s more than one guy tell me you like pineapple.”

“I don’t like pineapple.” You tell him softly, god he loves your voice.

“If it’s an Alpha tell me you like pears.”

“Ew, pears on pizza.” He knows then that it’s probably a Beta.

“A Beta?”

“Yea, pears and honey.” You say with a tight laugh, he thinks you meant it to sound airy but it doesn’t, not to him.

“Do you want me to come? Tell me you like cheddar cheese with your pears.”

“I think I like cheddar cheese with my pears.” You say hesitantly and Bucky is out the door without a thought.

“Stay on the phone with me?”

“Okay,” You take a slow even breath before asking, “Did your mom like the flowers?”

“Loved ‘em Darlin’. Thank you.”

“I’m glad, what time do you want to go to lunch?”

“I’m two blocks away.”

“That sounds fine.” He’s not running but he’s not going slow by any means, he bumps into a guy in a tracksuit and waves as he continues toward you.

“I can see the shop.” He tells you and you hum softly.

“What are you doing?” You ask and he can tell you’re not asking him. A male voice responds but Bucky can’t tell what he’s saying.

“Blossom just wait please. Please let me get there first.” This Omega is going to kill him. He walks into the shop only to find a Beta taking a threatening step in your direction. It only takes Bucky four long strides to have the dark haired Beta by the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem here?” Bucky growls lowly and your eyes widen slightly.

“She’s crazy! Flipping out on me about touching her fucking flowers!”

“I wasn’t.” You sound so small and it makes Bucky’s heart hurt.

“They are her flowers. If she doesn’t want you to touch, you don’t touch. Got it?”

“Yea, damn.” Bucky keeps a firm grip on the Beta’s neck as he turns and guides him out of your shop.

“Come back when you learn some manners.” He growls before closing the door and turning back to you.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @sophham @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger @dontbescaredtosingalong @blackwidownat2814

[jungkxook]

—the love bug. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: spiderman!jungkook + fluff / smut

⟶ words: 20,649 (sorry)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: every night, jungkook puts on the red mask and flings himself confidently into perilous danger; but that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit seems to fail him whenever it comes to you 

⟶ warnings: coarse language, mild violence, jungkook is really shy and cute and dumb bc he’s so smitten, also jungkook’s butt in spandex is nice, needy/clingy sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), face riding, fingering, riding, missionary, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of a fic i had on my old blog! 

You see Jungkook every night without fail.

When the sun has set below the distant horizon and plunges the world into a formidable darkness, driving most ordinary civilians to seek shelter in their homes, he stumbles into the café tucked cozily on the corner of a busy street in Lower Manhattan. The concrete city is still very much alive in a harmonious mix of sirens and the hum of cars but is subdued, muffling under the night sky and is most susceptible at this time to misconduct. Usually, at this point of night, the café you work at is nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that huddle tiredly at certain round tables. Most times, these are students from the university you attend just around the bend, whose weary eyes peer over the laptop in front of them as they meticulously work on an essay due the next morning, only fueled by the cup of coffee next to them.

Though you’ve seen Jungkook plenty of times around the campus of your school, he never once enters the café for the sole purpose of late night studying or writing. Instead, as you come to find over the course of many strange nights, Jungkook stumbles in through the doors sometime after 9 p.m., always with one strap of his backpack thrown over his shoulder. He always looks dishevelled, exhausted, as if he has spent the evening running all over the city of New York; and then he plops himself down into a seat by the window, burying his head in his folded arms that lean on the top of the table. Most times he orders a coffee and though he downs it the fastest you’ve ever seen, he is still somehow able to fall asleep at the table. Sometimes, he hardly ever touches the coffee and lets it grow cold as it rests next to him but he always, without a doubt, falls asleep next to it.

You never wake him. Usually, when you work the late night shifts, you are alone for a handful of hours until your next coworker arrives for their shift. You don’t mind the company anyway, even if he sleeps for most of the night. It’s comforting to at least see he’s resting, though you find yourself snickering to yourself as you watch the snoring boy when it’s just you and him alone in the café. Though you have grown up with Jungkook as your next door neighbour as a child, have attended the same schools and been in most classes together from elementary all the way to your freshman year of college now, and have watched one another mature and change, you have never really exactly gotten to know Jungkook as well as you’d like. Typically, your conversations are short and friendly, ranging from you taking his order at the café and spotting him around campus and asking if he knew the answer to a question for the homework assigned to the class you share with him.

This night isn’t any different.

You’ve become eager, always anticipating when Jungkook will walk through the doors of the café and make himself at home as he routinely does. However, just before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night, when the small bell above the door rings to signal a new arrival, you are immediately disappointed to find that it is not Jungkook. Instead, it is a crude muscular man not much older than you with tattoos that litter his arms and a star inked into the left side of his neck. The sight of him causes you to groan inwardly, forces you to straighten your back a little more, hold your chin a little higher. Most nights the café may be occupied by university students, but other nights you are forced to deal with tasteless strangers that try to intimidate you but instead give you an agonising headache.

You have seen this man before, have remembered the star tattoo and the scar just above his right eyebrow. He has come into the café before and has been the source of trouble more often than not. As the man approaches the counter in an imperious stride this time, you notice the smirk that tugs at his lips and feel the foreboding shudder that runs down your spine.

“Evenin’,” You greet. “Can I get you anything?”

The man’s eyes flicker to the menu above the counter, as if he is pondering what to order. He looks back down at you and then leans against the counter, closing the distance between him and you causing you to take a step back.

“How are you doing tonight, sweetheart?” he asks. “Been awhile, huh? Did you miss me?”

Forcing a fixed smile on your face, you reply shortly with, “I’ve been well. Can I get you anything?”

Apparently, the way you repeat your question in a firm manner doesn’t act as well of a hint as you had hoped for the man. He’s smirking wickedly, clearly enjoying the strain he puts you through.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart,” he drawls. “When do you get off? Maybe we can meet round back and I can show you what a real man is like.”

“No thanks.”

“Playing hard to get, hm?” he muses. “I wonder what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

Though you are appalled, you swallow your nerves and narrow your eyes into a glare. It can tell you to kindly fuck off, you grimace to yourself. Instead, you turn your back to him, pretending to occupy yourself with cleaning the counter as you mumble blankly, “Not interested.”

The man chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just a little fun━”

“She said she’s not interested.”

The familiar voice that interrupts the man causes your heart to leap blithely in your chest and makes you realize you have been so caught up with the man by the counter that you hardly noticed the way the bell rings a second time as the newcomer enters the shop. Standing just behind the man is Jungkook, whose carob hair sticks out in messy tufts and weary eyes are laced with an underlying menace. The man looks from you to Jungkook and must assume the confrontation isn’t worth a fight. The smug smile remains on his face even as he shrugs, muttering something along the lines of, “Whatever, man. I was just trying to have some fun.”

Whether or not Jungkook has scared him away, the man relents and retreats to the door of the café, disappearing outside once more. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you come to realize that you are now alone in the café with Jungkook with nothing but the sound of the flat screen t.v that hangs in a corner behind the counter, faintly playing on the news channel.

“You okay?” he asks, catching your attention. “He didn’t do anything, did he?”

“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” You say. “Thanks for that, by the way. Though I could’ve handled it myself.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t doubt that but it’s nice to get a little help sometimes.”

You smile up at the boy who towers above you and, despite the fatigue that droops his eyes, his pink lips still unfurl into a wide, radiant grin that brightens his face.

“How long are you here for tonight?” he asks.

“Till close. Then I have to head home and put together a powerpoint for psych,” You yawn as if to emphasize your boredom. “What can I get you? The usual?”

Jungkook looks at you as if you are his saving grace. The smile stretches further across his cheeks as he nods. “Please?”

“Will do. Sit tight, I’ll be right over.”

You spin around from behind the counter, almost immediately jumping to work as you rummage through the shelves. When you’re finished making his order that consists solely of a medium black coffee with two sugars and turn back around to face him, you find him seated at a table off to the side, not far from the counter. His backpack lays discarded on the ground by his feet and his elbow rests on top of the surface of the table, his chin nestled in the palm of his hand; his eyes are fixated on the television screen hanging just ahead and, for once upon entering the café past dusk, he doesn’t lack a sense of emotion. Instead, his brows knit in concern as he is engrossed by whatever is happening on the news.

As you approach his table with his coffee in your hand, you crane your neck to look up at the screen and what has seemingly caught his interest. On one side of the screen is a female news reporter in a pink blouse and gray blazer; on the second half of the screen, you see a familiar flash of striking red and blue that swings from building to building from an, albeit, shaky recording from a passerby’s phone.

“And in other news,” The woman who speaks has a strong, smooth voice as she stares ahead at the camera with a rather sour look, “the masked mystery man, otherwise known as Spider-Man, was spotted earlier this morning when he put a stop to a robbery in an apartment in Queens just before noon. Though most would argue that Spider-Man is New York’s very own masked hero, the New York City Police Department are still searching for the identity of whom they call a vigilante, saying he is causing mayhem in━”

“Some guy, huh?” You muse pensively, sliding the coffee onto the counter next to Jungkook. “This spider guy or whatever.”

The boy in front of you glances down meekly at the coffee and back up at you. His eyes flicker to the screen hanging in the corner once more. “You mean Spider-Man?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah. He comes out of nowhere two years ago and now he’s everywhere. What do you think of him helping with all this dangerous crime stuff?”

“Ah, well, that’s his thing,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “If he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t be helping solve a lot of the city’s crimes. I think he’s pretty cool, y’know, for a masked guy. I definitely don’t think he’s a vigilante or━ or a criminal.”

“You talk about him as if you know him,” You giggle.

Jungkook’s eyes widen for a split second and then he’s furiously shaking his head. “Know him? No, no, of course not! I’m just a… Just a big fan ━ and an even bigger fan of Iron Man.”

He picks up the coffee next to him and lifts it to his mouth for a quick sip, nearly burning his tongue but swallowing his curses.

“I like him,” You confess at long last. “He’s interesting. I think he’s just what we need at a time like this.”

Just then, the bell above the door rings once more and a small group of friends wander into the shop, each carrying backpacks and heavy textbooks. They sit at a table off in the corner and you sigh as you look back down at Jungkook.

“That’s my cue,” You say. “Gotta go, but have a good night, okay? And, Jungkook? You really should get some more sleep.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond but you are already turning away and so he sits back in his seat, defeated once more. He watches as you stride happily to the group of friends sitting at a table to take their order, your hair bouncing slightly under the fluorescent lights. He folds his arms over the top of his table and buries his head in them, though he sneaks one last glance up at you. Despite his eyes itching with sleep, he pries them open just a second longer to watch you smile as you speak with the students and it is the last thing he sees before he slips off into a light and contented sleep.

As you step out into the cool, early Autumn night and shut the door of the café behind you to lock it, the single thought most prominent in your mind is sleep.

You’re exhausted, but the homework still waiting to be completed in your home is the only thing that pushes you to stay awake. You hurry to fish the store keys out of your coat pocket and, with a euphonious chime, use them to lock the front door, ignoring the way the cold breeze nips at your cheeks. You grasp the collar of your coat tighter around your body and then hike the strap of your own bag further up your shoulder as you turn to walk away.

Jungkook had fallen asleep as per usual after your short conversation with him and then vanished an hour some time before you closed, waving a final farewell to you. The rest of your night had been rather slow, with only two more customers entering the café until each person left to venture back out into the cold and leave you alone. To finally be freed from the confinements of the café has you breathing in the crisp air in a deep breath. Exhaling placidly, you cross the street and begin making your way toward your one bedroom apartment which is only a fifteen minute walk away from both the café and your school.

You aren’t quite sure how long you have been walking for when you begin to notice the sound of footsteps behind you. In fact, if you had been listening more intently since the second you left the café, you would be able to recall the fact that these same heavy footsteps had been following along behind you since then. You don’t necessarily see the problem at hand just yet, thinking it to be just another innocent passerby who is coincidentally walking the same way as you. After all, New York City has a tremendously huge population.

You take a left, turning the corner of the street to continue along the path to your home. The only light that illuminates the way are the silvery wisps from the moon that hangs high in the night sky and the flickering street lamps that you pass occasionally. You take another left and strain your ears and hear the sound of footsteps again. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was just a random passerby, but most cities weren’t foreign to that of strange stalkers. Holding your breath, you slowly glance over your shoulder at the figure who has been following you and spot a man just a few paces away, the hood of his sweater drawn over his head.

You immediately turn back around, eyes wide as panic begins to settle in. You take another left, then a right, cross the street and retrace your steps back towards the café and each time you hear the heavy footsteps; each time they quicken in pace as does yours. You hadn’t even realized how briskly you were walking until you glance over your shoulder for a second time and see the man once more. Suddenly, you turn a sharp corner and race ahead before coming across an empty and darkened alleyway. You slip into its shadows, your heart hammering wildly against your chest and in your ears, and continue to walk until the brick wall at the very end of the alleyway comes into view. A dead end.

You turn back around and begin walking forward before freezing suddenly. If you go back out there, that man could still be lurking; if you stay in the alleyway, you could hide until you think it’s safe. Your eyes flicker around for something to cower behind and just before you notice the dumpster off to the side, you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you come face-to-face with the hooded man who is all but blocking your path to freedom. Except now, you’re able to stare into his face past the silhouette that his hood draws on his features. Now, you can see the star tattoo on his neck, the scar above his right eyebrow and an image of the man from the café only hours ago flashes across your eyes.

“You,” You gasp. “What do you want from me?”

Behind his hood, you can see him smirk slyly. “I just want to chat to you, babe. What are you doing all by yourself out here?”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You step forward to walk around him but he grabs onto you, his arm snaking around your waist as he drawls, “Not so fast. I’ve been meaning to get you alone like this.”

Just as you open your mouth to shout out for help, the noise of sudden scuffling in the alley causes the man to stop. It comes with the rustling of the wind and could have easily been mistaken for the sound of a trash can falling over or paper tumbling loosely but it is also unmistakable the sound of footsteps. The man must notice something before you do as he squints further into the alleyway, muttering a small, “What the hell━”

“Come on, dude, that’s seriously no way to treat a girl!”

The foreign voice that drifts into the alleyway seems to startle not only yourself, but the man in front of you. His grip loosens on you slightly as he cranes his neck to look amongst the shadows.

“Well, anyone, for that matter.”

The stranger’s voice is youthful, most likely belonging to a boy around your age. It is oddly calm and nonchalant despite the situation that is unfolding before him, and then he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. As your eyes flicker open, you follow the source of the sound towards the blocked end of the alleyway still veiled by the darkness. Had this person always been there or had they really materialized out of thin air?

“Who’s there?” The man in front of you grunts. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“And why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” The voice retaliates. He pauses as if he is waiting for an answer and then he is speaking up again. “Let me guess. You’re gonna tell me to screw off or something right? God, you guys are always so predictable and yet you never make it any easier for me.”

The man scowls, his hand drops from your throat as he turns to the looming darkness and hisses gruffly, “Mind your own business, punk━”

Before he can carry on, something flings out of the darkness and lands on the man’s face in a blink of an eye. He immediately lets go of you, grunting in confusion and flailing his arms about. As you drop to the ground, you subsequently bang your head hard against the brick wall and groan in pain, though you’re able to catch a glimpse of what the man is trying so desperately to claw off his face before your vision goes blurry. It is something thin and wispy, made of silver glistening strands that resembles, oddly enough, a spider’s web. As the man fumbles into the darkness, arms swinging clenched fists wildly about.

“Over here!” The boy taunts. “Missed me again! You know, you’re not very good at this.”

You struggle to climb to your feet, clutching your head in agony as you squint into the darkness. From where you are, you can only see the man fumbling around uselessly, the other figure still concealed by the darkness. As you attempt to get a better look, you hear the boy grunt in pain and catch sight of the man just after he had swung his fist into this person’s face, while his other hand had successfully been able to finally rip the mesh off his face.

“Okay, ow, that hurt,” The boy admits.

But before he or the man can continue on, you’re springing forward, mustering all your strength and courage into one impromptu movement. You grab your bag that had been discarded on the ground, heavy with a few school textbooks you had brought with you; you clutch it tightly, race up behind the man, and swing it hard at his head. His actions come to a sudden halt, he staggers forward, and immediately collapses to the ground, unconscious. Then finally, plunged into the darkness of the alleyway, you slowly look up to face the eye of your helper and are met, instead, with a flash of red and blue.

Standing before you, adorned head to toe in a tight suit is none other than the mysterious masked vigilante. He’s much taller in person than you expected, and much more muscular too, though with his face hidden beyond a mask, you can’t say much else about him. Instead, you gasp as you stare up at him in astonishment.

“Hey, nice hit!” he says, an apparent grin in his voice. “That was pretty awesome━”

“It’s you!” You exclaim.

“Me?” He seems confused at first but then he’s straightening up. “Oh, right, right. It’s me! Just, uh, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Rescuing damsels in distress is kinda my thing.”

Your amusement for the mysterious hero is quick to fade, however, in wake of the throbbing pain on your head. It makes you aware of the fact that your knees have since grown weak, your mind spinning. When you take a step forward, you are suddenly faint and stumble over your feet, tripping to the ground. Before you can hit the pavement, the boy swoops forward and into view, catching you swiftly in his arms and holding you up.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says. “Oh man, we gotta get you home. Can you tell me where you live?”

You can feel your lips moving in response, most likely informing him foolishly of the apartment complex you live in. Though this boy has been noted on performing acts of bravery and fighting against crime, he’s still a stranger ━ and, even more warily so, a complete enigma. There was no reason to trust him, despite him helping you only minutes ago, but in that moment you are weak and exhausted. In the very next second, you find yourself slipping off into a deep and tranquil slumber.

When you awaken the next morning, you are first greeted to the bright light of the sun that licks at your cheeks and warms your face. You note the soft plush of the mattress under you, the soft breeze that ruffles your hair, and when you pry your eyes open, you find yourself laying on the bed in your room; your window opened. Just when you begin to think the night before was all just some elaborate dream, you feel the slight tinge of pain in the back of your head and, despite it all ━ despite the pain and despite the memory strange man who had followed you ━ you smile softly at the thought of the boy in red and blue.

The next time you see Jungkook is on that Thursday.

Truthfully, you’ve been eager to find him around campus if only to tell him about your encounter with New York’s masked hero. You hadn’t told many people, safe for your closest friends, though you’re keen to see Jungkook’s reaction as you’ve learned he’s a fan of this spider guy. Wednesday is the only day you have a class with him and so as soon as the boring lecture for your anthropology class is finished, you spot him striding casually out the door and catch up to him just as he’s walking down the smooth pavement of the campus sidewalk.

Word, however, seems to spread fast amongst the friends in your year and whereas you only told one of your friends on that previous Friday about your encounter in the alleyway, Jungkook has already heard the story through misconstrued words at least a dozen times, through whisperings of people that aren’t even your friends. It’s a novelty, apparently, to witness something like this strange masked man. But, naturally, Jungkook is rather surprised when he hears your familiar dulcet voice calling his name.

“Jungkook!”

He whirls around to face you and smiles as he sees your figure walking towards him, adorned in leggings and a baggy school shirt to match the evening’s warm weather. You’re smiling at him, almost as radiantly as the sun that it almost quite literally blinds him as he doesn’t seem to notice the other girl walking just in front of him. He bumps into her before he can step out of the way and hastily apologizes before turning back to you only to see you giggling.

“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asks as you approach.

“I’ve been meaning to find you since Friday,” You say. “You’ll never believe what happened on Thursday.”

“I’ve been hearing it all week since then.”

“You have? Who told you?”

This causes Jungkook to chuckle lightly. He hikes the usual one strap of his backpack further up his shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “Y/N, everyone’s been talking about it. I guess no one can keep their mouth shut anymore. So tell me: what was this Spider-Man guy like?”

A small smile stretches across your face at the name, your teeth instinctively biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to hide in. Was it just Jungkook or did he see the slightest of pink pinch at your cheeks? When you look back up at him, your eyes are shimmering.

“Honestly?” You reply sheepishly. “I think I’m crushing on him pretty hard.”

Jungkook nearly chokes. When he speaks next, his voice is slightly higher than usual, so he clamps his mouth shut, clears his throat, and tries again. “You don’t say? He must be a real charmer then. Do you, uh, even know him well enough to crush on him?”

“It’s strange,” You remark. “You’re right ━ I don’t even know him and yet I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since then. I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?”

“What even happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Remember that guy you scared away Thursday night? I got into some trouble with him━ but don’t worry!” You throw in the last few words when you see Jungkook’s brows scrunch in concern. “Spider-Man came before anything could happen. He saved me. I owe him my life at this point.”

Jungkook notes the dreamlike tone in your voice and when he glances down at you, you’re smiling blissfully down at your scuffed Converse shoes. It’s mesmerizing to see you so content and jubilant, beaming like the sun once more that hangs in the clear cerulean blue sky. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air, smells the wafting nodes of freshly ground coffee somewhere in the distance, and exhales slowly.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looks over at you once more and asks, “Hey, um, so for that anthro project we have to do ━ I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be partners for it?”

Your eyes light up at the proposition and you nod enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’d love that, actually. Maybe we can meet up this Sunday to plan everything out and see who’s doing what?”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of your friend calling your name. You glance ahead where your eyes land on a group of girls sitting on a nearby bench and you wave at them. They gesture you over and you skip ahead a few paces, turning to look at Jungkook. He smiles as he nods.

“Sorry,” You apologize sheepishly. “But Sunday at the café at noon?”

“Sounds like a date.” Jungkook reddens suddenly at the way he words his thoughts and stammers to correct himself. “Not a date! Work date. Uh━”

“It’s a date,” You giggle. “See you!”

Then you’re rushing off to join your friends, leaving Jungkook alone once more. He sighs in your wake, shakes his head at himself, and grudgingly walks away.

That night you can hardly sleep.

You blame it on the stress that comes with being a student, constantly under the strain of a multitude of assignments and upcoming tests. When the clock strikes half past one in the morning just as you are finishing typing up the last sentence of a seven page essay on your laptop (seated at your desk, where you have been for the past few hours), you decide you need a break before you go absolutely insane. Shrugging on a simple cardigan, you tiptoe out of your room, down the corridor to the elevator, ignoring the way your joints that have stiffened in place stretch in a satisfying pop. You’re stumbling out and onto the roof of your apartment building in no less than five minutes, emerging out into the open night.

It isn’t terribly cold and, after inhaling a deep breath of the refreshing air, you sigh in relief and you walk to the concrete barrier at the very edge of the roof and lean against it. Gazing out at the vibrant and lively concrete and glass buildings and skyscrapers alike that build the city of New York, with each window illuminated by a warm glow of light, seems to give you a sense of peace. You can hear the hum of cars, a distant sound of sirens, the occasional honk, and the thump of bass from somewhere in the distance to your left, all amassing into the rhythmic pulse of the city; across from you, in the building complex on the other side of the street, you can see silhouetted figures of perhaps caffeinated students or late night lovers. The sky is empty, blank and dull as it stretches on over the entirety of the city, but you can see the moon, brightly shining in all its glory, bold and proud amongst the artificial light.

A slight breeze disrupts the stillness of the roof, rustles your hair, followed by the looming feeling of not being alone. You hear the sound of footsteps landing softly on the ground and turn around slowly, casting your gaze across the seemingly empty rooftop. But you see it ━ or rather, him ━ in the shadows near the door a bit further off. It’s strange how calm you are in the moment but the presence doesn’t exactly feel intimidating to you ━ especially when you notice the flash of red and blue.

“You again?” You ask humorously.

“Sorry if I scared you.” The voice that carries with the wind towards you is familiar, youthful. “Definitely not my intention.”

“I’m not scared,” You say. “If I can recall amongst your many gritty crime fighting, you saved a cat stuck in a tree a while back.”

The boy chuckles. “Ah, well, just all a part of the job.”

“What are you doing here?” You take a step toward him and hear him retreat further into the darkness.

“Well, you’re probably going to call me weird and insane,” he says, “but I just wanted to check on you. You were pretty out of it when I dropped you off at your place.”

“You’re not stalking me now, are you?”

“No way!” he says. “I was just, y’know, in the neighbourhood. I was actually about to call it a night when I passed your apartment and then I saw you up here. Must be fate, huh?”

“Fate sure is weird,” You muse pensively, pursing your lips. You pause, squinting your eyes into the darkness. “Thanks, by the way. For helping me that night and bringing me back. Is there anyway I can repay you?”

“Repay me? Oh, no, no!” he says. “That’s not what this is all about, I promise. What I do is for the city and for the people. I can sleep better at night knowing thugs like that guy are being taken care of properly.”

“That’s a pretty commendable thing to do,” You say. “You gotta be pretty brave to put yourself in danger each night.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

There’s a smirk in his voice that stretches his words into a confident and smug drawl. You, in turn, smile bashfully. You look down at your shoes and then back up at the shadows.

“Can you step out of the dark?” You ask. “I want to see you.”

“Ah, but then that’ll ruin the mystique,” he points out. “And where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head at him, pearly white teeth gnawing down on your lower lip to hide the smile that tugs at your mouth. You pull your cardigan tighter around your torso, ignoring the distant sound of a wailing siren.

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” he says. “I have to go but it was a pleasure meeting you━ uh, what was your name again?”

“I never told you,” You say. “And if I do, it’ll ruin the mystique, won’t it? Where’s the fun in that?”

He laughs into the night, a sound so genuine and amiable. “Fair enough. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, despite the terrible circumstances. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? And get some sleep!”

You can hear him moving, as if preparing to leave. You step forward, mouth opening to stop him, but then he is gone, the sound of feet leaping into the air the last thing you hear from him. By the time you rush to the other side of the roof and look around frantically for any sight of him, you spot the mysterious vigilante as a tiny speck soaring from building to building. You smile as you watch him disappear amongst the horizon, bleeding into the glow of lights until he is gone, becoming one with the city altogether.

The days pass in a very typical blur.

Sunday comes and goes much too fast where both you and Jungkook work diligently for a few hours at the café before the rest of the week goes by. You hardly see Jungkook except for at night, as always past 9 p.m., when he stumbles wearily into the café and plops down in his usual seat. And, with the days passing as usual, there are still the consistent reports of sightings of this mysterious Spider-Man. Though you seem to go about your routinely oblivious days, you are all Jungkook is able to think about. You are all he usually thinks about these days, anyway, and all he is thinking about that very Wednesday when he’s supposed to be hanging out with Taehyung.

It isn’t uncommon to see Jungkook with Taehyung around campus. They have, after all, been best friends since the moment they met in their small daycare they attended together. Taehyung is more than accustomed with Jungkook’s habits and knows the boy in and out, including every secret and every crush he’s ever had (which, for the most part, has been you). That Thursday afternoon they are both sitting at the park just across from campus where most students from the school spend their time. Jungkook’s perched on the edge of the large concrete water fountain in the middle of the bustling meadow, with Taehyung reclining on his back, basking in the sun with a bag of chips on his stomach. They both spot you walking by with a friend and wave at Jungkook which causes Taehyung to roll his eyes.

“Dude,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just ask her out already. She already said she’s crushing on you.”

Jungkook looks down at his friend and shakes his head. “No, she said she’s crushing on Spider-Man. Not me.”

Taehyung, who was in the middle of shoving a handful of chips in his mouth, stops suddenly. He pushes himself up, nearly dropping the bag of chips, eyes wide as he stares at Jungkook in utter disbelief.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” He asks incredulously. “You’re the same person, you idiot.”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Jungkook explains calmly. “As far as she knows, Spider-Man is this cool dude and I’m just… I’m just me. Jungkook. Boring and not charming.”

“So then tell her the truth,” Taehyung says. “Y’know, use yourself as your own wingman.”

As he shoves another handful of chips into his mouth, Jungkook shakes his head once more. He’s already thought of this idea plenty of times before but it’s not as easy as it seems. The responsibility that comes with putting on that mask each night is followed by even greater risks for the people he’s around. Telling you the truth could only end in one way, anyway.

“I can’t do that,” Jungkook says. “What if I tell her and she’s let down?”

Taehyung would shake his head disapprovingly at his friend this time and mumble something along the lines of, “You think too much.”

And while that may be true in Jungkook’s case, Taehyung just wouldn’t understand. There is a reason Taehyung is the only person who knows about Jungkook’s secret and he is already endangering the life of his friend. To tell anyone else would only result in a much more terrible outcome for not only the people around him, but Jungkook himself. Still, though, as Jungkook settles back on the edge of the fountain and looks in the direction of the path you had vanished along, there is an inkling of a voice in the back of his mind that nags him, urges him, to tell you.

Jungkook sighs. He finds it ironic that anytime he puts on the red mask and flings himself into perilous danger, he is always confident, never once wavering, and yet when he is just himself, just another mundane passerby, that same heart of steel that fuels his will and spirit suddenly pales in comparison.

If only he could be so brave without that mask.

On Friday evening well into the night when what little stars you can see in the polluted sky begins to blend with the glowing light from building windows as far as the eye can see you find yourself at an overcrowded and clamorous party. You had been more than content with spending the start of your weekend not working but, upon entering the party, you find yourself not nearly enjoying the time as well as you had hoped you would. You’ve long since lost sight of your friends and the guy standing in the corner of the living room who had been eyeing you for most of the night had most certainly not helped with your mood ━ and, if anything, turned you off from drinking.

Albeit still slightly buzzed from the few drinks you had earlier been bestowed in the quintessential red solo cup that defines every high school and college party you’ve been to, you stumble out onto the balcony of one of the rooms for a breath of fresh air and are startled to find you aren’t alone when you spot the figure of a young man leaning against the railing.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here━”

As the figure turns around, you are relieved and thrilled to see it’s Jungkook. You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut, and smile up at him with a dainty hand on your hip. A look of recognition dawns on his face at the sight of you, his own lips tugging into a friendly grin.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Feel free to join me on the balcony of escaped party attendees ━ because I assume that’s what you’re doing? Escaping?”

You push yourself forward to the railing, standing beside him as he turns back around to face the city. “I just needed a break from it all. You? I gotta say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

He flashes you a sheepish smile, resting his arms atop the railing and leaning forward. “Exactly. Parties aren’t really my scene. My friend, Taehyung, dragged me out here but this balcony seems to be my favourite place.”

“Well, if it means anything,” You tell him, “I’m glad you came.”

When you look at Jungkook, you find him already gazing at you, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. His carob eyes crinkle with the smile on his face and he finds himself still staring at you even long after you have turned away to stare up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly warm night, though you silently thank yourself for throwing on the denim jacket you’re wearing earlier in the day whenever a cool breeze breaks through the city.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?” You say after a while. “That we can’t see the stars from the city. That’s why I like camping. Star-gazing and watching the sunrise are two of my favourite things. It kind of keeps me humble in a way.”

“That’s an interesting way of thinking about that,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes I get so carried away by being in the city; it’s kind of nice just to slow things down once in a while.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way,” You crane your neck to cast a steady gaze across the towering buildings in the near distance. “The city can be pretty beautiful, too, though.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Your eyes twinkle playfully at a sudden thought that seems to warm your face. “And some of the people help make it beautiful. Like that spider guy. What he’s doing for the city is incredible.”

“Ah, right. Spider-Man.” The words leave Jungkook in a small exhale. “You must really like him, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“I can name a few. Like the police.”

“They’re just scared of him because he’s doing their job better than they ever could.”

Jungkook chuckles lightly. He shakes his head as he looks down at his clasped hands and the calluses on his fingers from past tribulations. It’s silent again, in which time the thump of bass from the party ensuing behind you two fills the air, followed by a burst of vigorous chanting and cheering from within.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks suddenly, his voice timid.

“Go ahead.”

Jungkook pauses, thinking. He seems to struggle with forming his thoughts into words as he remains silent for a second too long. “Okay, let’s say I know this person really important to me, and let’s say I have this thing ━ this equally as important thing ━ that I really want to tell them. The thing is, I can’t just do that because if I do, I’m afraid that this person will be let down. What do you think I should do?”

You’re quiet as you ponder his words, looking pensively down at the city below.

“Well,” You hum slowly, “what’s the point in hiding behind a fake front the whole time? It’s kind of like hiding behind a mask your whole life, right? And I think life is too short for that because, before you know it, it’ll be too late. What if you don’t tell this person and you end up regretting it for the rest of your life? I don’t know. Sometimes I think that you just meet the right person in life who’s worth that risk.”

Jungkook turns to look at you and suddenly your eyes meet in a steady, thoughtful gaze. His own stare softens at whatever sort of thoughts flood his mind and you wonder if his eyes have always been that shimmering. His tousled dark brown locks flitter slightly in the breeze, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. You open your mouth to speak, uttering his name in a euphonious whisper.

“Jungkook, I━”

But your voice is cut off abruptly by the influx sound of wailing sirens down below that convey some sort of grim situation unfolding somewhere in the formidable darkness of the night. Both you and Jungkook press yourselves over the railing, squinting down at the crowded streets below just in time to see a flash of blinking red lights and a mass of both police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks. From somewhere in the background from within the party, you can hear a voice exclaiming, “Dude, there’s a fire around the corner from here! The whole street is blocked off.”

“No way. What the hell happened?” Another voice asks.

You exchange a wary glance with Jungkook before slipping back into the party. A small group has formed around the t.v. in the living room, on which is playing the local news and showcasing a burning apartment building, the vicious orange flames of which billow out of opened windows and all but consume the top floor as clouds of gray and black smoke invade the night sky. There’s a reporter talking fast into the camera, describing in detail what had happened to the building on a nearby street, but your eyes can only stay fixated on the monstrous flames. You don’t realize Taehyung has somehow found both you and his friend and is standing behind the other boy, watching the news unfold before him. Unbeknownst to you, his stare flickers nervously to Jungkook and then━

“Shit,” Jungkook curses suddenly. “I gotta go.”

You turn to look at him curiously. “Go where? It’s midnight on a Friday.”

“I completely forgot I had to pick my aunt up from the subway,” he says. “She works the late night shifts and I can’t let her walk alone in the dark like this. I’ll see you both later! Let me know what happens with the fire.”

Taehyung, who seems more than accustomed to Jungkook’s abrupt pardon of his presence, nods. “Will do.”

The boy is already a few feet away from you, rushing toward the front door of the room, but you stop him before he can slip out of your reach entirely.

“Wait, Jungkook!” You call out. He spins around to look at you almost immediately, a look of panic on his face. “Don’t forget we have to meet up at the library on Sunday to work on the project.”

“Got it,” he says, raising his two forefingers to his forehead in a mock salute. He turns back around and begins bounding towards the door, giving you two one last wave. “See you later!”

The door slams shut behind him and the party, despite the group crowded around the t.v., carries on in a cacophonous sound of drunken yelling and dumb music, completely and utterly oblivious. You let out a sigh as you turn back to the t.v., noting Taehyung’s presence still beside you. He takes a satisfying sip of whatever beverage is occupying the red cup in his hand and nods.

“That’s Jungkook for you,” he says. His voice is a tired sigh, dispirited almost, as he thinks of the boy that has been his friend since freshman year of highschool. Just before he turns away, you hear him muttering, “Always putting others before him.”

You don’t see Jungkook that Sunday.

Whether or not he had entirely blown you off or had simply forgotten, you wait and wait in complete silence in the school library for nearly three hours as every call and every text you send to his phone goes otherwise unnoticed or ignored. It is entirely unlike Jungkook to completely vanish and though you want to be mad, you are more disappointed than anything else. You spend your time at a table by yourself, books and papers sprawled out before you, as you try to work diligently on the last piece of writing you need for the assignment to be complete whilst trying to not let your eyes wander to the time on the clock hanging on the wall opposite you but to no avail.

In a corner above the front desk, you see a t.v. propped on the wall that plays the silent image of the news as they recall the events from that Friday at the burning building. Fortunately, that spider guy had arrived before any casualties could happen and you watch, for the third time since Friday, as the recording footage shows the red and blue hero swinging defiantly into the wall of fire and pulling various residents from the fire. A duo of girls sitting next to you croons dreamily over the masked man, especially as they witness him emerging from the fire with a small and unscathed Corgi dog in his hands that, you admit, is rather admirable.

On Wednesday night, you find yourself stuck in the sparkling confinements of the café bound to the six hour shift you were in the midst of completing. It’s surprisingly busy for a day in the middle of the week, though you assume that’s only because each customer is in a rush to seek refuge from the surprisingly cold evening. You hadn’t even been thinking about Jungkook when he makes himself known in the café some time after 9 p.m. You hear the bell ring above the door, feel a short gust of shocking wind, before it shuts behind him. When you look up instinctively to greet the newcomer and lay your eyes on the boy, your words fall short.

You watch as he stumbles forward, his feet practically dragging behind him in worn up Converse shoes. He looks exhausted ━ even more so than usual ━ and judging by his dishevelled hair and crumpled clothes and the way he seems to walk in a daze as if he is in another world, you assume he hasn’t slept in a while. He still hauls his backpack with one strap slung over his shoulder that he drops lazily to the ground beside a table before he plops himself down into the seat with a groan in one swift motion. What’s most strange are the blossoming bruises on his neck and the fresh cut on the highest point of his left cheekbone.

You hate that you’re so weak for that boy; that even though he completely ignored you, you still pity him. Wondering what sorts of trouble he’s been finding himself in lately, you pour him a cup of steaming black coffee and walk towards his table. He hardly even notices you as his head is buried in his folded arms atop the table, though he peeks up past his bangs when you slide the coffee beside him.

“I’d hate to see the other guy,” You hum.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you and he pushes himself up, raking a hand through his unkempt hair in a poor attempt to fix it. “Y/N━”

“Where were you, Jungkook?” You ask sternly, suddenly. “On Sunday? I waited for you for over three hours. I called you and texted you and you completely ignored me. You could have at least gotten back to me. I had to finish the rest of the assignment by myself.”

His brow creases with concern, his stare softening apologetically. He leans forward, suddenly helpless.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I━I didn’t mean to━ Something came up.”

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You sigh. “It’s fine. I can’t stay and chat but I’ll have you know I already handed the assignment in online. You’re welcome. Oh, and the coffee’s on the house. You look like crap.”

You spin on your heel and march away to help another customer before Jungkook can even try to talk to you. He watches as you slip from his grasp, a frown scrunching up your face that is forced to soften as you approach another table. He collapses against his chair and groans inwardly, rubbing his hand over his aching and swollen face. He knows you’re mad at him but he can’t quite tell if you’ll stay like that for long. He doesn’t blame you anyway, but he couldn’t just tell you where he had gone or what had happened. Could he?

It’s much to his dismay that you don’t talk to him the next day, or on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Thursday. He tries to find you around campus but he is always too late and, instead, finds you slipping away from him each time. He pops into the café a few nights and though you work both nights, it’s still much too busy to actually talk to you and so he, doing what he does best, falls asleep at the table as he silently broods. Whether or not it’s your anger purposely driving you further from him or simply life intervening, Jungkook wants nothing more than to apologize ━ if he can even get close enough to you to do so.

Finding yourself on the rooftop of your apartment building isn’t uncommon. Most of your free time is spent up there, either watching the night sky or gazing at the busy city under a cerulean blue sky and golden sun. That Friday night is no different. With no homework and no social gathering to devote yourself to, you sneak off to the roof and position yourself in just a spot where you can see the towering buildings of each borough in each direction you cast your gaze. You would have been content falling asleep up there, with nothing but the sound of the distant hum of cars to lull you and the view of the moon and window lights that act as the metropolis’s stars.

You all but lose track of time, unaware of whether or not you have been there for minutes or hours but you don’t entirely mind. You would be lying, too, if you denied that there was some sort of inkling of hope in you that hoped maybe you would see him again. That is why when you hear the soft plop of feet dropping to the ground moments later, you are not at all startled by the sudden presence, though you are astounded by his arrival, as if on cue. You don’t even need him to speak to know who it is and when you feel the smile ghost along your lips, there is a moment of pause where you question your own sanity for being so happy to see this masked and mysterious man. But he isn’t at all a mystery at this point when you feel as if you’ve acquainted yourself with him well enough.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” The voice that drifts through the shadows of the roof is familiar, gentle. “It’s dark. Who knows who could come up here?”

“Yeah,” You snort. “Wouldn’t want any strangers sneaking up on me ━ or masked vigilantes who seem to be following me.”

You turn to look at him but are greeted with nothing except emptiness. He lingers somewhere in the darkness and you squint your eyes, desperately trying to spot him. He laughs, the sound so silvery and smooth like honey.

“Someone’s following you?” he replies tauntingly. “Do I have to deal with them again?”

“Why are you always hiding in the dark?”

The sudden question seems to cause him to hesitate. It’s silent before you hear his voice wander over to you.

“To add to the mystique?” he says.

“Now that’s suspicious. Maybe I should call the police on you.”

“They would never be able to catch me.”

“Someone’s cocky,” You take a step toward the darkness, in the direction of the sound of his voice. “Did the fame get to you already?”

You hear him take a step back from you and it, subsequently, causes you to linger. You wait before stubbornly pushing yourself forward once more.

“What fame? People want to lock me up.”

“And most people are in love with you. I overheard a few girls gushing over you saving that dog from that burning building the other day,” You giggle. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“Ah, well,” You can hear the grin in his voice, can see the silhouette of his figure not too far from you, “I gotta admit the attention is pretty nice. But no one knows who I am without this mask so it doesn’t really matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

One step forward, another backward. You pause; at this rate, you’ll have chased him all the way to the other side of the roof.

“I don’t mind. It keeps me humble,” he replies. “But it also stops me a lot of the time, y’know? With this mask on, I feel invincible; with it off, I feel useless. But someone pretty important to me once told me that life is too short to constantly hide behind a mask.”

A wide, genuine smile stretches across your face. You take another step forward and this time he stands still. From where you are, you can see the tall and lean figure, adorned in the signature tight red and blue suit.

“That’s pretty smart of them to say.”

“She is pretty admirable. Much braver than I could ever be without this mask.”

He turns around from you before you can reach him. You watch as he casually strides forward a few paces to the barrier behind him, which he props his hands against to lean on. He seems to be lost in thought, perhaps struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. You tiptoe in suit, cautious as you approach him. You can see the muscles that strain from beneath his suit, the heave and fall of his chest.

“Can I know your name?” Your voice is a gentle whisper that carries to him with the wind. “Your real name?”

When he turns around to face you once more, you’re standing only a few feet away from him. You take another step forward, closing the short distance between the two of you and are made aware of how much taller he really is. The way he towers over you is almost comforting, familiar, that no emotionless red mask could cause you to stray. He’s so much more different up close in that suit. He hesitates before he forces himself to speak.

“I think,” he pauses. He swallows thickly, attempting to subdue the quickening race of his heart as he clamps his fingers into his sweaty palms. “I think you already know my name.”

This seems to pique your interest. Quirking a brow and cocking your head to the side, you stare up at the masked face that gazes back down at you. You aren’t entirely sure what compels you to do so, as it could be a complete disaster and not at all what you are expecting, but you slowly, so very slowly, reach up with your hands to grasp gingerly at his face. The red fabric beneath your fingertips is soft and as your digits brush lightly over his covered cheekbones, he hardly moves. For some reason, you can feel your heart hammering against your feeble chest, can hear it in your ears in tandem with the sound of passing traffic down below. His heart is beating just as fast, though he thinks it nearly stops when he feels your fingers begin to gently pull at the neck of his mask, sliding it upward.

The first poke of tanned skin has your heart quickening, your breath hitching in your throat. You tug the mask the rest of the way off and, finally, step back to look at the mysterious masked hero known as Spider-Man.

Jungkook.

It’s Jungkook.

The familiar boy stands before you, his hair a disheveled mess from the mask, his doe eyes even wider now in timid fear as he looks down at you. Everything is him, from his luscious pink lips, to the freckle on his neck, the piercings in his ears, that tiny scar he’s had since he was a child on his cheek. The city lights and moon illuminate him from behind and he seems nervous as he anticipates a reaction but you are much too busy admiring him. Your fingers trace delicately over the fresh scar on his face that he had brandished at the café only a few nights ago. A breath of satisfaction slips past your parted lips and then you’re laughing silently to yourself.

The boy looks dumbfounded at first, and then he quirks a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“I knew it,” You shake your head at nothing in particular, or perhaps the way you continue to giggle.

Jungkook suddenly looks shocked, though he instantly seems to relax. He studies the smile that stretches across your cheeks in awe, brightening your face in all its glory. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re not exactly that smooth, Jungkook,” You grin. “The late nights coming into the café, always scratched up and always tired as if you’ve ran all over the city; always getting jumpy when you hear police sirens ━ like the night at the party. Not to mention that one time at the café when the news was on and they were talking about a robbery at the bank and hostages being held and you ran right out of there only for Spider-Man to show up on the scene minutes later. It’s all very suspicious, don’t you think?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a joyous sound of content. He leans against the palm of your hand that is cradling the side of his face with the scar.

“Right,” he sighs. “All very suspicious.”

His stare locks with yours in a steady gaze and neither of you can turn away. His eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky, lingering with it a sense of hope and content. He is mesmerizing, with the city he devotes his time to saving in the horizon beyond him. It’s near impossible to look away, but why would you want to? It happens much like a blink of an eye, a frail beat of your heart; it comes with the passing of a car whizzing by on the streets down below and is as much startling as the sudden breeze that sends chills down your spine.

He begins to lean forward ━ or maybe that was you? Your eyes flutter shut, your anticipation held with a deep breath, until finally your lips meet with his though you hardly have time to relish in it. Almost as soon as your lips touch, he’s pulling away quickly. He doesn’t move too far and his mouth lingers just over yours. His eyes remain fixated on the curl of your lips for a moment too long before he rips them away to meet your hazy gaze.

“Wait,” he hums. “You━ You said you were crushing on Spider-Man. Does that mean you knew this whole time and━ and like me?”

The question is so like Jungkook; so innocent and silly and genuine that it causes a sweet giggle to bubble at your lips. He’s always been so oblivious to these kinds of things and so maybe that’s what pushes you to kiss him next. Your lips lock for a second time and, though it is just as fleeting, you note with joy the softness of his mouth as it folds over yours. You part from him with a breathless gasp, your nose brushing lightly against his as a smile stretches across your face.

“What do you think, bugboy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a playful taunt that makes Jungkook smile wide.

He kisses you this time, slow and passionate as if attempting to pour every single one of his emotions and thoughts for you into the single intimate action. His hands grasp at either side of your face, carefully pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss and you, instinctively, melt against his broad chest. Your fingers trail up the lean muscle of his arms to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging with yearning. His hands fall to your waist, enveloping you in his body, and when he parts from you, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I show you something?”

You nod. His eyes light up and then he’s jumping up onto the cement barrier behind him, turning around to look at you. You gasp from the sudden movement, your stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him quite literally standing on the edge of a building only to remind yourself he’s Spider-Man. He’s done plenty more reckless things than this. He holds his hand out, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

There’s no hesitation as you answer him with another firm nod. “Of course. Always.”

“Then take my hand,” he says. “I’ll never do anything to harm you, you know that.”

You do know that. Jungkook wouldn’t hurt a fly; he’s too good and precious for the world you live in and he says yes far too often to people who most likely don’t deserve it, but he knows when to stand up for not only himself but others as well. You are just one of the few he cares for wholeheartedly and you know that.

You reach out carefully and place your hand in his surprisingly cold and large ones. His fingers wrap around yours as he helps you up onto the barrier, holding you closely toward him.

You take a deep breath, shut your eyes, and put every ounce of your trust into this single, courageous boy ━ and you let yourself fall with him.

You’re roused awake by the sound of light tapping against your bedroom window.

It startles you at first, causing you to jolt upright into a sitting position as you look around frantically at your empty and dark room; the only light comes from the city life and the moon outside, shedding a warm glow onto the floor before it. For a moment, you think you had just dreamt the noise but then you hear it again, low and near. You crane your neck to look and first see a shadow but, as the figure shifts into view, you’re able to see the familiar young man in red and blue. Your heart leaps in your chest and suddenly you’re scrambling off your feet, throwing yourself at the window to throw it open.

The night Jungkook had admitted to being Spider-Man and jumped up onto the edge of the roof, holding his hand out to you in a silent question of trust, he leaves you with a night that you swear you will cherish forever. Wary of where he will go but entirely consenting of his spontaneity, he surprises you by carrying you throughout the city, swinging from building to building in an extraordinary feat that feels as if you’re flying; and, as if that hadn’t been a big enough thrilling shock, he brings you to the very top of the Empire State Building, just under the antenna. No one is there and no one can see you and, with Jungkook under the brightening sky with the view of New York stretching out into the horizon before you, you feel as if you have the whole world in the very palm of your hand.

You sit with Jungkook that night, talking, not talking, listening intently to him as he recounts the tale of how he had turned into the masked hero with his peculiar powers, and watching the sunrise from beyond the very tops of buildings and skyscrapers. There are no words to describe the breathtaking view from one of the highest points in the city, watching as the golden sun peaks over the horizon and sets the city ablaze in saturated warm hues of orange, pink, and purple, mingling together in one impressionistic masterpiece that could put even the greatest of painters to shame. The light reflects against the glass panes of windows in a mirage similar to flickering flames that never scathe the city, but instead seem to enhance the beauty it holds.

You never want the night to end but eventually it does and, when he returns you to your bedroom window with one parting kiss, it and Jungkook’s lips are all you can dream about.

A week has passed since then, in which time you’ve done nothing but find yourself growing closer with Jungkook. He’s all you’ve been able to think about these days. So, to hear him and see him at your window is enough to make butterflies form in the very pit of your stomach. You see him sitting on the fire escape just outside your window, leaning against the building looking even more exhausted than usual. Another fresh cut lines his cheek in a stripe of red though he doesn’t seem to mind much for it as he dozes off slightly. You push open the window, startling him awake, and poke your head outside. A weary smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you.

“Well, this is romantic,” You stifle the giggle that bubbles at your mouth. “Thank you for not throwing rocks at my window, Romeo. To what do I owe this pleasure of seeing you at two in the morning?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.”

His response earns a shy smile stretching across your face. “No, you didn’t wake me,” You say with a shake of your head (though the way you comb your fingers through your mused hair tells him otherwise). “What happened to your face, Jungkook?”

He reaches up to his face, as if momentarily forgetting the cut, winces, and then drops his hand from his face. He grins wolfishly, attempting to shrug it off. “Oh, this little thing? It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I just got caught up in a little fight but I’m fine. I swear. You really should see the other guy.”

The smug tone in his voice as he rambles on makes you stare at him in amusement. You sigh as you take a step back, saying, “Come inside. I’ll clean that for you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

He smirks as he pulls himself through the window and into your room. His eyes wander around the four walls, noting the decor that lines it, the shelves with all your personal trinkets and belongings, the clothes littered on the floor, and the empty take-out box of Chinese food that rests atop your desk. There’s a soft aroma of something sweet that smells like you ━ possibly a perfume or a soap or shampoo? ━ and it makes Jungkook’s head spin pleasantly. He asks about your day and then sits on the bed and, as you tell him about your boring classes as you rummage around your bathroom for something to clean his wound with, he smiles.

He finds your room comforting ━ or maybe he just finds your presence comforting. Either way, over time you find that this would only be a common occurrence throughout the next month. He startles you the first few times he shows up but then you begin to stay awake a little longer, waiting eagerly by the window as you wait for him to arrive. Most times he’s bruised or has small and fresh cuts, of which you either hand him an ice packet or clean the cut; sometimes he isn’t even hurt and instead claims simply that he just wanted to see you before you went to sleep. But each time he listens to you and your day, asking about yourself rather than him and no matter how hard you try to pry information out of him about what had possibly happened to him throughout his night, he swiftly brushes it off. You don’t mind either way ━ you just want to see him as much as you can, anyway.

There is one night, however, where things seem to go entirely different.

You’re curled up in bed reading a book when you hear the light tapping on your window. You’ve come to leave the window pried open slightly as you wait for him, but even so he still takes the time to knock to signal his arrival. You instantly climb to your feet, wandering over to the window and tossing it open with a flourish. As Jungkook climbs in through the small space, you note the tight suit he’s wearing is slashed at the top of his arm and both the skin underneath it and on his face is bruised and cut; other than that, and judging by the cheeky smile on his face, he seems to be ok.

You shake your head at him, smiling gingerly as you muse, “Who’s the damsel in distress now, bugboy?”

Jungkook smirks, prodding your sides with his fingers and causing you to squirm as you walk past him. “There’s no shame in needing a little help every once and awhile, right? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sit down,” You tell him, winking up at him. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Minutes later you return to sit by his side on the bed, cleaning his cuts as per usual and, while he has a frozen packet of peas pressed to his bruised and sore shoulder, you are busying yourself by sewing the cut in his suit with blue thread you had found in your room. In the midst of your work, perhaps you press too generously down on his recent wound, as he winces slightly and shifts on top of your bed. You crane your neck to look up at him, studying him curiously. He seems to notice your stare and quirks a brow as he looks down at you.

“What’s up?”

Your fingers stop their work on his suit and, remembering where the cut had broken his skin just slightly underneath the tear, brush lightly over the tender flesh covered in gauze. “Does it hurt?”

Jungkook shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Hurt? No, no, of course not. It just, uh━ It isn’t the most pleasant. But this isn’t the worst I’ve been after a night in the suit so I can handle it.”

Your eyes study his battered face in some sort of admiration, albeit mixed with timid nervousness. What sort of things had he encountered, had he been through, that he won’t tell you?

“Are you ever afraid?” You ask gently.

“No way,” he shakes his head, but not before you spot the confident grin he flashes you. “It’s honestly nothing I can’t handle by now. It’s not so bad, either. It’s kinda weird. I mean, ever since getting bitten, I’ve found the healing process is a whole lot faster.”

Maybe he notices the lingering uneasiness in your eyes, the way you seem to doubt him. He reaches out with his fingers to gingerly brush against the side of your face in a swift flourish as he tilts your head a little higher. He smiles something warm that makes your heart melt as you lean your face against the palm of his calloused hand. To avoid the prying stare he gives you, you smile lightly and shake your head, attempting to change the subject.

“Dunno, bugboy. Are there any perks to this job?”

Jungkook snorts as you finish sewing his suit. As you discard the needle and leftover thread, he says, “There are. Like, for instance, knowing the city is a little safer. Then there’s the fact that Spider-Man seems to have a lot of admirers…”

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter anyway because no one knows who you are.”

“Well, there is you,” he says. “And I gotta say you’re a pretty good perk.”

A blush tinges your cheeks as you sit across from him. Your eyes flicker down the suit that adorns him and you try to bite back the lighthearted snicker that bubbles at your chest. “I was gonna say a perk is this tight suit. At least, for me it is. Your ass has never looked more fantastic.”

Jungkook suddenly bursts out into laughter, throwing his head back. When he looks back at you, his hand finds the side of your face once more and pulls you towards him. With your lips hovering just over his, he mumbles something, anything, just for the sake of responding despite already being lost in you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then you’re kissing him.

You’ve come to find that Jungkook’s lips are entirely irresistible and the more you kiss him, the more you wonder why you hadn’t confessed to him earlier. He’s gentle as he lets his lips fold over yours, mouth dancing with mouth in a passionate yearning. But there’s a certain type of underlying insatiable hunger that seems to wash over both you and him and fast. Your fingers rake up the side of his face and tangle in his messy locks and soon he’s pulling you onto the bed, onto him. You instinctively straddle his lap, craning your neck so as to deepen the kiss, never once breaking apart for air. But something seems to happen, something that startles Jungkook so deeply. Perhaps it’s the way you grasp his hair a little tighter, the way he heard you gasp when he bites down gently on the side of your jaw, the way your hips fit over his; or perhaps it’s the way you tug off your shirt in an attempt to get closer to him, displaying to him the plain white bra you’re wearing that all culminate into something more. He knows where this is going, you know where this is going ━ and though Jungkook would want nothing more than to carry on, he’s reminded of a terrifying and prominent thought that has always haunted him the moment he made that mask.

You feel the way he tenses beneath you and, in the next quick second, he’s pulling apart from you and you, so dazed and lost, gasping for air, stare down at him dumbfounded.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You ask. “Did I hurt you? Is your arm okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says weakly.

You grin as you press another kiss to his throat, mumbling into his neck, “Good, then let’s━”

“No.”

“What?”

You sit back on his lap suddenly, staring at him with a flushed face. Your hair is mussed messily, a red bruise blossoms on your jawline that Jungkook had graced you with, and one strap of your bra hangs daintily over your shoulder and Jungkook can’t help but notice how utterly sexy you look. He groans inwardly, tearing his gaze to look up at you. He swallows thickly, wincing at the bright and innocent twinkle in your eyes.

“We━” he pauses and then says, “We can’t do this.”

You quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says slowly, carefully, “we can’t do this. I’m━ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was thinking but I should have stopped this sooner.”

“Stop what?” Your voice is weak, small. You know what he’s referring to but you don’t want to believe it just yet.

Fuck, I can’t do this, Jungkook curses to himself. If he had just stayed away from you from the beginning, this wouldn’t even be happening. He wouldn’t be about to hurt you or himself.

“Us,” he whispers. “There can’t be an us, Y/N.”

Your brows knit together in confusion but your eyes are wide with fear. “What are you talking about? How can there not be an us? I thought━ I thought you wanted this.”

When he hesitates to respond, you’re quick to slide off of his lap, standing to your feet. Suddenly you’re panicking, embarrassed. He sees the way your lips are pulled tightly in a thin line, the way you rake your hands through your hair, mumbling, “Oh my god,” as you search for a shirt. Jungkook springs to his feet, grasping onto your waist but you easily slither out of his reach, clutching your shirt to your chest. To you, you think you have just made a fool of yourself, nearly striping naked for a boy who apparently doesn’t want you. Jungkook knows this is what you’re thinking and it pains him so.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I do want this! I just can’t do it.”

“And why not?” You snap hotly. “You’re not making any sense. Either you do or you don’t want us to be a thing.”

“It’s not that simple━”

“It sure seems like it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Any explanation would be better than none,” You say firmly, “and simultaneously making me look like an idiot for looking so eager.”

Jungkook sighs heavily. He takes a step back from you, running both hands frustratedly through his hair, letting the muscles in his biceps flex as he does so. When he looks back at you, he’s solemn.

“There can’t be an us because I’m just gonna put you in danger this way,” he says. “People are out there looking for me! Not just the police, but hardcore criminals, gangs, thugs, murderers. If they find me, or if they find out that you’re close to me or know me, they’ll hurt you too. I can’t have that, Y/N.”

“But I can handle it,” You insist.

“I can’t,” Jungkook’s voice is stern, set in place. “I can’t have that on my conscience, knowing that if you get hurt, it’s because of me. That’s all I ever worry about, from the second that I put this mask on. No one knows about me being Spider-Man and I kept it that way for a reason. Don’t you think I could have flaunted that I was this supposed super cool new hero? I didn’t do that because of you; because of the people that I’m close to.”

“I don’t care,” Your voice is feeble, cracking. “I don’t care if I get hurt. If you can handle it, then so can I! I just want to be with you, Jungkook. I━ I love you━”

Jungkook hears the words you blurt out quickly but he doesn’t seem to necessarily register them at once. A stiff silence settles in the room between the two of you, an undeniable form of the point of no return, except you don’t regret the words you say. You mean them wholeheartedly because you have always admired and loved Jungkook, from the little boy next door to this young hero before you. You stare at him shyly, albeit unwavering. A panic washes over him, drains his face of any colour, and suddenly it feels as if he can’t breathe, his chest concaving in on his shrill heart. As the words begin to register in his mind, he can only sorrowfully gaze at you; but the lack of silence has your confidence paling and soon you’re looking away, shaking your head. A pained expression paints your features and though it hurts Jungkook more than any other wound that has been inflicted upon him in fights on the street prior to this, he knows he has to do this.

You already know his answer before he even speaks it. When he does say the final words that leave you in such an excruciating and unbearable pain, he has already fled, grabbing his mask and escaping out of the window, escaping from you, and into the heart of the city. When he’s gone and you’re alone in the thick silence do his words finally return to you and are the cause of the broken heart you are forced to nurse through muddled tears over the aimless days to come:

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

You don’t see Jungkook the next day or the day after that.

In fact, you don’t see him for three entire weeks. He stops showing up at the café late at night, stops attending the classes he has with you (or maybe he just blends well into the other somber looking faces), stops visiting your window in the early morning hours. Autumn bleeds numbly into the beginning shock of cold that is winter and, though there is no snow yet, you still feel the wrath of the frigid season. And, with the sudden loss of Jungkook, comes the abrupt and unwarranted disappearance of Spider-Man. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it is Jungkook’s fault. Either way, the masked enigma vanishes without a trace after your argument with Jungkook and the city’s crime, now freed from the vigilant watchful eyes of New York’s hero, spikes.

It feels almost as if the city has swallowed him whole or as if he has dropped off the face of the earth and the only thing to remember him by is the sudden havoc that ensues the city. The only thing you have to even know if Jungkook is still alive are the occasional updates from Taehyung who comes to befriend you if only to mention Jungkook every once and awhile just for the sake of easing your worried mind. You’re not so much mad as you are upset, but you care entirely more for his own wellbeing and to not hear from him causes you agony.

There is only one brisk moment in which you encounter Jungkook and it comes simply from a happenstance. You are not at all expecting to see him and nor is he expecting to see you. Rather, you are seated on a wooden bench in the park just beside your school on a day graced with a strange warmth for winter. Wrapped in a scarf and knit hat, you are flipping through the pages of a book for one of your classes when a figure stands before you, momentarily blocking the sun’s light from your view. As you glance up at the shadow cast over you, you are genuinely surprised to find Jungkook standing there. He looks, perhaps, even more so dishevelled than usual, his hair and attire all one negligent mess as if he couldn’t even find the strength to care for himself. Dark circles line his sunken eyes which stare down at you sorrowfully.

“Y/N… Can I talk to you?”

Your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can’t turn away from him. For a moment, you fear that you will cave into him but then you are reminded of your broken heart. It’s what causes you to act in such haste, shaking your head up at him as you shut your book and shove it into your bag. You stand to your feet and brush past him and he, so caught up in your rejection of him and the own twinge of pain he feels in his heart, lingers by the bench. Then, he is walking after you, his footsteps swiftly catching him up to you.

“Y/N. Y/N, wait! Please, just let me━”

Jungkook breaks out into a sudden jog and only stops when he is standing in front of you. With your path blocked, you, too, come to a halt if only for the benefit of the doubt. He desperately tries to meet your eyes but you look past him, arms folded over your chest.

“Let me talk to you,” he begs. “Away from here. Just you and me. I can explain everything. I━”

“You had your chance, Jungkook,” You quip dryly. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t━ I didn’t mean to━” he tries, but is interrupted once more by your strained voice.

“You left me.” Now you are staring at him and Jungkook wishes that you hadn’t even bothered to give him the chance. Once full of shimmering admiration, your eyes are only glossed over with a pained disappointment. “I told you I loved you and you left me. You made me look so stupid and I━ No. No, I’m not doing this right now.”

You push yourself forward, walking carefully around him. He watches as you storm away, shaking your head to yourself. With one last despairing attempt, he calls out to you once more.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I let you down. I know. I’m a failure.”

You stop. Your back is turned to him before you force yourself to look over at him and he foolishly thinks that maybe you’ll give him a chance to properly explain himself. Instead━

“You’re not a failure, Jungkook,” You tell him firmly. “I just━ I need to be alone right now. But don’t leave them. Don’t let them down. The city needs you.”

Jungkook flinches. He wants to call out to you again and pull you back to him, explain everything that is on his mind, but he can’t. Instead, he is forced to watch you walk away from him until you disappear amongst the crowd and even then he doesn’t move. He knows you’re disappointed with him.

He knows the whole city is disappointed with him ━ but the only person he wants to impress is you and he fears he’s ruined his only chance to.

You hardly seem to sleep at night anymore, instead too caught up in the thoughts that plague your dreams. Instead of going to the roof as you usually do when you can’t sleep, you find yourself lying helplessly in your bed, staring up at the empty night sky through your window. One night, as you’re dozing off on your bed, your eyes blinking wearily as they try to focus on the shimmering moon, you begin to hear a noise. It’s similar to a light tapping, though it drowns out in the sound of a siren from somewhere down below. At first you believe you have just dreamt it but then you hear a loud thud, slightly muffled from somewhere outside your window. It jolts you awake, has you pushing yourself up into a sitting position, and glancing around your room for any sign of something that may have fallen in there before noticing a flash of movement from the corner of your eye.

Red and blue.

Interest piques your drowsy mind at the thought of it being Jungkook but why would he be returning to you now? You would have been entirely set on begrudgingly flopping back down onto your bed and turning your back to him had you not felt that dreadful feeling that something was terribly wrong. You can’t hear his voice and when you turn to get a better look, you find him standing on the fire escape just outside your window, slumped dangerously against the wall with his back to you. It is that dreaded feeling that pushes you out of your bed, drags you to your window which you lightly throw open, only to be met with a sight that leaves you in horrific shock.

Jungkook is adorned in his usual tight red and blue suit, though his mask is off and gives you a clear view of his weary face, now muted in colour, that your eyes land on first. His eyes are shut, his head rests against the brick wall of the building, and his skin is marked with dirt and grime, bruises and dried blood. As your eyes trail lower, following the curve of his arms to his hands that cradle his side, you finally spot the large wound from beneath his fingertips on the left of his abdomen, shimmering a bright crimson red. Immediately your heart sinks to your stomach as you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god! Jungkook!”

Shimmying your way through the window to get closer to the boy hardly has him stirring. Your hands come out to grasp at his face, forcing him from his slouched position.

“Jungkook, can you hear me? What the hell happened?”

His eyes flicker open momentarily at the touch of your warm fingers and he musters a small smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up just slightly.

“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbles hoarsely. “You should definitely see the other guy now.”

“You’re an idiot,” You grumble, your eyebrows knitting into a frown. “Why are you here? You should have gone to the hospital! I’m taking you right now━”

“No, no,” he protests stubbornly. He shifts his weight and immediately flinches from the pain. “No, you can’t. I’ll be okay. I just━ I need some time to rest.”

A deep sigh exhales past your parted lips at the mention of what had happened the night he fled so suddenly. Instead, you brush off the memory and give him a small shake of your head. “Here, stop talking. Let me help you get inside and I’ll see what I can do for you. This is gonna hurt a bit but can you move?”

Jungkook nods. As you wrap your arm carefully around his waist to shift him over to the window, he sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself forward. You try to help as he stiffly climbs in through the small window, grunting in pain as he does so, and then stumbling into your room and bumping into your desk next to the window, knocking a few trinkets down. As he leans dangerously against your now skewed desk, you hurry through the window and help him to his feet, pulling him over to your bed.

Despite the way he had left you so suddenly days ago, there is no air of stiffness in the room. The only thing that surrounds the two of you is a melancholic silence as you rummage around your room for the medkit you knew you had stowed away eons ago. For the most part, Jungkook patches himself up, downing a couple of painkillers, cleaning his wound in his abdomen and stitching it closed with a steady hand that has evidently done this before. You sit across from him in your desk chair, watching him intently as he sits on your bed, having shrugged off the top part of his suit and leaving his torso exposed. Other than the blood and dirt that cakes his golden skin, you take note of the toned muscles that make his abs and the way they flex in tandem with every time he winces as he tugs at his wound.

When he’s done, the silence is still unmoving. Jungkook wants to speak but his throat is dry and any time he dares open his mouth to say something, anything, he immediately recoils. It’s only when you’re helping him into your bathroom so he can take a shower does he finally gather the courage he needed all this time without his mask on. Before you can turn to walk away on him, he catches your attention by calling your name. When he speaks next, his voice is faint, terrified.

“I’m sorry.”

He gulps when you turn to look up at him and suddenly he’s made aware of the fact that the two of you are cramped so closely together in your small bathroom. It makes the shame he feels more prominent as he looks you in the eyes.

“You were the first person I could think of when this happened,” he says. “I━ I know I have no right to be here after what I did to you but I just needed someone. I needed you.”

Your heart flutters at his words though you hide this feeble act by turning away from him. “It’s whatever, Jungkook,” He hears you mumble faintly, your back to him. “Anything I can do to help.”

He wants to say something more but he hesitates again. He watches as you take a deep breath, the heave of your shoulders under a heavy weight, before you ultimately walk out of the door and shut it behind you, leaving it slightly ajar. You linger in your bedroom, standing in front of your window as you gaze out, absentmindedly gnawing on your lower lip as you fold your arms tighter around your torso. You hear the shower switch on, let the calming sound of falling water wash over you, and shut your eyes momentarily. You can still see the light from the bathroom pouring out into the darkness of your room from the angled door, and can see the steam start to cloud the mirror.

There’s something so indistinctly intimate about having him in your shower in the next room over after days of avoiding one another. You have every right to be enraged and upset with him and yet you aren’t. You can’t bring yourself to ever hate the boy in the room over. You understand why he left so abruptly and it makes sense but now, in that moment in time, with nothing but a wall dividing you two, there is a certain type of craving you can’t subdue. A craving and a yearning to be closer to him; to tell him how you feel before, if even, he decides to flee in the morning after.

You blame it on your stubbornness that pushes you forward. Really, it seems to happen in such a haze, a rush of adrenaline. One moment, you’re standing by the window; in the next moment, you’re by the bathroom door, your fingers clutching the handle. As you push it open, you can only see a misty silhouette of Jungkook’s figure from beyond the steamed glass doors of the shower. Your heart is hammering against your chest as you walk to the shower, slowly kicking off your shorts as you go.

Jungkook must hear you as you make your way into the bathroom because as soon as you carefully slide open the glass door, he’s already staring at you with a lack of surprise, noting the baggy t-shirt you wear and the way his heart flips when he imagines you in a similar shirt of his. You only meet his curious eyes, noting the water that trickles down his toned and glistening body and flattens his usual unkempt hair into his lashes. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and suddenly he looks remorseful. It’s almost as if he can read your mind and anticipates every second you take to just step inside, his eyes beckoning you to come. It’s not like he cares; in fact, he wants you next to him. God, he just wants you so bad.

Steady hands find the hem of your baggy white t-shirt that you lift up and over your head, exposing the smooth expanse of your bare stomach and the perk of your bare breasts. You shimmy out of your baby pink underwear and, suddenly, you’re standing completely vulnerable before him and yet this is all he wants and all you want. You step inside the shower, closing the distance between you and him even more until you’re right in front of him, letting the warm water pour down onto you. It’s become stifling hot in that little space and there’s only a split moment where you fear you’ve made a mistake before you feel Jungkook’s hand come up to gently hold the side of your face. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes gazing into yours, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s a soft kiss, one where he takes his time to thoroughly enjoy it, first kissing your upper lip, then your lower lip in some sort of sensual manner that leaves chills running down your spine. He leaves a trail of warm and wet kisses from your jawline to your neck, nuzzling his nose against your throat as your breath catches. His hands fall to grasp at your hips, yanking you toward him and you so easily comply, melting completely into his broad chest and immediately feeling a sense of warmth as if you’ve always belonged there, wrapped up in his strong arms.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks gently, making you realize he’s pulled apart from you to study your face. His fingers brush away the hair that falls into your eyes and he smiles. “You’re blushing now after you walked in on me naked? God, you’re so cute.”

You whine something in protest, burying your face in his neck and he laughs. His fingers tickle at your sides, causing you to squirm in his grip, and when you look at him again, his stare is tender and fond.

“Come here,” he mumbles.

You let him pull you into another kiss that has your head spinning. His tongue grazes your lower lip, teeth slightly nibbling down on the flesh in a way that jolts your heart. As your hands snake up his chest to wind with the hair at the nape of his neck, your own mouth parts open, letting his tongue twine with yours in a heated kiss. He can feel everything against his own body, from the perk of your breasts to the slope of your hips. His hands slide down to rest upon your lower back and the way he pulls you flush against him, letting you brush against his firm cock, makes your head spin again. It’s what wills you to start grinding your hips against his in a slow pattern that has his breath hitching in his throat, his fingers digging tighter into your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” his voice is husky as he speaks, smooth as it filters through your ears.

You can’t help but smirk against his mouth. “Likewise.”

“How about we get out of here?” he asks. “The bed seems a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

You nod eagerly, mumbling a small, “Please,” against his luscious lips, too reluctant to pull away. He seems to have trouble, too, as he remains in his spot, even long after he reaches down to turn the water off, his lips still locked with yours. Granted, it gives you time to dry off before he’s hoisting you up with ease, instinctively letting your legs wrap around him. A thought abruptly pops into your head and causes you to gasp, your lips parting from his with a significant pop.

“Jungkook!” You scold. “Be careful! Did you forget about the gaping wound in your side or?”

“I’m fine,” he assures, already swiftly carrying you out of the bathroom and into your room.

“I don’t care what your magical radioactive spider bite does for you,” You retort. “I don’t want to somehow hurt you.”

He laughs in response, a sound that reverberates against his chest and your own torso. He’s already standing by the bed when he carefully lowers you down onto it. He crawls over you, instantly towering over your body as he leans down to chase your lips. In one quick movement, you hook your leg around his waist and, using your hands, shift him over until he’s on his back and you’re cradling his hips. He seems surprised at first, his stare flickering from the navel of your stomach to the soft buds of your breasts. Past the valley of your chest, his eyes fall once more upon yours and he smiles breathlessly, his hair sticking up in tufts.

“Really?”

Your eyes fall to the stitched wound on his side covered in gauze and your fingers brush against it delicately, following the natural curve of his abs. “I’m serious, bugboy. You may be this notorious, unstoppable force out there, but to me you’ll always be Jungkook.”

He pouts. “That doesn’t sound as cool as being Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man is cool.”

“See? Even you think so. This is why I never told you ━ everyone thinks Spider-Man is cooler than Jungkook.”

A roll of your eyes has him smirking, though the smile is quick to falter when you begin to grind your hips against his, feeling his firm member poke at your thigh. His jaw drops open slightly at the sudden contact, his brows knitting together in slick concentration as his eyes fall to your glistening soft core.

“You didn’t let me finish,” You breathe steadily. “Spider-Man is cool, but Jungkook is cooler. You’ve always been strong and dauntless to me. You’ve always been a hero to me.”

“God,” he moans, “you’re making it really hard to focus on how cute you’re being when I can already feel how wet you are.”

The giggle that slips past your lips only further proves his point. His head rolls back against the pillows beneath him as you continue to slowly grind against him.

“Do you want me to stop?” You taunt.

“No, no,” he gasps. “Holy shit, no. We can save the mushy talk for afterwards, right? Please?”

You nod briskly, gulping for air as you feel the burning sensation between your thighs. Your fingers dance down the front of your stomach to the bundle of nerves that you rub at carefully. Jungkook watches intensely as you pleasure yourself before him, feels his own cock hardening at the sight of your fingers gracefully rubbing patterns into your clit, coating your digits with your leaking cum. He writhes beneath you, desperately aware of his own need for you, but god help him if he doesn’t finish watching or helping you get off. He swallows thickly, loosening his dry throat.

“Well, if you’re gonna make me sit here then,” he says, “can you at least let me help?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good,” he grins. “Then come sit on my face.”

He says it so confidently that it has you stuttering in your pace. Your eyes flicker down to his mischievously twinkling eyes and the way he bites on his lower lip. You hardly hesitate at his command, pushing yourself off of his crotch and shuffling yourself forward, tossing one knee over his head so that he’s seated nicely between your thighs. His hands remain on your hips to keep you steady as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh, murmuring, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Sit back and relax.”

You do as you're told, letting him pull you carefully down to his face and feeling as he leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh. When his mouth is hovering just over your core, you can feel his warm breath fanning against you and hum in delight, waiting eagerly for his every move. He nudges you closer and closer until you feel that one fell sweep of his tongue against your core, warm and slick as it grazes your folds, immediately sending a shock of white hot pleasure surging through your body. A shocked moan emits from your parted lips in a sound similar to, “Ooh,” that has Jungkook smirking against you.

Suddenly, all you can focus on is him and the way his tongue works so expertly against you, kitten licking at your core until you’re dripping wet in a lewd combination of saliva and your own succulence. You nearly lose your balance the moment he makes contact with you and, with each passing second of immense pleasure, it makes it more difficult to hold on. Your thighs shamelessly squeeze shut (though Jungkook grips lightly onto one of your thighs to shift you apart) and when you feel yourself wobble, breathless and dizzy from the feeling of hot fire burning at your core, your hands fly out to grasp at Jungkook’s carob locks, silky to the touch as they slide out from the seams of your fingers. Admittedly, having Jungkook’s face buried beneath your thighs is a ridiculously hot sight that only spurs your blatant spiral into a panting mess.

“Jungkook━ F━Fuck━ Oh my god━”

The moan that leaves you is throaty, guttural and Jungkook swears he’s never heard anything sexier. Watching you writhe helplessly above him is all that he needs. As his tongue licks firmly at your clit, he can’t help but reach down to his own hard dick. His fingers wrap delicately around his shaft and he pumps himself slowly, groaning into your womanhood at the thought of your delicious and hot walls wrapped around him. He shuts his eyes as he works in a smooth rhythm against both him and yourself, imagining what it would be like to just have you anyway he wants, imagining your own reactions similar to the ones you’re making now.

“Ah, shit━” You gasp suddenly. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good━”

God, there you go again. His palm squeezes harder against his member at your breathy moans and he swears you’re driving him absolutely mad. To him, this feels so surreal. He’s dreamed of this; he’s dreamed and wanted nothing more innocent than to just fucking hold your hand and yet here you are in such a compromising position with him and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world. The best part about it all is that you make him feel this much bliss, this dizzy, when he’s simply just around you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you.

Your fingers clutch a little tighter at his roots and his eyes snap open. He stares up at your frazzled mess and, with his free hand, presses his fingers against your core in areas that his tongue has yet not reached. He coats his digits in your glistening arousal and coaxed with such ease he’s able to push them past your folds, earning another beautiful moan from you. He curls his finger inside you, stretching your core, flicks his tongue a little harder at your clit, squeezes his own hand tighter around his cock as he desperately jacks himself off to this, to you. He pumps his finger in and out of you in tandem with his own hand around his length, hearing your sweet whimpers and choked moans.

He must curl his finger just right inside of you or maybe it’s the way your sensitive clit begins to throb with each lick he takes or maybe it’s when he joins his tongue with his finger in a dangerous duo but then you jut your hips forward ever so slightly and jerk them back. He’s eating you out with such vigour, such hard passion that you can feel his chin and his nose brush against your core and each contact has you gasping. He pulls apart just enough when he feels you jerk your hips backward again and you’re so caught up in the pure ecstasy that has overcome you that you hardly realize until you hear him speaking, muttering faintly against your folds, “C’mon, baby. Ride my face. Cum for me.”

His only response is a weak sputtering as you try to gasp for air. You don’t need to be told twice at this point as you feel as if you’re chasing after your high. You unabashedly begin rocking your hips against his mouth and fingers. He tilts his head just right so that his nose burrows into your clit, his tongue and digit slipping further within your walls that clench around the thought of having something of girth like Jungkook’s length inside you. Jungkook’s own hand slacks at his pace around his member, his fingers reaching up to dig into your waist and thighs to hold you in place as you continuously rock against him. You’re so close, you can feel the familiar tension start to form in the very pit of your stomach.

“F━Fuck!” You cry. “Jung━kook━ I’m━”

Your voice breaks off into frail croaks, your hands flying out to grab onto the sturdy frame of your bed in front of you as you feel your high approach. Jungkook pulls you harder against his face, letting you grind against him as he burrows into you, completely ravaging you with his mouth until you feel your release take hold of you. It shakes you to the bone, causes you to writhe in pleasure above him as you come to a halt, emitting a loud moan of his name as your hot release leaks onto his chin, coating his mouth in your shimmering cum.

“Fuck, fuck━ Jungkook!” Your nails dig into the bed frame, your teeth sinking into your lower lip and muffling your dulcet moans.

He laps at your core, licking away every last drop of your succulence until your hips twitch away from the sensitivity you feel. When he finally pulls apart from you, he stares up at you from between your thighs with an amused smirk, his hair messily mused from your doing. You muster a faint smile in return as you pant heavily, attempting to calm your shrill heart and he beckons you over. You blissfully clamber back down his torso, once more straddling his hips as you curl up into his chest, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your own mouth and it’s something so gentle, so ardent, that it warms your heart.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles between kisses. “Round two?”

Giggling, you part from him momentarily only to reconnect your lips to his jawline, nibbling on the soft skin there. “How about I let you have a turn?”

He quirks a brow in curiosity though he already knows your intentions as your hand flutters down his stomach. He can’t help the moan that slips past his lips as he feels your soft hands grasp firmly at his hardened cock. He feels as if he could practically melt in your hands or explode at any moment and you hadn’t even done anything. His hips instinctively buck into your fist but he shakes his head. He sits up suddenly, startling you in your spot though his hands come out to grasp at your face and hold you in place as he kisses you feverishly.

“How about,” he breathes, nipping at your lower lip, “you let me make love to you right here, right now.”

For a moment, you become carried away with the taste of his lips mingled with your wet arousal that fades away fast. You return the kiss with such zeal, too reluctant to part from him just yet, that when you muster the nerve to lean away, you’re panting heavily.

“Not so fast, bugboy,” You taunt. “I still want you to rest.”

You give him a little nudge backward and he obediently follows your wordless command, plopping back against the pillows of your bed as he looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs.

“I don’t know if you can consider sex as resting,” he points out playfully, a wry grin plastered on his face.

He watches as you smile, the rapid heave and fall of your chest, as you wiggle around until you’re comfortable again on his lap and have lifted your hips off of him. Your hand wraps around his shaft once more and you pump him once, twice, in slow motions as you spread the leaking cum from his throbbing head along his shaft. His jaw drops open at the feeling, eyebrows knitting together, and his fingers dig a little too harshly into your skin accidentally but you don’t at all mind ━ not when you’re able to see such a beautiful reaction from him as he comes undone before you.

Seconds pass of bated breath as you lower yourself slowly, carefully, to his cock. You run the tip of his length along your folds and up to your clit, rubbing small patterns against it that has both of you whimpering lowly. You coat him in your leaking arousal and then lower yourself onto him, finally connecting the two of your bodies as one.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts.

Jungkook seriously feels as if he’s about to explode ━ literally. You’ve only just sat on him and he’s afraid he won’t be able to hold himself together long enough before he feels his sweet release. You’re just so warm and wet, so deliciously wet, that he slides easily into your walls that hug him just right. His mind is spinning, and even more so when he feels you stop halfway and lift your hips again. You drop them to the same level and then back again, repeating this process until you drop your hips fully, flush with his.

“Oooh, Jungkook, hmm,” Your fingers dig into his abdomen at the feeling of being so damn full. You can practically feel him throbbing and your own walls clench and release around him as you adjust to his size.

“Move━” he chokes out. “Move, please━ holy shit━”

And you do. You grind against him, rolling your hips around his firm cock as the fire continues to burn between your legs. You raise your hips languidly and drop them back down again and again until you’ve adopted some fluid rhythm, being so easily coaxed by your own cum.

“Like this?” You gasp.

He nods absentmindedly, swallowing thickly. “Fuck yes, just like that, baby.” His head rolls back against the pillows, the vein in his neck straining, “You feel so━ so fucking good.”

“Tell me,” You breathe.

Jungkook finds it hard to concentrate when his eyes fall on you. He watches as your breasts move in tandem as you ride him, the glistening arousal on your folds that coat his length that he watches disappear into you each time. He greedily reaches out as he’s lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping your plush breast in a firm hold, his thumb brushing against your perked nipple. Your back arches in response, leaning closer to his warm hand, as he focuses on the tightness that is your core.

“Warm,” he moans. “So, so fucking wet ━ oh my god, you’re dripping, baby. Shit, you feel so perfect around my cock.”

You cry out his name, quickening your pace as you chase your high. Your strides are relentless, desperately searching for a sweet release and Jungkook feels the same. He’s held it in this long ━ he isn’t so sure he can hold himself together for much longer. He can’t take it anymore. Just as he feels you slowing down from exhaustion, he sits up once more, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you tight against his chest. Your own arms slide around his neck and you lean forward to crash your lips against his as you roll your hips steadily against his now. The new angle has him hitting a spot in you that shakes you to the core, has stars forming in your eyes.

You bite down hard on his lower lip accidentally as you try to conceal the loud moan that bubbles at your lips. Jungkook only smirks in response, especially when you shamelessly let those strangled moans out. As you sink lower onto him, Jungkook thrusts his hips upward to meet yours halfway, earning a sharp gasp from you. He tightens his hold on you and continues to thrust up into you again and again, so hard and so fast that it makes you writhe with pleasure above him. You can feel him stretching you wide each time, can feel your sticky arousal begin to trickle down his cock and your thighs.

So much for making sure he doesn’t hurt himself again ━ his thrusts are pure animalistic, hasty and needy, though all either of you care about in that moment is feeling that sweet release. You collapse entirely against Jungkook’s arms, letting him take hold of you as his hips smack against your ass. When you finally feel your second high of the night approach, your reaction feels near explosive. He thrusts again and again and you choke out somewhere between the sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing, “J━Jungkook━ Fuck! I’m close━”

He growls in response, eager to push you to yours as he chases for his. Another thrust and, holy shit, there. He hits a spot in you once, twice, and over and over again that just feels so incredibly good that you can’t help but unravel in his arms. It takes you by surprise, washing over you an immense cloud of bliss as white-hot pleasure blinds you, starting from your core and spiralling out to every edge of your body until your toes are curling. You cry out his name in a beautiful harmonious sound as your cum leaks profusely from you and coats him just right.

Fuck this ━ he doesn’t care anymore that you want him to rest. He needs to feel his own release now. So he grabs you securely and then he’s twisting you around, shoving you onto your back as he pushes his hips into you. You’re writhing beneath him, your back arching until your warm and sweaty chest is pressed against his. Your fucked out expression that stares back up at him but with such tired and loving eyes only spurs him on further (that, and the way you’re clenching so nicely around him). It’s completely messy but he’s so close. Another hard slap of his hips and then he’s finally coming undone. He pulls out of you fast, his hand coming down to grab at his cock as he pumps himself, thickly coated with your juices.

He cums moments later with a deep, rough moan, releasing onto your stomach in ivory beads that paint you his. His hand slacks around his softening length and then he, so spent and slightly sore from his wound (only slightly, he swears), collapses against you. The room suddenly falls silent, safe for the heavy panting and the shrill beating of your hearts that you both try to tame. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms wrap around him to lazily twine his hair with your fingers. It’s nice to just lay there like that, enveloped in each other's arms, basking in the heavenly glow of euphoria. He kisses your neck then, soft and simple, and litters kisses down your throat to your collarbones and then back up again to your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes remain locked on your mouth until he forces himself to look away and up at you. You’re smiling at him and it’s the type of genuine, albeit exhausted, smile that always warms his insides and makes him feel at ease. Tracing the curve of your lips with his index finger, he hums thoughtfully to himself.

“I lied about before,” he says sheepishly. When you quirk a brow at him, he continues. “I lied about before when you asked me if I’m ever afraid when I go out at night. I’m always afraid. Part of why I wear that mask is so the people I’m up against don’t see me wimping out. But, god, when I’m with you, I feel invincible.”

He watches as a light blush pinches at your cheeks, your fingers reaching up to softly graze his cheek.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers. “I love you. I always have and I swear you make me stronger. I don’t know what it is. I think I just want to fight harder for you. I know I was a dick for leaving that night but I know we can make this work. I just need you to believe in me, too.”

Your eyes, littered with stardust, stare into his as if he is the entire world. “I’m strong, too, Jungkook. I don’t always need protection.”

“I know that,” he chuckles.

“Good. Then get back down here and kiss me again, bugboy.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t hesitate to lean down to press his lips lovingly to yours. He melts against your chest and he is content if every night is like this, in each other’s arms. As he deepens the kiss, he hears you whisper against his lips, “I love you, too, bugboy,” and it is all he needs to feel as if he has the world in his very palm.

Jungkook has always been afraid. He is afraid of not living to see the next day, afraid of losing you or his family or friends but every shred of fear fades away when he’s with you. As the city continues to breathe from beyond the brick walls of your apartment and as the sun begins to rise from the very heart of the metropolis along the horizon, Jungkook is certain that he and you together are invincible.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[fruitcoops]

Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

---------------------------

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

[pingutats]

at last!

it’s the morning after harry proposed, and here you are, in heaven.

warnings: some sexual content, not very graphic.

word count: 2k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

As soon as you start to drift awake, you feel this overwhelming sense of bliss. Like everything is right in the world, properly aligned and in harmony. Your heart feels full, warm like the way a lover would cradle their hands around yours on a chilly winter night. 

The thing that pulls you completely from the gentle embrace of sleep into the morning is someone actually grabbing your left hand. Not just someone, but Harry. And, you remember suddenly like a crack of lightning bursting through your sleep-weary skull, he isn’t just Harry, he’s —

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, his voice croaky and slightly slurred from sleep still, as he pulls your hand over to him and slips the ring back onto your fourth finger. “Y’always look so pretty in the morning. ‘Specially today.”

“H,” you whisper back, barely able to form a coherent thought. He’s your fiancé. You blink your eyes open, rubbing at them as you adjust to the weak light streaming through a window. “Oh my god, Harry.”

He’s grinning at you, eyes still half-closed. He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring. “Oh my god, Y/N,” he repeats back, and you giggle.

You hold your hand up to the light, twisting your wrist so the small, classic diamond sparkles.  You’ve seen it before, of course. You’ve known what it looks like for ages. The two of you picked it out together in a store a couple months ago. You’ve spoken about this moment, over and over — sometimes in practical terms to try and plan for your future, sometimes whimsically as you spelled out your wildest dreams to each other — but now it’s here. It’s real.

He was insistent on being the one to propose. You could pick the ring, the wedding venue, write the guest list and choose his outfit and even curate the reception playlist, he offered— as long as he got to propose. You accepted, of course, without the bargaining. You wanted him to do it anyway.

Harry isn’t one for grand gestures. When you first met him, only knowing him as the glamorous rockstar that he performs as when he’s on stage, you had assumed he would be into the massive displays of affection, the lavish gifts and the kind of relationship that no one can tear their eyes away from. But he isn’t really like that.

Harry is a cup of tea set out for you in the morning before you even ask for one. The last segment of the mandarin he was eating, held out for you to take. A hundred kisses to your cheek over the course of a night out, for no particular reason except that he’s tipsy and he loves you. A playlist that he texts to you with a sweet note in the description. Making the bed by himself before you’re done brushing your teeth. Carrying you from the car to the door at three in the morning because your heels are killing you and he’d rather roll around naked on broken glass than see you in any amount of pain at all.

That’s what Harry is. So it made sense that, rather than flying you out to Paris and organising a string quartet to play in the background while he got down on one knee under the Eiffel Tower at night (something you had joked about often), he did it in his own little unassuming way. 

You wanted a surprise. That was all you asked. If he was going to ask, he better make it good.

It wasn’t big. It wasn’t grand or especially beautiful. You had been baking together all afternoon: flour all over the place, a small pile of chocolate chips that you’d “accidentally dropped” on the counter and were snacking on, cookies in the oven making the kitchen smell all warm and cosy. The echoes of your laughs and playful banter still lingered in the room. An Etta James album was playing in the background — Harry’s choice, of course. You were bending in front of the oven to check on the cookies. 

“They’re looking good, H,” you said, gazing at them.

“Y/N,” he said from behind you.

“I think we’ve got a perfect batch on our hands.” You straightened up, reaching over to swipe a couple more chocolate chips from the shrinking pile. “Better than last time, those were all hard and —”

“Darling,” he said, a bit more firmly.

“Yeah?” You turned around, sucking on the chocolate, and froze.

There was Harry, on one knee on the kitchen floor, holding a little box and smiling gently up at you.

“Hi,” was all you managed to breathe out, once you regained the ability to move.

“Hello,” he said, smile growing. He cleared his throat. “I love you so much, you know?”

“Harry, you’ve got flour on your nose.”

“Do I?” He was grinning widely now, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried not to laugh. “I’ll fix that later, love, got something more important to do right now.”

“Okay.” Your voice was shaking slightly.

He chuckled, and then took a deep breath to steady himself. “Y/N. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You make my days better, every day. Most gorgeous, funniest, kindest, sweetest girl I ever met. You’re so fucking amazing — sorry, I shouldn’t swear. Probably ruins the moment.”

“It doesn’t,” you said quickly. You could feel tears threatening to prickle at your eyes. “Keep going.”

“Nothing’s going to stop me, angel,” he promised. He set his face, playing at being very somber. “I really need to ask you something.”

You bit your lip through a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause every day I wake up and hug you and I think to myself that I never want to let go of you. Ever.” 

You nodded, unable to speak for fear that you would just collapse from how unbelievably sweet he is.

“Y/N,” he said, finally. He took a deep breath and pulled open the lid of the little box, and there was your ring. His smile returned to his face again, bright and dimpled and so Harry you nearly starting sobbing right there. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You were saying it before he even finished his sentence. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—” and you kept saying it until he was back on his feet and had swept you up in the tightest hug, pulling you into his chest and spinning both of you around. 

You clutched at the front of his fuzzy sweater and pulled him into a kiss that made the world feel like it was shifting. Because it had. Everything had changed now. It felt like the two of you had taken the world and cracked it open like a walnut, finding a completely new kind of life inside. A kind of life where you both completely, irrevocably, belonged to each other.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he rubbed his flour-covered nose over yours, then pecked another kiss on your cheek. “Got flour all over you, love.”

“Best go take a shower, then,” you said to him, grinning.

He raised his eyebrows, that mischievous glint in his eye that you so adored appearing. “Yeah? Okay, whatever my beautiful fiancee wants.” He let you take his hand and start to pull him toward the bathroom, before he suddenly jerked you back, making you stumble into his chest. “Shit,” he murmured. “Give me your hand, darling.”

“Oh.” You held out your left hand, and gently he slid the ring onto your finger.

He looked up at you, eyes shining. “Can’t believe I nearly forgot the most important part.”

“Me too. Silly goose.” 

He snorted, and you leaned forward to kiss him again. He held his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. He was warm, his embrace firm, his mouth gentle. Tasting him, the sweetness of the cookie dough he had been stealing out of the bowl, the vanilla of the lip balm he used — you could have lived in that kiss forever. Any kiss, really. You weren’t picky when it came to Harry. But he pulled back, and ran his hands down to the back of your thighs.

“Jump, darling,” he whispered, and he pulled you up to wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looped behind his neck. He pressed his lips to yours again, then carried you to the bathroom, your giggles echoing through the house.

He got on his knees for you again in the shower — “Wanna treat my fiancee like a proper gentleman” —  with your leg thrown over his shoulder, your hand with the ring in his hair, your head thrown back against the tiled wall. He was always good (outstanding in the field, you would joke) but somehow today he was better. Like he was trying to tell you something just by the way he licked up your folds and sucked on your sensitive little bud until you were shaking and your hand tightened in his hair in a way that was surely painful. Like he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, as if everything else wasn’t already enough.

Later, you opened up the expensive bottle of champagne you’d been saving and split it over the takeout he had ordered over the phone in a rush while your hands were slowly creeping down his bare chest and playing with the waistband of the sweatpants he had thrown on after the shower. You ate outside. It was a pleasant night and as stars started to dust over the sky, you were sure they were shining just a little bit brighter.

And when you finally made it into bed, he was immediately over you, his arms snaking underneath you and hugging you to his chest while he thrust into you, deep and passionate. He had his head buried in your neck, his moans vibrating into your skin and you knew he was feeling more than just the physical. It was beyond that for both of you. Treasure this moment, you kept thinking. Keep this day safe forever.

You came together. As he got close, his steady rhythm starting to falter, he grabbed your left hand and pushed it down into the mattress, so you could feel the ring pressing into your skin. That was what sent the both of you over the edge.

Sleep came easily, your limbs still tangled together, your ring lying on the bedside table because you were scared to sleep with it. Harry must have fallen asleep after you — as you dozed off, you could hear the rustling of his pillow as he kept turning his head to look at the ring glinting in the full moon’s light coming through the window. His strong arm wrapped around you, holding you close, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

“I’m so fucking happy,” he says now, in the morning, quietly, breaking the silence that had descended over you. He says it like it could be the last sentence he ever speaks. A neat epilogue.

You look at him, your arm still raised in the air between you. His eyes are trained on the diamond, and you could swear his eyes are sparkling just as much as the jewel is. He blinks, and glances back to you. “So, so fucking happy.”

“Me too,” you tell him. You let your hand drop, finding his and intertwining your fingers. “Love being engaged.” The word rolls off your tongue easily, and that was thrilling. You’re engaged. “’S better than I imagined. Better than anything else, ever.”

“Mm,” he hums, running his thumb over the ring, and then along the empty space of your finger just below it. “I think it just keeps getting better from here, love.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed!! i wrote this in barely two hours around midnight (obviously with at last by etta james playing in the background) because i just had to get this concept onto a page. it’s only been very lightly edited so if there were mistakes or it was structured messily ........ sorry. but i am just so in love with these very domestic, un-grandiose proposals because the important thing is the love between the two rather than the big displays... yeah. anyway hope you liked and if you want to send me a request or just chat, my askbox is very much open!!!

[mercy-burning]

Again And Again

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Companion to Out Of Commission and Make It Even (but can be read separately) / Reader and Spencer are frustrated at the constant injuries they acquire on the job. Category: SMUT (18+) Warnings: Language, smut (oral sex - both receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, spanking, light degradation, praise, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, very brief mention of somnophilia at the end) Word Count: 3.1k

Full Request: “hey !! i love you writing and was wondering if you can make a part 3 to out of commission and make it even where reader and spencer reid have sex” — @deepestcloudvoidhound 

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

"I swear to God, if this happens one more time I'm quitting," she breathed against his mouth, her hands frantically working to push off his jacket.

They hadn't even made it all the way through the door.

Spencer closed it with his foot and almost lost his balance as she yanked the jacket off his shoulders, threw it to the ground, and shoved him against the apartment door. And though in the back of his mind he worried that she might be a little too vigorous in her determination for long-awaited sex, he couldn't deny that it'd been nagging him as well.

It was a long four months.

It wasn't long after Y/N had fully healed from her stomach injury, two weeks to be exact, that Spencer hurt his knee again, after an unfortunate fall down some stairs no thanks to a sneaky unsub. Unsurprisingly, that took extra long to heal because of his previous leg injury, so that put him out of commission for almost a month. And then, after one night of fully-healed, very intense and hot sex, they were called away on another case, and sure enough, Y/N came out of it with another injury. It was a broken ankle, so nothing too serious, but still enough to warrant jokes from everyone about how accident-prone the lovebirds were.

And by the time both of them were finally ready to start having sex again, Y/N was in the hospital because of internal bleeding caused by her previous stomach wounds.

It was exhausting.

And that was putting it lightly.

Over the course of the last month, Y/N was so anxious to get back to occasionally jumping her boyfriend's bones, though said boyfriend and her doctor both laid strict orders to give it a good solid month and a half to two (or maybe even three, just to be safe) months before trying any sort of sexual activity. It made her cranky, made her co-workers greatly amused, and made Spencer a little sad, though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't frustrated as well.

Which is why, as she pushed against him, littering his neck with kisses and bites and hiked her knee up to settle between his legs, rather than suggesting they take it easy, he indulged her and rocked his hips against it, using his hands to clutch at her shoulders as warmth flooded his insides.

"I want you so fucking bad," she growled in his ear, reaching up to nibble on the top of it, which in turn caused her leg to press harder into his crotch. He shuddered against her as she continued speaking—low, slow, and hot against the side of his face. "But knowing our shitty luck, this will probably be one of the last times for months we'll be able to have sex, and I want this to last."

She rolled her body further into his, letting out a small whine in desperation, and it all but drove him up the wall. His hips ground down into her leg and his hands slid down her body to grip her ass, needing more than anything to be close to her.

"Please," he choked out, fluttering his eyes at the way she hummed against his neck. "Baby, please..."

"Mmm, I love it when you beg," she whined, right before her mouth sloppily slid across his neck, up his jawline, and over his lips. Their tongues pushed together instantly, sparks flying and hands roaming just about everywhere they could, until Y/N decided she'd done enough waiting.

"Take your pants off," she hummed, and he wasted no time with a verbal response.

As soon as his hands flew to undo his belt, she dropped to her knees and waited patiently, feeling herself grow wetter at just the sound of the belt rattling. She sat there and squirmed, until finally he was hooking his fingers through the waistband of the fabric, and as soon as he moved, she reached up and yanked them down, looking up at him with large eyes and a wicked smile.

The sight drove him wild, though the feeling only grew when she stuck out her tongue and licked his dick slowly from base to tip. When she got there, her lips wrapped softly around the tip and sucked ever so gently, before she swiped her tongue back down and repeated the whole process.

Spencer's head thunked against the door as he let out a sigh. "Y/N..." He wasn't even really sure how he intended to say her name. It felt like he was begging for her to do more, but he was also just so fucking relieved to have here here with him right now, feeling her desperation in every little kiss and warm, wet stroke of her tongue...

He whined a little when she pulled away, but was rewarded with the sweet sound of her laugh and her hand wrapping firmly around his dick, now slick with her saliva. Her hand glided swiftly along it, her eyes looking up at him through her eyelashes. And again, the sight drove him absolutely wild.

"Tell me what you want, baby," she whispered, moving her hand faster. "I'll do anything. Anything for you..."

"Just c—come here."

She stood up, keeping her hand attached to his dick as she stood on her tip-toes and kissed him. Their mouths moved together in frenzied harmony, and while she continued jerking him off, he slipped his hands under her shirt and cupped her breasts over her bra. She moaned gently into his mouth and was able to get out a hurried, "Bedroom."

They stumbled there, losing layers along the way until Y/N was just in her bra and panties and Spencer was wearing only his socks and his shirt, unbuttoned and hanging from his shoulders.

"Sit down," he told her softly, kneeling in front of the bed with a gleam in his eyes that mirrored the wickedness Y/N had possessed just moments earlier.

She smiled and obliged, perching herself on the edge of the bed and leaning back on her hands. It wasn't long before he was practically ripping her panties off and tossing them aside like they were a mere obstacle. And a split second later, his mouth was on her.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he wasted no time with pleasantries, quite literally digging in and burying his face into her pussy. He plunged his tongue as far inside of her as he could go, swirling it around as his nose brushed up against her clit. And he kept at that until she felt his finger slide into the mix, replacing his tongue as his lips pressed sloppy kisses to the inside of her thighs.

When his tongue found its way to her clit, flicking over it in tandem with the long, languid motions of his fingers, she moaned out his name rather obscenely.

This only gave him the confidence to take it a step further, curling his fingers just right to hit that sweet spot. Over and over again he hit it, causing her to yell out and grip the comforter as tightly as she could with one hand, the other doing the same to his hair. "Ohh, I'm gonna... fuck!"

Since his mouth was a bit occupied, he hummed against her in response, slightly rocking his head from side to side to give her that extra push to bring her over the edge.

Sure enough, right then she clenched around his fingers and he felt her body shudder against him. He drank up every second of it, savoring her taste and slowly finger-fucking her through each wave of pleasure until she was pulling his head away.

She almost came again at the way he looked in that moment. The lower half of his face was adorned in her arousal, and his tongue occasionally swiped out to get some off his lips. His hair was all mussed and out of place from the way she'd been tugging on it, meanwhile his eyes raked over her body in just about the most hungry way she'd ever seen from him. It was truly a sight to behold, one that she was sure she didn't need his memory to remember.

"Fuck, you're so good at that," Y/N sighed, gripping his hair again to pull him up. He got the message, climbing up and kissing her. The taste of herself transferring from his lips to hers made her groan into him. She brought her hands around to his neck and pulled them both backwards until he was straddling her hips, and impatient as ever, she lifted her lower half up to feel friction.

At her eagerness, Spencer laughed and held them down. "Not so fast, sweetheart. I set the pace this time."

She whined at his words, but nodded nonetheless. He grinned then, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, right before settling himself over her and taking his sweet time sliding in. And as torturous as it was feeling him very slowly fuck her, she focused on the way his shirt still hung open over his body. She loved him in any capacity of course, but there was just something about that one stupid piece of fabric hanging from his figure that somehow made this moment all the more sexy. Any other time, she would have figured it was the urgency of it all that made it as hot as it was, but with the way Spencer was moving slower than a turtle, that obviously wasn't the case this time.

But whatever it was, all she knew in this moment was that she was fucking turned on as hell, and squirming underneath him.

"Patience, pretty girl," he chastised, shifting onto his knees and holding her hips down. "I thought you wanted this to last?"

"I—I do," she gasped out as he took one slow thrust forward.

"Don't you want to feel every single inch of me as I get deep inside you, hmm?" At that sentiment, Y/N's breath caught in her throat as he finally buried his dick to the hilt inside of her. And that breath escaped as a series of little whimpers as he stayed there and ground his hips in slow circles, burning her from the inside out. She reached out and gripped the sides of his shirt that hung from his chest, grateful for the extra leverage as she steadied her breathing.

He pulled out slowly and then repeated the process, and it was the most excruciating pleasure she'd ever felt. But she desperately wanted more. "Please," she whined out, pulling his shirt and trying to lift her hips up. "Go faster, please, I need it baby, I need it faster..."

He laughed so quietly she wasn't sure she actually heard it, but after he spoke, she was sure he had. "Mmm, I love it when you beg..."

The mirroring of her words had never sounded so delicious on his lips, especially after he pulled out and then slammed into her again, harder, and then setting a steady pace that kept her satisfied. She cried out, twisting his shirt in her hands and looking down between their bodies to watch his hips smoothly cant forward into her each time.

He took notice of this, squeezing her hips slightly as he spoke. "You like watching me fuck into you, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh," she whined out, biting her lip and letting go of his shirt. She gripped his arms instead, pulling on them slightly before reaching back to unclasp her bra.

Once she got it off and tossed it to the side, Spencer did what she silently told him she wanted and leaned forward, gripping her breasts rather than her hips. He massaged them roughly as his hips continued their steady pace back and forth.

"Fuck, baby, you always fill me up so fucking good," she said lowly, gripping his forearms and admiring how the veins in his wrists and hands looked as they strained against his skin.

He rewarded her words with a harder, quicker pace that caused his hands to grip her breasts even tighter to give him leverage. She moaned out and threw her head back, loving the feeling of him just using her like this, a feeling she hadn't experienced in so long that it was like coming home.

He must have read her mind, because he paused then, stilling inside her and grinding his hips slowly again, to which she cried out. "You feel that?" he asked slowly, throwing a little more of his weight on top of her. "You feel how deep I am, pretty girl? I bet you missed that feeling, huh?"

"Ohh, fuck, yes," she breathed, struggling to keep her eyes open. But she did anyway, feeling her walls flutter around him as he gazed at her hungrily. And then she spoke again. "I know you missed it, too... Fucking me like the dirty little whore I am."

Spencer hummed lowly. "Is that what you want?"

"Mhm," she responded in kind through a whine.

He pulled out of her then, leaving her empty and already missing his warmth. "Then get on your knees."

Y/N quickly did as she was told, flipping over and even wiggling her ass in the air in anticipation, with the biggest smile on her face. But the second he lined himself up with her entrance, he leaned over and pressed her shoulders down. "Face down..."

She didn't dare tell him otherwise. Actually, the fire that lit within her at his words was enough to keep her compliant anyway.

So when he took one sharp thrust forward and held himself inside of her, she sighed, clutching the blankets and wiggling her ass again.

"You want it so bad, you move," Spencer demanded, landing a firm smack to her left ass cheek.

The guttural moan that ripped through her was nothing short of pornographic as she set a quick pace rocking back and forth onto his dick. He slapped her other ass cheek after a few moments, and it elicited a pretty little yelp that had him practically throbbing with want inside of her. He repeated it a few times, watching her ass gradually grow redder with every smack, and the string of sounds and curses that came from Y/N's mouth started to sound more like tired cries.

"You gonna come again for me, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," she whined out desperately, clenching herself around him.

"Let me hep you, baby." With that, he gripped her hips and helped her move them back, thrusting his own forward to meet her halfway and making her cry out. "Go ahead, rub your clit for me. That's it, good girl... Mmm..."

She shook around him and cried out, clutching the pillow in front of her with one hand while the other worked her clit through her orgasm.

Spencer held her hips steady as he continued pumping in and out of her at a quick pace, not letting up even after she finished. "I'm almost there, sweetheart. Think you can take it a little longer?" She whined out incoherently, but he ran one of his hands gently over the curve of her ass. "I know you can, you're always such a good girl for me. You take my cock so well..."

His words made her clench around him again, and she held onto the blankets for dear life, moaning out at the sharpness of each of his strokes. She was most definitely overstimulated and sensitive, but it only made his twitching inside of her all the better.

He held himself inside of her as he came, whispering sweet praises and bending over her backside to press little kisses to her shoulders and stroke the hair from her face. This new angle sparked another little aftershock of her orgasm, the feeling of his warm cum spilling over as he gently fucked it into her being the thing that took her over the edge a third time.

Once they both settled down, her grip on the blankets nothing but a memory and his slow, gentle thrusts coming to a stop, Spencer grazed his hand over her cheek and down her neck.

"I'm gonna get up now, okay?" he said sweetly. "Just so you can straighten your legs out."

"Mhm," she answered, slowly groaning as he pulled out of her and helped her move her knees out from underneath her. She laid flat on her stomach, the feeling of his cum spilling out a worry for another time. If anything, it made her smile, as it stood a reminder of the sex she'd been craving for months.

Still, Spencer grabbed some wipes from the bedside table drawer and cleaned her up, throwing them away before he made his way back to bed and snuggled up beside her. He laid on his side as he faced her, and his hand came up to brush the side of her face again.

"You okay? Not feeling any pain? You don't need a hospital visit?"

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately with a smile. Her hands were crossed and under her chin. "No, thank God. Though, even if I was hurt, I wouldn't tell you, because that sex was so worth it."

He laughed with her, though it was obvious he was still a little worried. "Well... I'm glad you're okay. But maybe we should take it easy for a week or two now, just to be safe."

"Absolutely fucking not. You know why?"

He opened his mouth, though whether to answer or retort, she wasn't sure, because she interrupted before he could get a word in. "Because we have a lot of catching up to do. So if we don't go at it again before we fall asleep tonight, I expect to see you bright and early when we wake up, with your head between my legs."

"Okay, silly girl," he agreed finally, with a laugh and light squeeze of her shoulder.

They laid in silence for a minute or two, just enjoying each others' company before Y/N spoke up again. "I'm really okay... I don't want you to think I'm just saying that to get you to have sex with me, I... I really mean that, because I know how much you care about me. And I love you for that, you know."

Spencer smiled and scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her back and pressing his forehead to her temple.

"I know. And I love you, too."

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