#I’m still piecing the timeline together

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Trying to map out the timeline of Sabine’s life and it’s very crowded. She’s crammed a lot into her, what, thirty years? You’ve got the imperial academy and the building of weapons, then the betrayal and the use of her weapons against her people, then destroying them and going on the run with Ketsu, with the two of them working on trying to be bounty hunters, and then being left for dead by Ketsu, and then finally picked up and adopted by Hera and Kanan. Apparently she’s sixteen in season one of Rebels. So, all that before she’s even hit sixteen? And that’s not even getting into the rebellion years and everything, reuniting with her family and all that with the darksaber and Mandalore’s rebellion, loosing Kanan and training with Ahsoka and the Purge of Mandalore and the end of the war and everything even before this quest to find Ezra? I’m still piecing that second half of the timeline together but she’s had a shit lot go down in her life. It just suddenly struck me just how much

[deactivateddsstuff]

…I’m so sorry… 💔

[reverie-starlight]

okay that kuroo piece is still coming but have this small sakusa x MSBY!manager blurb that I just thought up and got so excited about!! I’m marking this down as fem!reader just for this specific little ramble. it can be read separately from the series !!

warnings: none, but probably a bit of a disconnect from what really happens at charity galas lmao

sakusa kiyoomi has a certain reputation for being very stoic and stand-offish in public- always polite but rather blunt in interviews. he’s tall, intimidating and not very personable around those who don’t know him, so it’s not a surprise people perceive him this way. his preference for wearing his mask most of the time only adds to this reputation, and he couldn’t care less. in fact, you would argue that he finds comfort in being perceived as unapproachable by strangers.

but when MSBY fans realize how horrifically down bad their favourite wing spiker is for the team manager, they have a field day with this absolutely drastic personality shift.

it starts with little jokes made by fan accounts about how much nicer he is to you in comparison to his teammates. they latch onto passing comments made by bokuto or atsumu about how when you’re at practice they feel at ease because they’re less likely to get obliterated by his sarcastic remarks.

no one has clued into the fact that you’re together yet, just that there’s some serious chemistry between you two.

it doesn’t go much further than that until the night of some charity event a lot of different teams are attending. of course managers are there, as well as coaches and trainers and JVA employees.

you’re doing the press/carpet walk before entering the event and in between photos and walking between journalists, one of the straps of your heels has come undone.

you frown a little and inspect it before realizing your dress restricts your ability to fix it yourself, so you nudge your boyfriend and stick your foot out to draw his attention to your predicament.

you don’t think twice about how there are no words are spoken. just a simple action and understanding between two lovers.

so people watch on as sakusa kiyoomi drops to his knees right then and there without protest and fixes your shoe. you take the opportunity to adjust the neckline of your dress (a deep, silky forest green to match his tie) and look around while you wait for him to finish.

you don’t realize the uproar this is bound to create, and you definitely don’t think twice about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t wearing a mask to this event.

…which means everyone is able to see the blush on his face and the tiny yet extremely lovesick smile on his lips as he gets up. you grin and pat sakusa on the cheek in thanks before walking to the next reporter, him trailing behind you dutifully.

you check twitter the next morning and your timeline is flooded with videos of that moment, captions gushing about how sweet and happy he looks. some fans go as far as to say he looks like a lost puppy following you around.

he doesn’t regret it one bit, but you have to comfort him when he loses his stand-offish reputation after that because he dreads the idea of more people possibly coming up to him in public.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I literally sprinted here to write this lmao

not edited!!

tagging: @dira333 @emmyrosee

[justporo]

So you'll see tomorrow

A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.

Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice

~~~

So this was it.

This is how they would all die.

There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…

Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.

“Staeve.”

He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.

It scared him.

“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”

Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.

“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.

“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”

Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.

He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.

Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.

But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.

The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.

And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.

He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.

“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”

Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.

Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.

There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.

“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”

Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.

Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.

Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.

One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.

The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.

When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.

“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.

Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.

Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.

[the-original-skipps]

|| Leave Me Dead To The World. || Five Hargreeves x Reader || The Umbrella Academy ||

don’t even get me started on tua season 4 cuz i hated it especially the you know what with Five.

CW: Spoilers for TUA season 4 epsiode 6. Instead of Lila, (Y/N) is the who goes with him to get stuck for 7 years.

bold italics are song lyrics from dead to the world by noel gallagher listen to it while you read to up the reading experience haha

After spending 7 years in a another timeline with Five, you’ve come back to be reunited with everyone in the present. Only to find out that the world’s on a fast track to ending again, but this time there’s no running away from the inevitable.

“P-Please Five, don’t do this…!”

You cry out as your shaky hands cup his face, your forehead pressed against his as his solemn eyes stare deeply into yours. Both of you standing on a familiar platform, while Lila’s family and Claire watch with melancholy. You could see his eyes pooling with his tears at your desperation. You have no idea how much Five wanted to abandon everything, the world, his family and leave everything behind to jump back on the train with you. To a house in the middle of the woods, where you’d grow strawberries and to spend the rest of your lives together. Live the life he always imagined with you by side until he draws his final breath but he couldn’t.

It’s time to let go, I’m bent over backwards.

He knew if he did, everything would start over again-the end of the world is always going to be inevitable as long as he and his family lived. He tried over and over again and just when he thought he could finally live-when he finally stopped it, does the cruel reminder that it’ll never end, come back. He couldn’t do this to you again, you deserved to live a full life even though he won’t ever be a part of it. That is why, with a heavy heart does Five slowly shake his head at your plea. His heart sinks even further at the look on your face at his rejection. “I’m sorry (Y/N), I wish it didn’t have to be this way but there’s no other options left. I wish there was, I r-really do…” Five croaks out as he tries to wipe the tears that continuously fall from your eyes. As the trains signal its doors closing, Five knew his time was up.

If love ain’t enough to make it alright. Leave me dead to the world.

“I love you...”

With a final press of his lips to your forehead, Fives pushes you harshly into the train. Surprised, you fall backwards, only for Claire to try and catch you as you land on the floor of the train. Horror filled your eyes as the train doors closes on you, separating you and Five forever.

You quickly scramble to stand up, yelling and pounding on the door that separates you both. Five smiles sadly at you, as he places a hand on the glass then bringing it up to a wave as the train signals its departure. Your shouts get louder as the train starts to move, pounding harder as you call out your lover’s name. As the speed picks up, you see Five’s figure growing smaller and smaller until it completely disappears. Only then do you fall to your knees with a dreadful wail as your heart shatters into a million pieces.

Five's hand falls back down to his side lifelessly as the train disappears into darkness. The tears that welled up in his eyes, finally cascading down his cheeks. The Five who never showed any weakness, nonetheless cried - his walls now completely broken down. He had to remain strong in front of you or else he would have wavered in his decision. With a shaky breath, he turns around preparing to blink back to the mansion - back to his family who waited for him. He promises that if he was ever given another chance at life again that he'll find you again, and love you like he always wanted to. No matter how long it takes, he'll find you again even if you won’t remember him. When he meets you, will you fall in love with him again? It’s wishing thinking but he hopes that even if it’s a tiny bit, that you'd still remember him. With all of his heart he hopes that you do but until then.

"Take care, my love."

I can lend you a dream, till we meet again. I’m dead to the world.

[hargreeves-duncan]

I saw your requests were open and because I'm very hurt/comfort I would like reader to be fives spouse and then the subway happens like the after of everyone learning about it at the house and having to bring up what happened with not only Diego but us as well who thought we [Five and spouse] were happy??? Immaculate. Also I hope you're doing well stay hydrated!

a/n: thank you so much for your request, i am super hydrated, thank you :)) i really loved writing this (even if it is a little angsty) and i hope you love it just as much

summary: you thought you were happy together - if only you knew how wrong you were.

warnings: mentions of canon compliant violence, cheating (obviously), lila x five😬

word count: 2.1k

pt. 2

Christmas Eve would always be a time of joy and merriment for many, and the same had been true for you for all of your life. Even when you’d spent a few decades working as a trained killer for The Commission, the holidays were always a normality and a comfort that you could fall back on, without fail. In between snapping necks and pulling triggers, you’d seen the snow covered hills of Lapland and the warm festivities of Munich’s Christmas Markets and now that you were retired, you could enjoy it all with your family.

The family that your husband, Five, had brought you into. Whilst there was some initial shock from the Hargreeves’ siblings as they found out that not only had their brother aged forty-five years without them on a post-apocalyptic Earth but that he had actually gotten engaged in that time, slowly but surely, they had let you in. They were chaotic, at the best of times, but you loved them all the same and you knew that you’d do anything to protect them now. They were your family, just as much as Five was.

You’d met Five at the commission, when he was worn down by a lengthy four decades of solidarity and you’d pieced him back together. You’d shown him that living wasn’t just a means to an end and that it could be good and loving. You’d joked at the time how silly it was, that the two of you had found love at an organisation designed to kill, for the most part, innocent people. He’d said he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d get to you.

After spending the last few years trying and failing to stop the apocalypse, you weren’t quite those people anymore. Instead, you had grown and evolved but you’d never had the luxury of waiting around for the two of you to settle down and retire like you’d both hoped for. So, when you’d come to this timeline, Five powerless, you hadn’t looked back. You’d gotten married, whilst you knew you still could and you’d lived the last six years in bliss. Five had softened now that there wasn’t the weight of impending doom on his back and you both got to be enveloped in the love you’d worked so hard for without consequence.

Tonight, you had gone over to Diego and Lila’s place to spend the evening with your extended family. At some point in the evening, Five and Lila had reappeared from whatever they’d spent the day doing and since he’d got back, Five had been unsettled. His eyes kept flickering over to Diego and Lila, constantly. He looked seething. Your husband had never been one for public displays of affection and Diego’s increasingly wandering hands must’ve been beginning to anger him, you thought. Five frowned, how was he supposed to enjoy his evening with that sitting across from him? 

Noticing his restlessness, you slipped your hand over his comfortingly, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring slide over your palm, “You okay?”

Five glanced back at you. He cleared his throat and nodded, smiling gently at you, “I’m alright, love.”

Occasionally, Lila would look over at him. She looked shy and timid under Diego’s touch, a look you’d never seen on her before. Lila’s love had always been performative and outlandish. Her affection was everywhere and to see her look so strained in his company was strange. It was entirely foreign to watch it play out and it didn’t match the Lila Hargreeves you’d come to know. Diego noticed too.

Even Luther noticed the tension in the room. He watched as Five rolled his shoulders for the hundredth evening, “What is with you tonight? You’ve barely said a word, Five, when does that ever happen?”

So, it wasn’t just you then? You thought to yourself. A ball of anxiety began to develop in your stomach. You searched Five’s face for the root of the problem. Five sighed and adjusted himself, “It’s called thinking, Luther. You should try it sometime.”

A flurry of shock and distaste shot up from everyone as he said that and you shrank slightly in your seat. Five bristled as you got closer. You frowned.

“I do think, I think you’re an asshole.” Luther clapped back, pouting as he leaned back against the couch. At this moment, you happened to agree. Five didn’t brush you away, physically, but he kept his eyes forward, anywhere but down at you. You felt dread in the pit of your stomach.

Five continued to avoid your gaze as Allison sighed, brushing her hair from her face, “Okay, can we not do this right now?” Her eyes drifted pointedly to Claire, Grace and the twins in the corner of the room, happily occupying themselves with toys and the tv which displayed a graceful ballerina one of the girls was currently trying to imitate.

“No, let’s. Let’s do this now.” Five said, smiling bitterly at her as he stood from the couch and dropped your hand.

You sighed, sitting forward, “Five-”

“Five, it’s gonna be okay.” Lila interrupted, smiling reassuringly from where she sat. Your head swivelled around to her, in time with Diego’s, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Before you had the chance to question Lila, Five smiled sarcastically at you all, moving his hand to cut her off, “No, it’s not gonna be okay.”

Diego shot from his seat, chuckling, “Hey, come on, man. Don’t talk to my wife like that. Not tonight. Not on Christmas.”

Five squares up to him, broadening his shoulders and raising his eyebrows at his brother, “You going to do something about it, fuckface?”

An uproar of protests from all of the others. Your eyes widen as things begin to escalate and you stand up, reaching for his arm, “Five!”

He glances back at you. Diego scoffs and steps closer, prodding Five’s chest, “Yeah, I’m gonna K-I-C-K your A-S-S, man.”

“Oh wow, somebody’s passed the first grade.” Five says sarcastically, still not backing down. 

“Five.” You say again, more forcefully as you step up to them. Lila gets up and steps between them, putting her hands on each of their chests and pushing them away from one another. Your eyes flare as you watch her fingers skim Five’s chest. They follow her hand up to her wrist and-

“What is that?” You ask, reaching for her wrist. A silver bracelet, woven like vines, dangles from her arm. You roll your sleeve back, looking at your own bracelet. The one that Five had given you on some anniversary or other, he’d had it made especially for you - strung together with gold, because silver was too trivial for someone like you, he’d said.

The bracelet felt trivial altogether as you looked at its pattern now, beside Lila’s - practically identical to your own. Cheaper, yes, but still like yours, “What’s what?” Lila asked innocently, taking her wrist back.

“That thing on your wrist.” Diego’s eyebrows furrow as he takes Lila’s wrist and he glances between your wrist and Lila’s, “You hate bracelets. You traded the one that I got you for Valentine’s last year to the pawn shop. What…”

“Where did you get it?” You demand, looking her in the eye with a determination that you haven’t felt in years. Lila stands there guiltily, leaning in Five’s direction and your heart sinks. Diego watches, the dots connecting in his mind.

“Did you give her that?” He asks, stepping closer to Five. Lila reaches out for him and he shrugs her off, “No, answer the question, Five. Did you give her that?”

“I made it.” Five answers, hands slipping into his pockets. He’s casual, as if it means nothing, and that only makes it hurt so much more because if this gift to Lila means nothing, then you must mean even less.

“You made it… for her?” You say, hurt and grief for the life you’ve had together seeping into your voice. And just when you think he can’t get any more cruel…

“Who does it look like I made it for?” He says, looking over at you, and your heart shrivels up painfully. A dull ache blooms in your chest and you can’t even form a response because he’s being so cutting and it’s something you’ve never had from him before.

Diego steps up, pressing a hand to your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as he pushes you back. He takes a breath and looks between Lila and Five, biting his lip, “Is there something going on between you two?”

The two stare silently for a moment and Lila’s voice grows soft as she looks at her husband, “Diego-”

Diego holds his hands up and turns away, “Holy shit… Holy shit, I was right!” He says, pointing at them both, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment in the people he’d trusted.

“Book club, a- all this time, you- you were cheating on me with…” He can’t even get the words out properly as he looks at them, his stutter resurfacing as his emotions get the better of him. He looks over at you, your eyes widen further, if that’s even possible as you realise things for yourself.

“Oh my god… oh my god, I am a complete and utter fool.” You say, laughing in shock as you mentally take a step back from the last few months.

This is what you got for letting your guard down, you supposed, “I can’t believe you… why did I never… you were never doing research, were you? You were off with her.”

“Now, just wait-” Five starts, holding his hands up and trying to approach you at the same time that Lila says, “No, we weren’t cheating on you. At least, not when you thought we were…”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, scoffing and folding your arms over your chest.

“It means that, for us, it’s been seven years. I blinked us to the subway and we got stuck down there.” Five said, stepping forward.

“Please, tell me you’re joking.” You say, shoulders dropping as your heart clenches, all of your defences falling.

“Love, I wish I was.” He says tenderly, stepping closer to you again. He takes a deep breath, “We were lost for seven years, Y/N.”

Seven years. He’d spent almost as much time with her as he had with you. Were you really that disposable? You’d thought that things were good between the two of you, great even, but the moment he’d been out of your sights, he’d done this…

Breaking down, you sit back on the couch, putting your head in your hands as you blink back tears. Five sighs, sitting beside you, “We went through a lot of timelines and I promise, I never stopped trying to get home, you know I never would, but… I got tired. Tired of failing over and over and I had to stop.”

“I wouldn’t have given up.” You say, drying your eyes as you look up at him again. Five smiles tiredly, shaking his head.

“You can’t know that.” He says, looking over at you. His eyes are soft, but it doesn’t stop the harsh sting of what he says. 

“I can, because I love you, it’s as simple as that.” You protest, looking at him brokenly, “You wouldn’t have stopped looking if you loved me the way that I love you.”

He rubs his thumb over his clenched knuckles, sighing, “Don’t say that. You know that I love you.”

“Of course. And her? What about Lila? Do you love her too?” You challenge, eyes flitting over every pore in his face, seeking an answer or an apology, anything that isn’t going to confirm what you so deeply fear; that he doesn’t love you anymore.

Lila perks up from where she’s standing beside Diego. Diego’s face drops and all either of you can do is watch as your partners lock eyes with one another instead of you. Five sighs, glancing back at you, “Y/N, now is really not the time for-”

“Do you love her?” You ask again.

He glances between the two of you and sighs again. It feels like that’s all he’s capable of doing right now, sighing. You want to scream or yell or cry because that isn’t fair, he doesn’t get to be frustrated or hurt when this is his fault and you shouldn’t be feeling bad for him when he looks so defeated but you just can’t help it because it’s Five, your Five, and you’ve never known anything else but wanting what’s best for him.

He parts his lips, about to speak, before Claire interrupts from where she’s sat on the floor, “Hey, grown-ups! Look at the TV! Isn’t that Uncle Ben?”

Five stands up to look with the other Hargreeves and you steady yourself. This is okay, you think, you can let things go on as normal. Just for a little longer.

[i5uckersblog]

Love your writing! Can I request a fic where worst!Logan gets short in the head or like knocked or smith and when he wakes up the first thing he sees is readers face, kneeling in front of him? It kinda shocks wade how in every reality Logan falls for reader

Across Every Universe

Summary: Logan wakes up to the reader's face, and Deadpool notes he falls for her in every reality.

The world is spinning. Logan’s head feels like it’s been split in two, and he can’t tell if it’s from the blow he took or just the sheer exhaustion of everything. He blinks, trying to focus on something, anything. Pain lances through his skull, and for a moment, he wonders if this time, they finally did him in.

Then he sees a face—a familiar face—kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with worry.

“Logan?” The voice is soft, panicked. He knows that voice. It’s always the same, always her.

He blinks again, trying to clear the fog from his vision. Her hand is on his cheek, warm and steady, and he swears he can feel his healing factor working just a little faster because of it.

“Hey, you with me?” she asks, her voice a gentle tether pulling him back from the edge of oblivion.

He tries to speak, but his throat feels like it’s full of gravel. Instead, he just nods, reaching up to cover her hand with his. Her presence soothes him, anchors him in a way he can’t quite explain.

“Unbelievable,” comes a voice from somewhere behind her, dripping with disbelief and just a little bit of amusement. “Every damn time.”

Logan shifts his gaze past her to see Wade Wilson standing there, arms crossed over his chest, his mask slightly askew from whatever scrap they just had. Wade shakes his head, his mouth twisting into a smirk that Logan wants to knock clean off his face.

“Every universe, every timeline,” Wade continues, pointing between Logan and the reader, “you always fall for her. No matter what. It’s like some cosmic joke, and I’m the only one in on it.”

The reader turns to glare at Wade. “Could you be serious for once? He just got his head knocked in!”

Wade throws up his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. It’s like you two are star-crossed or something, but in a super cheesy, rom-com way.” He pauses, considering. “Actually, more like one of those soap operas. Will they, won’t they, are they—”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growls, voice rough but gaining strength. He pushes himself up to sit, still holding onto the reader’s hand as if she might disappear if he lets go. “What the hell happened?”

The reader turns her attention back to him, brows furrowed in concern. “You took a hit to the head. We were surrounded, and you stepped in front of me.”

Logan frowns, piecing together fragments of memory. “Yeah… I remember that.” He shakes his head slightly. “Why’d you do that?”

She smiles, a small, exasperated thing that lights up her face. “Maybe because I like having you around, dumbass.”

Logan can’t help but chuckle, even though it hurts his ribs. “That makes one of us.”

Wade snorts. “Oh, please. You two are like a badly written love song, but somehow it always ends up being the top hit on every playlist.”

Logan rolls his eyes but squeezes the reader’s hand tighter. “Why don’t you take a walk, Wade? Go find someone else to annoy.”

Wade grins. “Oh, I think I’ll stick around. Wouldn’t want to miss the moment you realize—yet again—that you’re head over heels.”

Logan sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing at his lips. Because as much as he hates to admit it, Wade isn’t wrong. In every universe, every reality, every damn timeline, it always comes down to this: him and her.

Maybe it’s fate. Or maybe it’s just that some things are meant to be, no matter how many times the world tries to knock him down.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

Requests are wide open

[i-like-writing-stuff]

the other five; part 2 [ five hargreeves x reader ]

okayyyy so it’s not my best work and i hope it is not too rushed or cheesy i have my best and i hope i didn’t crush y’all’s expectations 😭😭 writing this i literally gave no shit on the paradox psychosis, it’s also an AU where they did save the world, and not to mention again that everyone, including reader and five are around 32, basically the same age as the rest of the family

hope y’all still like it tho 🥹🥹🥹

part one

“I can’t believe how bad you suck at Scrabble in every single timeline, my love,” Five laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as you threw a wooden piece at him over the table, offended to say the least;

“I can’t believe what a piece of shit you are in every timeline!”

“Oh, she’s also a sore loser in every timeline!”

As you threw yet another wooden piece at the man before you, you couldn’t help but get infected with his contagious laugh and burst into giggles as well. Five was smiling from ear to ear, as he was heavily laughing, with a hand over his chest, as his other one was resting peacefully on top of yours on the table.

You were sitting on the rug, on each side of the coffee table in your living room. It was a peaceful Thursday night, and you didn’t really have anything planned. You worked all day, so you figured that a glass of wine and some chocolate to snack on while watching a movie would be a decent end of the day, but a couple knocks on your door changed that.

It had been a while since you met Five, a couple of weeks maybe. Nothing short of a miracle helped you save the world for good this time, but that’s a story for another time. Things were actually looking up for you, as the Hargreeves siblings were all safe in one piece, as well as your own parents. Viktor was visiting you in the States a lot more often, Allison, Klaus and Claire resumed their day to day lives, Luther was trying to reabilitate the old mansion for good this time and actually own it, Ben and Jennifer were happily together, as Diego and Lila were doing their best to save their marriage for the sake of their three children.

As for Five, last you heard he was still in the CIA, but that was about it.

The Five from your timeline, that was.

The Five standing in front of you, he was an entirely different story.

After he comforted you the day you and Five broke up, you tried to prioritize your interests and went back to help the family stop the apocalypse. In spite of how much you wanted to just lay in his arms until you went completely numb, you knew that if that’s where you were meant to be, you’d find your way back eventually.

And you did.

“Fuck me, that was draining,” You rubbed your face, falling onto the dusty leather couch with a loud thud, next to Allison.

“You’d think we would get the hang of it by now,” She sarcastically said, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“If there’s a fifth apocalypse, let’s just let it happen,” Klaus suggested, as some of you couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“At least this one wasn’t Viktor’s fault,” Luther pointed out, making Viktor waive his arms;

“Excuse me?”

“I’m swear I’m gonna kill myself,” Ben rolled his eyes bored as ever. On the surface, that was.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” Lila raised her brows at the man.

“Do it later, we literally just saved your sorry ass,” Five pointed out.

“And to think that after all this shit, on Monday I’m back to delivering packages…” Diego deeply sighed, as you all turned to judge him.

The nine of you were standing in the middle of the old mansion, trying to catch your breath after your hardest efforts yet to save the world. It was a mixture of everyone’s powers, a droplet of a miracle and lots of yelling around, but eventually you did it. You could finally breathe again and not worry that tomorrow may not come.

However, it didn’t mean that you weren’t suffering anymore. You tried your everything to keep your composure around the Five from your timeline and Lila, since apparently even Diego was willing to make amends. He loved his brother and his kids far too much, as well as his wife. He was willing to put it all behind, after all, you were given a second chance and he was not going to waste it.

“Am I going crazy or is that another Five?” Klaus pointed towards the main entrance to the living room, as your Five walked in with a slight smile across his lips and his hands in his pockets;

“I wouldn’t have bet my last two cents that you idiots would have actually managed to save the universe.”

“Asshole,” You giggled, getting up to run instantly into his arms.

Five was taken aback by your sudden excitement for a mere second, as he stumbled a step back, but not wasting another second to wrap his arms around your waist. He walked you back from the diner to the train station that would take you back to Five, and eventually back to your timeline a couple hours ago, but if you were to be honest it felt like forever since the last time you saw him. In spite of being literally yet not really the man who crushed your heart that day, you found such an intense comfort in him, it was stupid.

You were still grieving your old relationship, you were still heartbroken over what had happened. Six years with Five on your side were not that easy to get over, but this one truly helped you feel better. He was so thoughtful, so sweet and kind, yet sarcastic and sassy, he was totally your perfect match, which was insane since you thought that your ex-boyfriend of six years would be your soulmate.

“I hate you,” You declared, crossing your arms over your chest, “You have no business making fun of me- you’re like a hundred years old.”

“Don’t- Don’t go there and make it awkward,” Five instantly said, raising his hands in front of you, “You’re making me feel like a pervert.”

“As you should,” You lightly shrugged your shoulders, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully.

The two of you started spending a considerable amount of time together lately, as he managed to make himself comfortable in your timeline. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy, not only because he had lost his own Y/N, but he also hadn’t seen his siblings in such a long time. In his timeline, they didn’t manage to save themselves after Reggie reset the timeline at Hotel Oblivion, so getting his family back in a way was surreal to him as well.

Five felt alive again and it was all because of you.

All because he stumbled upon the love of his life that day in the subway system, the same woman who brought him back to his family. Maybe they weren’t actually the ones from his timeline, but they were his family nonetheless.

“Okay, one more round so I can shut your trash mouth again,” Five declared, straightening his jacket, as he leant over the table to rearrange the board.

“I can think of another way you can shut my trash mouth,” You smirked, leaning forward on the table as well, resting your weight on your elbows.

The two of you took things surprisingly slow. You couldn’t deny the instant connection, after all- you were a couple in every single timeline. But you couldn’t help the need to avoid the rush. Sure, you held hands sometimes and bump your knees under the table, or he would place wild strands of hair behind your ears and you would sometimes fix his tie for him. You also tended to share tight hugs that lasted maybe a second too long, or linger some touched here and there, but you neither of you ever had the courage to bring it up in a discussion.

You had never even kissed.

“My, my, is my little Y/N getting impatient?” Five mimicked your smirk, lightly grabbing your chin between his index and thumb.

One thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have feelings anymore for your ex-boyfriend. There was no doubt about that. You just didn’t feel it would be wise to jump into another relationship so soon with his doppelgänger, but after these past few weeks you were so done waiting.

If there’s one thing you learned from saving the world one too many times it definitely was that you should not be wasting precious seconds.

“Aren’t you?” You asked, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out where he stood on all this.

“I’d wait for you decades, darling,” Five confessed, running his thumb across your bottom lip in a gentle manner.

He loved the feel of you, every square inch of your body- he couldn’t get enough of it. He would touch anywhere possible, he wanted to pepper kisses along every part of you, but he did mean every word he said. He did want to wait for you for as long as you needed until you were ready to be with him, truly.

“Promise?” You couldn’t help but wonder, as Five let go of your chin to put some fallen strands of hair behind your ears, “Would you actually wait for me?”

“It’s not even up for debate,” He nodded, getting up from the floor, straightening his three piece suit.

He offered you his hands, as he lifted you to your feet as well. You didn’t know exactly if your legs were numb because of how long you’d been sitting crisscrossed on the floor, or simply because the man before you made your knees weak with one smile, but you knew for certain that you never wanted this night to end.

Five cupped your cheeks in his hands, as you naturally rested your hands on his chest. You were so smitten by him, but in all fairness- how could you not be? He was doing everything right, giving you all the love he had and a bit more extra, while still being his true sassy self that you loved so much.

“Kiss me, please,” You whispered, looking into his beautiful eyes, feeling as you were slowly losing yourself into the moment.

Five smiled as he leaned in slowly to give your lips a light peck, as careful and attentive as possible. His long fingers found their way into your hair, as your own arms wrapped around his neck to pull him in closer. He took that as his cue to go in for a more passionate kiss, capturing your lips with his in just a matter of seconds, losing his whole being in that moment to wrap himself around your pinky finger.

Anything you wanted, he would go through the ends of the world to get it for you- and that was an understatement.

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

pairings. Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 6.8K

synopsis. He believes that by isolating you, he can protect you from the outside world and ensure your happiness together. In his twisted mind, this is his way of creating a perfect and eternal bond, you’re his muse, his statue of beauty, his own aphrodite.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiyaaa! Thank you so much for the people that have helped me make my post manage to slip through the timeline! I kid you not I had to break my spine with this issues I kept running into (the ori yandere Zayne post is gone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience), if any of you have any suggestions on how to make my post made it into the tags please tell them on the comments section. Get ready and have some snacks and hope you enjoy reading another hc I made

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

A manchild…? you love this guy? Me being a slander and simp at the same time

To put it simply, Rafayel is always the damsel in distress and YOU are his knight shining armor. He needs your attention and protection 24/7, you don’t want him to end up dead, do you? The whole universe will miss him. 

First of all, he loves you. Second of all, he hates you. 

You’re like a goldfish, how could you not remember the vows you both made when you were just a little kid?! The mere fact that you failed to recognize his face shattered his heart into pieces, for you hold immense significance in his life.

The weight of your indifference crashed upon him like a tidal wave, leaving his emotions in ruins. It was like a tornado tearing through his soul, causing a gut-wrenching ache that seemed to consume him from within.

It creates a twisted cycle of emotions that he struggles to contain. He yearns for the love you once shared, yet despises you for not remembering the bond you had. 

Perhaps he regrets not taking action in the past to ensure he could always locate you, to have left a distinctive mark upon you as a means of tracking your whereabouts.

You should’ve recognized him at first glance. Where have you been? He thought he lost you, he doesn’t even want to wish upon your death but you make it harder for him not to.

You’ve grown so much and so many changes but you’re still the same person he met at the beach, and it makes him feels so many emotions at once, it’s the first time he has managed to put a rein over his emotions, he could’ve coax you to come to his studio and locked you up, if you were to recognize him.

His heart longed to show much he misses you yet his mind tells him to seek revenge. It’s like his body and soul is splitting. Do you know how much damage you are causing him?

You must understand, my dear, that he is determined not to repeat past mistakes. It is time for him to take drastic measures, to make a promise that will bind you to him forever. He sees you as his ultimate protector, his unwavering shield. From this moment forward, you will never leave his sight again.

In his eyes, you have always belonged to each other, from the very beginning. Your destinies intertwined, your fates entangled. He craves the security of knowing that you are by his side, guarding his every step, his every breath. No longer will he allow even the smallest sliver of distance to separate you.

From the beginning you are his as much as he is yours.

His artistic talent is both his greatest strength and his greatest weapon. Through his art, he immortalizes his love and hatred for you, capturing the complexities of his emotions with every stroke of the brush. His creations serve as a constant reminder of his twisted desires. 

Initially consumed by hatred, he concealed his love, allowing it to resurface gradually, in subtle and tender ways. 

It’s the slowest burn you could ever imagine. Painstakingly slow.

As Rafayel's hatred gradually diminished, he began to express his feelings more openly, albeit subtly, leaving significant hints about the depth of his emotions towards you. Similar to a small forest fire that grows steadily, each progression was deliberate and methodical until it consumed the entire forest, an uncontrollable blaze that can’t be extuingish.

Say goodbye to freedom and welcome to his world, now that you’re his. He will be the center of your universe.

Clinginess is an inherent trait of Rafayel's nature. He craves your presence and attention, unable to bear the thought of being separated from you even for a moment. He will go to great lengths to ensure that you never leave his side.

You've grown accustomed to his playful nature and constant need for attention, but be prepared for an amplified version, as his demands intensify. Good luck dealing with your man ♡

He is a man of pride, he immortalizes you through his art, proudly showcasing pieces dedicated to you at his exhibitions. While abstract in form, this exclusivity serves to intrigue others, leaving them pondering what makes you so special in his eyes.

Unknown to you hidden away within his personal stash, there is a gallery dedicated solely to you. Every piece of artwork revolves around your existence, capturing his obsession with meticulous detail. The walls are adorned with portraits, each stroke of the brush reflecting his twisted love for you.

But at the very least, he showers you with lots of love and affection, no more holding back.

In relationships, he presents himself as a calm and romantic partner, radiating an aura of serenity akin to the sea. He enjoys spending quality time with you, whether it be casual outings or simply sharing space in silence. With him, you will never feel alone.

But do not be deceived by the calm waters, for they possess the ability to draw you into the depths of darkness, leaving you submerged and unable to resurface. His obsession remains unpredictable, much like the ever-changing tides of the sea. 

Oh, how you've stumbled into his clutches the moment you made that fateful vow. There is no turning back, my dear. You have fallen into the siren's trap, lured by his haunting charm. You are now forever entwined in his grasp, unable to break free. You should have thought twice before crossing paths with him if you weren't planning to stay.

He has two preferred methods of dealing with nuisances. He may choose to be smug and show off his superiority, rubbing his success in their faces. He revels in flaunting his success and talents, using them as a means to intimidate and belittle those who dare to steal you away.

However, if they persist, he is unafraid to resort to physical means, utilizing violence to eliminate them from your life. He goes to extreme lengths, even shedding blood and concealing the evidence of his actions, all in the name of safeguarding your well-being and maintaining his possessive hold over you.

His possessiveness knows no bounds, his desire to claim you as his own overpowering any sense of reason. He will go to great lengths to ensure that no one else can possess you, viewing you as his ultimate masterpiece.

When faced with difficulty or resistance from you, Rafayel won't hesitate to take drastic measures. He is willing to use any means necessary, including drugs, to put you to sleep and kidnap you. He will isolate you in his studio, ensuring that you will be together forever.

His studio, the place where he creates his art, becomes both a sanctuary and prison for you. Within its walls, he controls every aspect of your existence, dictating your every move and stifling your individuality. It is a place where his obsession can flourish unchecked.

You will forever remain under his possession, as he claims you and binds you eternally.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[etherealising]

chapter two | the weight of existing

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x fem!reader (future)

summary: you and carmy try to get to the bottom of your issues, only for carmy to sow further division between you two, leading you to share some unwelcome thoughts regarding life with mikey.

warnings: angst? | talk of no longer existing (su!c!de) | probably ooc characters | language (cussing) | wonky timeline (b/c time doesn’t exist to me apparently) | so much pseudo sibling love that i’m not ready for mikey’s exit : ( | please don’t hesitate to let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 4.5k

You had been at the Berzatto family home for an hour now, and everything was in absolute chaos. You thanked your lucky stars for growing up around this family. If this had been your first time spending a holiday with them, you were sure your fight or flight alarms would be blaring right now. You had been in the kitchen with Donna ever since your and Carmy’s stifled meeting earlier in the evening.

You loved Donna, really you did, and you appreciated everything she did for you when your mom couldn’t. But if you knew anything by being an honorary member of the Berzatto family, you knew that being in the kitchen with Donna during the holidays wasn’t the most pleasant of places to be. And you saw your perfect escape when Carmy entered the kitchen, removing Donna’s attention from you and the conversation about how the world of journalism was treating you since you last came home in November.

Your eyes caught Carmy’s as he was swept into his mom’s explanations about what needed to go in the oven and when. You flashed a smile nodding as a sign of encouragement, you were rewarded with a small twitch of his lips before you disappeared into the hallway intending to take a lap around the house and greet the other guests scattered around the house.

The body leaning against the kitchen wall, seemingly trying to become one with the wallpaper caught your attention. Upon further inspection, you realized it was Natalie, a face you were more than happy to see after being in the same house together for over an hour. You gently brushed your hand across her shoulder doing your best not to startle her, her head shot up worry inked in her blue eyes, a deep breath leaving her as she took in whose presence was invading her space.

“Hey Baby,” The slight uptick of her lips showed you just how exhausted she already was, her eyes searching yours for any answers regarding the constant worries shooting through her mind. “How’ve you been, are you alright, I know mom can be a bit much during the holidays.” You let out a small chuckle pulling the older girl into a much-needed hug for the both of you.

“Do you ever take a moment to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on yourself?” You asked her pulling back slightly to further take in her appearance. You loved Nat dearly, she was pretty much the sister you never had, but you hated how she would run herself dry trying to fix everything for everybody else.

You squeezed her hand that was still clutched in yours letting her know that she wasn’t alone and could rely on you if need be. You pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face watching as she leaned her head back against the wall taking a moment for herself. “You worry about everyone Nat, but who worries about you love?” You questioned, and she knew this was no rhetorical question, you expected a genuine answer.

Allowing Nat to take in your words you walked around to the other side of her to lean against the wall next to her, she turned her head watching you take up a similar position as she. “Are you reciting lines from a self-help book?” Your eyes met hers watching as the edges crinkled signifying the smile she now wore, you huffed letting out a chuckle and knocking your shoulder into hers.

“You’re laughing Nat, but I’m serious. And even if I did steal that line from some book, I think it applies scarily well to you Sugar.” The last words spilled from your lips in a sarcastic tone, your eyebrows raising as she rolled her eyes at the sound of her nickname bestowed upon her by her Berzatto counterparts.

“I made a mistake Baby, you chose your nickname.” Nat deadpanned

You laughed, the sound drowned out by whatever conversation everyone else in the house was having. “You tell me what teenage girl didn’t have a crush on Johnny Castle, I will forever cherish your mom for letting me watch Dirty Dancing on my 14th birthday.” You sighed dreamily watching as Natalie shook her head at your antics.

“Baby, that is such a lame excuse,” Nat laughed, turning to face you. “You literally wouldn’t answer to anything else but Baby for a whole week after your birthday. Need I remind you, you took your obsession further and dressed up for Halloween as Baby.” She laughed, her voice filled with what you realized was a reminiscent tone, “I can’t believe you suckered Mikey into dressing up as Johnny though.”

You smiled remembering back to the exact Halloween she was talking about, “Carmy’s head was too far up his ass to dress up with me.” You huffed recalling how Carmy swore up and down that he was too old to dress up anymore. “Plus I think Mikey just did it to make me feel better, that was around the time my mom was having all her health issues.” You shrugged not thinking too much about Mikey’s motivations.

You finally turned to face Natalie, your positioning mirroring hers, “What do you say we find your mom’s old photo albums and hang out with Tiff for a few.” You suggested holding your hand up as Nat was about to give you some excuse to not take a beat for herself. “Shut up Nat your moms will be fine she’s got Ratatouille in the kitchen with her and about a hundred fucking bums in the living room.” Your dig at Carmy brings a slight smile to her face.

The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen caught your attention a mumbled “Fuck.” Meeting your ears followed by a more coherent “I don’t fucking come home to be compared to a fucking French rat.”

You shared a knowing smile with Natalie, the two of you giggling like school girls in the hallway outside of the kitchen, “I’ll grab the photo albums,” You heard Nat mumble as she walked in the direction you presumed Donna kept the family keepsakes. The minute Nat was out of your sight you let out a deep sigh, you couldn’t help the impending feeling that things were going to get a lot more hectic in the coming hours, and taking a minute to relax with Nat and catch up with Tiff was an out you were definitely looking to take advantage of. Resting your head back against the wall eyes closing as the minutes ticked by while you waited for Nat to collect you, you knew deep down that break wouldn’t be coming but holding on to the idea of a little calmness in a situation helped you fool yourself into believing everything would be alright.

“You good?” Your eyes shot open as the all too familiar voice of Carmen Berzatto filled your ears, though what should’ve alerted you to his presence was the scent of his cologne, a scent you hadn’t smelled in a very long time, yet somehow your body instinctively remembered. You looked to see him standing idly in the doorway of the kitchen, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lips. “Uh, I’m gonna get a quick smoke in, did you - I know you don’t smoke - but you look - and.” You cut his pathetic ramblings off, not quite in the mood to play finish the lyric with him.

“Yeah Carm, I’ll join you outside.” You nodded passing him by to head towards the door, being in the same vicinity as him after so long made you physically ache. And now that you had seen him and deduced that he was in good health, you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the lack of contact between the two of you. No, it wasn’t even a lack of contact. Carmy dropped you like a bad habit and never looked back. As you made your way to the front porch you tried to reason with yourself that Carmy didn’t owe you anything, he didn’t owe you his friendship, or his time, no matter how long you two had known each other. If Carmen woke up one day and decided you were no longer an essential part of his life, he was well within his rights to do so, he was a grown man for crying out loud. But what you wouldn’t stand for, what your brain couldn’t allow you to accept was being cut off with no explanation, you were sure this whole situation between the two of you would’ve hurt less if he had just explained to you why you were no longer good for him.

And maybe you were lying to yourself, and the explanation would have actually made things worse, but you couldn’t change what already was. And as Carmy slowly made his way to follow you out of the house you decided today was the day you were getting answers, call it Carmy’s last-minute Christmas gift to you.

The two of you stood next to each other. A good distance between you two, Carmy respecting you enough to not smoke directly next to you. Carmy tried his hardest to not steal glimpses of you in his peripheral vision, but it was hard not to when you were standing there beside him. If times were different he might’ve reached out to touch you, to assure himself you were physically here with him. To remind himself of what once was between the two of you. What could no longer be?

“Uh-um how have you bee-”

“Why?” You interrupted him, not particularly in the mood for his avoidance tactics.

“Wha-what?” He turned to face you and you wanted to laugh, you weren’t sure if he was genuinely confused or acting incompetent so you’d be the one to apologize. You copied his stance, eyes tracing across every inch of his face, you gave in with a sigh. Carmy was never one to weaponize any incompetence he may have had, you weren’t even sure if he knew how.

“Why are you asking Carmen, do you actually care, or are you just trying to make small talk?” You watched as he removed the cigarette from between his lips, holding it in the hand furthest from you and turning his face in the opposite direction to release the nicotine-scented air from his lungs.

He ran his free hand through his hair, something that used to drive you crazy, but now standing in this moment with him you couldn’t be bothered to feed into the childhood crush your weak heart still harbored for him. “I-I care, I didn - it was never my intention to cut you off.” He said searching your eyes for any signs that you were listening to understand, and not just listening to rebuttal.

“We grew up together Carmen, if you didn’t want me in your life anymore you could’ve just told me.” You felt the telltale signs of tears welling up in your eyes, your eyes stinging as you fought hard to keep them from spilling.

“It wasn’t like that.” He scoffed his irritation becoming ever present, it wasn’t you he was irritated with, it was the fact that he knew exactly what he needed to tell you, wanted to tell you but he wouldn’t allow himself to. Carmy didn’t know how to express what was running through his mind right now without becoming a stuttering mess as his mind raced too fast for his mouth to keep up with.

You let out a sardonic laugh “That’s exactly what it felt like Carmen. I’m not gonna pretend to act like I know what your life is like right now, but the least you could do is shoot me a text letting me know you’re okay. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be consistent Carm, I jus-I care about you so much that it hurts.” You choked the words out not knowing how you could get him to understand how much his actions affected you.

“I mean, I know we went our separate ways, and I promise I’m not desperately trying to hang off you or some shit Carm, but yo-you just left me, and I was in a whole new place alone, and I felt like such a fucking fraud. And I needed you Carmen, I fucking needed you and…and the crazy part is you got every single one of my calls and texts, I fucking know you did.” You were ranting now and maybe it wasn’t fair to Carmy to drop this on him all at once, but what else were you supposed to do when you knew things would just resort to the way they’ve been once the holiday season was over and you were both back on your respective sides of the country.

“Listen, Baby, I’m sorry I kno-,”

“You promised Carmen,” The words slipped through your lips in a whisper so quiet it was almost lost to the wind. “You promised you would call me Carmen, and I know that may not have meant much to you, but it meant everything to me, you meant everything to me Carmen.” The wind had taken your voice and ran with it, Mother Nature doing her best to soothe the two broken souls before her.

Carmen closed his eyes tilting his head back to the sky, it was selfish, he knew it was the moment the thought crossed his mind, but those were the last words he wanted to ever hear from you. He took a second to try and collect the dozens of thoughts racing through his mind. Hoping to land on what he thought you wanted to hear, anything to soothe the indigestion starting to burn through his chest.

He came back to reality, eyes no longer looking in your direction, posture closed off signifying he was done with this conversation whether you agreed or not. He dropped the cigarette he had been holding the time wasted burning it down to the bud before taking a fresh one out of his pocket, cigarette lazily held between his lips as he brought his lighter up to the stick.

"He been treating you right?” He questioned head turning in your direction, but eyes never quite landing on your figure, as if he couldn’t stand to look at you.

And there it was exactly what you didn’t want to happen: Carmen's incessant need to avoid the tough conversations that he couldn’t help but make everyone else’s problem. You hastily patted your eyes to ensure any remaining tears didn’t make an appearance. “The fuck are you on about Carmen?” You snapped, having lost all desire to keep your emotions under control. No longer holding yourself back to appease whatever good nature was still between the two of you.

He gestured with his free hand back towards the house while sucking in a deep breath of tobacco and nicotine. “You and Mikey, I mea-it's just you two seemed pretty close earlier is all.” He chanced a glance in your direction, his soft blue eyes catching your stare before promptly turning away.

It took you a minute to digest what he was insinuating, a little offended that he deduced you to being Mikey’s bed warmer, all from whatever he thought he had been seeing this evening. If you were a violent person, you might’ve slapped him. You weren’t fucking Mikey and even if you were that was no longer Carmy’s business, he couldn’t just pick and choose the moments he wanted to make an appearance and provide input in your life.

You chuckled although the sound came out dry, no traces of humor to be found. You turned to Carmy and closed the distance between the two of you, snatching the cigarette from between his lips. You dropped it to the ground before stomping it out under the toe of your boot, “These things kill asshole.” You said before sauntering back towards the house, stopping a moment and turning to face him again, “And if I wanted to fuck your brother I don’t think I’d need your permission, Carmen.” With that, you entered the house leaving Carmy to stew with his thoughts and hopefully come to the conclusion that he made a bad situation even worse.

Carmy stayed outside a little while longer, he knew it was immature of him to avoid the conversation you wanted to have. He felt like a jackass for staring you in your face as he made the decision to disregard your feelings so easily. He kept telling himself he wasn’t a bad guy, a loop with those words playing in his brain as he did his best to convince himself. But what sort of fucking masochist breaks their own heart to escape the realities of a life he’ll never have. You were right, Carmen was an asshole but he knew he couldn’t continue to allow himself to want something as marvelous as love with you, he just wasn’t deserving. Not that he thought Mikey was any better of an option, but if it kept you in his life so be it.

You made your way through the house, looking for any space that you could compose yourself in, not wanting to ruin anyone else’s Christmas with your unpleasant mood. You did your best to quickly walk past the room containing the Fak Brothers and Steven. Any other time you would have sat comfortably next to Stevie as raptly intrigued as he was with the Fak family shenanigans. But in those potential instances, you also wouldn’t have been overthinking every decision you made regarding your friendship with Carmen and wondering why you were no longer good enough.

Continuing your journey through the house narrowly avoiding guests as you went, you quickly backtracked as you noticed a familiar back blankly facing the pantry. You felt bad for even letting the thought cross your mind, but you weren’t sure if Mikey was the right person to seek comfort in, especially after the accusation Carmy had just laid at your feet.

It was ridiculous actually to let something Carmy said have such an impact on you within such a short amount of type. It was even more ridiculous to allow his immaturity to overshadow the bond that had been carefully curated between you and Mikey prior to his youngest brother’s absence and now.

You let out a defeated sigh stepping slightly forward to wrap you arms around Mikey’s torso, cheek settling into the space between his shoulder blades, “Your little brother is a fucking idiot.” You murmured, voice slightly muffled by Mikey’s back.

A rough laugh escaped through Mikey’s lips as he patted your hand resting on his stomach, “Sure is when it comes to you ain’t he?” He questioned removing himself from your hold to lean his back against the pantry doorway. You followed suit standing opposite of him, the two of you now face to face.

You took in Mikey’s features, brows pinching together at the far away look in his eyes. It always amazed you that no matter if Mikey was physically in front of you, there was always a chance he was mentally somewhere else. That was the one similarity you could pick out between the two Berzatto boys, while Mikey’s charisma did a good job of hiding it, Carmen’s awkwardness put it on full display.

You reached out tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, “How are you doing Mikey?” You were genuinely curious, it's not like you were oblivious to Mikey’s many faults, the difference was you didn’t think he was a lost cause like everyone else. And as hard as it was to admit it to yourself you would never address the fact that you romanticized who Mikey was as a person. The Mikey you knew as a little girl was still the same Mikey you saw standing before you, and maybe he had a few more demons in his closet than you had been aware of back then, but it felt egregiously wrong to align your Mikey with the boogeyman everyone else made him out to be.

Mikey laughed swatting your hand away, “It's the most wonderful time of the fucking year Baby, how do you think I’m doing?” Mikey’s adversity in answering your question wasn’t lost upon you, but you knew Mikey wasn’t one to openly talk about how he was feeling. If avoidance was what you were gonna get, you knew there was no chance of this conversation going anywhere. You were 0 for 2 with the Berzatto brothers this evening it seemed.

You sighed, knocking your head against the wall you were leaning on, eyes shifting downwards as you prepared yourself for the topic you were about to bring up, “Can I ask you a question, Mikey? And can you be serious with me for one minute?” You pleaded needing someone to validate the way you had been feeling since your less-than-enlightening conversation with Carmy.

Mikey nodded eyebrows pinching together, a lick of concern tickling down his spine. Mikey knew you just as well as he knew his actual siblings. Albeit the age difference Mikey grew up right there with you, watching you grow into the person you were now, learning your mannerisms, understanding you as a person. You hadn’t asked for it but Mikey made it his mission to know you just as well as the younger Berzatto’s, if you were gonna be tossed into his eccentric family due to circumstance, he would do his best to treat you like a bonus little sister.

The slight nod of his head queuing you to reveal your query, “Do you ever feel, I don’t know, like inadequate?” You questioned scratching your nails against the material of your skirt, too consumed by the idea that Mikey would write your odd inquiry off. “Like sometimes it’s just exhausting to even fucking exist and-and there’s no rule book for this shit, but sometimes even your absolute best will never be good enough ya know? Like no matter how hard you try it doesn’t fucking matter because you’re just gonna die someday anyway?”

You chanced a glance at Mikey hoping he wouldn’t take your very real insecurities as a joke. The blank stare in his eyes greeted you by telling you a different story. Mikey was a hard person to read, and though you believed you had cracked the code to his complex soul, it was in moments like these that you knew you couldn’t be more wrong.

The sudden movement of Mikey’s hands reaching up to cup your face and jerk your head closer to him almost causes you to lose balance. “Why the fuck would you say that?” The tone in Mikey’s voice caused you to try and shrink into yourself. “This got anything to do with my shithead little brother?”

Your eyes cast downwards not prepared for the intensity in Mikey’s eyes, your lips parting to respond before abruptly being cut off by Mikey, “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, Baby. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His hands redirected your gaze to his with a more gentle approach.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling stupid for even talking like this in front of Mikey, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I talked to Carmy, and it went as well as you would guess. And I just, I don’t know, I guess I just got lost in my head. And work has been so stressful lately, I’m even considering moving back here.” You shook your head from his grip, “It's just nonsense, don’t worry about me. I think seeing Carmy after so long just made me spiral.” You offered him a small smile hoping it was as reassuring as you thought it was.

Mikey pulled you into a hug chin resting atop your head. The scene was oddly reminiscent of the hug you shared hours ago on the porch. Mikey’s hugs were like magic, a bear hug so comforting and warm, his arms made you feel safe, and protected. You felt a little selfish for constantly dumping your problems on Mikey, but he had become your closest confidant, you wish the same could be said about you from Mikey’s point of view, but you were already lucky enough that he shared what little nuggets of the inner working of his life that he did with you.

Mikey pulled back hands settling on your shoulders to get a good look at you, “Don’t let me hear you say shit like that again alright Baby?” You nodded the corner of your lips curving slightly as Mikey played the role of big brother and began scolding you. “You’re a great fucking girl alright, and don’t even worry about Carmy, you’ve got a heart of fucking gold. You’re like that motherfucker with the gold touch alright, and I need you Baby okay? I need you and that means something right, you’re fucking adequate these fuckers in this house wish they were you.”

You laughed the melodic sound filling the space between the two of you, “King Midas.”

Mikey’s hands dropped from their position on your shoulders frowning at you, “Who the fuck is that?”

“The motherfucker with the gold touch,” You joked.

“Alright, you fucking smart ass.” Mikey reached up to flick your nose, a small gesture carried on from childhood.

The two of you stood in the other’s presence for what felt like forever, no words needing to be passed between you. You and Mikey enjoy being in each other's company, using the pantry as a place of solace before returning to reality. The sound of Donna’s voice yelling about saltines and Carmy’s responding yell breaks the peaceful moment between you both. You glanced in the pantry spotting the saltines Carmy would be coming to acquire a small sigh leaving your lips. If Carmy was going to avoid a much-needed conversation, you would just avoid him. Sure it was petty but you wanted him to somehow get a taste of the suffering his lack of effort caused you.

“Well, this has been fun, but I should make myself scarce before Carmen accuses me of fucking you in the pantry of your family home.” You shot Mikey a sarcastic smile preparing to find some other hole to hide in before family dinner commenced.

“My little brother is a fucking idiot,” Mikey mumbled moving out of the way to allow you to pass by. You laughed glad that someone agreed with astute observation skills. Deciding to check on Tiff you made your way to the stairs before stopping at the landing.

“Hey.” You turned back to Mikey catching his attention for a brief moment, if the raise of his eyebrows was any conformation. “I love you brother bear.” You shot him a wink then proceeded to continue your previously decided journey.

Mikey watched your figure disappear up the stairs, a solemn smile resting on his lips. The idea that you had at one point harbored such unnerving thoughts scared him. But what scared him, even more, was he knew exactly what you were talking about

a/n: so i’m a liar : )

i fully intended for this to be the last chapter of the christmas episode but my creative juices said no. alas here is chapter 2, but mark my words the next chapter will be the end of the christmas arc because baby i’m exhausted. please shower me with feedback (constructive criticism), it really helps feed my creativity. and while i would love likes/comments/reblogs please interact with my work however you feel comfortable, my ask box is always open 💜

also also this might be a little self-indulgent idk, i have the “existing is exhausting” convo like every weak : (

tag list: @chims-kookies | @rexorangecouny | @elliesbabygirl | @thecraziestcrayon | @anakinswh0re3005 | @allbark-no-bite | @landplantbloom | @khena

i just tagged whoever commented on chapter 1, so if you didn’t want to be on the tag list sorry! but if you would like to be tagged in the next update please let me know!!

strikethrough means i was unable to tag you : (

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention In 4 Minutes Episode 6

Original timeline FINALLY let’s gooooooooo

Going back to the start to see Great’s utter lack of remorse for killing that woman, his spoiled brat reaction to his dad handling his mess, and his decision to help his terrible friend get away with a murder was a great reminder that he is in fact a terrible person.

Congrats to… a bunch of us? for piecing together the original timeline correctly based on what we had. In the original sequence of events, Tyme was deep in his revenge plan, got dumped by his girlfriend for neglect, and then intentionally seduced Great so he could record their sex and use it for leverage against Great’s dad. Which didn’t really work. He’s not good at plans, y’all!

By the way, Tyme? Clearly not a virgin. I never liked that read anyway so I’m glad it’s dead. His awkwardness during his first time with Great in the redo timeline is more about his feelings being engaged, it seems.

Great being unphased about the video and just wanting more of that good dick makes perfect sense for his character. He doesn’t care about anything or even have real curiosity about what Tyme was after with that stunt.

And as we finish up the timeline we learn the source of Great’s regret. It’s not any actual self-motivated remorse or understanding of his moral failings, of course. Instead it’s Tyme calling him a coward to his face and rejecting him. His attempt to suddenly claim a moral high ground with his parents after his own string of murders was hilarious and I don’t think he gets the irony.

But someone does! Tonkla coming in clutch as the cause of Great’s cardiac episode was EXCELLENT. And it makes perfect sense because in this timeline, Great is one of Dome’s murderers along with Title. I think safe to assume we’ve been seeing everything else Tonkla was up to in this time in the cold opens, though the exact timing and sequencing of them is up in the air.

The only piece that’s still not tracking for me is Tyme’s side of the romance. The events of this episode explain why Great’s choices in the redo seem to center on getting Tyme to trust him, but they don’t explain Tyme’s reactions to him. This is hardly a love story for the ages. He and Great were emphatically not in love in this original timeline, so I don’t see why Tyme would trust him if he was also reliving this timeline. And if Tyme is not reliving things, that rushed romance arc in the redo timeline doesn’t really work. He has no reason to trust or fall for Great that easily. We also still haven’t seen how Tyme gets shot, so I am inclined to believe there is an additional timeline at play that fills in the remaining gaps and better motivates Tyme’s end of the romance.

Noting here that in the original timeline, the lady Great hit, Dome, and Nan all die, but his mom does not. So by saving that woman, Great inadvertently caused his mother’s death. Something to ponder as we head into the final eps and figure out whether these changes stick.

I’m still hoping that this story is going to take us to a nuanced and complex place and not lead to a pure happy romance ending for Great because honestly he does not deserve it.

It’s nice to finally have a week where we actually got a bunch of questions answered and didn’t generate too many new ones!

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 7 The Past

Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: *THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS* Pre-Outbreak AU, mentions of past trauma, mentions of loss and grief, mild violence, language, mentions of alcohol, yearning, angst A/N: Dare I say, this is my favorite chapter yet. If you haven't connected the pieces by now, then this will answer every question you've had. There were so many signs along the way, and I encourage you to go back and find each and every one. I know this doesn't soothe the heartbreak of the cliffhanger but please know this chapter is IMPORTANT. And we can all agree that Joel is the STANDARD. * I want to thank @loonmartell for helping me navigate this idea and creating a beautiful story that is slowly coming to fruition. You are truly a mastermind, and I give you all my thanks and love*

Masterlist | Ko-fi

~Three and a half years ago~

Joel paced the waiting room, consumed with guilt and anger. He shouldn’t have let you leave that night. Bennett had called you asking to meet for dinner under the guise of wanting to give back the things he still had been holding onto. Joel should have gone with you, should have told you to stay, should have broken Bennett’s jaw. Joel couldn’t have forced you to stay; he knew you needed closure. After the downfall of your relationship with Bennett, you deserved answers.

Whatever happened between leaving his house and the accident would remain a mystery, and Joel was ready to track Bennett down to find out the truth, but right now, all that mattered was you. 

Your mom rounded the corner, followed by the doctor, both of their faces grim. Joel’s knees threatened to buckle under him, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. 

“How is she? Is she alright?” He asked, the words jumbled together and confused.

The doctor raised a hand to slow Joel’s frenzy, and your mom’s eyes stared at the floor.

“She’s awake,” the doctor started. “But there were some… complications. We just finished taking her for some tests, and we’ve determined she’s sustained a form of retrograde amnesia.”

“She can’t remember the crash?” Joel questioned. He swiped his sweaty palms over the denim of his jeans, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“After analyzing her CT scans and running some cognitive tests, it looks like she’s lost a large chunk of her memory,” the doctor explained.

“How large are we talkin’, doc? A few months?”

Your mom stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. 

“She asked for Bennett when she woke up,” she whispered. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Joel snapped. 

“She has no recollection of the last two years,” the doctor said.

Joel staggered back, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

“You’re tellin’ me she has no memory of me?” Joel shouted. 

“Joel, calm down,” your mom hushed, her eyes darting around the crowded waiting room. 

“Calm down?” He echoed. “Jesus, she doesn’t fuckin’ remember me! I need to see her. I need to—I need to tell her.”

The doctor stepped forward, a frown creasing his face.

“It’s imperative that we don’t disrupt her current condition. Any interference with her memory may cause more complications with the amnesia. If we force these forgotten memories on her, it’ll cause too much stress on her brain and ultimately lead to permanent damage. If we want her to regain her memory, we need to wait.”

“How long?” Joel pleaded. “How long do I need to wait?”

“We don’t know,” the doctor sighed. “With amnesia this serious, it could take weeks or even years. There’s no way to determine the timeline right now.”

Joel’s anger flared up, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The pain radiating up his knuckles and hand was nothing in comparison to the pain splintering inside his chest. He was losing you, and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the doctor said. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what’s best for her and her recovery right now.”

“But she doesn’t—.” Joel couldn’t get the words out. 

He crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands—two years' worth of memories together gone in a matter of seconds. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know Joel loved you; you didn’t remember that you loved him. 

“Joel, sweetie,” your mom cautioned, crouching beside Joel. “You said she was with Bennett before the crash, right?”

Joel lifted his head and glared at your mom through teary eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded that Bennett had returned; he didn’t want to fathom the idea of him being in your life again.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinkin’ about tellin’ him all this,” Joel said. “Y’know what he’s like with her. I can’t let her go and watch her be with him.”

“We need to contact him at least and tell him. If she thinks they’re still together…we must maintain that memory. We have to try. If it’s something Bennett wants and is willing to do, then we have to. I know you want to tell her everything, but her brain is so fragile right now. It’ll scare her, and I can’t risk losing my daughter entirely. Joel, I need you to understand what's best for her.”

“And y’all seriously think Bennett is what’s best for her?” Joel laughed bitterly.

“Of course we don’t, honey. The thought of Bennett comin’ back around kills me, but what if there’s a chance her memory will return sooner than we think? She won’t have to keep him in her life forever, but only until everything comes back to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? Y’expect me to watch the woman of my dreams love another man? What if one day they get married? Or have kids? I’m supposed to pretend like none of this ever happened?” 

Christ, the thought of that made Joel sick. He didn’t want to see you continue the rest of your life with a man who didn’t treat you right. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t stomach this plan. 

“Joel, listen to me,” your mom hissed, grabbing him by the collar. “We need to play the long game, okay? I’m not giving up hope on my daughter, and I know you won’t either. You love her, don’t you?”

Joel nodded helplessly, mouthing the word ‘yes.’

“Then wait for her. It won’t be easy for any of us, but we all need to want this. I’ll talk to my husband and the girls about this, and we’ll work through all the details. Lying isn’t easy, but it might be what ends up saving her memory.”

That night, Bennett showed up at the hospital. 

Joel wasn’t in his right mind when Bennett walked into the waiting room. The moment he saw his smug grin and floppy blonde hair, Joel lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” Joel yelled, sending his fist straight into Bennett’s jaw. 

Bennett reeled over, staggering back into a waiting room chair, while your dad pulled Joel away. A murmur of voices among the other bystanders dragged Joel from his vengeful haze, and he stared at Bennett unamused. He wanted to see him suffer the way he had been suffering. 

Bennett worked his jaw back and forth, glaring at Joel as he sat beside your mom. 

“This is the thanks I get for agreeing to meet with you guys?” Bennett huffed. 

“It’s your fault she’s in that fuckin’ bed,” Joel snapped. 

His body still thrummed with unbridled rage, his hands shaking at his sides. Stella, Beth, and your parents were all gathered around the waiting room, taking their respective spots in one of the chairs. Joel couldn’t sit. He didn’t want to be any part of this. 

“Joel,” your dad snapped. “Cool it.”

Joel folded his arms over his chest, staring daggers at Bennett as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Your mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“Bennett, we need to know what happened before the accident,” she pleaded. “Joel said she was with you, so what happened?”

Bennett shrugged, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. 

“I asked her to come back,” he said plainly, as if it were that simple. Joel seethed, his body twitching as he tried not to hit Bennett again. 

“Why?” Beth interjected. “You don’t even fucking like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“I do like your sister,” Bennett argued. “I told her I had made a mistake and that I wanted to try to make things work.”

Beth rolled her eyes, a scowl forming on her face. 

“You waited almost two years to make that discovery?” She cackled. “What actually happened?”

Bennett lifted a hand to his jaw, massaging the reddening skin as he quirked a brow at Joel. He was playing with fire; Joel just needed one more reason, and he’d kill Bennett on the spot.

“I told her to meet me for dinner to talk,” Bennett explained. “I still had a few of her stupid books she left behind, so I figured it was a good opportunity to meet with her. I tried to explain my side of things and why I wanted to give us another shot. She just laughed at me. She took her little books and left the restaurant without hearing any more of what I had to say.”

Joel felt a strange sense of pride knowing you had laughed in Bennett’s face, but given the circumstances, it quickly faded. A bitterness flooded his tongue at the thought of you returning to the life you had with Bennett, especially when he spoke of you with such disdain. 

“Why does any of that even matter?” Bennett questioned, looking between your parents.

Your mom cleared her throat and spoke up.

“The accident she was in caused some damage to her brain,” she began. “The doctors determined she has a form of amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from the last two years.”

Bennett’s eyes grew wide, and he slid Joel a knowing look. 

“She thinks she’s still with me,” Bennett concluded. 

Your mom gave a solemn nod, running a hand through her hair. Joel could see the stress written all over her face, and he could see the pain in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. 

“The doctors think it’s best not to overwhelm her with the memories she’s lost. We don’t want to do this, but it may be best if she resumes the life she thinks is still intact, which means introducing you back into her life. Is that something you’re open to, Bennett?”

Bennett didn’t say a word for several minutes. All he did was stare at his hands in silent contemplation. Beth and Stella sat unmoving, and Joel caught Stella sneaking glances ever so often. Finally, Bennett turned to Joel and studied him before speaking.

“And you’re in agreement with this?” He asked.

Joel gave a single nod, though he was reluctant to do so.

“I’m willin’ to wait for her. She needs time to regain those memories, and I don’t wanna cause any stress on her if she thinks she’s still with you. Trust me, I ain’t happy ‘bout it, but I love her.”

“And if she doesn’t get those memories back?” Bennett pressed.

“Then you better make her the happiest girl in the world and never fuck things up again,” Joel frowned. “I swear I’ll hunt you down if y’ever hurt her. I love her with my whole fuckin’ heart, and I’d do anythin’ to make sure she’s happy.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

Joel had a hard time believing Bennett, but there was a seriousness in Bennett’s eyes that made Joel’s heart ache. He was giving up the one good thing in his life to someone who didn’t deserve your love. Joel was a patient man, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. Who knew if you’d ever remember him again? He would have to live his life knowing you may never come back and that he’d have to carry that pain with him every single day. Hope was a fickle thing, one he would rather forego if he could just tell you the truth, but this was his only option. Joel would have to give you up. And he would do it because he loved you beyond all measure. 

Your parents took Bennett to meet with the doctors to discuss your current condition and the future it would entail. Joel stayed behind with Beth and Stella, the three of them blanketed by an insurmountable pain that couldn’t be healed. 

“What if we never see you again?” Stella asked, her eyes full of tears. 

Joel sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She was only fifteen, but Joel knew she was aware of the gravity of the situation. Even though she was older than Sarah, he always viewed Stella like another daughter; he had watched her grow up the last two years, and Joel adored her just as much as he did for his daughter. 

“Y’gotta stay strong for me, Stell,” Joel sighed, squeezing her shoulder. “She's gonna get those memories back one day, and I’ll be right there when she does. None of y’all will ever lose me. I swear that to you.”

Stella sniffled back tears, curling into Joel’s embrace. He glanced at Beth beside him, giving her a sad smile.

“I’m trustin’ you to look out for her, okay?” He said. “She needs you more than anyone. I know you ain’t happy ‘bout all of this, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t agree with any of this,” she grumbled. “I hate him, Joel. I hate all of this.”

“I hate it, too, Beth,” Joel said. “But I love her more, and I’m willin’ to wait for her.”

Beth exhaled, slumping back into the chair. Joel could tell she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Joel knew Beth’s anger ran deep for Bennett, and he hoped she’d learn to give you grace through all this. It wasn’t your fault this decision was being made. It was what they all thought was best. 

Your mom returned an hour later to gather the girls and usher them home for the rest of the night. Joel’s head was throbbing from all of the stress, and he was on edge, knowing his time with you was running out. 

“Is she asleep?” Joel asked.

“The doctors gave her a heavy sedative to help her get through the night,” your mom explained. “In the morning, they’ll run a few more tests and figure out when it’ll be okay to discharge her.”

“Can I see her?” He pleaded. “Just so I can say goodbye?” 

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Goodbye was a word he never wanted to associate with you. He wanted the good nights and good mornings but never a goodbye.

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom said, tears slipping down her face. 

Joel realized he wasn’t just saying goodbye to you but to your family as well. A family that had welcomed him in so quickly, a family he had spent holidays with and visited in the summer, he was losing an entire group of people he loved so dearly. 

Joel thought he was strong enough to see you, but as he opened the hospital door, he realized how wrong he was. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises, your right eye swollen shut, and your hair matted down with dried blood. It took every ounce of his energy not to collapse at the sight of you lying there, and he moved on unsteady legs to your bedside. 

He barely managed to say your name as the syllables broke out in a choked sob. He took your hand, his thumb smoothing lines over your balmy skin. Tears fell onto your fingers as he lifted your hand to his mouth, crying softly as he pressed a kiss against it.

“Oh, baby,” he cried. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so—.”

Joel wept over your body for what felt like an eternity. He let his head hit the bed, your hand pressed against his wet cheek, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume. Every memory with you flooded his mind: mornings spent together drinking coffee, lazy afternoons laying on the couch while you read your favorite books, weekends at the soccer fields with Sarah. 

Joel’s life had flipped upside down in the span of just a few hours, and you’d never know the decision he had to make for the sake of your health. He wasn’t the praying type, but if there were a God up there, he’d spend every night on his knees begging for you to come home to him. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel whispered. “Even if you never remember it, I’ll carry you with me forever.”

Joel leaned up to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a second too long. He never wanted to leave this room because everything would be gone once he did. All he’d have left were the memories and an undying hope you’d wake up one day remembering his face. 

Joel spent the next two days gathering your things from his house. He piled your books into a box, along with the miscellaneous items you had littered his home with. He clung to your shirts and held them to his chest, wishing it was you in his arms. Scattered on the fridge were Polaroid pictures you had taken of Joel throughout the two years, and he slipped them away for when he was ready to relive the memories—not yet, but one day. 

Sarah came home from school and saw the boxes next to the front door, giving Joel a weary look.

“What’s happening?” She asked.

Joel crouched in front of her, taking her head in his hands. He managed to say your name without faltering and explained everything to his daughter in the simplest way he could.

“She doesn’t remember me?” Sarah murmured, her eyes welling with tears. 

Joel hadn’t realized the heartbreak Sarah would be facing, too.

“No, sweetheart,” Joel shook his head. “But one day she will, I promise. You’ll be my tough girl and help Daddy through this, alright? We’re gonna wait for her ‘cause she’s gonna come back. I promise she’ll be back one day, and she’ll be right there on the sidelines again cheerin’ you on.”

“I’m gonna miss her,” Sarah cried, crashing into Joel’s chest and wrapping him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss her too, sweetheart.”

~ Two years ago ~

Joel’s phone rang well past midnight. Through tired eyes, he searched for it on his nightstand and prayed it was you, but an unknown number lit up the screen, and Joel’s heart stopped.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice roughened from sleep.

“I can’t do it.”

It was Bennett’s voice, frantic and shaky. Joel shot up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What do y’mean you ‘can’t do it’?” Joel questioned.

“I—I can’t do it, man. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and I can’t fucking do it. She’s making me crazy. You know she says your name in her sleep? She still can’t remember shit, yet all she does is say your name when she’s sleeping. I’m losing my mind.” He was rambling through words so quickly Joel could barely keep up.

“Y’can’t just leave her like this,” Joel said. “Do y’know how much you’re gonna hurt her? You waited ‘til now to decide you didn’t wanna go through with the weddin’? Y’know how fuckin’ stupid you are?”

Bennett exhaled loudly through the receiver, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’m never going to make her happy, and she won’t make me happy. I’m not doing this.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling fan, turning above the bed.

“Alright, listen,” Joel started. “You get your shit together, and you leave. Find some job in another state and never come back. She doesn’t deserve this, and she definitely doesn’t deserve the heartbreak you’re ‘bout to give her. So, you take your ass and get the fuck out of town. And I swear, if you ever come back or even try to contact her again, I will kill you. Do y’understand me? I will fuckin’ kill you.”

“You’re threatening a future lawyer?” Bennett laughed. 

“I don’t give a damn what you are, Bennett. I’ll take a gun to your head the next time I see you and not even think twice ‘bout pullin’ the trigger,” Joel threatened, speaking through clenched teeth.

“She’ll never forgive you for it,” Bennett countered. “And don’t even think about coming back into her life, either. She’s better off without either one of us. God help the next guy who tries to get with her. She’s a fucking wreck.”

Joel seethed, the room going red. How dare Bennett talk about you like this? Joel should have never left you. He should have fought harder. He should have killed Bennett before he could have ever had the chance to come back. 

“I suggest you pack your shit quick, or I’ll find you ‘fore the night is over,” Joel growled. “Get the fuck out of town, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Joel slammed his phone shut and slumped against the headboard. Bennett would be out of your life, but at what cost? He knew this would destroy you. God, he couldn’t even fathom the heartbreak you’d face in the morning when you arrived for the wedding. Joel didn’t even let himself imagine what you’d look like, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown. Bennett didn’t deserve you; he never did. But Joel didn’t deserve you either. You were too good for either of them. 

~ Three months ago ~ 

“Dad, I need to tell you something,” Sarah announced, walking through the front door.

She had just finished her first day of school, and Joel had gotten off work early to be home in time to hear all about it. 

The last two years had been a blur of endless work days and long nights spent drinking in the dark. He was drowning himself away in bottles of whiskey, trying to forget you and the pain that still lingered. He had considered going to you so many times to spill the truth and beg you to come back into his life. But he knew better than that. He knew you deserved a normal life without the reminder of the past. 

Joel looked up from the stove where he was cooking dinner. Sarah's face was etched with concern, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Joel panicked. 

He dropped the spatula on the counter and rushed to Sarah’s side, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“My—my teacher,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Joel felt the world tilt on its axle, his body swaying at Sarah’s words. 

“Tell me y’didn’t say anythin’ to her,” Joel begged. 

“No, I—I didn’t. I swear. I don’t even know what I would say,” Sarah rambled. 

“Okay, alright. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Joel exhaled. He needed to sit down. 

Pulling out one of the dining chairs, Joel collapsed entirely, burying his head in his hands. Sarah rubbed a hand over his back, gently attempting to soothe him.

“Maybe this is your chance, Dad,” Sarah suggested. “It’s been enough time now. Maybe she’ll be able to handle the truth about everything.”

Joel loved Sarah’s optimism and her bright outlook on everything. Whenever Joel was ready to give up hope, Sarah was right there to guide him back. She was right, it was an opportunity to start over again, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He wouldn’t lose you twice. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?” Joel sighed. “Let me finish cookin’ dinner, and y’can tell me all ‘bout your day.”

Joel sat across from Sarah, his food untouched the entire time she talked. He had no appetite. All he wanted to do was ask her about you: what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, what books you would teach the class. He knew poetry was your favorite. You would stay up late reading together in bed. You would always chime in with little factoids or comments about the book, and Joel would always sit there listening to every word. Shakespeare was your favorite, and Joel loved watching your face scrunch with concentration as you tried to explain the meaning behind each play. When he packed up your things three and a half years ago, he secretly kept your copy of Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, Joel would flip through the pages just to trace over your scribbled words and annotations, just to relive a moment kept in secret between the two of you. 

Now, his daughter would experience your passion for teaching firsthand. He was a proud son of a bitch, knowing you were following your dreams. 

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice cut through Joel’s wandering thoughts.

He glanced up from his full plate and shook his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I was saying there’s a father-daughter dance in a couple of weeks,” she repeated. “Maybe she’ll be there. You could see her again.”

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta see if I can get ‘round work to be there.”

Joel was all too familiar with Sarah's look of disappointment; he had seen it far too often these last couple of years. His role as a father had been lacking for a while now; he was lost in the haze of losing you, so much so that he was losing himself. Unfortunately, Sarah had been the one suffering the most because of it. 

“I’ll make it work, sweetheart,” Joel decided. “I promise.”

After Sarah went to bed, Joel sat on the couch, nursing a short glass of whiskey. He stared at the liquid as he swirled it around, the amber color shimmering under the dim light of the lamp beside him. His phone lay open on his thigh, Beth’s number sitting there waiting to be dialed. Joel had barely spoken to your sister since he last saw her at the hospital, but he knew she would be his first call. 

Dialing her number, Joel took a long sip of his drink and waited.

“Joel?” Beth exhaled, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Hey, yeah.” Joel cleared his throat. “It’s me. I, um, I have some news.”

“Did she…” Beth’s voice trailed off.

“No, no. Not yet, at least. Um, Sarah’s first day of school was today, and I found out she’s her teacher. Funny how that happens, right?” 

“Wait, my sister? Actually?” Beth sounded shocked.

“Yup,” Joel sighed. “Sarah thinks I should try and talk to her, Whatdaya think?”

Beth remained silent, and Joel cleared the contents of his glass as he waited.

“I don’t know if telling her everything right away is smart,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to her a lot in the past couple of years, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y’all haven’t talked?” Joel questioned.

“She and I haven’t spoken since the whole wedding ordeal,” she confessed. 

“Wait, why?”

Joel sat up, one hand clutching the phone, the other smoothing over the curls sticking up on the crown of his head. He never thought you and Beth would ever be on bad terms.

“I warned her about Bennett. I tried to talk her into leaving so many times, but she was so stubborn. I don’t know what he said or did to her to make her stay, but she was always at his defense. I hated seeing her with him, Joel. It should have always been you.”

“I know, Beth. I know.”

“Have you considered maybe completely starting over?” Beth asked.

“Like in what way? Datin’?”

“Yeah. Maybe introduce yourself and see where things go. She might not regain her memory, but you’d have new memories together. She deserves to be loved the right way, and you’re the one who can give her that. Take things slow and test the water. You never know.”

Joel considered the idea for a moment. It could work, but what if it didn’t? What if he completely fucked up his second chance with you? He would have to live the rest of his life knowing he lost you twice.

“You’re suggestin’ I lie to her?” Joel scoffed.

“No,” Beth argued, her voice stern. “I’m suggesting you work your charm like you did the first time and see where it goes. She loved you once before, Joel. I think she could love you again.”

Beth’s words were enough of a push for Joel actually to consider that this might work. He knew you. He knew what you liked and didn’t like; he knew every tiny piece of you so that it wouldn’t be hard to sweep you off your feet again. The only problem he had with the plan was lying. If you ever found out the truth, it would crush you. And that terrified him. He didn’t want to break your heart; Bennett had done a good enough job of it, and Joel would never be like him. He would be better. He would prove himself. 

“Do y’think your family would agree to this?” Joel asked.

“None of us ever gave up hope, Joel,” Beth sighed. “This could be a chance for all of us to get her back—to get the old version of her back. We miss her a lot.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Go get your girl, Joel. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel spent that night wide awake in bed. The idea he could have you back in his life again set his body alight with a mixture of anxiety and fear. Beth could be right; you could love him again. There was that hope that maybe he could rewrite the past and start anew, but there was also that terrible fear you could slip away from him…permanently. You never regained your memories, and there was a good chance you never would, but not taking this risk would condemn Joel to a life full of grief. He knew grief well; he had walked side by side with it for the last three and a half years. If he could just hold you for one moment and hear you say his name one more time, that would be enough.

When Joel awoke the following day, he had made up his mind; he would keep fighting for you. 

He called Maria before school began and explained it all to her. Joel knew Maria had taken the news of your accident the hardest; you and her had always been close. She was like a mother to you here in Austin. Learning how to navigate around your memory loss had been tricky for her, but Joel knew she had done right by you. 

It was no surprise when Maria squealed with excitement over the phone, meticulously creating a master plan to bring you both together again. She promised to talk you into chaperoning the father-daughter dance and vowed to continue pushing you his way. Joel had to remind Maria that he was the one in control here; he needed to be the one to make everything work. Knowing everyone was on his side and willing to help ease his mind. 

He was going to get you back. 

~ Two Months Ago ~

Joel was running late. He had forgotten entirely about the father-daughter dance, and now he was speeding through yellow lights to make it home. He promised Sarah he’d go, but if he was being honest, the thought of seeing you again made him overwhelmingly nervous. What would he say to you? What would you think of him? What if he ruined his second chance?

Bolting through the garage, Joel called out for Sarah in a rush. She came barreling down the stairs in a blur of lavender and Joel had to stop his racing thoughts to admire his daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You’re late,” she frowned. “We need to go now.”

She tugged his hand back toward the garage and into the truck. While Joel grappled with the reality that he was going to see you again, Sarah was buzzing with excitement. She saw you every day at school, but this was different. She wasn’t just seeing you… she was going to see you and Joel together in the same room since before the accident. Sarah never got to say a proper goodbye when everything happened, and Joel knew it was hard for Sarah to maintain a semblance of composure every time she sat at her school desk. The memories of you two together were embedded so deep it was hard for Sarah to ignore. Before the school year, Sarah would try to talk about you with Joel from time to time, trying to cling to the nostalgia of the past. Joel knew the suffering wasn’t just his alone; Sarah lost you that day, too. 

Joel’s hands were shaking as he put the truck in park, his eyes unsteady as he tried to focus on the school's entrance. You were somewhere inside that gymnasium; he could feel it. It was like a silent call, a tug on an invisible string, an asteroid coming into orbit. You were the pull on his gravity, just beckoning him closer. 

“Dad, c’mon!” Sarah begged, unlocking the door.

She was already skipping down the parking lot before Joel could put his keys in his back pocket. He urged her to return so they could walk inside together—maybe because he needed the moral support. He had everyone on his side for this plan, but if he fucked it up, it wouldn’t just be his loss. It would be everyone’s. 

The gymnasium was covered in twinkling lights, and the basketball court transformed into a dance floor for the evening. Joel’s eyes bounced around the room, searching for you within the crowd. Through the crowd of moving bodies, he couldn’t find you. Maybe you weren’t here; maybe it was too late. 

Joel refused to be defeated this quickly and decided to remain focused on Sarah. At the end of the day, this dance was for her. He watched as she mingled with her friends, fawning over each other's dresses and gossiping about the latest drama. Joel remained on the outer edge of the dance floor, his palms damp from sweat and his pulse racing. 

The music shifted to a slow song, and Sarah quickly found Joel and pulled him onto the dancefloor. Seeing her excitement alleviated the bundle of anxiety pulsating inside his chest. He watched as her dress floated around her with every turn, the dimples on her face appearing as he continued twirling her around. The music was slowly drifting to a close, and Joel ushered Sarah in for one last spin. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he watched her happiness radiate into the space around him. He maneuvered himself around her twirling body and glanced up toward the side of the gym.

Everything around him ceased to exist at that moment. Amidst the blurring bodies and the chaos of voices, the world stood still. There you were, standing quietly in the shadows, your body bathed in flickering lights, like a lighthouse in the distance of a stormy sea. Joel silently pleaded for you to look at him, even for a second.

As if you heard his thoughts, your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and it’s as if you saw him. The room melted away, and it was just you and him for the briefest moment in time. Joel swore you looked at him as if you remembered…as if you had searched the room just to find him. The erratic beating of his heart slowed, his body recognizing the strange comfort of your presence even at a distance. Every cell, every atom, every piece of himself cried out to you. 

You saw him.

And he smiled.

[makkarisbelova]

not really sure how the mcu’s going to come together again at this point but I really want them to include mobius in the gayest and most irrelevant way. like imagine: it’s the next avengers movie. the latest avengers + whatever other superheroes they can scavenge are at the avengers headquarters discussing what to do next in the fight against kang (or whoever else it is if they switch it idk I’m not here for my logistical theorizing). all of a sudden, a security breach. someone’s at their front door, an unknown person unidentifiable to their facial recognition. this intrigues them. they let him in. he’s a man with a mustache and possibly the most non threatening demeanour one could ever encounter. he’s holding an envelope with the avengers logo stamped onto it.

they ask him what he’s doing here. he holds up the blank envelope and explains how he figured their mail go mixed up with his (he lives nowhere near them. like, in a completely different state.) this is also strange because they don’t get their mail sent to the compound. immediately they’re suspicious. especially because the guy keeps gawking at them.

“sorry,” he says. “this is pretty cool for me, seeing all of you in person. it’s kind of like meeting all of the characters from your favourite tv show, except the show is loki’s life so you all come off a little unfavourably—”

not half a second passes before thor is marching across the room and picking this man up off the ground by the neck. “loki? you know my brother, tell me right at once how you know him.”

the other avengers are trying to yank the man free from thor’s grasp. “you’ve got to keep his airway intact if you want him to explain,” the shout at thor. he finally drops him.

“my name is mobius m. mobius,” he says. “I was an agent with the Time Variant’s Authority, also known as the TVA. we were in charge of maintaining a single timeline until recently, when the man in charge of all that died. I didn’t get a name, loki only ever referred to him as He Who Remains— which if we’re being honest is much cooler, I mean he had this variant that was named victor timely but that’s just such a non-villain kind of name, you know, I just thought—”

“get to the point,” one of them demands.

“right, sorry. loki was working with us to figure out how to stop the timelines from imploding. your precious multiverse would have destroyed itself if not for him holding it together now.”

“that’s where he is?” thor asks.

mobius nods. “at the end of time. keeping every timeline intact, every universe safe. he sacrificed himself for me. for all of us.”

“you knowing loki can’t be a coincidence, you must have come here for a reason. what’s in the letter.”

“well that’s just it: I don’t know,” mobius says. “I haven’t opened it. I mean that’s still a felony on this earth, right? I just thought I’d return it. didn’t show up in my mailbox or anything either. just appeared on my front doorstep like magic.”

“not like magic,” bruce says as he opens the letter. “I think this is magic.”

thor grabs the letter and looks at it. everyone looks over his shoulder hoping to read it as well. it’s a single piece of paper with three simple sentences.

My Jane. Protect him with your life. Please.

— Loki

WOULD THAT NOT BE SO FRICKIN SWEET

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .004

first part | previous part | next part

Note: I often try to plan out plot points while I’m at work, and I was like wow! I get why Kronika went insane because trying to keep all these plot points (especially the parts where I plan on diverging from canon) logical is wild.

This is the first chapter that doesn’t follow any of the main campaign events at all, so it was a bit more of a struggle to write for, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! There will be more chapters of this, building up the much needed foundation for the champions squad. Don’t worry Lin Kuei fans, there will be a few more Lin Kuei moments too during these times, allowing us to see them again before they disappear for a while during the tournament arc!

Shang Tsung deliberation is up until a week from when chapter 3 was released/aka when the tumblr poll ends. 

Otherwise, I will accept any wants for any other love interests until we get closer towards the Outworld arc since I’m pretty sure all Earthrealm men are already confirmed.

For example, someone asked for Reiko, so here’s a poll for him to gauge interest, AO3 fans, please comment on your thoughts for him!

FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO HELPED TRAIN SOME NEW CHAMPIONS

Turns out, thinking about the things that worried you leads to overthinking.

Pacing back and forth in your room, you felt the cool wood under your feet. With how much you paced around the room, you were surprised the wood had not been ruined at this point. You paused in your pacing and you looked outside the window to look at the moon. 

You were never a good sleeper, finding it hard to sleep at night. But oddly enough you always found yourself awake for the sunrise due to routine. You often found naps were a good supplement for your tiredness, but some days you would suffer being awake without much rest.

Your memories buzzed around your head too much to rest easy. You paced back and forth once more for a few more minutes until you stopped at the door of your room, briefly considering going and seeing whether Liu Kang could help ease your troubled mind.

Your hand laid upon the handle, the metal knob cool to the touch. Goosebumps trailed up your arm as you stared at the doorknob. You tried to will yourself to move. To finally speak with Liu Kang about the memories that weighed upon you, to free yourself of this silly burn that you brought about upon yourself.

Unfortunately, you could not bring yourself to step outside your door.

You were too racked with guilt to do that.

You were afraid of the idea that you would slip up and mention the many other memories you had recovered, the timeline you were beginning to piece together, and Liu Kang would begin to realize this. You were afraid of upsetting the man who most generously took you in and allowed you to stay by his side despite your odd past.

You did not want to ruin the good thing you had going for yourself.

Your hand dropped from the doorknob. Sighing, you walked over to a particular floorboard and carefully lifted it up. You reached inside and pulled out the leather bound diary that you had found on yourself when you first awoke in this world. Along with it was a pen that somehow, despite the years, had not run out of its smooth ink.

This was your only confidant in the memories you had. Moving towards your desk, you adjusted the lantern in your room to hang over the desk, giving you more light to work with. You stared at your words, trying to look at what you recalled.

Your memories seemed to be linked with those you interacted with, so the Lin Kuei and Liu Kang and the memories surrounding them were the strongest. Even still, you had holes in what should be completed memories. Meeting the new people seemed to patch some of them up, though.

You sighed as you skimmed the pages. They were mostly short phrases describing what you remembered from these brief memories. It was hard to keep them in order since they were random and never in order whenever you got them.

You picked up the pen, spinning it with a flourish before you began to write.

Kung Lao, a cocky monk of the Shaolin with a razor hat. Once was friends with Liu Kang. Seems now he is a farmer and friends with Raiden.

Raiden, Thunder god. Seems to have once been what Liu Kang is now. Mortal now, and a farmer of Fengjian with Kung Lao.

Johnny Cage, actor. Was with Sonya Blade and had a kid. Still an actor, has a different wife, and no kid. 

Kenshi Takahashi, once a blind swordsman with telekinesis and telepathy with a magic sword. Had a kid. Now seems that he has his vision, uncertain of abilities.

You sighed as you put down your pen, staring at the words in front of you. You tried to will yourself to conjure any memories you had of these men previously from just their name. Unfortunately, this just gave you a headache…and not the kind that gave you any helpful memories.

“Damn.” You muttered leaning back in your chair. You had never had control of your memories, even after all these years. They were rather inconvenient and useless, since they rarely gave you any insight on the ones you meet. They’re all so different.

The only constant was their names.

You closed your eyes as you thought of the four men you had written down. Who were they? What was their connection to you? You sighed as you rubbed your forehead, trying to ease the headache you had accidentally given yourself.

Ah shit, you were in charge of training them, weren’t you? Or at least, somewhat.

They were going to be a headache in more ways than one, it seemed.

“So, how, exactly, am I to train the four?” You inquire as you glance over to Liu Kang, briefly noting the way the sunlight landed on his features. It was another morning of watching the sunrise with the fire god. You had gotten a few hours of sleep, at least, before rising to meet up with Liu Kang as usual. A few hours was better than nothing.

You had started off quiet, before natural conversation hit the both of you. You discussed many things, mostly the events of the past few days, before the conversation naturally landed on the new recruits. You found out that they were going to be arriving at the Wu Shi academy in a few days time, giving them enough time to get their life sorted out before they drastically change theirs.

The god looked over to you. It seemed like he had been expecting this question, and you wondered just how easily he could read you. 

“You are to simply oversee their training and test their skill. I know you are not all too familiar with the teaching of the monks, so they shall handle the bulk of it.” He explained, and you found yourself sighing with relief. “Not to mention, I shall also assist when I am able.” You were not ready to have to handle training four grown men, so hearing that you were mostly there to test them was great.

You were good at fighting, at least. It was a skill that people often commended you for. 

Madam Bo often praised you as one of the best she had sparred with. The old Lin Kuei’s grandmaster often found value in the practice you gave his sons. You would never admit it, but you prided yourself on these compliments. 

“That’s good.” You remarked, feeling your shoulders relax. You returned your gaze to the rising sun and the pretty colors that were painted in the sky. You paused, deliberating over the next words that were to leave your mouth. “Why me?” You asked, your voice almost shy. That question had been haunting you ever since you found out about this arrangement back in Fengjian.

“Because I can trust you.” Liu Kang began, his voice filled with certainty. You felt a pang of guilt, your gaze dropping to your hands. Your mind screamed with how you were unworthy of his trust with the memories you found yourself unable to confide in him with. “And I know you will provide a healthy challenge to them.” You chuckled at his words, pushing out the voice that whispered in your head.

“Why are we recruiting these people so late?” You inquired, asking another question that had been bugging you for a while now. You were glad that Liu Kang was a benevolent god, and never seemed to mind your questions. “Would it not be more wise to recruit them earlier since the tournament is mere months away?” 

“Had we sought them before, none of them would be ready.” Liu Kang answered wisely, and you hummed. You knew better than to ask how he knew this, despite the years together there were some things you knew he kept secret, and his innate knowledge was one of those things. You supposed it was just a godly thing.. “It is only until now that an opportunity presented itself.”

“And so you decided that I was one of the best options to train them within a few months?”

“Indeed.”

“You have a lot of confidence in me, Liu Kang.” 

“Should I not?” The god questioned. The tone in his voice surprised you, and you looked over to him instinctively. You were surprised to see such a strong look of confidence on his face. Gently, he put a hand on your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. Through your clothes and his hand wraps, you felt the comfort of his warmth.

“No, you should.” You said, your voice filled with a bit more confidence. You looked at his face, feeling oddly proud of yourself to have earned the god’s confidence. He nodded, seeming content with the shift in your attitude. “I shall do my best.” You said, bowing for the man.

“I know you will.”

“How are you boys doing?” 

Striding into the courtyard of the Wu Shi academy, you looked at the four recruits. You noted how each of them wore the uniform, and how it all seemed to fit them, more or less. You walked with confidence in front of them, imbued with the words you had been given before from Liu Kang. 

All of them were various degrees of exhaustion. Not surprisingly, the actor seemed to be having it the roughest. He was still fine, but it was easy to tell he was the most winded out of the four. You assumed his luxurious lifestyle had something to do with it.

You sucked in a breath as you fought the massive headache these four were giving you. Being stuck with overseeing their training, you assumed you’d be having this feeling a lot. It was no matter, you’d simply sleep it off right now.

Strangely enough, despite the intensity of the headache, you were unable to glean any memories easily. Probably something to do with so many people trying to resurface at once.

“Training has been rigorous, but enlightening.” Raiden replied, his face flush from exertion, and you noted how out of the four he was one of the ones faring a bit better. You assumed it was because he wasn’t underestimating the monks’ intense lessons. You smiled at him, nodding.

“Good, as it should be.” You said, humming as you clasped your hands behind your back, observing them all. Despite their tired state, you could tell they were at least eager. “As Lord Liu Kang has said, I will be partially in charge of your training.” You grinned at them, seeing them perk up at your words. “Today will be a…benchmark to see where your skills lie.”

“Who exactly are you again?” Johnny asked, still hunched over slightly, hands on his knees as he looked up at you. You saw the slight glares from the others, probably because they saw his words rude. He put up his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t get a proper introduction like you guys did.” He defended himself.

“Don’t worry, I don’t take offense.” You chuckled, shaking your head. You said your name, clearly and loudly so the others made sure what it was. “I’m a companion of Lord Liu Kang, and he has entrusted me with overseeing your training.” You explained before clearing your throat. “I’m not one for lectures, so I’ll get right to it, who wishes to go first?” 

The four looked amongst themselves, seeming to deliberate amongst themselves silently on who would face this challenger they’ve never seen fight. You let out a silent chuckle, wondering how they sized you up. Eventually, you watched as Kung Lao strode up to take the challenge. 

“Let me show the others how it’s done.” He declared, seeming confident. You saw the small smirk on his lips, and in return you smiled graciously at him. You gestured for the others to step to the side, and you watched as a few of the monks gathered around to watch. The monks were no stranger to your fighting prowess.

“Bold.” You commended, nodding as you walked into place with Kung Lao, settling into the all too familiar fighting pose that you were familiar with. You watched as he mimicked your actions, settling into his as well. “Now, allow me to show you why I was entrusted with this task.”

You watched as Kung Lao approached, confidence in his strides. Almost too confident. You held a defensive position. The point of this test was to gauge their abilities, so acting on the defensive first would allow you to see what their confidence and skills on the offense were like. 

As he swung the first punch, you blocked it with ease. You supposed it was a bit unfair, having already known what Kung Lao’s fighting style was like after watching him in the teahouse along with the bits of memories you had of him. You allowed him to attempt to break your defense more, noting how he had a strong emphasis on his punches with their quick nature.

You had to commend him on his confidence, he knew he was a strong fighter. The farmer had a lot of potential.

It wasn’t until his major slip up with throwing a rather risky punch that you decided that it was time to go on the offensive. Ducking under the move, you went for a sweep, knocking the man off his feet. You waited until he got back up before you grabbed him. Taking him off his guard, you brought him close as you winded your leg back.

As you sent the kick flying into his stomach, you transformed your leg into that of a secretary bird’s, allowing you to put even more power than you would have normally.

“Holy shit!”

You disregarded the actor’s exclaim as you watched Kung Lao fly back, tumbling from the strike. As he stumbled up, he seemed surprised before hesitantly approaching once more. This time, he utilized more caution as he swung at you, trying to even employ the technique of grabbing you like you had. Easily you shoved him back, retaliating by whirling around and transforming yourself to have a kangaroo’s tail which you swung at him with.

This back and forth went on for a bit, with Kung Lao being easily fended off by you before he eventually conceded, calling for surrender.

“You fight well.” You commend, bowing towards Kung Lao. He did the same as he panted, nodding as he caught his breath. You stood up to look at him as he gestured towards you, a look of awe on his face.

“I am amazed at your transformation skills.” The farmer admitted, looking at you up and down with amazement as he continued to catch his breath. “Is it possible to learn that?” He asked, almost too eagerly as he walked over to the side to rest up.

“It is a skill I was born with, so unfortunately I cannot teach you.” You told him, grinning as you held out your arm to transform it into a bear’s with its claws out. “I have the ability to transform any part of my body, and all of me, into an animal.” You explained as you transformed your arm back as easily as you had changed it.

“Now, who is next?” 

You causally stood there, only having barely broken a sweat as they stood to the side, catching their breath. A pleased look appeared on your face as you crossed your arms, noting how they each fought. Today you had gone easy on them, being more defensive than your usual aggressive fighting style. You surmised they’d only have a few bruises each because of this. You tried to stay away from anything that would rip and tear.

Honestly, your memories had been helpful for once. They helped clue you in on the fighting style of each man, the odd exception being Raiden who felt pretty different than the man you remembered. It was nice to know what to expect, unlike the first time you had fought the Lin Kuei in training…

Kung Lao had been interesting, being the most confident in his strikes and fighting style. That matched with his speed allowed you to see where he truly shone in his fighting. Taking defense against him was a challenge due to how swiftly he struck, but being able to defend well proved useful as you could counter him when he was left vulnerable after a failed attempt at breaking your defense.

You hummed, recalling how this version of the man lacked the iconic razor hat you remembered. You wondered briefly if you should suggest it to him, or if it’d be odd. You also noticed how despite his confidence in this life, he was at least a bit more humble than when you remembered him last.

Johnny Cage had been unique, his fighting style more flashy and all in than what you were used to. It felt like it should be impractical from just watching it, but the man made it work somehow. He also had interesting evasion, which almost took you off guard. You think you could definitely work with it, especially teaching him how to better evade the opponent since he seemed to grasp that concept well already.

Your eyes looked over to Kenshi. Kenshi had been odd to train with since he wielded a sword, and it felt like he had the most experience in fighting. Your eyes trailed down to his hands, noting the tattoos that littered his hands. You remembered how Liu Kang had briefed you in on his past. A yakuza…that explains the calculated way he fought. 

You wondered if you’d ever have to deal with the telekinesis you remembered he had in his past life.

Raiden had been the most different from his past life. In both his fighting since he lacked the lightning powers you remembered so strongly, and how he carried himself. He was not as confident as you hoped, despite the obvious skill he had.

You’d have to work on that with him.

“Excellent work for day one with me.” You congratulated, causing the four men to look at you with varying degrees of confusion. You guessed they thought they had done not so well due to how you had battled them off easily. “As I said, this is a benchmark, so I know now how to best advise where to take your training, especially since the tournament is mere months away.” 

“That was a benchmark?” Johnny Cage asked, sending you a disbelieving look. He had been one of the ones you had ended up fighting the most before he conceded. He had been stubborn against you, and you don’t know whether that was foolish or something to be commended for. Maybe it was both. “You kicked our asses.” You chuckled as you grinned at him.

“Did you expect anything less from someone who is allowed to stand by the Fire God’s side?” You asked, a hint of playfulness in your tone before you observed them once again. “We’ll meet again tomorrow after your training with the monks. For now, you are all dismissed.” You said, bowing towards them, your hands forming a fist into your palm similarly to how Liu Kang does. 

You turned around, intending to go back to the Fire Temple for a well deserved nap, especially since the headache was getting nearly unbearable at this rate. Then, you heard your name being called. Turning around with a raised eyebrow, you watched as Johnny jogged to catch up with you.

Your head pounded as he neared, but you at least felt some relief as you felt a few more memories resurface.

You recalled how he had been very, very arrogant as a younger man. He had brazenly had his name tattooed across his chest, and for a moment you allowed your head to dip to his chest, curious if he still had it in this life. Somewhere, after what you could only remember a big event as a tragedy, you remembered he mellowed out. 

You wondered how this one’s attitude laid on those scales.

“You know, you’d be a hit in Hollywood.” He told you, his breath still heavy with exertion. You raised an eyebrow, surprised at his words. You weren’t all too familiar with what he was talking about, but you assumed it had to do with his acting background which you vaguely remembered.

“Really?” You asked, holding back a chuckle as you looked at him with amusement. Even across the world, he was still thinking about his acting career. “What makes you say that?” You inquire, deciding to entertain his thoughts. 

“People dig animals,” The actor started off, gesturing to you, “and not to mention how much you’d be valued there for being able to act as any animal?” He continued, acting as if he were trying to sell you on the offer. “Directors would be hitting you up left and right.” You felt yourself grin a bit more at his praise, but reminded yourself not to get caught up in his flattery.

“Are you implying I’d only be adored for my animal side? And not my own charisma?” You asked with faux offense, deciding to try and tease Johnny. You were surprised how he didn’t even flinch at your words and smoothly replied.

“Nah, you got that and more.” The actor admitted, shrugging as he pointed at you. “but it’s not often people meet an animal shapeshifter.” He pointed out with a nod, making you nod. “So if anything is your claim to fame, it’s that.”

“You’re interesting, Cage.”

“So I’ve been told.” The man replied wittily as he grinned at you, eagerness shining in his eyes. “So, you interested in becoming a star after all this blows over?” It was an innocent seeming question, but you narrowed your eyes, not certain on the intention of the question.

“Why are you so interested in my career path?” You inquired, your tone a touch more serious. You glanced over to see where the others had gone. All gone. No one to save you from this man’s questions. You crossed your arms as you gazed at him with skepticism.

You were hit with a wave of nostalgia as your mind reminded you all of a sudden how he had offered a similar gig in your past life.

Some things never change.

“Listen, I talked with Liu Kang, this shit has movie written all over it.” Johnny Cage decided to be a bit more transparent with you. You raised an eyebrow, and gestured for him to go on. “I think if what he says is true, I can make a box office hit!” He gestured towards you eagerly. “And I think you have what would make this movie superb, my friend.”

“Interesting…I’ll have to pass though.” You said, shutting him down. You watched as his glee dropped a bit, and you started to walk off. You were surprised as he still walked over to try and cut you off.

“Come on, hear me out-”

“Not right now, Cage.” You replied, putting a hand up to silence him. He huffed and you could tell he held back rolling his eyes. You sent him an unamused look. “Perhaps focus on your training first, then we can discuss it.” He perked up, and you decided it was best to start to walk off before he can try and talk to you about his movie shenanigans again.

“Really!?”

It was another sleepless night.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the mattress as you sat up. Perhaps you should stop trying to take naps and fight through the sleepiness so you can actually sleep at night for once. You sigh as you slump over, rubbing your eyes.

You should go outside, maybe do something productive. It’s been a few days in a row of this, you had to try something.

Not knowing exactly what to do, you followed your sense of wanderlust. You left your room, down the halls and out the building. From there, you left and found yourself standing at the entrance of the Fire Temple. You hesitated as you stepped out onto the dirt path, hearing the rocks crunch beneath your feet.

You’ve never left in the middle of the night.

It’s not like you had a curfew, or that you had any promise to stay inside the Fire Temple at night. Far from it, you remembered how Liu Kang told you that you were allowed to come and go as you pleased. That was long ago. You never thought much of his words, thinking you would never stray far.

You wouldn’t, but you figured there was no harm in going and walking off your restless energy instead of staying cooped up within the Fire Temple.

With a burst of anxiety and what you could barely consider courage, you walked on. You followed what felt like an invisible trail, until you found yourself standing in front of the Wu Shi academy.

Strange, but you supposed maybe you could train. Walking carefully into the academy, you made sure to be quiet, as to not disturb the monks with any noise near their sleeping quarters. You found yourself making your way towards the training grounds where you were surprised to hear the faint noise of training.

Transforming your ears into bat ears, you tried to hone in on the sounds. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood still, trying to make sure the person was not a threat, and if you could recognize them. You blinked as you suddenly came to a realization.

You walked quietly, making sure to follow the lessons Madam Bo and Bi-Han had pushed onto you to remain quiet and stealthy. Be stealthful as the night, and as deadly as the dawn. You peered from around a pillar, and spotted the person standing there alone, and you confirmed your suspicions.

It was Raiden.

You watched for a few minutes, changing your eyes to those of owl eyes to see better in the dark, to better observe. He was going over the basics, ever diligently. You pursed your lips, raising an eyebrow. You had thought he had been more…feeble, being more reserved than Kung Lao. And yet, he was here, training in the dead of night.

What a peculiar man.

After a few more minutes, you watched as he made a critical error in his form. He didn’t seem to notice, and you sighed. He kept on training, repeating the error. You cringed. That was going to form a nasty habit, and if you were to be the mentor Liu Kang trusted you to be, you couldn’t let that happen.

Moving out of position, you slinked closer towards him, stopping to lean against a pillar that was only a few feet away from him. You changed your eyes back, letting your eyesight return back to normal. You felt the all too familiar feeling of the headache return, and you grimaced.

Your memories for Raiden were confusing. He was like a completely different man in almost every way. If your memories didn’t trigger in such specific ways, you wouldn’t believe the man that appeared in your head was the same one that was training in front of you.

Maybe because he wasn’t the same man.

“You’re doing it wrong.” You spoke, your voice ringing clear in the quiet courtyard. You watched as Raiden jolted from surprise, stumbling as he whirled around in a fighting stance to face you. You smiled at him as you held your hands up. “Relax, Raiden.” You said softly, to try and calm him down from the sudden shock.

“Why are you…?” Raiden began, eyes wide in confusion as he stared at you, not processing the situation quickly. He swallowed as he tilted his head, mouth open as he tried to muster up the words to speak. You brushed off his confusion, gesturing to his stance. 

“Your form was off.” You comment, gesturing to his body and pointing towards where he exactly had been incorrect. “You were practicing with it being wrong. That’ll be bad practice for you.” You point out. You watched as he tried to correct his form, and you hummed, gesturing to instruct him on how to fix it. As he finally shifted back into a proper stance, you nodded. “Better.”

“Um…thank you.” The farmer boy said, his awkward feeling at the situation obvious. Not only did it show on his body language, but it was shown plainly on his face. You had a feeling this man couldn’t obscure his feelings for the life of him. 

It was good to be honest, but you were worried it might work against him.

“I have trouble sleeping at night.” You explained, crossing your arms as you sighed. Your eyes looked down at the ground as you noted how the moonlight fell and illuminated the area around you two. “I decided to go on a walk and wound up here. I thought it might be nice to try and train, then I saw you out here.” You looked up, and gestured to him.

“Oh.” Raiden said after a few moments of silence. His face flushed as he put two and two together that you were asking for him to explain why he was there too. “I…uh, couldn’t sleep.” He admitted, looking down to the ground in defeat. “It’s different here than in Fengjian.” 

Ah. Homesickness.

“I see, so you decided to try and train and work off your restlessness?” You inquired, tilting your head as you tried to gauge his reaction. He paused, considering your words for a moment, before nodding hesitantly.

“A bit.” He said, nodding his head. “But I was also thinking about our sparring today.” The farmer admitted. You blinked in surprise, and nodded, wanting him to go on. “I just wanted to go over what the monks taught us today, so next time I would fare better against you.” 

How humble and sweet.

“While I admire your determination, there’s two problems.” You said as you kicked off the pillar you had been leaning against. You strode over to stand closer to Raiden, gesturing to him. “One, you must be diligent in your forms. Practice without purpose only builds bad habits.” He nodded eagerly, seeming to take your words seriously. “Second, there is a thing such as over practicing.” 

“I see.” Raiden said, letting your words sink in as he nodded. He stared at you with a mixture of admiration and attentiveness, and you smiled. Quickly, he bowed in appreciation. “I’ll keep this in mind, thank you.”

“No problem, what kind of mentor would I be if I let you practice such horrible habits?” You inquired, crossing your arms. You observed the man a few moments more, and you sensed that neither one of you were quite tired enough to go to bed. “I have a feeling neither one of us is ready to sleep, would you like me to run you through the forms again?”

“Yes please!”

Maybe you were cut out for this after all.

part five

[zahri-melitor]

What can you infer about the editorial meddling Young Justice went through?

Oh god. It’s like the old quote about pornography: you know it when you see it. Spend enough time reading comics and you can just tell.

Notable problems with the Young Justice 2019 run that smack of interference:

You can really tell there was external pressure to include Steph in the run and that she was not originally intended to join the team or appear any further than occasional cameos such as the flashbacks at the Hall of Justice as a link to Tim’s final scene in Tynion’s Tec run. Structurally her story makes no sense whatsoever for how to put a plot together. Steph’s not an original Young Justice character, the run already was supporting two new female characters plus a reboot of Amethyst introducing Amy to a new generation, even before we look at the crossovers from other titles in the imprint. The fact they ended up throwing in a single issue entirely about 'what Steph has been up to and her fight against Cluemaster' in the last section of the run makes it even worse, as that was valuable page time wasted pandering that could and should have been used to give Jinny Hex or Keli Quintela more development.

The entire ‘Drake’ situation, which for a costume change had very little build up, was under-designed, and then disappeared with Tim back in the Robin costume between two panels. It was a test balloon from someone that was comprehensively shot down by some mix of the fandom and editorial, and I remain convinced that DC is gunshy about a new costume and identity for Tim all the way up to the present day because of how badly it was handled.

It was being used as the anchor for Wonder Comics, leading to the required mega crossover (that also spilled over into Bendis’ Action Comics to give it some more space), putting even more pressure on the title to be telling a big crossover story when it was still trying to re-establish “your favourites are back” and suggesting potentially expanding the Young Justice lineup out to around thirteen characters, a massively oversized team that the title was not set up to handle.

Lost in the Multiverse was where the story started to get bogged down by being pulled in too many directions by expectations.

It’s also super telling that the last third of the book got turned over to essentially doing one-shot character pieces about the Core Four, the last defence of a run that can see cancellation coming and doesn’t feel confident launching a new story arc they don’t expect to get to finish. Some of this stuff was clearly background character work they would have preferred to have dripped out over a longer run.

Also I know I’m repeating myself, but having the Tim piece focus on Steph mostly, in the frame of Tim and Steph’s relationship? That’s not where I’d be spending my time when looking at Tim Drake in the focus of Young Justice. How he’s coping with his returned memories of having two or three different lives now? Thinking about what ‘Tell Conner you’re sorry’ means? Discussion about his feelings in terms of moving on from being Robin or not? Nah let’s talk about Steph's problems with her dad instead. That’s not a natural fit compared to what everyone else got and does not follow from any of the preceding story.

Still ropeable that the whole set of storylines about regained memories and alternate timelines doesn’t get to intersect with Lois Lane (which spoilers but also is committed to storytelling about ‘people have memories of other places bleeding through’ prior to the full Infinite Frontier retcon) or explore how those memories change things for Tim, Bart or Cassie (Kon at least does get a story about reconnecting in Action).

And that’s just off the top of my head, ignoring any of the more subtle signs.

I love Young Justice 2019. It is a run that adores Bart, Kon, Cassie and Tim (and particularly Bart. I cannot explain to you how much this story adores Bart if you’ve never read it) and the opening 6 issues make me feel warm and fuzzy every time I read them in terms of how cleverly it works to explain how we get everything back. There are clever subtle moments in the text that give a lot more depth to the story that are implied rather than spelled out: how Cassie suddenly remembers Bart when Bart comes near her, suggesting that her returned memories are a Speed Force side effect from being a lightning rod to Bart; Cassie and Tim sense Kon using TTK and recognise it as familiar, something the new characters cannot; the fakeout in the art where when Tim’s memories are restored, he sees Cissie in his memories, but unless you know the exact YJ98 page being referenced you’d think it was Steph; etc.

But gosh it would have been so much better if it had not been required to devote so much page time to crossovers and to pandering to fans, among other elements.