#and she also loves her chalk pastels

[softquietsteadylove]

I just spent the last 5 hours painting and it gave me an idea. Canon movie universe, Thena using art as therapy (like we see in the film), and some cute romantic fluff

Gilgamesh snorted as he woke from his nap. He'd been perfecting his ale recipe, adapting it from the brew he had developed with Odin. Between that, and a lunch of roast ostrich leftover from Thena's last hunt, he had fallen right asleep.

He could tell she was there, but he blinked up at the ceiling. She was always telling him not to doze on the couch. He turned his head.

"Back."

He smiled reflexively, hearing the siren song of his darling Thena's voice. He moved just his eyes, but instead of seeing her in his chair, all he saw was an easel and the back of a canvas. "Can I-"

"Still."

He sighed, although he was nothing if not amused. She usually took her art therapy outside, drew with charcoal on paper weighted down by stones. When she did paint, she still preferred to set up under that old and dried tree that was hers.

He called it her tree from the moment he saw it, pale and stately against the rest of the desert.

Thena would lean every once in a while, just to check on her reference before disappearing again. He could hear the sounds of the stool under her, the swish of her dress as she moved. Her legs were crossed and he could see her bare toes bent against the rug.

Seeing Thena at feeling at home always put his heart at ease.

It seemed simple, but they had come a long way from bare stone and clay slip and a piece of driftwood as a door. They could eat together at the table, nap together in the hammock; he'd built them a water tower with his bare hands so they could have a running tap.

He would have built her a mansion if she'd asked. A temple to rival that of Babylon.

"Stop smiling."

"Wouldn't it be nicer if I was smiling?" he chuckled, letting his eyes remain closed.

"Unnatural."

He did his best not to, but smiling came naturally to him where Thena was involved. He loved that she had found an outlet for her mind in art. And he loved that she didn't need to over-explain herself to him. One or two words were all she needed, and he treasured even those.

"You were dreaming."

He tried to recall it. In the moment he woke up, he knew he had, but it was already beyond him what had been happening. Must have been pleasant enough that he felt good waking up, but not so pleasant that he wanted to go back to sleep.

He adjusted his head on the couch's throw pillow, despite the artist's strict instruction. "Aren't you supposed to angle it, or something?"

She leaned just to frown at him for moving.

"So you can see me and the canvas without having to lean?"

"Hm," she remarked, in her own way. She looked at her work in progress in question, and then at him again. "Then it wouldn't look right."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile, going back to his previous position of facing the ceiling. He inhaled deeply. He would be in this position for a while; maybe going back to sleep wouldn't be so bad.

"I want exactly this image," the Warrior Eternal clarified with sudden firmness. "Forever."

There were plenty of images of her he wanted forever. But he wasn't the artist. He had tried here and there, but everything he did always just ended up making her laugh. And he didn't mind; if anything, he liked her laugh more than he liked whatever he had drawn or painted or sculpted. But he just wasn't meant to be the creative one.

He had managed to embroider his apron! Well, after she had drawn the little flowers on with her fingers covered in paint remnants. That was an effort of his to preserve something forever.

He heard her put her brush down. She truly was moved if she had gone to the trouble of bringing the easel and her brushes and all her jars and everything inside with her. "Done?"

"For now."

He opened his eyes again, "can I move?"

"Fine."

He grinned, turning and reaching a hand out for her. He made a grabby hand, flexing his fingers to ask her to come over to him. "Hey."

His Thena emerged from behind the canvas. She dusted the skirt of her dress off. She had gotten better, too; in the beginning she would occasionally emerge covered in charcoal or chalky dust or sometimes even paint. But now, she was as spotless as always.

"Hey," Thena purred as she laid down on the sofa with him, tucking herself into his side. She nestled her head under his chin, happily melting into him after all her hard work. "You look at peace."

"I am," he assured her, relishing in the feeling of just being near her. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, like two trees swaying in the same wind. Thena was the artist but he thought he could be decently poetic, at times.

"And me."

He smiled against her forehead, pressing his lips there. Sometimes moments like these would make him think of the days when they would be fighting. Dodging and throwing punches and weapons. He would throw her up in the air at the enemies and catch her before she could fall.

Now they liked to cuddle on the couch in the afternoons before he started dinner.

He blinked as Thena nudged his jaw. "Your thoughts are loud."

He chuckled, which bounced her against his chest. "Sorry, just thinking this is nice."

"Hm?" she prompted him, still needing no more than a syllable.

"This," he summarized poorly. "Being at home, no Deviants, no mission. Just my wife and a couch and the sun."

Thena pulled herself to be able to look at him. There was no white in her eyes, at least not now. They were green and sparkling, as always. "Forever."

He smiled. It was hard not to take that word lightly, given the nature of their very existence. The word 'eternity' borderline meant nothing to them.

But days out here were different. Each was faced with a new set of eyes and he was grateful for every single one of them. Even the days when his Thena was far, far away from him. Even when she turned around and started swinging a spear to fight against nothing, railing about the destruction of the world and how they were all going to burn.

Forever had a different definition than it did before. He had no thoughts of missions, or Arishem, or far away galaxies. He didn't even think of Olympia. He had better things to think about, like the herb garden, and eggs, and expanding the clay oven outside the house so maybe he could bake two pies at once.

He could think of things like fixing the drip the kitchen tap had, and making sure to sweep the floor so his barefooted Goddess of War wouldn't step on any errant rocks. There was garden tending and roof checking and homemaking to be done.

"Gilgamesh."

"Huh?" he blinked. He must have been closer to sleep than he had thought, finding himself on the other end of one of Thena's more inquisitive looks.

"Sleep," she whispered, her hands touching his cheeks the way rain lovingly ran down a flower stem. "If you're so close to it."

He chuckled again; he liked it when she teased him. "Okay, okay, I'm up. You know what you want for dinner?"

Then pursed her lips in thought as he brought her hand up to kiss her palm. She smelled like paint, and summer air. "Is the ostrich gone?"

He nodded, continuing his mission to kiss more of her. He made it to her shoulder and finally past the collar of her dress before she came up with anything.

"Stew?" she asked, as if he would ever - in a million years - say no. Her hands toyed with his shirt as well. "It goes so well with pie."

He grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "Is this your way of asking for pie for dessert?"

She just stared at him. "Were you not thinking of expanding the oven for just that purpose?"

She knew him a little too well. But she was right, because of course she was. And he was happy to oblige her wishes. "I guess I could whip something up. What kind?"

"Any."

One word, and it was so heavy, soaked through with love and devotion. He kissed her.

And she kissed him back. Her hand found his cheek again and her eyes took on a new light. "Strawberry?"

He should have known; she did mean any, but if it was going to be any, why not her favourite? He inhaled, preparing to rise from their little nest of luxury. "Will you go and pick some?"

Of course she would. That was how things worked for them, now. There were no Deviants, no missions. There was a garden, and she would go out with a little basket and pick the berries they were growing in what shade they could provide. And she would bring them in to him, and then sit and watch him cook.

Gil didn't know what was romantic for humans, but he was pretty sure this would be considered the height of it.

Thena also inhaled, revealing her reluctance to move as well. But she left him with one last kiss before rolling off the couch. "Of course."

He followed, although he took a peek at her work in progress. It really was a perfect angle, looking exactly like what was in front of the canvas. He was sleeping. And whatever made her want to paint that so badly, it looked pretty accurate to him. He was no thing of beauty like she was, but if she wanted to paint him, then so be it.

"Dinner, Gilgamesh."

He laughed. "Coming, dear."

[serendipitous-seven]

i can't wait to tell you, "i told ya'." | jungkook x f!reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is a successful realtor with a big house, a nice car, colorful dating life, and a spunky 7-year-old daughter to boot…he’s also your best friend who you used to be in love with. Of course, he was never made aware because you swear it’s all in the past…until it isn’t. But going on a cruise with Jungkook and his daughter whom you adore should be harmless. Absolutely nothing can go wrong…Right?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, crack, idiots [i say that with luv for my characters] word count: 17.2k  tags/warnings: a child [Mai] is present throughout the entire story, implication of absent birth mother, serial dater JK, so much pining, pg language, conversation about sleeping around/risking pregnancy, legal-aged drinking & getting drunk, hurtful words/heated argument, isolation, blurb about reader struggling to eat, Mai experiences anxiety [I promise she is okay], plethora of cheesy occurrences, much fluff & angst all because sowoozoo-muster-JK wrecked me

series mlist

this is a repost from my old blog, moon-write.

Thank you to the realest one, @hyungieyoongi, for not only wanting to beta-read this insanity for me when I initially enlisted her for help, but also for hyping me up while doing it. Her editing gave this story clarity ;; 

disclaimer: the portrayal of Jungkook in this story is purely fictional & does not reflect who he is in real life nor do I claim to believe it does. lastly, this story is not a part of my dad!bts series, a serendipitous life - singledad!jungkook is in its own universe.

a/n: GUYS. this story was purely created because I was under the influence of sowoozoo/muster JK back in 2021. I am so beyond excited to bring this back and share this cracked out fic again, I truly hope you all enjoy it and just have fun reading it.

“Mai, don’t be so dramatic,” you take the little girl’s hands into yours, dusting off the chalk from her palms, “look-see, it comes off!”

She beams up at you with a know-it-all smile before taking yellow chalk from the bucket and continuing her doodle on the concrete. You watch her as she makes a big circle, stopping to make sure it’s just right before looking at you once more.

“Can you make the lines?” She inquires with big eyes, you run your hand through her long hair and happily oblige; Mai stands and watches you, pressing her hand onto your shoulder; “daddy will like it!”

You chuckle, nodding, “your dad will love it.”

She kneels, taking blue chalk this time to draw clouds, a mixture of pastel colors in the shape of her handprint now adorning the sleeve of your shirt.

Adding butterflies to the chalk creation per Mai’s request, you hear the back gate open, and following is the sound of Mai’s jovial squeals. Quick to abandon the chalk, she runs into the doting arms of her father, Jungkook. Uncaring to her chalky hands, Jungkook sweeps Mai into a hug with no intention of letting go.

“Kiss,” he mutters to her as you walk over, dusting your hands off on your jeans. Mai presses her smaller palms onto his cheeks, squishing them in the process of giving him a quick peck.

“Oops,” she giggles, noticing the chalk she’s left on his cheeks.

“We made you a drawing,” Mai soon forgets, wiggling to move Jungkook forward. He smiles at you, following his daughter’s direction to the drawing. Mai, her eyes an exact mirror of her father’s, watches him as he takes it all in. 

Jungkook marvels at his little girl’s work; “thank you, babe,” he says, kissing Mai’s cheek who nods with pride, bunny teeth sticking out. She looks over at you, singing your praises for bringing the bucket of chalk as a surprise.

“I told you I’d bring a surprise if you got A’s and B’s, right?” You smile, winking at Mai.

Jungkook thanks you before telling Mai to run inside and wash up for dinner. You follow him to the patio table and take a seat, noting the exhaustion of another long day falling over him. He runs his hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment before remembering his best friend is still there.

You offer him a pitiful smile, drawing him to roll his eyes and laugh, “what?”

You shake your head, “nothing.”

He straightens his gaze but even then, a hint of his sweet smile remains noticeable, “it’s never nothing.”

“But it really is this time. Besides,” you laugh, “am I never not worried about you and Mai?”

He just nods.

“You’re doing a great job Jungkook,” you pat his tattooed arm, “you are the light of her life.”

Jungkook looks back at the chalk drawing Mai doodled on the concrete, giggling to himself. Caught in his stupor and the innocence of his daughter, he comes to, looking at you; “these last seven years would have gone a lot differently if we didn’t have you though.”

-Seven years ago-

“It’s okay,” you try to soothe a newborn Mai but her shrill cries drown out your voice. You burn a trail around the living room as you pace, stealing glances at Jungkook who’s sat at the edge of his sofa. With clumps of his hair gathered between fisted palms, he’s never looked so defeated.

“Let’s try feeding her again,” you stand in front of him, hand reaching for the bottle next to him. Too caught in the frantic cry of his baby, he doesn’t hear you.

“Jungkook,” your tone is stern and you nudge his foot with yours, “come on, you can’t give up now, get it together.” A moment of hurt sweeps over his eyes when he looks up at you, but keeping your feet on firm ground, you push away the guilt that rushes you. 

You clear your throat, “her bottle Jungkook, please.”

He does as you say, his eyes wide as he looks at his daughter for the first time since you arrived. You press the rubber tip to Mai’s lips, allowing a drop of the warm formula to touch her lips, “I promise you’ll love it, Mai.” You try to joke though there is a hint of begging in your tone. 

Her cry breaks for a moment as the milk drips onto her tongue; “there you go,” laughter coats the nervous tremble in your voice this time.

You allow a couple more drops to fall onto her tongue until Mai’s cries ease into small whimpers. Her breathing staggers as she takes to the bottle, “see?” You can’t help but giggle. Looking at Jungkook, his eyes brimming with tears of frustration, he watches in shock while Mai drinks from the bottle as small puffs of air escape her nose.

“Use the rag on my shoulder to wipe her face, will you?” You ask him and he does just so, dabbing at Mai’s red cheeks, ridding her of her tears.

“I tried everything the last hour to get her to stop,” he whispers. You can see the disappointment in his eyes though he continues to marvel at the innocence wrapped in your arms. You watch as your best friend takes Mai’s foot in his hand, thoughtfully squeezing her toes before he moves his hand back to her head, rubbing her barely-there hair as far back as he can.

“Here,” you gesture for Jungkook to take his daughter and he steps back in fright. You chuckle, “you have to get used to holding her Kook, I won’t be here all the time.”

“Why?” He looks at you with all sincerity.

You shake your head, “she’ll be safe with you.”

He places the rag over his shoulder this time and holds his arms out. Mai fusses during the exchange and Jungkook shushes her in a gentle prive as he holds her against his chest; “just hold the bottle upright - yeah,” you say as you help to adjust her in his arms. 

He cradles his large hand behind her head while her tiny body rests along his arm. He stands straight as a pin, fear taking up most of his expression as he looks down on his feeding daughter.

“Is this the first time you’re holding her?” You ask.

He gives you a look that can only mean yes, “my mom has been staying with us, she left right before you came,” he shakes his head, embarrassed to admit, “I was too scared.”

A soft laugh escapes you, “well, how’s it feel now?”

“Still scary,” he says seriously, “but I never want to put her down again.”

You stand back, watching him take all of her in. A month ago your best friend had his life made - living a bachelor lifestyle his friends envied, had a stellar career as the most sought realtor, owner of a newly built home. He was a free man who could do whatever, whenever.

That was until one drunken decision in the past came back nine months later in the form of a newborn baby.

Swaying back and forth with a slight strain in his movement, Jungkook watches Mai’s drooping lids; “can I do this?” He asks in a dream-like state leaving you to wonder if he really wanted an answer. That is until he moves his eyes to look at you. 

You shrug with a pitied smile, “you love her, right?”

He frowns for a second, nodding without hesitation.

“Then you can do it, Jungkook.”

“I’d offer for you to stay for dinner but you probably have another date with what’s-his-name,” Jungkook closes the sliding glass door behind you two, sweeping Mai into his arms. The three of you make your way into the kitchen where he sets his daughter on the counter, inspecting her hands to make sure she’s cleaned them properly.

He playfully sniffs them before kissing her palms.

“For the thousandth time, his name is Mark, and no actually,” you laugh watching the two tease each other back and forth, Jungkook’s attention split between the two of you, “I don’t think that’s happening anymore.”

He stands upright, covering Mai’s ears which only sends her into a fit to hear the adult talk, too grown for her age. She fights to move her dad’s hands but to no avail.

“Bad kisser? I knew it,” he shakes his head while moving Mai’s from side to side. Belly laughs erupt from her small body as she begs for her dad to stop.

“Shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. He chuckles, removing his hands from Mai and kissing her forehead.

You sit at the end of the long dining table next to Mai, Jungkook at the head of the table as usual. He finishes reading Mai’s fortune before they look at you.

“Your turn!” Mai shouts, holding a single noodle between her trainer chopsticks.

The cookie crumbles between your fingers as you unroll the small strip of paper, clearing your throat; “an old love will come back to you.”

Jungkook dramatically ooh’s and Mai follows, her small lips shaped into a perfect circle. Victim to Mai’s purity you squeeze her nose, “who could that be?” You tease her.

“Not me,” she giggles, “maybe daddy, he’s old!”

You fall back into your chair, eyes brimming with tears as you hold onto your belly full of Chinese food, laughing at the expense of your best friend.

“Funny,” he tries not to laugh, stuffing the remains of his fortune cookie into his mouth.

Chirping crickets and a black sky surround Jungkook’s home. You listen to the sound echo up into the vaulted ceilings, looking out of the opened windows. Taken by the quiet that surrounds his place, you shut your eyes and bask in it until the sound of Jungkook’s feet shuffles down the hallway.

“I don’t know whose good side I am on,” he sighs with relief, grabbing his glass of wine on the way to the sofa, “but she falls asleep like that.” He snaps his fingers.

You smile, peeling your attention away from the window.

Now dressed in baggy clothes that swallow up his svelte build, Jungkook takes a generous sip from his glass before patting the space next to him, “so, what’s wrong with this guy?”

You stop on your way to the sofa, eyebrows raised with sarcasm, “let’s cut the attitude, yeah?”

He can’t help but laugh, moving his leg when you finally sit down, “joking,” he reassures you, “but I mean, this is the third guy you’ve rejected and I didn’t even get to meet him.”

You shrug, “like you really wanted to?” Quirking an eyebrow at him, Jungkook can’t seem to look at you, laughing into his wine glass; “who’s worse here? You’ve always had at least one thing to complain about every guy I’ve brought around.”

“The bean and I have a preliminary process when it comes to guys you date,” he shrugs, licking a stray drop of wine before it can drip onto his sweatpants.

“Yes because a seven year old has a lot to say about adults and dating,” you chuckle, pushing Jungkook’s shoulder, “anyway, you aren’t missing out on anything Kook - and besides, I don’t want to introduce people into your guys’ life until I’m sure about them this time.”

Jungkook’s playfulness dies off, the wine in his glass not as interesting as the sullen look forming on your face. He watches you, the way you bend forward, one side of your hair tucked behind your ear while you anxiously pick at your cuticles.

He nudges your knee with his so you can look at him, a reassuring smile awaiting you, “that last guy fooled us all, okay?”

You sigh as a way to say, ‘it’s forgotten…no big deal…whatever…’ but Jungkook knows it’s a stain you’ve struggled to rid of for a while; “he’s been out of my life for a long time and that’s all that matters,” you stiffen your upper lip.

“Mm, cheers to that,” he clicks his glass against your water bottle, “but seriously, can I ask you something?”

You brace yourself, nodding.

“Except for that trash bag, you always seem to find a flaw in every guy you date,” Jungkook stalls for a second, reading your temperament before continuing, “why?”

Your eyes crinkle, suddenly underneath a spotlight, “do I?”

Jungkook resorts to his scrunch-nosed laugh, “are you kidding?”

“Well, okay Mr. Dating-expert,” you cross one leg over the other taking on a new defense, “you don’t find enough flaws in the women lined up outside of your house every day - why?”

He nearly spat out his wine, setting the glass down with hands surrendered to the air, “false accusation, you know I don’t bring women back here because of Mai-”

“Okay okay, you’re right, I’m sorry,” you sit back.

He laughs, “but fair enough, I guess we both don’t have the best track record when it comes to dating.”

You stand up, pulling your bag over your shoulder, “I hate to agree since it concerns me too.”

Jungkook walks you to the front door, “I’m curious to find out who this ‘old love’ is,” you turn just as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You force a smile with squinted eyes, “do you know me at all, Jeon? I don’t believe in fortunes, remember?”

He gives you a quick hug, watching you walk the path to your car; “I can’t wait to prove you wrong,” he says from the door.

You wave him off, “yeah-yeah save the love spiel for another time, goodnight!”

On your drive home, absent in mind, you rake your fingers through your hair. The bright glow of the red traffic light casts over you when you come to a full stop. ‘An old love will come back to you.’ You snort at the thought; they are simply typed words on a piece of paper. It means nothing.

“You don’t believe in stupid fortunes,’” you sing into the void of your car.

But it still makes your stomach queasy. Heart palpitating in your chest while your palm becomes sweaty as you ring it around the steering wheel.

“Let’s not go back there…”

“Hello? What do you mean no big deal?” Nic’s voice is a clear call into the late night, earning herself a stern look from you. “Whisper please,” you hiss through your teeth, “Mai never sleeps well when Jungkook is away, it was hell getting her down tonight.”

Nic looks at you with wily eyes, spinning every which way you turn before she gets dizzy; “oh my god, stop for sec!”

In a huff to clean up Mai’s after-dinner doodle session - crayons strewn across the table and several drawings she made as gifts for her dad’s return from a work trip, you look at your friend with exasperation painted on your face, “it’s literally what I mean Nic.”

She blinks in rapid-fire, sitting down on the ottoman while you work around the dining room. “So I’m crazy, okay yeah. Because telling me that you’re in love with your best friend of a million years is totally normal.”

You shudder at how easily those words come out of Nic’s mouth while Jungkook’s daughter sleeps in your bed. Too young to understand anyway, you can’t help but want to protect Mai from this very sensitive information about her dad.

Nic rolls her eyes, “oh relax, she’s asleep now. I’m spiraling over here, okay?”

“Just, come on,” you hit the side of your leg with the cleaning rag, desperate to get your point across, “discretion, please? This is not information I want to be tossed around.”

“How long have you felt this way?” She watches you in your haste, cleaning every speck left on the table in an attempt to avoid the conversation. You’re steeped in regret for even mentioning it to Nic. It was a confession locked in the depths of Pandora's box. 

It just came out.

“I don’t know,” you groan, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with washed hands and deadpan eyes.

Nic twists around the ottoman to face you when you come around, plopping yourself on the sofa.

“That’s a lie,” she states the obvious.

The popcorn texture of your ceiling suddenly becomes interesting when you toss your head back. I need to get my ceilings smoothed. You think to yourself while Nic waits. She won’t back down.

“I remember the exact moment I fell in love with him,” you sigh, tossing your hands up only to bring them back down on the cushions. You sit upright and look at Nic, “but it’s futile to even detail that because it’s never going to happen.”

“Do you want it to? I mean really want it to? Because he has a kid…”

Eyebrows knit together, you both have to laugh at that.

“I mean, you know, getting with Jungkook means taking on a child - although worthy to mention, a kid who absolutely adores you-”

“Please, don’t make me hurt more,” you press the pads of your fingers over your shut eyes, “I can’t even fathom how much it would confuse her - and I won’t entertain this past today. I can’t.”

“You’ve obviously been holding onto this for a long time-”

“And it ends today. Jungkook is my best friend, I vowed to be here for him and Mai as his friend, that’s it.”

“Okay, and when he finds a suitable woman and falls in love with her, then what?”

You can’t help the sadness that overwhelms your entire chest, eyes piercing through Nic, “ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” she takes on a new look of pity, leaning forward, “but that’s the reality, isn’t it? If you aren’t willing to-”

“Willing to what Nic? Confess to Jungkook and ruin our friendship? Ruin my relationship with Mai?” You retort, smiling because this is just too ridiculous to even consider.

“How can you assume he doesn’t feel the same?” Nic rebuttals.

You shake your head, “it’s not happening.”

That was 2 years ago. A night you remember all too clearly but push away along with the feelings steaming inside of you - chewed up and swallowed only to return from time to time like a bad case of acid reflux.

You scoff at the fortune bouncing around in your head, “not happening.”

“What are we shopping for exactly?” Nic comes up next to you, raking through the neutral-toned tops with not much of a care about what she is seeing.

“Um,” you pick out two tank tops and hold them up against you waiting for her approval, “that cruise I’m going on next month - didn’t we talk about it?”

“Oh yeah, wait-who are you going with and why was I not invited?” She queries, noting the way you move swiftly toward the dressing rooms.

You chuckle, “I didn’t plan this trip, I was invited,” you shut the door to the changing room before Nic can follow you in. She leans against it, quirking an eyebrow, “cheeky,” she laughs, “who invited you?”

She listens to you mull over your choices, hearing your feet shuffle on the carpeted floor; “uh, Jungkook did.”

You are immediately met with silence, peeking at the bottom of the mirror where Nic’s feet reflect as she turns to face the door. “Come again? You failed to mention this romantic getaway would be with your best friend-” 

Opening the door, Nic nearly falls in when you catch her. You roll your eyes; “have you always been this dramatic?”

She shrugs, “one of us has to be-back to my question.”

“Not a romantic getaway, Mai is coming and-”

“Wh-like a family vacation-”

“Nic!” Your jaw sets and she shuts it quickly, “his parents are also going, okay?”

Your friend blinks in disbelief and you give her a look that wills away any sarcastic comment she has at the ready. 

You have to hand it to her, she’s a witty one; “besides it’s kind of a company cruise for him, all the employees are allowed to bring guests, okay?”

“Noted,” she purses her lips. 

The silence between purchasing your items and the walk to the car is thick with Nic’s wandering mind.

“Can you just answer one thing for me?” You’re already sighing before she can ask her question once at the car. Tossing your bags in the back before getting into the driver’s seat with Nic buckled up and raring to go; “have you worked through all of that - you know, your feelings?”

You nod, “for the most part.” Nic drops her forehead into her hands, kneading away at her temples and you have to laugh, “okay, yes I have, is that better Nicola?”

“If you weren’t such a bad liar, yeah it would be!” Nic tentatively shoves your shoulder, laughing with you, “how do you manage it because I sure as hell could not.”

You relax for a moment coming to a red light, “Mai is number one here, how she feels matters first-”

“That is very noble of you, but hello, you’re human and your feelings matter too,” Nic adds with pointed inflect, “and I can’t believe I’m saying this but Jungkook should know better, inviting you to family functions like the three of you are a family before he runs off with some random-”

“Nic,” you send a wavering look her way, “I don’t mind watching Mai when I have the time, I love her-she’s like-” you startle yourself, “I just love her, alright? I don’t mind it.”

Nic shakes her head when you turn away, your eyes set back on the road. An uneasy feeling settles inside of her, wondering how you’d managed to lie into believing all of that; “Look, you know I care about you. I know he does too I just think he’s a little blind and I’m just worried it’s hurting you-”

“I’m fine,” you practically sing.

“Okay, so you are now but it will hurt you eventually if you keep pretending like this,” Nic flattens her tone.

“I said I am fine,” you say with emphasis, “anyway, it’s Sunday which means dinner at their house-” you look at her knowing she has a smirk waiting for you. You both look at each other on instinct, eyes squinted at one another, “so I am inviting you to come with, okay?”

You both laugh; “yeah whatever, I’ll join your weird not-family-tradition for tonight.”

Sunday dinner with the Jeons proceeds as usual given the extra guest. Nic prides herself on where she can observe the oddities of your friendship with Jungkook and his daughter. Even she, sworn to never birth children herself, can’t help the fluttering of her ovaries as she watches the camaraderie built between you and Jungkook’s daughter. Mai teasingly stiffens her upper lip, shoving her face near yours while a goofy voice bellows out of her. You roll your eyes at her, laughing before attacking her sides with tickling fingers.

It’s a smile on Jungkook’s face that Nic hasn’t seen before. Spending many a night out with the two of you and friends, she’s used to the suave Jungkook she’s seen at clubs. The way he talks to women, motions for them, how he sticks his tongue out just enough for flirtatious emphasis when he’s curled up with one. His ego is seen clearly across the dance floor; Nic is sure her face is turning green at the very thought of it.

“Alright kiddo,” Jungkook stretches, “it’s late-”

“Dad,” Mai whines, clinging on to you. You hide your laugh, noting the way she tries to fight her sleepiness in front of him.

He shakes his head, “it’s a school night Mai- bathroom - brush your teeth, now.”

You can’t help but feel sorry for her, catching her pitiful stare that has so fittingly fallen on you, you chuckle, “come on, I’ll tuck you in afterward.”

With that little bit of incentive, Mai jumps off the couch, quick to slouch when she passes by her dad, meekly waving goodbye to Nic before she disappears down the hallway; “be right back,” you call to them, following Mai’s very sad trail into the darkness.

Nic sighs, eyes quick to find Jungkook, “so-” her smile flattens when he finally looks at her.

“So?” He adds, his eyes slit in wonder. Nic has always been the wild card with a fiery tongue.

She widens her grin, “I hear you and your family are going on a cruise.”

He just nods, smiling into his glass before taking a drink, “she’s coming too.”

“I mean that was implied-” Nic snorts, “that’s sweet.”

Jungkook chuckles, catching the sarcastic look in Nic’s eyes, “what are you on about?”

“Jeon Jungkook you are clue-”

“She was falling asleep while brushing her teeth,” you come out with a hushed laugh, “practically had to carry her into bed.”

Jungkook tears his eyes away from Nic, both friends staring at you before they force a laugh. You shrug it off, grabbing your things along with Nic’s who meets you at the door. Jungkook follows, his hands shoved inside of his pockets.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Nic exaggerates her tone, accepting Jungkook’s hug before getting into the car.

You turn back to him with eyebrows raised and he shrugs.

“Okay, well I’m going to be pretty busy with work the next few weeks, they want overtime - god-” 

Jungkook laughs while you struggle to get your arm in the sleeve of your jacket; “the sleeve is twisted-here,’ he says, pulling it out and holding it straight for you.

“Thanks.”

“I guess we’ll see you at the ship then,” he says, playfully pushing you toward your car.

You gently kick his ankle, “night, Jeon.”

He smiles at you, bending forward to wave at Nic who offers him a short smile; “text me when you get home.”

As always, you wave to him without a second look.

“Did dad receive the confirmation for your parking spot,” Jungkook asks while swinging his keys around his pointer finger, leaving a house he just showed, “it has the information on where you’ll park your car at the port.” 

“He did and what about you, will you be doing the same?” Mrs. Jeon then asks about you, “how will she get there?”

He can’t help but giggle, his ever-curious mother always wondering about you, worrying that a small task may be a little too inconvenient for you, “you should pick her up really.”

Jungkook settles into his car, a playful eye roll following his mother’s assumptions, “already taken care of mom.”

“Good,” a sigh of relief can be heard on his end, “how is she anyway, we haven’t seen her since Mai’s little school performance.”

“Slow down, yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, “she’s busy too but good, I think anyway. She came over Sunday for dinner-”

“As usual,” Mrs. Jeon snickers to herself, “why don’t you bring her over here for dinner once in a while? I would like to see her too.”

“You really want that?” He arches an eyebrow.

Mrs. Jeon clicks her tongue, “yah, my son, you say that as if she hasn’t been an important part of my grandchild’s life. Of course, we want to see her but you say she’s always busy.”

“Oh,” he pouts, thinking it over, “well we have a whole week to catch up so you can make up for lost time then.”

“Mhm,” he could hear the smirk on his mom’s face, “she deserves a break Jungkook-ah, you know?”

Jungkook nods as if his mom could see him, “of course she does.”

“Between her work and then watching the baby, you keep her busy.”

Jungkook frowns, “yah mom, this is why Mai acts like a baby sometimes, she’s not a baby anymore, she’s turning eight-”

Mrs. Jeon clicks her tongue in protest again, “she’ll always be my grand-baby, and you - you’re forever my baby…”

He can’t help but smile this time, “yeah, I know. Anyway, you make it sound like I employ her or something, she comes in on her free time- whenever she pleases.”

“Ok ok,” his mother’s gentle laugh he can remember so clearly from childhood eases out of her, “I just worry she’ll think otherwise.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mom,” Jungkook sighs.

“Anyway, that’s what dad and I will be there for, yeah? To spend time with Mai and give you two some free time to do whatever-”

“And some family time with all of us, but I appreciate it, I’m sure we can squeeze in a childless night.”

Mrs. Jeon chuckles before ending the call, but not before one more reminder about inviting you over to dinner sometime soon.

Jungkook laughs to himself as he pulls into his driveway. Like clockwork, Mai’s school bus arrives at the corner. He steps out and waves to the bus driver when they drive off before Mai comes running down the sidewalk and into his arms.

“Hey, dad!” She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing the cheek he purposefully puffed out for her.

“You’re getting big, bean,” he groans, faking a backache after setting her down. He rests his hand atop her head, hanging her backpack for her before they trail into the kitchen.

“Your muscles aren’t so strong anymore then,” Mai quips, tossing a quick shoulder shrug her dad’s way when he turns back from the refrigerator to glare at her.

“Smart-alec,” he mutters, tossing a small tangerine at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at him, screeching when he makes a run for her. With several feet of height on his daughter, Jungkook snatches her in no time, throwing her over his shoulder, tattooed fingers tickling her sides.

Jovial screams and giggles leap out of the little girl until he tosses her on the sofa, her dark hair a wild mess and cheeks red, “not fair dad, you’re still bigger,” she pouts suddenly. Jungkook leans over the couch, laughing while swiping Mai’s hair out of her face, pinching her cheek in the process, “what do you want to eat for dinner, kid? Ordering in tonight.”

Mai jumps up in excitement, shouting your name.

He laughs, pulling his phone out to peruse a menu to order from, “not tonight- I have a work dinner, so you’ll be-”

“Not a babysitter-dad!” Mai whines, stomping her feet toward him, “I don’t want a babysitter, they aren’t fun.”

He shrugs, taking her chin in his hand and squeezing it, “sorry babe, she’s busy tonight.”

“Fine, whatever,” Mai turns in one swift motion and disappears into the den, homework in hand. 

Jungkook groans with a slight curl to his lip, “yah, whatever…” he says to himself, wondering when his 7-year-old became a teenager.

With aching feet and a dull throbbing in your head, you sit at the breakfast nook in silence, swallowed up in the pleasant darkness of your apartment.

“Is it time to retire yet?” You want to cry like a baby, be coddled like one, rocked to sleep. 

Just then a ding from your phone pulls you from your minute misery; a text message.

[Mark]: Okay, I’m going to level with you, should I stop trying? This is the third time in the last two weeks you’ve canceled our date…

You purse your lips, re-reading Mark’s message while the conversation you had with Jungkook weeks ago looms in the back of your mind.

‘Always something wrong with every guy you date…’

You shake your head; that’s not true. Mark is a very sweet guy. He is kind of introverted in a big group but alone, he’s all about you. He treats you well and as much as Jungkook wants to tease you about it - Mark is not a bad kisser.

But…

You sigh as you tap away at the keyboard.

[You]: I’m sorry Mark…as you can see, I’m not great at being forthcoming…or communicating.

[Mark]: no, what??

Haha come on I’m an adult, I can handle rejection :’)

You smile, warmed by Mark’s playful attitude.

[You]: Is it worse if I say that you are a great friend? Because you really are.

[Mark]: Oo yeah, that hurts a little but you’re good, I’ll find some way to get over you..

[You]: Don’t make it worse >< seriously Mark, you’ve been good to me these last few months, it’s nothing personal.

[Mark]: you deserve it and I’m sure the guy knows it already

Your eyes widen.

[You]: Sorry.. what are you talking about?

[Mark]: Come on I’m not stupid either haha every time we were together and that kid called or her dad, you dropped everything to talk to them. Rubbing salt in my wound here, but didn’t you leave our date once to be with her?

Oh, that guy.

[You]: Right…He’s my best friend…and his daughter I mean yeah, I would do anything for her. So I can’t apologize for that, but this is even more proof that you are a great guy!

[Mark]: hahaha, ok I got it, I have to say this is the least demoralizing way any woman has rejected me before

[You]: You’re welcome? Haha. Good night (:

It couldn’t have gone any better, the guilt over Mark that settled in your stomach was now gone, but you couldn’t figure out why it didn’t make you feel better.

Mark is smart but he was wrong. Well…maybe answering Mai’s phone call that one night, while you and Mark were making out on his couch, was a bit excessive? You cringe at the thought…

Peeling yourself from those memories and the barstool proves easier when your incentive is to no longer question what everyone around you seems to have common knowledge of. Pouring water into a steel pot, you set it on the stove to boil for some ramen.

Not long after your meal is done your phone rings with the Jeons’ home number flashing across the screen; “Bean?” You answer, knowing it’s Mai since Jungkook only calls you from his cell phone.

You are greeted with an exasperated huff before she whispers harshly into the phone, “why didn’t you come watch me tonight?”

Choosing to eat straight from the pot because it was one of those days, you bring it into the living room, a grimace on your face, “my sincerest apologies kid. I told your dad I’d be busy with work since we’re all going on vacation soon.”

“Oh, well, I don’t like this babysitter, she treats me like a little kid,” you almost choke on your first bite of noodles, stifling a laugh at Mai’s dispense.

“Okay one - you are a kid and two - be nice, three - where is your dad?”

Mai scoffs with gusto into the phone, “work dinner,” she exasperates, “dad thinks I’m a dummy, I know he’s on a date.”

Your heart drops and with it goes your appetite, setting the half-eaten food down on your coffee table. You move the phone away for a moment, allowing yourself a second to let out a long breath before continuing, “how do you know that, you know your dad is a busy guy, he goes on plenty of work dinners.”

“Hm- again I’m smart, dad says he is going on company dinners when it’s actually with work people,” Mai’s tone is flippant, “but when it’s a date? He calls them ‘work dinners.’”

“Oh right,” you curse yourself for having this adult conversation with a child, “duh.”

Mai laughs, “dad has been going on a lot of work dinners-”

You clam your eyes shut, “y-you know what bean, I’m sorry but I’m exhausted- are you in any immediate danger that requires me to come over there?

“No,” Mai sighs with obvious disappointment, “I guess not.”

Even with the unsettling of your heart, Mai always manages to melt you to your core, “you sure?”

“Dad would be mad if I made you come here, I’m okay, I just miss you I guess,” her voice suddenly drops, and the little kid is back. The innocence you love so much about her pulls you in.

“I miss you too,” you say, “but hey- the cruise is coming up soon, okay? You’ll have your grandparents, your dad-”

“And you, duh,” she adds.

You shake your head, chuckling, “and me.”

After talking her through her irritation and simply missing the two people that are her entire world, Mai hangs up a little more satisfied.

You? You call it an early night, ignoring the dreaded feeling hanging from your heartstrings.

You aren’t sure how to feel once you wake up on the first day of vacation. Having lost sleep over the last week while bitterly packing for the cruise, you thought up several ways you could have canceled before getting to this day. Picking up your phone on several occasions to text Jungkook only to picture Mai’s disappointment. She likely would have shed a tear or two at your expense.

Finally the night before, you swallowed back your pride and zipped up your packed suitcase which was now sitting in the back of Jungkook’s trunk with the rest of their things. He and Mai sang along to a song while you tapped your hand against your leg, unable to keep the smile away from your face for long.

Mrs. Jeon greets you eagerly after smothering Mai in kisses, taking the three of you ahead as you enter the ship.

“Home for the next week,” Jungkook comes up from behind and puts his arm around you, pressing his palm into Mai’s hair and messing with it while she tries to fight him off. You move away from him and walk towards the elevators, “shall we settle in our rooms?”

Mai is the first to react, running toward you and grabbing your hand in the process before the rest follow.

Once in the rooms with Jungkook’s parents only a few doors down from your suite, Mai pops in and out of the door connecting your room to theirs, “we can have sleepovers every night!” She cheers.

You shake your head, laughing at her excitement while still taking it all in yourself. Jungkook comes in from your balcony, pressing two fingers against Mai’s forehead when she goes throttling toward him, “relax monster,” he chuckles, “and not every night, okay?”

“Okay, but at least when you go on work dinners,” Mai peers passed Jungkook’s hip at you making a face too devilish for a child, “I can sleep in her room?”

You’re glad the bed is there to catch you when you sit back. Jungkook gently pushes her head back, laughing, “we’ll see.”

You have to swallow back that all too familiar sickness, “come on Kook, it’s vacation.” Mai leaps forward with a toothy smile, “yeah dad, vacation!” She shouts, wrapping her arms around Jungkook’s legs. 

You watch the two of them dance around your room, Mai standing on top of Jungkook’s feet while they tease each other; “duck feet,” Mai says, proceeding to quack at her father.

“Do you uh- you have to work while we’re here?” You ask Jungkook. He sticks his bottom lip out and shakes his head, “nope, just one brunch with a few colleagues but that’s it.”

You despise the relief that immediately washes over you.

Switching into vacation mode proves a lot easier than you anticipated, given the new information Mai shared with you during that one phone call. You hate to admit it to yourself, but seeing Jungkook stick around for the first couple of days provides relief for you that he is in fact, not going on any work dinners this trip.

Shut up shut up shut UP…

Your thoughts eat away at your brain while you sit poolside, taking a break from carrying Mai around on your shoulders like a mermaid - per her request. You were her throne and she, the mermaid princess of an undersea world, Jungkook the villainous merman out to seek her crown. After a victorious battle against said merman, you urge Mai to continue playing with her dad because being the throne is a weighty job.

Watching them is almost better.

Like a shooting star, a smile beams across your face, sitting back to hold yourself together, barking with laughter when Jungkook throws Mai into the air. A shriek of excitement falls out of her until she lands safely in a big splash.

Jungkook raptures you as you look over to find his head tossed back, perfect teeth showing as he laughs with every part of his being - eyes closed, the only visible part of his face is the utter joy he is feeling.

Your heart beats faster, cheeks grow hotter but not from the sun. Like the kind of gasp that escapes you during a jump scare in a horror movie, a memory locked so deep floods your head. You lower the brim of your hat to hide the immediate tears that flood your eyes, relieved to see Jungkook and Mai continue to chase each other around the pool, making waves while splashing one another.

It was a long day, Jungkook enlisted your help with a colicky baby Mai in need. You read up on as many articles as you could before heading over to their place, finding him in a panic though he was trying to repress it for the time being.

With much effort on both ends, Mai was finally asleep after hours of fussing. Jungkook, desperate for his daughter’s relief to the point of tears, you decided to leave them alone in his bedroom while you claimed a spot on the couch. 

Waking up hours later, the sun is long gone. You head to his bedroom to say goodbye.

The door is still open and you find Jungkook lying on his side with his back to you, instead of sleeping like you initially assumed, he is humming. One hand rests under his head while the other moves in an up-and-down motion. You stand on your tiptoes and see Mai is still asleep, laid out on her back with her limbs sticking out, you cover your mouth to stifle a chuckle.

She looks angelic - long eyelashes tickling the tops of her chubby cheeks, you can even hear her heavy breathing beyond Jungkook’s soft hum.

“Is it possible to be this in love?” His voice captures your ears but it’s a welcomed sound. You can’t see his face but you’re sure he’s near to tears for the second time that day. Pushing off of the wall, you walk to the edge of the bed. Jungkook’s eyes dart to you, dropping his head, silently laughing at himself.

You pat his ankle, a chummy smile covering your face only to tease him, “I’m heading home, will you two be okay?”

He looks back at Mai before nodding, “thank you,” he sighs before moving out of bed but you try to stop him, assuring him that you can make it to the door in one piece.

“When do I ever let you walk out alone?” He whispers, kissing Mai’s cheek before carefully moving off the bed. He follows you to the front door. When you turn to wish him and Mai a full night’s rest, he swallows you in a hug. You stand stiff for a moment, unable to recall if this was something that had ever occurred before. You weren’t the bear-hugging type of friend.

Even more, you can feel your heart thrum against Jungkook’s and suddenly it becomes natural as you melt into his hold. You wrap your arms around his middle to which he pulls you closer and tighter.

Eyes closed, the feeling of being in his arms is overwhelming and cheesy as it all feels, you have to will the tears away as a rush of feelings come flooding over you. Every over-thought you’d wondered up to this moment is answered.

‘Am I falling for him? No…wait.

Do I love my best friend?’

“We love you,” Jungkook says close to your ear, shaking you from your thoughts, but with them are the crackings of your heart, “I don’t say that enough,” he adds. He finally releases you and you have to pull yourself together in a second.

“Jungkook, I told you I’d be here for you and Mai- no question.” You manage to say, clearing your throat.

Walking away from his house that night, you know for you, it’s all changed.

A shrill cry of your name jolts you awake, cold water splashing your midriff. Your eyes focus back and on Mai who is now sitting on Jungkook’s shoulders, “let’s race,” she says. Without hesitance you jump in after them, pulling a giggling Mai into the pool with you who begs for mercy.

After a warm shower, sleep proves victor over the book Mai begged hands and knees for you to read, but by the time you washed up and changed into fresh pajamas, Mai’s face was planted into Jungkook’s pillow, hair splayed across the white pillowcase.

Jungkook hears you chuckle from his place on the balcony. Turning to look over his shoulder just as you kiss Mai’s head, a gentle flutter in his chest mimics the rocking of the ship.

“She’s going to need an entire week to recuperate after this trip,” you come out and sit on the bench with him, drawing your legs up and holding them to your chest. Jungkook’s silence makes you curious, but when you look over, the look on his face tells you why.

Brows are set straight with his arms crossed in front of his chest, you can see every thought that's running through his mind. Instead of pegging him with a question, you tap his leg with your foot. He takes a sharp breath in, laughing at himself when he looks at you.

“I was just thinking,” he groans, moving forward to rest his face in his hands. Your heart crawls out of your chest in search of a way to soothe your best friend, yet all the same, you just want to hold him.

“I was just thinking…” he sighs with a shrug, “back when I was twenty-one, convinced I was this big hotshot with a realtor’s license and brand new BMW,” he laughs in shame, “ah- then all of a sudden there’s a helpless baby who I had no time to prepare for.”

You remember that time with him; recalling the day Jungkook called you to his then apartment, voice too shaken to explain why he needed you there as he returned a missed call from the local hospital. Of course, your mind assumed he was diagnosed with some kind of illness. 

But with the call on speaker, you watched the color drain from his face as child protective services spoke to him on the other end. Words are thrown around like fireballs- ‘your name was put on the birth certificate by her birth mother Mr. Jeon…a DNA test has been ordered so we will need you to come down to the clinic to complete it. For now, the infant will be placed with our services upon release from the hospital.’

‘No,’ he was quick to respond, ‘no-don’t do that please, I’ll bring her home. Can-can I bring her home?’

“You didn’t need that test to prove what you already knew,” you add, watching the way your best friend runs his hands back and forth through his hair. 

He took the test anyway and it was of course confirmed that Mai was his; “when you called me over, I couldn’t imagine what they would say and that was definitely the farthest thing from my mind.”

“Wouldn’t change it for the world now that I know I’m a capable dad but-” his confidence drops and you sit forward, bending your head until you can see his face.

“But what?” You ask.

“Any chance at falling in love is out the window-” you can hear the guilt in his voice when he says that. He sits back and you follow, keeping your eyes on him. He chuckles with a crooked grin, “what?”

“Why do you do that? It doesn’t hurt you?”

He sighs, looking back at the water, “it’s easier, isn’t it? Sleeping around rather than risking a broken heart?”

“Jungkook, Mai’s mother-she was foolish for leaving you and even more for leaving Mai-I mean let’s not forget she, herself never even told you about your child in the first place-”

“Yeah but I’m still an idiot for even going there with her, I knew all she wanted was something casual and I gave it to her just so I could feel something.” He shakes his head.

“But one really good thing came out of that, right?” You push, taking your fingers and nudging his chin to force a smile on his face. 

He doesn’t argue, thinking of the little girl that is sound asleep inside.

A quiet hum settles inside of your chest drawing Jungkook to look at you. Your eyes set on the moonlight reflecting against the water; “I love your kid Jungkook.”

Just looking at your smile when you turn to face him, it’s a sight that nestles deep inside of his chest; “I already did before you even brought her home but I swear, my heart almost can’t take how much I love Mai.”

The gentle rock of the boat begins to lull you into sleep; chilly ocean air creates goosebumps over your skin as you fight your eyes rolling back, your breathing slows as a content hum comes out of you. Jungkook watches you for a moment, noticing the slight chatter in your teeth that pulls a giggle from him, “come here.”

Your heavy eyelids open to look at him, blinking inquisitively as he brings you closer to him. “I’m trying to warm you up,” he chuckles with another tug of your hand. He scoots down to rest his head along the sofa so you can lay your head comfortably on his shoulder; Jungkook’s body heat is all you need to fully accept his invitation.

“Just so you know,” he clears his throat, “because I know how my kid is,” Jungkook’s voice sounds like a subtle purr, “she loves you too.”

Caught in a haze of exhaustion and more emotion than your heart can handle, you nuzzle against Jungkook’s shoulder, willing yourself to fall asleep with those sentiments in mind. 

On the cusp of a deep sleep, you swear you feel Jungkook press his lips to the top of your head as he carries you off into the room.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re immediately aware this is not your bed though it isn’t entirely unfamiliar. Your heart launches in your throat as you sit up on your elbows, eyes pressed shut.

Okay now!

They pop open, your initial concern to find Jungkook lying there settles when you see Mai at your side. Her long raven hair strung across her face. 

A snore causes you to jump; awakened by his snore, Jungkook looks at you with one eye open, his body contorted to the size of the narrow cot meant for Mai. His feet dangling off the edge.

“You could have slept in my bed,” you snort.

He sits up, the sheet falling off to reveal his rippled chest and abs. You’ve seen his muscles several times, but the setting is far too intimate this time. You have to look away, pulling Mai’s hair off of her face. Jungkook stands and stretches, “it was nice falling asleep to you guys’ breathing- peaceful,” he says before disappearing into the bathroom.

The days go by too fast. Each one was filled with various activities tailored to Mai as she enjoyed the time with her grandparents. On several occasions, she couldn’t help but announce how happy she was to have her favorite people with her all at the same time.

Although, on the second to last night, you fail to ignore when Jungkook doesn’t return from that brunch as soon as he assured Mai he would, showing up early in the evening sans tie and a fresh mark on the side of his neck.

He comes lazily into your room after a shower, greeted by Mai with open arms, “where were you?” She asks, pressing her face into his side.

“I’m sorry.” His answer is short and hardly an answer. You turn away to hide your disappointment, closing the coloring book Mai was using and putting away her crayons; “your parents said you had unexpected business come up after brunch?” You ask.

He looks at you and nods.

Liar.

“But look bean,” he picks Mai up, conveniently placing her where she can’t point out the hickey, “you’re going to dinner alone with grandma and grandpa tonight, okay?” Mai throws her head back, “you’re abandoning me again?”

You can’t help but laugh, curiosity pushing away the heaviness in your chest, “wait, why?”

Jungkook looks at Mai, “cover your ears.”

“But-”

He curls an eyebrow at her and with a loud scoff, she does as he says.

“They want us to have a night out. We can go to the club downstairs - dancing and drinks?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You shake your head, laughing while your resolve not to give in slips away, “I have a dress that deserves to be seen, might as well.”

While Jungkook spends the last few hours of daylight with Mai, you don’t waste any time and get ready. It isn’t often you can pamper yourself like this; hair laid sleek against your back, taking time on your makeup to ensure its lasting quality because you plan to dance away the troubles of your heart.

Just as you buckle the other strap to your heel, there’s a knock at the main door of your room. You peer into Jungkook and Mai’s room through the connecting door which has remained open the majority of the trip, remembering he left just a few minutes before to drop Mai off at his parents’ room.

You open it without much thought, stumbling back when you come face to face with your best friend. He catches you by the wrist, chuckling.

His hair is combed with an effortless side part, thick bangs swept on either side of his forehead. His patterned buttoned-down stands out though the short sleeves allow his tattoos to be on display. White slacks and a new pair of shoes adorn his lower half while a touch of gold jewelry ties it all together. Pushing your figurative tongue back into your mouth, you offer a simple compliment before stepping out.

Going unnoticed is the way Jungkook’s eyes slink over your figure, selfishly detailing in his memory how your dress fits you in all the right places.

“Hurry up slowpoke,” you call to him, already halfway down the hallway. He looks at you, wondering if you’ve caught him staring. You choose to turn away before he can see the smirk on your face.

Music booms around you while a colorful group of people aged from 21 to 90 fills the space for a final night of hoorah as you settle at the bar. Your feet are already aching after Jungkook pulled you straight onto the dance floor when you initially arrived. Having clubbed with him on many occasions, you aren’t surprised by his rhythm and ease in gyrating his hips to the music. Perhaps a little closer to you than you are used to, but you’ll allow a pass tonight. And really, are you complaining?

No. But you choose to ignore that voice in your head.

Jungkook is looking around until he finds your eyes. You blink, clearing your throat, “I have a confession.” He scoots in closer so he can hear you better, eyes dropping to meet yours. Stirring in his seat, you wonder if he’s fidgeting out of discomfort.

Liquid courage pushes you to continue, “I broke into my minibar and had a little pre-game before you came,” you admit. Jungkook drops his head and laughs at you again. His eyes squint beneath a beaming smile, you practically choke at how beautiful he looks, “y-you might have to carry me back to my room later.” Your tongue suddenly feels numb as you stumble over your words.

He nods, “you deserve to let loose,” his expression takes on more sincerity, “you do so much for me and Mai.”

If not for the mood lighting flashing in various colors, you swear Jungkook’s face is flushed. His blinks are slow and you wonder when he’ll stop looking at you like that-

“Here you are.” The bartender barrages in with your drinks. You jump slightly while Jungkook thanks the man, a straight line forming his lips.

After two shots and another finished drink, Jungkook is ready to dance into the wee hours of the morning. Head caught in a constant loop after those shots, you insist he goes on his own. Just then a woman’s voice appears close to your ear, causing you to jump back. Jungkook looks to where you are with some sort of a smile appearing on his face but you can hardly make it out through a hazy gaze.

He’s saying your name and you make every effort to concentrate, “this is my colleague, Rosie.”

Rosie smiles at you but you notice more the way her hands are wrapped around Jungkook’s bicep and then the way she moves her hand to smooth across his shoulders, tucking her fingers beneath his collar.

Rosie from brunch. You smile, “nice to meet you.” You can’t help when your eyes ghost over the mark on Jungkook’s neck once more, the one you’ve had to pretend wasn’t there the entire night.

“Likewise,” she hardly spares you a second look before her eyes are glued to Jungkook’s, “let’s go dance.”

Jungkook sets his attention on you when you stand, making it a point to plant your feet firmly on the ground, “go, I need to use the restroom.”

Rosie wastes no time and pulls Jungkook away.

You groan, staring at yourself in the mirror, eyes weighed down with one too many drinks though you’re still able to stand on your own. That deserves a pat on the back along with your determination to not allow this night to go sour as you make your way out to the dance floor once more.

But it all comes to a screeching halt when you spot Rosie and Jungkook, even more, the way his lips hover dangerously close over the skin of her neck, his hand smoothing over her waist. Their bodies are pressed together as they dance with not an inch of breathing space to spare between the two.

You can’t help the fire that rages through you though tears sting your eyes. Before he can see, given he even looks up for one minute, you make a desperate escape towards the exit.

Stupid..so stupid. Stupid on a monumental level. What did you think was going to happen-he’d magically fall in love with you on this trip? Yes…NO.

You sniffle as you rub the heels of your feet, skin red from the pain inflicted by your choice of footwear. Even after a long shower, scrubbing the black makeup off your eyes that melted onto the bags that are now present - you can’t shake the aching in your chest.

“Ugh,” you groan, tossing yourself back onto your bed. Hair still sopping wet from your shower and dressed in your comfiest pajamas, nothing could soothe you at this point. Mind still swimming in a drunken state, you wish you could just black out already.

Click.

The door to Jungkook and Mai’s room closes. You shoot up into a sitting position once more, immediately regretting that. Jungkook peers in through that middle door, chuckling at you and a little less drunk than you. He always held his liquor better than you did.

That fire flickers in you once more, so slight but it causes you to twitch. You can’t un-notice it, even when you look away for a moment while he moves over to you. His hair is a mess, shirt hastily buttoned, and the collar is tinted pink, not to mention the faded lipstick marks around his jaw. He steps any closer to you and you could name the brand of perfume she was wearing.

“Club closed like two hours ago,” your words are still a bit slurred. Jungkook just chuckles, “yeah, I’m beat.” You shake your head while he moves back in the direction of his room.

“Old habits die hard,” you mutter venomously.

Jungkook cocks his head, taken aback, “what?”

You straighten your shoulders when he looks at you, “are you really going to risk putting yourself in this same situation again? Just for a one-night stand? Have you forgotten how Mai came into the picture?” The deep frown on your face is hardly enough to hide how you swallow back the gasp following your accusation. The dagger you’ve pierced him with digs into his back while a crushing pain swallows him whole, you can see the crumbling beneath your best friend’s eyes.

His cheeks grow red when he turns back towards the door, “go to sleep,” he mumbles in a tone that has the ground shaking, tossing his room key to the side, “you’re drunk.”

You flinch when he slams the door shut.

The swaying of the boat doesn’t help the unsettling waves in your stomach and throbbing head. Even with the new presence of another person on the balcony, your head remains cradled in your hands.

“Here,” Jungkook says in a low tone but it still makes your head throb. He reaches out to you with a water bottle in hand, “and take these.”

You peer up, the torturous rays of the sun hurt your eyes. You shake your head. Jungkook smacks his tongue in disapproval, taking up the bottom space of the lounging chair you're sitting on. He opens the bottle for you and brings it up to your lips, “stubbornness won’t make you feel better, drink.”

“Oh god, please don’t say that word,” you retch, taking a sip. Another second later Jungkook pops the two aspirin into your mouth, assisting you with another swig of water.

The rushing waves settle around you but the awkward silence can be cut with the dagger Jungkook was still holding onto. He sighs, looking away from the wooden deck of the balcony.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk before,” he says. The strained laughter that follows makes your chest grow hot along with the heaviness in his tone.

You feel his gaze fall over you and you finally look up at him, removing your sunglasses. He doesn’t tear his attention away from you, waiting to see if you’ll do anything, say anything.

“Do you remember-”

You’re nodding before he can finish his sentence, “I remember what I said.” You wish you didn’t, probably even more than Jungkook wishes he never heard it.

Jungkook sits there a little bit stunned, straightening his back and you can see the frown grow on his brow, “not that I owe you any explanation - I didn’t sleep with her, we just - I don’t know I just couldn’t-”

You question him with your eyes, “you’re right Jungkook, you don’t need to explain anything to me, we’re both adults.” You cut him off before it can hurt anymore, irritation lining your tone which Jungkook picks up on the latter. Somehow he still misses the longing behind your eyes.

“How about some leniency? I’m trying to be nice even though you insulted me last night-”

“You don’t have to be nice to me, I was out of line so let’s just drop it. I’m sorry for ever saying anything-”

“Will you let me care about you?” He snaps back. It catches you off guard, even when he’s been angry in the past, he’s never snapped at anybody. But the shock isn’t enough to stop you from feeling angry too.

“What are you talking-if this is you caring about me then please, spare me. I mean y-you came back to the room like nothing-” you groan out of frustration, swinging your legs over the lounge chair to stand up. The uneven weight nearly sends Jungkook to the ground but he manages to catch himself.

“Like nothing-what?” Jungkook follows you into your room.

“Nothing Jungkook, nothing happened, that’s what I mean. And you know what, nothing is ever going to happen,” you mutter, tossing clothes into your opened suitcase.

He grasps for the words falling from your mouth, managing to hear every last one, “what do you mean?”

You shake your head, “look let’s just give each other space, yeah? We only have today left so let me just do what you brought me here to do - let me do what I do best apparently.”

The riddled expression on his face only makes you grow more impatient for him to leave you alone; “that’s why I’m here right Jungkook - to take care of Mai while you rendezvous? I’m just a babysitter for Mai - that’s all I’ve ever been to you since she was born, right?”

His eyes grow cold while your words only chip away at him more and more, “you’re my best friend, I invited you to come because you’re like family-”

“Oh, just stop!” You twist pieces of your clothing between angry fists, “stop doing this to me-stop saying those things to me, stop cuddling with me like we’re-we-” you’re sputtering on the edge of stone-cold tears, “you just-you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then tell me,” he urges you, “for God’s sake talk to me instead of pushing me away-”

“Jungkook, I love you,” you cry desperately, your body sinking, “I-I love you, and I can’t do it anymore.” You collapse onto the edge of your bed, praying the tears will go away so you can get a coherent thought out, shaking your head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jungkook.” You weep quietly.

All he can do is whisper your name to break the deafening silence.

“Just leave,” you look at him with red, tear-filled eyes, “please.”

“But we should talk-”

“I won’t do this anymore…I just can’t,” you can’t stop crying, “please leave.”

There isn’t anything more heart-breaking than when the door shuts behind your best friend, you are left alone to steep in the figurative mess left around you. A storm rages your mind while tear after tear continues to fall, even when you occupy yourself with stuffing everything into your suitcase. Some hours pass when you’re still in your room, suitcase packed. You can hear Mai enter their room, voice muffled behind the closed door she was so used to being open.

Follows is a stern call of her name from Jungkook just before the doorknob turns but abruptly stops along with your heart. You can hear her asking him why before you assume he pulls her away from the door.

You force your eyes shut, pressing your tear-stained face into your pillow and praying the last day on this god-awful ship will magically be over when you open your eyes again. Body exhausted from the emotional day, you feel yourself sink into darkness until all subconscious thought disappears.

It was a fight to get Mai to understand why you weren’t going home with them the next morning. You never lied to her. Not once in all of these years. Not until today when you told her it had to do with work, that was why. She slumped into her grandma’s hug before going over to the car per Jungkook’s request who was standing near you.

“Jungkook, I just want to go home and I already called an Uber so-”

He just nods but you can see the hurt in his eyes, “will you text me-us? Text us when you get home?”

You look down at your phone, “I-um- I need to go over to the waiting area where I’ll be picked up, thanks for inviting me.” With that, you’re turning away before he can even breathe a second time. Jungkook can’t tear his eyes away from you, watching you walk away, wanting to watch you until you're a speck in the distance.

“Mai is buckled in Jungkook-ah.” His dad calls him away before he can do any of that.

His thoughts spiral on the drive back home.

‘I can’t do this anymore…I won’t do this.’ Your words play like a broken movie reel in his mind. A sick feeling settles in Jungkook’s stomach; a strong taste of bile rises in his throat as he wonders if you mean it.

The days following begin to fuse into the next before you realize two weeks have gone by. Two weeks of missed phone calls from Jungkook but even more painful are the missed calls from their house phone.

Mai.

You have to hold your stomach every time you think of Mai. The innocent one caught between two adults she thinks the world of, the only two who are her entire world. It’s enough to make you want to lose all contents of your stomach which hasn’t been much lately. Getting by on a couple of sips from your morning tea and a bite or two of unbuttered sourdough bread before heading off to work.

Everything has lost its taste, life as you know it has lost flavor.

You always enjoyed work, as stressful as it could be at times. But it was becoming your mute therapist because you couldn’t talk about the things warring your mind. They just bottled inside of you, one after the other; when would it finally implode?  

Three knocks sound at your front door and you jump away from the counter, a small plate with a sad sandwich placed on top of it. You abandon it, you’re sure the bread is starting to mold anyway. Poking your head around the corner, your eyes are wide as they stare down the narrow hallway. The runner in the center of the floor is left askew, shoes tossed under the hallway table cluttered with your keys and three days of mail; everything is left unopened.

The doorbell screeches like a hungry crow; you yelp a curse before clamping your hand over your mouth. There’s no way he has the gull to show up at your house…

A muffled call of your name sounds on the other side of the door followed by rapid presses of the doorbell.

It’s Nic.

You sigh, moving down the hallway as quickly as you can before tearing the door open. Nic stands there with her arm up, her hand fisted ready to knock on the door, “well, hello stranger!” Her voice is laced with sarcasm and a toothy smile to boot. She’s already setting her things down on the small breakfast nook that separates the kitchen from the living room, she follows your every move until you’re standing on the opposite side of the counter, a waiting expression sits on her face.

“Wine?” She asks. You’re impressed when she pulls a long bottle out of her purse, something like Mary Poppins would do if she wasn’t so cheerful.

You shake your head, pushing the bottle back into her bag, “I’m cutting myself off forever.”

“Ah,” she nods knowingly and it’s confirmation enough that she is aware of the revelation that occurred on the cruise. You know he called her and asked her to check on you.

You lean onto the counter and Nic does the same after propping herself up on a barstool, “he sent you,” you state rather than ask. You know your best friends through and through. And beneath your broken pride and splitting heart, you can admit that they know you just the same.

Instead of a joke, she just purses her lips and offers you an apologetic smile, “he did.”

You shrug, resting your hand under your chin. The two of you continue in a stare-off that holds a thousand words between your shaking eyes and Nic’s patient ones. She doesn’t press you like you’re used to, but perhaps that’s because she can see the sheen across your eyes or the way you keep swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Nic, opinionated in all her ways and always managing to impose them on the ones she holds near and dear, bites her bottom lip when you close your eyes only for a few tears to fall shortly after.

She clears her throat, pressing a tissue into your hand while your head hangs low; “you should talk to him, babe.”

You’re shaking your head and Nic sighs, biting back her words until you pick your head up to look at her. 

She’s careful but direct; “So that’s it, you just cut him off? For how long are you planning on doing that - for forever?” Nic knows how ridiculous that sounds. Even more than when you swore you would take your once secret love for Jungkook to the grave.

“That’s the plan,” you croak, pressing the tissue over your eyes so it can soak up your tears.

“And Mai?” Nic retorts.

Your hands drop onto the counter along with your stomach; there’s no answer for that.

“Custody isn’t necessarily a thing between friends-”

“Nic,” you give her a stern look and she apologizes.

“Look, you don’t need me to say this because I know you, and I know how much you love Mai,” Nic’s tone sounds desperate for you to hear her, “but I’m going to say it anyway - I get seeing him and talking to him sounds incredibly painful, but are you really willing to lose that little girl’s trust? I mean anyone can see that she worships the ground you walk on,” Nic can’t help but chuckle but her seriousness never fades, “if you decide never to talk to them again, that-” Nic pushes her pointer finger onto the countertop, “that will be excruciating for her…” The second to pause allows you to feel the final crushing of your heart before Nic finishes.

“You can’t make this choice for her and not be in her life all of a sudden just because you want to run away from reality - Mai is just as much in this painful reality with you and Jungkook.”

You hate how right she is. You hate that Nic has taken every single word out of your mouth and made sense of it.

The sun is setting over the city as Jungkook continues to stare out the window of his office. It’s the end of a long workday. He’s tired after showing several houses from one end of the boulevard to the other. His feet hurt, his neck is aching, and he’s sick of wearing this stupid suit.

But he can’t think of anything else. He can’t think of anyone else. All he can think about is you. Sick with worry about his daughter who has no understanding of what’s happened. She’s asked to sleep with him every night for the past two weeks, it was the only thing that could soothe her anxiety. He wanted to be mad at you for cutting Mai off. Himself, he could understand, but Mai? Then again, he wondered how much he was to blame too. Did he unintentionally put his daughter in this spot? Going out with a different woman at least a few nights a week, asking you to babysit Mai every time? If he had just been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

He scoffs at himself, ripping his tie from around his neck and tossing it onto his desk. Of course, idiot, if you just confessed years ago, this wouldn’t be happening. Mai wouldn’t be experiencing her first heartbreak at seven years old. Selfishly, he wouldn’t have had to see the hurt that split you right down the middle when he waltzed in that night covered in another woman’s touch.

All the times you saw him that way.

Idiot. He has to laugh. Idiot doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Hi baby,” Jungkook sweeps Mai into his arms when he finally arrives home, relieving the babysitter. Mai rests her head on his shoulder, pressing the moles she can see on his face with her finger. He’s not used to her being so quiet. 

It’s late; way past her bedtime.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Mai sighs into his shoulder.

“I know,” he rubs her back, walking into her bedroom. Maybe she could manage it tonight. Mai doesn’t fight it, climbing under her comforter when Jungkook pulls it back for her. He sits on the floor next to her bed, knees curled up to his chest, he looks back at Mai whose eyes glisten under the glow of the starry night light, “guess we need to talk, huh?” She asks.

Jungkook chuckles, pinching her cheek, “shoot.”

Mai’s eyelashes flutter when she looks away, “she always has dinner with us on Sundays,” she starts, “is she mad at me?”

Jungkook is quick to settle her disquieting thoughts, “never in a million years bud, she could never be upset with you.”

“Then why isn’t she coming over to see me?” Mai isn’t crying, but her eyes look back at Jungkook and he can feel a tear in his heart when she does.

He sighs, holding Mai’s hand inside of his; “I hurt her feelings, so I think seeing you makes it hard for her because I’m always with you, right?”

Mai nods, “So say you’re sorry dad.”

He muffles a laugh, “it’s not that easy for adults sometimes.”

“Why? Don’t you miss her too?”

“I do,” he admits, “and I care a lot about her too.” Jungkook says, eying Mai, searching for the right words before he continues, “do you know what that means, bean?” He rests his chin on top of his hand, stroking her hair away from her face with the other. Mai observes her dad, hands pressed underneath her cheek.

“Grandma says when you care about people, it means you love them, so-” she twitches her nose inquisitively and Jungkook can’t help but giggle, leaning in to pinch it, “ask me questions,” he says, helping her out.

Mai yawns, not too far from sleep. But Jungkook can’t resist this time before bed, when his daughter is on the precipice of sweet slumber and they are alone, talking about whatever. Most of the time they are teasing each other, but if Mai has spent the day with you, Jungkook especially wanted to hear about it.

“I guess, does it mean you love her like you love me?” Mai asks.

The corner of his lips quirk into a smile, “I love you more than you can ever know-” he stops to catch the twinkle in his daughter’s eye, “but this love is a little bit different.”

Mai nods and follows with a big yawn. Jungkook leans in once more to kiss her forehead, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” May yawns again.

Before Jungkook steps out of her room, Mai squeaks, “dad?”

“Yeah?” He turns in a heartbeat.

“I love her too, and well you know how the other kids at school-well most kids have their moms you know?”

He can feel the final shattering inside of him when he goes to rub his chest. Jungkook moves in, sitting next to Mai when she sits up, “I feel like I love her how a kid is supposed to love their mom-like she is the very best friend I will ever get to have, dad,” Mai looks up at him, “if she is mad at you, please make it better because I think we need her for forever.”

Tears brim the outside of Jungkook’s eyes, his smile trembling when he stares down at his literal heart in the shape of his child; “I love you so much,” he pulls her into his lap where Mai finds solace hiding her face in his shoulder.

“But my friend at school can never know that, it would hurt her feelings,” Mai muffles against him. Jungkook manages a gentle laugh, pressing a long kiss to the top of Mai’s head, his tears going unnoticed by his daughter.

The last time you received a call from Mai’s school was a year ago, she pushed a boy who tried to put a dead lizard on top of her head. He fell back and scraped his elbow. Mai was not about to let the school call her dad.

‘He won’t be as mad if you’re with me!’ She insisted, holding her hand in yours as the two of you crossed the street, a detention slip in her other hand.

Listed as the third emergency contact under her grandma, your stomach churns, wondering why they would be calling you. There is no question whether you would answer or not.

“Hello?” You breathe slowly into the phone.

The woman on the other end informs you she’s the principal; “Mai’s father and grandma haven’t returned our calls; the kids had an early release today but it appears they have forgotten to pick her up, and the buses have all gone.”

You frown, they never forget to pick Mai up from school. And if either one couldn’t, you were the next in line if she wasn’t going to take the bus; “oh-uh okay, I-um-I can be there in-” you look at the clock above your desk, ignoring the incomplete work before you, “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

You rush around the room to gather your things, darting for the door with your keys in hand.

By the time you’re walking up to the school Mai is running through the main doors, the principal right behind her smiling as Mai meets you halfway. She clings around your waist and it instantly causes your eyes to water, “hi bean.”

“I missed you,” she says, pulling herself off of you only to grab your hand. She pulls you with fervor to your car, barely giving you time to look back and wave at the principal.

Once settled in the car you turn towards the backseat and look at her with raised brows, “did they know you were getting out early?”

Mai purses her lips, eyes widening when she shrugs in response, quick to open a book to read when you start the car.

“Hm,” you turn around without much afterthought, making the drive back to their house. It’s been three weeks now, three weeks since that morning which you’ve tried desperately to forget, and three weeks since talking to Jungkook and Mai.

You aren’t sure what classifies as tension between an adult and a child, but the Mai who is usually speaking faster than she can keep up with has taken to staring out the window, staring at the buildings whizzing by and trees blending into the other. You look into the rearview mirror every so often, pretending you don’t know why she looks so indifferent.

Hugging you was a good sign, but now she seems awkward, dashing out of your car and beating you to the front door. You eye each other when you make it there. She gives you a sarcastic look, looking at your keys for a moment before you get the hint. You always had a set of keys to their house. It felt weird using them now.

Mai pushes the door open impatiently, the keys still in the lock with your hand attached to it, “hey-geez, slow down will you-no running-” you smack your tongue, setting your things down when Mai runs down the hallway to her bedroom.

Your chest fills with air as you take a glance around their home, singing praises that Jungkook’s car is not in the driveway meaning he must have been too busy to eat lunch at home.

“Mai,” your voice echoes down the hallway, “Mai you know shouldn’t be running in the house.”

She’s sitting at the small table her grandpa made for her, her homework already laid out and a pencil in hand. You watch her for a moment, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment of what you’ve said. But she just sits there, chin resting in her hand while she reads over the assignment.

You sigh, moving to sit on the floor next to her, looking over her paper to read the words but all you can see is the blank expression on Mai’s face. You poke her hand, “anybody in there?”

She moves her hand into her lap and starts writing.

You know why she’s doing this and you can’t be upset, but it does sting a little. Usually, it’s a fight to get her to do her homework when you’re around; “so you’re just going to ignore me? I thought you missed me.”

It’s only then that her eyes dart to meet yours, her eyes a mirrored reflection of her father’s. It’s always amazed you how they twinkle like stardust is floating around in them. You attempt a smile but it just falls when you notice how her eyes are glistening with tears.

“I missed you too bean-”

“Na-uh, I’m a kid but you don’t need to lie to me, I’m a tough kid.” She defends herself.

“Mai,” you sigh.

“If you missed me then you would have come to see me, but you didn’t for three whole weeks, so you’re just a liar,” Mai abandons her pencil and drops her face onto the table, creating a barrier around her head with her arms.

That cuts you deep.

A liar.

You sit there and listen to her sniffle before working up the courage to touch her arm, she flinches and you wait for her to pull away but it’s more surprising when she doesn’t.

“Bean, will you look at me please?” Your tone is soft as you rub her arm. She shakes her head.

“Please," is all you can say. You watch her chest heave when she complies a minute later, cheeks wet from her tears, she can hardly keep her eyes on you. You reach over and wipe her face with the back of your hand, squeezing her chin in the process. She bites back a smile.

“You lost a tooth!” You gasp, holding onto her chin and moving it down to reveal the new gap in her bottom teeth. She can’t help but perk up at you noticing, “it fell out when I bit into an apple,” she giggles. You laugh with her, watching her round cheeks glow pink; “Mai, I really have missed you.”

She moves her lips in a thinking manner, finally, you can breathe a little bit easier when her eyes find you, “I told dad you are my best friend. And usually best friends like to see each other, so,” she hums, scrounging around for her thoughts, “so you didn’t come over and I thought you just didn’t want me to be your friend anymore.”

You’re shaking your head, cursing at yourself, “that would never happen, not in a million lifetimes kid because you’re my best friend too.”

She understands but you can still see the questioning in her expression as she tries to piece it all together so it can make sense. You pull Mai closer to you until she is sitting right in front of you, her legs tucked underneath herself; “I am so sorry bean, for not talking to you and for not coming around-” you start but you wonder how to continue, looking around the room as if there is some viable answer written on the walls, “I was…angry about something and it hurt me really bad. So I thought being alone would make me feel better.”

Mai plays with your hands, perhaps not even noticing she is doing it, “did it?”

You have to chuckle at her, if only you had a measure of Mai’s honesty, you and Jungkook would not be in this current situation, “no, because I just ended up hurting the one person who means so much to me, the only one who has never hurt me back.”

Mai looks at you hopefully, “me?”

A smile beams across your face and you pull Mai into you until she is giggling, “yes you, silly.”

After a moment of light-heartedness, Mai settles back down, drawing circles into the shag rug, “dad said he hurt your feelings, so I guess this is all his fault.”

You hum, rubbing your hand over her hair, “well - no, I can’t put all the blame-”

“MAI?” The desperate yell for her name causes both of you to jump. Mai clamors to her feet, darting into her bathroom and slamming the door shut.

“What-Mai?” You’re launched into a panic, one over the fact that Mai’s face drained of any color at the sound of her dad’s gruff voice and second, it’s Jungkook’s voice.

Her name falls off of his tongue like rapid fire. Before you can say anything he tears into Mai’s bedroom and comes to a screeching halt at the sight of you. He’s breathless, staring at you. All you can manage is to gesture at the bathroom door, “she ran in there.” Just then Mrs. Jeon comes in behind her son, worried eyes finding relief upon seeing you, “oh thank God, please tell me Mai is here,” she sighs.

You nod, confused as ever, “her principal called me because it was an early day and nobody was there to pick her up…” You stop, realizing there was a major miscommunication and Mai was the culprit.

Jungkook’s eyes are fierce, eyebrows in a straight line when he moves in front of the bathroom door, hand rattling the doorknob which is now locked. He makes a fist ready to pound on it when his mom stops him, “you’ll just make it worse,” she speaks calmly, looking back at you. Her hands are trembling when she reaches out to you, you move forward and grab them.

You fumble with words, “She must’ve-”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for the last hour - since when did my kid start scheming - open this door Mai!” Jungkook starts again, his worry fuming out of him.

“Jungkook-ah, please,” Mrs. Jeon pleaded, pushing herself between the door and her son, “the important part is that she is safe…why don’t you go to the kitchen, get some water and just relax for a moment.”

“Mom-”

She shakes her head, “I will talk to her, now go.”

Hesitantly he drags his feet and leaves the room. Your stomach does flips when Mrs. Jeon settles her attention on you, hand resting on the doorknob of Mai’s bathroom.

Please, don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t-

“Will you keep an eye on him, please? I don’t know why but he’s been so worked up lately-” Mrs. Jeon shrugs, unsure of what else to say. You take a deep breath in, nodding as you march out of the room at a snail’s pace.

He’s bent at the waist, face pressed into his palms before he runs them back through his hair- it’s shorter now. He takes a deep breath that is promptly cut off when he sees you standing there, your hands resting on top of the granite countertop. Your fingers twitch with anxiety, palms feeling clammy as your heartbeat picks up again.

He finishes a glass of water, turning around to set it down in the sink. He doesn’t look back at you, resting his hands at the edge of the counter, “thanks for being there,” his voice is barely audible, “you-uh, you don’t have to stay-”

“I’m sorry.”

His shoulders tense, another breath is trapped in his throat at the sound of your voice. It rasps and shakes at the threat of new tears but you hold them back for as long as you can. You aren’t sure how long that will last.

“Jungkook?” You aren’t confident saying his name, unsure if he is seething because of Mai or if it’s really because of you.

He nods before turning around, looking at the top of your head before his gaze shakes over your eyes until he gives up, looking down at the floor.

“I don’t know-” you stop when you hear Mrs. Jeon come down the hallway, she stands next to you and rubs your back, a more relaxed smile on her face.

“She failed to let us know that it was an early day, says she forgot,” Mrs. Jeon shrugs. You and Jungkook look at each other knowing full well that Mai is the mastermind behind this very moment; “but she understands the severity of what she caused and is ready to apologize to you,” his mom looks from her son to you, “and you.”

Jungkook thanks her and walks her to the front door after she hugs you; “oh,” she calls to you gently, “come over for dinner soon? It’s like pulling teeth to get this boy to bring you over, we miss you.”

You just nod, smiling at her before Jungkook closes the door behind her. He rubs the back of his neck, reclaiming his spot across from you. The island provides a safe space between the two of you as you lean your weight against it.

“I’m sorry,” his tone is unsure but you can feel the guilt radiate from him, “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that,” he sighs, “and so many other things.” He mutters the last part but you manage to hear it.

“I was hurt,” you swallow so hard that even he can hear it, “I’ve had so much pent up - for years…I just lost it.”

“We always talk about everything. I mean, d-don’t you think I would have wanted to know about something that important?” His words are desperate to be heard, steeped in weeks of constant questioning.

“You make it sound like confessing is so easy,” you can’t help the frown that appears, “the risk involved? Because telling you just so I can be rejected doesn’t mean just losing you,” your voice struggles, “I’ll lose Mai too and god, I can’t stomach that.”

He’s looking at you now, directly at you, blinking away what you can only assume are tears.

“I-I didn’t want to risk that so I held it in, I pushed it away until I believed that I didn’t love you anymore but,” you shake your head, “I realized it wasn’t going to go away even after every date you came home from. How I’ve had to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach when you traipse in after you’ve been with another woman, a woman that could never be me - will never be me. I was so mad that I couldn’t be jealous enough or hurt enough by that to stop loving you. I want to stop, but I can’t figure out how-” your words taper off when you notice a trace of a smile spreads across his lips. 

“Are you sm-smiling?” Your hands tremble and you’re ready to storm out of there.

He is smiling, it’s barely there but you can see it. 

“Can I say something?” His eyebrows lift as he looks at you with hopeful eyes.

You aren’t sure if you should be offended by the crooked smile on his face, the same one that melts your insides and makes your palms sweat. You just nod, ready to take on another offense.

“I love you too.” His voice is shaking. 

Everything stops. Your heart launches into your throat and you aren’t sure if you’re breathing anymore. You can feel your mouth fall open, you have to tell yourself to close it. Jungkook just waits.

The confident, suave Jungkook you know all too well is replaced by the loving human you have known even more. The man who masks his worth with fleeting escapades that never last past one night or a weekend at most.  

“What? What do you mean,” you stutter, your lungs feel like they are collapsing, “why are you telling me this now?”

Jungkook closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head, “I’m scared too.” He says, opening his eyes to look at you. 

He takes you in, the intensity of his stare enough to make you fall back, you can only hope there’s enough strength left in your legs to hold yourself up. Your stomach flips when he makes a step forward to which you take one back.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say anything when it all happened,” his feet move toward you again in one small step, “I wanted to tell you then but rightfully so, you were so upset. Then you were telling me to leave-”

“I didn’t-I-”

“You didn’t want me to reject you?” Jungkook fills in the blanks for you. You nod sheepishly, wringing your hand around your wrist.

The air stills when Jungkook’s fingertips graze your hand, “have I ever rejected you since we’ve known each other?”

Your mind races. Intentionally, no he hasn’t. As much as you dropped everything to be with Mai, Jungkook would do the same. When your car broke down on the freeway late one night? Jungkook was there before the tow truck, a sleeping Mai in the back seat of their car. When you didn’t get the promotion you worked tirelessly to earn? He was at your apartment to pick up the pieces, later that night you and Mai baked cookies together and ended that awful day with a movie - the three of you cuddled up on your couch.

Jungkook has always been there.

“God, all I’ve ever wanted is you,” Jungkook can’t stop himself long enough to allow you to stay in your thoughts. He can practically see your heart thumping out of your chest, he can feel your warm breath stagger out of your mouth. It isn’t until he decides to reach up and touch your neck with a ghostly touch does your breathing still. His touch is so slight it leaves goosebumps all over your skin. You swallow the lump in your throat when his hand grazes your jaw before he cups it around the side of your face. His fingers rub the shell of your ear.

“Do you still want me?” He fills the gap between you with careful steps; you can see the longing in his eyes and you wonder for how long you’ve missed that. With the little space left, it’s almost too difficult to look up at him; “Jungkook I-”

His breath stops at the sound of your voice like he’s ready for the ultimate rejection. His beating heart prepares for more pain.

“Yes,” You’re breathless. You only catch a second of the smile spreading his cheeks before he pulls you in. Muscular arms wrapping tightly around you but he’s careful to leave breathing room. All too naturally, your face nuzzles in his shoulder, breathing in his scent as your arms fold around his waist.

His nose presses into your hair, cheek warm against your temple.

“Wait,” you push your hands against his chest to create space. He grabs your hands to keep you close, “are you serious?”

He chuckles, nodding, his warm breath casts over your face, putting you deeper under his spell.

“After all of that happened, I didn’t think I had a chance. I didn’t think it could even be a possibility before,” his eyes look uncertain now, “you know too much about me,” he runs his fingers back through your hair, “but you are everything to me…you’ve loved Mai without me even asking you to,” he sighs, his expressions always more serious than most but it’s the Jungkook you know. Innocent eyes staring down at you, “watching you with Mai these last seven years has been the highlight of my life, but it was torturous too-”

You press your face into his chest, chuckling while tears overcome you, “torturous?”

Jungkook picks your chin up and kisses your tears away; “you were always in arm's reach but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, I just settled to silently love you.”

You shake your head, allowing Jungkook to wipe each tear away with his thumb.

“I was afraid it would confuse Mai. She’s my world too, you know?” You whisper.

“She’s too wise for her age,” he brushes his nose against yours, wearing the smile that exposes his bunny teeth, “trust me, she knows enough that we should be a family.” 

His eyes search for an answer in yours, you don’t have to ask for the question running through his mind when his gaze sweeps over your lips. The only thing that forces him to stop is when he chuckles low.

“What?” You smile, head floating in ecstasy, you think you could pass out.

“I guess that stupid fortune was true.”

You shake your head with a small smile. He fidgets, “I love you-” he manages to get out before your lips press against his. They are slightly chapped but so soft as they mold to yours. You can feel your skin growing hot when his tongue rubs against your bottom lip. It takes everything in you not to burst right then and there, fallen victim to his tender kiss.

“I love you,” you stop to say. His slight pout at the break in your kiss makes you chuckle.

Jungkook lets his chin rest against your shoulder when he pulls you in, the two of you staying that way for a little bit. If not for the quiet pad of Mai’s bare feet tapping down the hallway, he thinks he could have stayed that way with you all night.

His eyes brighten when he sees Mai stoke around the corner, saucer-sized eyes spying on the two of you.

“Come here bean,” Jungkook’s voice surprises you, and you pull away as Mai runs into the kitchen. Before you can say anything to her, she wraps her arms around your middle, nose pressed into your hip. She muffles something.

You sniffle, “I can’t understand you,” you giggle, grabbing her chin in a tender grip so she can look up at you. Her eyes are wet again, resting her chin against your stomach, “I said, I love you.” Mai whispers like her dad can’t hear her. Her cheeks grow red and she immediately shies away.

Jungkook rubs her back with a loving stroke when he hears your breath catch in your throat. You kneel and take Mai’s face in your hands, “I love you so much, bean.”

“Enough to stick around forever?” She laughs nervously, swallowing back a soft cry, “because it was horrible without you, dad doesn’t know how to build forts like you do.” Jungkook laughs, nudging Mai’s back with his knee.

There’s a gentle mending in your heart when she says that, you stroke her hair and laugh with glistening eyes, “I promise I’ll build forts with you until we’re both too big to fit in them, and even then kid, you can’t ever get rid of me.” You are struggling to hold back the ugliest of sobs.

Mai doesn’t answer, she only falls forward into your arms, nuzzling her face into your hair. Jungkook joins you, resting on his knees to wrap the two of you into his hold. 

You pull your face away enough so you can look at him. He kisses you before mouthing the words you’ve so yearned to hear him say; “I love you.”

[unclewaynemunson]

More often than not, it doesn't work out.

Robin first learned that lesson with Vickie, when she thought she found the love of her life but ended up breaking things off because the way in which Vickie mirrored her anxiety back to her enhanced it tenfold and it turned out to be completely exhausting to keep up with that after the first wave of butterflies had died down.

After Vickie, there was Laura. Laura, with whom it seemed to work out until she told Robin that she couldn't bear keeping up with her weird, unsettling and way too vivid nightmares about Russian spies and monsters from fantasy stories every other night.

After Laura, there was Julia. Julia, who was amazing for four whole months until she told Robin with tears in her eyes that she couldn't tolerate the cheating anymore. It didn't matter how often Robin told her that sleeping with someone didn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone, that Steve was like a brother to her – and that the whole thing was utterly ridiculous in the first place because Robin was very much a lesbian. Needless to say, it didn't work out.

Then, there was Amy. Amy, who, like a cruel twist of fate, actually cheated on Robin. It was only a one-time thing, a drunken kiss during some stupid party, but it was enough to damage Robin's trust in her irreparably. So it didn't work out.

Up until then, she had chalked it up to a string of bad luck or maybe bad taste. But after Louise (who brought up the nightmares again), Valerie (who wanted some adventure in the bedroom and had to guide Robin through a panic attack filled with inexplicable flashbacks when she tried tying her to the bedframe), and Mathilde (who made a problem of Robin's regular 3am calls with Steve when neither of them could sleep), she starts to wonder if it wouldn't be more probable that it is herself who is the problem instead of this whole list of girls.

“Don't you dare say that about yourself,” says Nancy with fire in her voice when Robin finally dares to voice that thought out loud.

They're both lying down on Nancy's brand new couch, a pair of legs dangling over each side and their heads right next to each other in the middle. Except for that couch, the living room is still empty. Boxes are piled up everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked, but they can wait a little longer.

Robin is happy to have Nancy at her side again. It's been a while: college and differing career paths kept them separated through the majority of their friendship. But now Nancy has found her way back to Indiana, only half an hour away from where Robin has been living with Steve and Eddie ever since Mathilde broke up with her a few months ago.

She hasn't really been dating anyone since, and now that Nancy is also living in Indianapolis, she wonders if she'll ever feel the need to. No girl would ever be able to compare to Nancy Wheeler, after all; Robin knew that much as soon as she saw Nancy stepping out of the U-Haul wearing pastel-pink dungarees, with all grown-out curls cascading over her back and a thick layer of eyeliner around her beautiful doe eyes.

“Well, it could be true,” Robin presses on.

“No it can't!” Nancy says it in such an indignant tone that it makes Robin snort skeptically.

“I'm serious, Rob.” It sounds stern. “I know you and I know it's not true. It's not your fault.”

“You're seriously telling me I've been dating seven girls over the past seven years, and none of it worked out, and it's all because of them? All those relationships were wildly different; I'm the one consistent factor in all of them, Nance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the problem.” Nancy says it like it's obvious. “Maybe the problem is that you've been picking girls who all have one single thing in common, and that is that they never wanted to make the effort to really listen to you.”

"Huh." Robin closes her eyes for a second, taking her time to let those words sink in. She never thought about it that way. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Mathilde was a bitch anyway,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. “I mean, did she ever ask you to explain why you've been feeling the need to call Steve in the middle of the night lately?”

Robin shrugs. “That's a bit difficult to explain, isn't it?” she points out.

“That's what I'm saying,” says Nancy. “It's exactly why you keep picking out those kind of girls. Because if you're with someone who will actually listen to your story, you're gonna have a problem. Right?”

And, well, shit. It's not like Robin asked for a free therapy session here, but... Nancy is right. Of course she is. She always is.

Robin turns her head to the side, exchanging her view on the white ceiling for a much better one: Nancy's face, so close to her own that she can take in every little detail. The elegant slope of her nose, the wing of her eyeliner, the freckles on her cheeks, her perfect lips... Her face in this en-profile position is mesmerizing. It's not the first time that the thought comes to Robin's mind that Nancy looks like someone who should be in old paintings.

“Do you think you'll ever try to find someone who listens to you?” Nancy asks.

Robin tries to imagine that scenario; it's difficult. Not just because she doesn't really know how that would work in the first place, but mostly because she doesn't actually want to.

“Nah,” she says, trying to make it sound casual instead of really fucking sad.

“Why not?”

Because nobody can ever compare to you anyway, she thinks. But she bites her tongue and shrugs, turning her head back to the ceiling.

“That would be way too complicated, wouldn't it?”

Nancy shuffles and sighs; Robin feels her breath tickle against her cheek.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“How did you do it?” Robin asks.

Nancy's dating history is not as tumultuous as Robin's. After things ended between her and Jonathan, she had been solo for a while. Then, there had been Ben, and then Kurt, and then it had again been just Nancy for a long time.

“Did what?”

“Did you ever find a way to tell Kurt about all the shit?”

“Nope.” It doesn't exactly sound like she tried very hard.

“Why not?”

“Because I did the same thing you did,” Nancy says. “Chose the wrong people to do that with. So I didn't have to think about it.”

That doesn't feel completely fair to Robin; Nancy had been with her boyfriends longer than Robin had been able to keep even one of her girlfriends around.

“I liked Kurt, he was nice,” she remarks in an attempt to point out the difference without being too blunt about it.

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, he was nice, but he wasn't... Right. I knew that from the beginning. Same with Ben. Even with Jonathan, in a way. Or Steve, even though I was too young to realize it.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

“Boys.”

“Wha-” Robin turns her head sideways so fast that she's lucky she doesn't pull a muscle.

She sees how Nancy's eyes drop from the ceiling and slowly find their way to Robin's face.

“Took me a while to figure that one out,” she says quietly. “But yeah.”

Robin wishes they were lying in a different position; one that would have made it possible for her to take Nancy's hand and squeeze it gently, or to wrap an arm around her, or to pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you for telling me.”

A soft smile is tugging at Nancy's lips. She looks at Robin like she wants to say something, then looks back up to the ceiling again, and Robin copies her movement, biting her own tongue again in order to give Nancy the time and space she clearly needs right now.

Usually, Robin struggles with silences; she'll feel words pile up inside of her until her need to fill the empty space will take over and she'll inevitably start rambling. But this one actually feels comfortable. She wishes that they could keep lying side-by-side on this couch for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, they can't, though. There's still way too much work to be done. So Nancy hauls her to her feet and soon, the couch gets company of a coffee table, a couple of cozy armchairs, a bookcase, a TV... There are boxes filled with books, kitchen appliances, picture frames, video tapes, clothes; there are closets that need to get assembled and a heavy bedframe that they can barely get to where they need it.

It feels like it will never end, but after two long days of hauling furniture around, the apartment starts to look like a home. A home for which Robin gets a spare key. It rests cold and shiny against the palm of her hand, where Nancy has dropped it, and it makes her realize how real it is that Nancy is finally living close to her again.

Nancy's couch becomes just as much of a home for Robin as her own living room. It's where the two of them share stories, tell secrets, laugh loudly, cry ugly... It's where they watch movies until deep in the night, snuggled up to each other under a soft blanket. It's where they read books side-by-side on lazy Sunday afternoons. It's where they listen to music together and where they listen to what the other has to tell about their day or about anything that's on their minds. It's where Robin finally gets the courage to tell Nancy that nobody has ever listened to her the way Nancy does. It's where Nancy scoots closer towards her to press a kiss against her cheek, right before she finds Robin's lips and they share their first kiss, warm and homely and perfect.

More often than not, it doesn't work out. But once in a lifetime, it does. And once is exactly enough.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met - Bonus Chapter 1

Ch. 28/28 | Ao3

Hello friends!

It is SO good to be back! Nessian is coming in hot, starting this week! You can find their story, the chronological continuation of Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met here. It's called To Know That I'm With You, and I can't wait to share it with you.

@popjunkie42, you are the love of my life. Can't thank you enough for taking on all my insane projects <3

Cassian was flying, his wings at a full extend with the warm sun beating down on them. It was a pleasant day, ideal for flying. The wind was entirely dead in this zone, but he’d caught enough of a draft that he was enjoying coasting, eyes closed as he let his body drift.

Cassian had set out this morning at first light from Day Court. He’d had a lovely stay at the palace right near the southernmost border, Helion so graciously putting him up in a guest suite after offering to share his bed three separate times. Some things even fifty years couldn’t change. 

Cassian had left when the sky was still mostly dark, flying as the sun rose to the east of him. He enjoyed the brisk air in his wings as the sky was painted in greys then pastels then deep oranges and purples as it fully rose above him. 

He had seen many sunrises in his long life, but something about today felt different. While the colors washed over the horizon and painted his wings, he felt good about the day ahead. 

There’d been a nagging in his chest since Rhys had returned, a restlessness that he couldn’t quite scratch out no matter what he tried. At first, he’d chalked it up to being allowed free from the bubble of Velaris after so long trapped inside. And while he’d been able to fly within the confines of his city during the last five decades, he hadn’t really been able to explore the way he was used to. 

Once Rhys and Feyre had politely but urgently excused themselves from society to complete their mating bond, Cassian had headed straight to the mountains, needing to feel the snow of Illyria on his skin, the winter winds in his lungs. It had been nice, but it hadn’t helped quell his unease. 

He’d wondered if he simply craved the presence of his family together again. And while that had also been nice, he’d still felt an odd tugging, a need to do something different. Be somewhere different. 

This trip, though not for any reason he’d have chosen for himself, had provided him with an opportunity to get out and stretch, both physically and mentally. Azriel had offered to winnow him through the courts, but Cassian was excited for the excuse to travel. It was the first time in the last few weeks the aching in his chest had subsided, the ability to breathe almost palpable within him.

Plus, Azriel had already been stretched thin, monitoring Feyre’s other sister and consulting with his network to help find the other one. Cassian knew precious little about the sisters, still. There hadn’t been much time. He wondered how like Feyre they might be, how different. Though he and his brothers weren’t blood related, they functioned as a sibling unit and had since childhood. Similarities in their preferences and nature and gestures and even speech ran deep. But when it came down to their personalities, the things that made them them, the three of them couldn’t be more different. 

Rhys had given him the briefest of rundowns in his office the day before, explaining the situation. He took a moment to show Cassian a memory of Feyre telling him about Nesta. It had been so long since his brother had regularly been in this mind, the sensation was both foreign and exhilarating. He’d missed him so much over the last half century that it felt like an open wound finally starting to smooth over and heal. 

He saw Feyre’s kind face, her brows furrowed and mind thinking. 

“Nesta is….diferent from other people.” Feyre spoke slowly, as though choosing the words carefully. “She raised us, after our mother passed. Made sure we were cared for when she was barely older than a child herself. She didn’t have the opportunity. She was always to carry on the wealth, the bloodline, and raise us, too.” 

Feyre looked a bit sad at this. “It made her hard. She took her promises seriously, perhaps too seriously. And I think she hid herself away in the process. She took every piece of her, things I barely remember from being so young, and she tucked each away in favor of everyone around her. She built a wall to protect us, to protect herself, and I think it’s been so long now that she isn’t quite sure anymore how to deconstruct it.”

It was Rhys’s voice in his mind now, though the softness of it let Cassian know he was still in the memory. Rhys was speaking to Feyre. 

“What is she protecting herself from?”

“Feeling. She feels too much, feels everything. And from the time she could talk, she was told not to. She was told it was a weakness, and she built herself entirely around that premise. Nesta doesn’t trust, not even Elain and I. She is distant and cold because she knows if she isn’t, then she can be hurt.” 

He heard Rhys hum. “Even those with a mask and walls can be hurt deeply, darling.” 

“I know that,” she murmured, her hand coming up to touch his face. “But she never let me in the way you did.” 

Cassian could hear his brother’s soft chuckle, full of affection, full of love and gratitude. It soothed something within Cassian to know that Rhys had found this. 

“Perhaps she needs to find someone as you did,” Feyre suggested. “Someone patient enough to break down those walls.”

“Or stubborn enough,” Rhys cracked back teasingly, his laugh emerging as Feyre smacked his chest. 

“Or that.” 

The memory faded, hazy and twirling, from Cassian’s view. Rhys was waiting for him with imploring eyes. 

“Don’t all siblings describe each other as difficult?” Cassian deadpanned, drawing a mirroring thwack on the shoulder from Rhys. 

“Perhaps, but I think Nesta is a different case. Feyre said she was supportive of her leaving. Part of me wonders if the glamour didn’t work and she went after her sister.” 

Cassian sat back at that. “A glamour not working on a human?”

Rhys shrugged, but Cassian had known him long enough to not buy his nonchalance. “It’s not unheard of.”

Cassian knew the entire story of Feyre and Rhys; they’d told it a few times since they’d returned home. If a forest witch strong enough to give Feyre the powers of the High Lords had put a glamour over Feyre’s family, it should have worked. Especially on a human.

Rhys leaned back onto his desk, scrubbing his hand down his face. He looked tired.

“I don’t know if it didn’t work, or if something with a greater magic than mine took her from that house. Either way, she’s gone. The other sister and all the staff seem to think both Feyre and Nesta are with their Great Aunt Ripleigh, a woman who I don’t believe exists,” he gestured out the broad windows overlooking the city. “For obvious reasons.”

Cassian snorted. “Some glamour.”

Rhys raised his brows in tired agreement. “Regardless, this means Nesta is missing. And while I have Azriel working with his spies to see what he can uncover, I’d like to have some feet on the ground, too.”

“You want me to go looking?” Cassian was mildly surprised. Azriel was usually the go to for anything dealing with humans or travel, simply because of his easy ability to travel and stay hidden. 

“I do. I think that it would be helpful to scan the area where Elain believes their aunt’s house to be. If you’re amiable. I know it’s a bit of a flight.”

Cassian didn’t think twice. “Yes. I’ll go. You have the location?” Rhys handed him a small note with rough coordinates and some scrawled directions below it. 

“Bring her back here if you find her. Feyre will be worried once she finds out.”

“She doesn’t know?” That surprised Cassian. 

“I’m getting breakfast with her soon. I wanted to tell her once I had a plan in place. She’s liable to sprout wings and take off herself if I don’t have one at the ready.” He smiled and it was filled with no annoyance whatsoever despite his statement. Only love-struck affection settled on his brother’s face. 

“Does she know what we are? What Feyre is now?”

Rhys pursed his lips as he hid a wince. “No.”

That could be an issue. 

“How do you expect me to convince a mortal to come here? She’s going to take one look at my wings and run screaming in the other direction.” He thought of the memory Rhys had shown him and huffed a laugh. “Or hit me with something.”

Rhys echoed an amused smile back. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of a challenge, Cass.” 

“It’s not every day you get to tell a mortal about the presence behind The Wall.”

Rhys extended his mind out once again, and Cassian granted him entry without thinking, the image flickering to life before his eyes. Another memory, but hazier this time, as though it had been Feyre’s as a human. The people were blurry, too blurry to see, but the words were sharp. 

I always knew you weren’t meant for this place.

The voice sounded like Feyre’s but deeper, harsher. The words, despite their denotation, didn’t sound malicious. They sounded strangely supportive. 

Rhys pulled back from his mind, the hazy images and the enchanting voice faded into nothing again. “It’s the only memory Feyre has shared with me of them from before. Perhaps you could convince her with their parting line.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. 

Rhys pushed to stand, crossing to where Cassian sat and putting a hand on his arm. “This is important to Feyre, so it’s important to me.” 

He clapped a hand over Rhys’s. “Then it is important to me, too.”

Rhys smiled down at him, his eyes looking brighter already. 

In the early hours of their return, Rhys had looked haunted, his eyes almost empty any time he began to slip away from what was happening in front of him. If he was focused on the conversation, his family, or Feyre, there was a brightness there, a joy. But the second the attention fell off him, Cassian could see his eyes glazing, hollowing. There was a look to them that Cassian recognized from warriors on the battlefield. Not quite dead, but those who may never be fully alive again either. 

It had scared him shitless.

After Rhys and Feyre had mated and married and returned, the hollow look hadn’t appeared again. The frown lines on Rhys’s face had smoothed, and he seemed more wholly there. Cassian could see the good that Feyre did for him, the true sense of safety and joy that she brought to his brother’s heart. 

Cassian’s relief had been immense. 

If he was being honest, when the wards had first been lifted and Feyre and Rhys had returned, Cassian was scared Rhys wouldn’t recover from what he’d experienced under Amarantha– would never be able to process what he’d been through. It had put a knife straight through Cassian’s heart, compounding the guilt he’d already felt being in Velaris all this time. And that came with an entirely different set of emotions, too.

They hadn’t gotten news from the outside in those fifty years, had no idea how long they’d be trapped, or what was happening with Amarantha. The city had carried on, as it always had. Self sustaining–its own bubble. And they had remained.

After the panicked message from Rhys, the resulting wards closing in, and the absolute silence that followed, Cassian had needed to grapple through many nights of complex feelings. 

Could he be angry with his brother for doing the only thing he could think of to keep them safe? For trapping them here?

Had he considered what would happen to them if he’d died there?

The thought was too macabre from every possible viewpoint to even imagine.

Rhys had done everything in his power for the purposes of keeping his family safe. It was a debt Cassian could never repay–that Rhys would never expect him to repay–which made the difficult feelings he had on it worse. 

Perhaps that was the crux of why Cassian needed to get out of Velaris and fly. Feel the wind under his vast wings and watch the sun arching across the sky from a new vantage point. That strangling feeling in his chest might very well be a need to prove he could leave now if he needed to. 

Cassian could never hold it against Rhys, would never speak to him about it either. He had his brother back, and a new sister to boot. He could not repay him, and he might never understand the full complexities of his feelings on the situation, but Cassian could do this. He could let him heal, give him just a fraction of what Rhys had given to keep them safe. 

He could run a simple errand to track down a mortal girl. 

And Cassian liked Feyre. Not just for the fact that she’d saved his brother and everyone else, but for the person she was. She was kind and smart and funny. She would make a wonderful High Lady. She didn’t take things too seriously, and her values matched Rhys’s. Her heart was in the right place. He’d yet to broach the topic of Illyria, their work in which had obviously stalled and halted while Amarantha ran amok in Prythian, but he imagined Feyre would be on his side in the initiative with full support. 

Another sore topic he probably shouldn’t think too hard on while focusing on flying. 

But Feyre was wonderful, exactly the kind of person Cassian hoped Rhys would find one day. She tested him, teased him, didn’t let him get away with his bullshit. They all adored her, and family dinners had a spark to them that filled Cassian with such joy he was fit to burst.

It was hard to imagine someone as closely related to her described as being prickly.

Nesta Archeron.

He rolled the name in his head and it stuck. 

He had to start thinking about how he might convince her to return with him. 

If he even found her. 

Even if he found the house she supposedly was staying in, who knew if Nesta would even still be there? Going back to Velaris empty-handed would be unacceptable by his own standards, even if Rhys would understand. Perhaps, if he found the location empty, he could backtrack to the Archeron manor. He had the location for that, too, and it wouldn’t take much. He’d need to be careful about his travels once he passed The Wall, though. His wings weren’t exactly subtle. 

But Cassian would leave no stone unturned, would not return without at least something to give them.

He raked a hand through his hair as he flew. In the meantime, he could enjoy the trip. He’d never take flying for granted, the gift granted to him by birthright. He didn’t care for much of his ancestry, the traditions and standards archaic and brutal, but of his wings he was proud.

Today would require a lot of them. The sun was high in the sky, and he was only just now coursing over The Middle. He couldn’t stop in Autumn or Spring safely, so he’d be flying long into the night to get to The Human Lands. He looked forward to soaring among the stars, though. Though his wings would be tired by then, and were sure to be aching and sore the next day, he would forge ahead. He hadn’t really been able to push himself or his endurance in so long–he was looking forward to the thrill of shaking off the dust and exhausting himself.

He looked down into the dense pack of fog below. He hated it here. Even before Amarantha’s rule, The Middle had been a place for people to avoid at all costs. There were monsters and creatures here beyond the comprehension of even the most ancient fae. Anyone with sense steered far away from it if they could. The looming mountaintop hovered over the clouds and mist, a sense of “other” tangible beneath him. But unless he wanted to fly over the ocean, there was no avoiding the horrid strip of land that separated the north and south of Prythian.

Suddenly, Cassian veered violently, his altitude dropping until his wings snapped out on instinct to catch himself. He righted himself quickly, pulling up and flapping his wings in suspension. There hadn’t been a draft or any wind that he’d seen. Above the heavy fog banks, the sun was warm on his wings, and the treetops pushing from the clouds below were entirely still. He didn’t feel any breeze on his skin.

He furrowed his brow.

Had he banked off a force field or some undetected magic? He ruffled his wings and searched for any errant spells, but nothing felt amiss.

Odd.

He began to fly again. But before too long, he banked hard again, his left wing tipping down just enough to drop him abruptly as though it wanted him to land. 

What the fuck?

His chest burned, that tugging ache that had been plaguing him amplifying into something near painful. Cassian tried to suppress the panic bubbling through him. 

Am I injured?

Has my body been trying to tell me all month and I’ve just been ignoring it?

Fae weren’t known to have heart afflictions, but gods knew he’d seen enough to not rule it out. Heat spread from his ribs like a pulled muscle, a strange feeling like separation catching his breath and nearly choking him. 

Fuck me. 

He needed to find somewhere to stop, somewhere to land.

How close am I to Winter? 

He scanned the horizon quickly. The snow capped mountains were distant, but he could make it if he pushed. Kallias would easily recognize him, give him a place to stay even if he had to message Rhys and ask for a few extra days. At least long enough to see a healer and assess what the fuck was happening to him. 

He pressed on, pulling hard on the muscles of his back to cover as much distance as possible in the shortest amount of time. Only a few seconds more and his body was banking hard towards the fog again. 

What in the Cauldron's name is this? 

Then Cassian heard the scream.

He felt it like a lightning strike, a current through his entire being. It split the air with a pain so vivid that it felt tangible. He could nearly taste blood in his mouth.

It was the scream of a female, and every nerve ending within him stood on end.

Some primal instinct within him overrode all else, every bit of training in him rioting at the discordant chaos suddenly filling his mind.

Protect, protect, protect.

The words slammed his chest like the beating of his heart.

Without another thought, Cassian dove, plunging through the thick clouds and headlong into the forest below. 

[almightyhamslice]

Sheriff Toadster redesign! I have a lot to say abt him...

Toadster was, of course, meant to watch over the resort as a more approachable law enforcement figure (of course they had actual security, but Toadster was supposed to be there for anyone who might've been too afraid to talk to security). However, he was never introduced to the general public because during the testing phase he'd get easily worked up, paranoid, and conspiratorial-- he did NOT trust most people, not even most of his fellow mascots. So, he was 'shelved'.

Due to his unsuitability for the resort, he was instead sent to monitor the closed off lower levels; in management's minds, it didn't matter if he was violent towards the mascots down there, as they believed the lower mascots "deserved it". However, Toadster eventually found comfort in the lower level mascots, taking to Queen Bouncelia's kindness and hospitality. Things weren't 'great', but they were at least good, for a time.

Things changed after Sir Dadadoo's attempted rebellion. Toadster, having bonded with Bouncelia, refused to leave her side and trusted her wholeheartedly. He was meant to be a 'double agent' of sorts-- assuring management that Dadadoo was nothing to worry about, but he cracked under pressure and revealed everything, giving up completely. When Dadadoo's scheme was revealed and all the other mascots involved were persecuted, Toadster saw the majority of the punishments firsthand and blamed himself for everything. It changed him.

After the five mascots were caught for their conspiracy, it was decided that Queen Bouncelia and Sir Dadadoo would be punished simultaneously; management couldn't simply scrap Bouncelia because she was beloved by park guests, so they imprisoned Sir Dadadoo and the Naughty Ones inside her pouch and fed her a consistent stream of drugs to keep her sedated (and in hopes Sir Dadadoo and the Naughty Ones would slowly perish). Sheriff Toadster knew of this, but Bittergiggle didn't.

Post attempted rebellion, Toadster is a distraught mess who constantly thinks about death and how he could lose his precious Bouncelia any day. He has fallen to despair, the deep stains on his face a result of frequent crying. He worries about her to the point of being possessive and controlling. He and Bittergiggle were friends once, but he is losing trust in them fast.

Regarding his design, I rlly wanted him to look diseased and icky, like an oversized toad or giant salamander even! I LOVE Temnospondyls, so I kinda based him offa them! His mask has forward facing eyes, but his true eyes are hidden under his hat (which is made of mesh so he can see out of it) on the top of his head; I thought the canon design with the hat propped up on one eye was too silly for what I was going for. I also gave him a throat pouch and bumpy skin like real toads have for added gross factor lol.

As a bonus, here's how my Toadster draws my other designs!

his hands are very shaky and it's difficult for him to grip any sort of writing tool due to his moist skin. He likes chalk pastels because they're the driest. He's the best at drawing Bittergiggle since he sees them every day. It is very difficult to draw things badly on purpose in a believable way!!

[solarpunkaestheticweek]

How do you do solarpunk aesthetic week when you live in a tiny apartment with no outside access? I always want to participate but I feel like most stuff y'all post is geared towards people who live in houses...

Hey, thanks for sending in the ask!

We put our heads together and came up with a few ideas for you!

Grow plants indoors! You could grow a few houseplants to green up your space, or even try growing some vegetables and/or herbs indoors! I've heard people have lots of luck with basil indoors, and my freshman year of college I grew cherry tomatoes and peppers in my dorm room! Maybe check out information on semi or full-hydroponic setups? You can also propagate a lot with a few cuttings and a glass of water! If you have a balcony with your apartment, that could also be a good place to grow flowers or vegetables--depending on the season and temps where you are, it might be a bit cold to start things out there right now, but you could always start planning!

Crafting could be another fun idea! You could try your hand at mending clothes, or making your own clothes from scratch! I (Ani) am learning crochet, if you wanna join me in spirit and pick it up as well! Kala/Fennopunk (who lives in a small apartment 👀) also knows a lot about crocheting, its a pretty nice winter craft! You could also try embroidery, so you can add unique designs onto your clothes! Other options are things like knitting, sewing, leatherwork, jewelrymaking, soap making, and maybe even woodworking or soldering if that interests you!

Learning how to repair tech would be cool! Honestly, learning how to repair anything sounds super cool and is pretty solarpunk! This can also kinda go hand-in-hand with learning how to build your own things (one of my friends knows how to repair and build computers, for example). Try finding some information on something you're interested in and going wild!

Decorate your home in a way that feels Solarpunk to you! Even if you don't get it all done during the event week, I think its definitely a nice way to bring joy! Look into ways your apartment can change with the seasons, ways to keep yourself cozy and warm in winter but cool and bright during the summer! If you get started, feel free to send in progress images, we'd love to see!

Guerrilla gardening! Winter's a great time to scatter wildflower seeds (at least here in the states for me) as it gives the seeds time to acclimate to weather conditions! if you want flowers in spring, you plant seeds in winter! Maybe find a place you wanna target if you go out, think about what seeds you want to plant, and start planning? Or if you have seeds on hand already, you know what to do! Honestly, I also kinda view picking up litter as hand-in-hand with guerrilla gardening, if you've got the vibes for that at all.

Build community with your neighbors! Even if its just saying hi, or talking about what you're up to!

Maybe guerrilla art as well? Moss graffiti, spray painting, or even plastering a couple of stickers up counts as solarpunk! I will give a general warning that doing stuff seen as illegal probably shouldn't be posted online, but hey, you can participate in the week without telling us what you do!

Speaking of art! Maybe you could make art at home! Whether you use chalk, or pastels, or paint, or pencils, or if you've got a tablet you can use--find some inspiration and draw! I've seen lots of people draw solarpunk fashion ideas, solarpunk building concepts, or just general vibe art!

You could also take a crack at writing! You could write a short story, or get started on a longer project idea! You could even just write worldbuilding-type stuff, like examples of event listings or building histories you imagine a solarpunk society would have, or ideas for holidays and festivals!

Learning an instrument feels pretty solarpunk to me! I (Ani) say this as someone who has 2 guitars around and has forgotten 80% of the stuff she learned in her lessons back in high school. Just in general, picking up an old hobby you miss, or starting a new one works great for this event honestly!

You can also check out the Apartment Solarpunk tag on the Practical Solarpunk blog, it may have more ideas for you!

We hope this helps! Either way, I hope you enjoy the event week!

[carlthebigman]

Hyperfixated on Krusielle les goo:

Susie grows up to become a really epic artist, as when she grows up she is able to explore interests more. tbh Kris and Noelle are also artists but they are more into digital art, while Susie loves traditional art (Her favorite mediums are oil and chalk pastels). They bond over their drawings.

Kris is the shortest of all three of them.

I'd like to think that eventually they would find out about Kris's soul problems, though it would be awhile since it kinda scares them. In the end Noelle and Susie try their best to be supportive and helpful for Kris, even if the best they can do is listen and give them hugs.

Kris and Susie have lots of banter, and Noelle just laughs along.

Noelle loses aux chord privileges when it gets close to December.

Kris and Noelle often recount their childhood memories together, and laugh at how weird and silly they both were.

I def got more but it's almost 2 am for me so yeah that's enough

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

The 5 pillars of deprivation {Y/N’s}

Y/N-> Fine arts(General) major, loves using her hands to create works of art in any and ALL physical forms. Hand cramps don’t stop her from chasing her art high; usually doesn't get art block. She gets lots of commissions with her art so she is thriving very well. She hates A.I/[redacted] art, for obvious reasons and because of her art has been recently fed into the program and being used. Pecae is her artist name.

Yoimiya-> Fine arts(Printmaking) major, loves to design. Ayaka gifted her a print-making shop and that day forth was Yoi’s undying love for Aya. Her print shop is where she love to hang out and basically where she lives. Her prints get made and sold and she even sells smaller stamps. She still helps out at her dad’s firework shop whenever she isn’t buried in her own shop. Y/N’s best friend since their elementary years.

Albedo-> Humanities major and Fine art(Drawing) major, usually listed under the Humanities and Art. He focuses on oil pastel and chalk art. His works are shown on the concrete to the art building. Is amazing at anatomy drawings but only lets his friends see and use them as references. Became friends with Y/N through an anatomy class in which she was struggling.

Ayaka-> Fine arts major(Watercolor) with a minor in dance. Her specialty is watercolor since she works well with the flow of the paint. A lot of her works are made upon fan’s which Ayato made a small business on for her. She also pleaded Ayato to open up a print shop for Yoimiya where she could work with the best quality. Met Y/N through a shared watercolor class which Akaya learned great techniques from her.

Layla-> Astronomy major who is forced to take 5 classes and additional winter classes. Her weekdays are jammed packed with studies and experiments but at least she is efficient enough to keep her weekends open for her friends. She and Y/n became friends through a forced physics class that you took. (Layla carried you throughout that terrible class)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Wanted to put a digital artist but didnt know who would fit in tht role

Y/n & Yoimiya & Ayaka & Layla share a dorm; which Albedo likes to crash when his roommates are unbearable. /sometimes brings Tighnari. (Nari begs Bedo to take him with him away from Haitham and Kaveh)

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 39 - indoors fashion in 1922

I wanted to give this to Mary alone since I cannot fit her and Edith’s images into one post anymore, but no, I had to put Miss Bunting somewhere. So let’s have a quick look at middle class day wear.

Miss Bunting generally seems to prefer pastel greens and blues this season; there will be a bit of a shift when she comes back in season 5 and her character goes down the drain. Here, she wears a nice green checker with a collar that’s not dramatic enough to call it a sailor collar although it’s playing at the shape. The lower sleeves seem to have a lot more volume than the upper sleeves do, which seems a little impractical for a teacher, but perhaps she rolls them up in the classroom when she’s handling chalk and so on. Honestly, I think I haven't seen sleeves that were poofy at the bottom but not at the top since the 1830s.

--------------

Mary, don’t look so pissy; I just quickly wanna gush about one of my favorites. This deep plum velvet is a dream, and the lower sleeves being buttoned up allows them to sit quite snugly whereas the upper sleeves look a little wavy, indicating they have more volume. Drop waist, knotted overlong necklace – that much is par for the course. But there’s this darling draping on the front of her wrap skirt, more enhanced by the lining showing some contrast. It looks so nice.

Even after she’s officially out of mourning, Mary’s wardrobe is dominated by dark, muted colors for quite a while. A pairing she seems to like is black with a beige shade, as she does in this dress. It’s not the worst in terms of 1920s sack styles, the fabric being lightweight enough that it drapes a little around her, and I like the trim applications.

Another beige-and-black one, but this is, uh. A rectangle. Why does this shirt have zero fluidity? The print is cute, and the ribbon trim framing the sleeves and the wide neckline makes me think this a descendant of the art deco blouses of the 19-teens that the younger ladies of the family wore a lot, but somehow, I don’t know if the style fits Mary. I guess it makes her look a little softer, a little more on the maternal side, but Mary is far from the maternal type, and yes, I’m saying this under a photo of her with her baby on her lap. She all but ignored the kid for the first several months of his life because one, she was depressed as all fuck, and two, she can afford it. The hat she wears to it in season 5 makes the overall impression of the outfit better imo.

Ugh. This also picks up a design worn before in a beige chiffon blouse with pretty much the exact same yoke with squiggly lines and a little extra in the middle (although this specimen here repeats the design on the drop-waistband), but this must be the ugliest version of this. I just don’t warm up to the dusty Crawley purple, appropriate half-mourning color though it may be, or stiff rectangles for that matter. The latter notion is made even stronger by the completely straight-running pin tucks down the front. The sleeves are drapey chiffon and I like them a great deal more.

Way nicer purple, going more in the direction of plum, and this shirt doesn’t have quite the same stiff look to it. The shorter sleeves make this look a little less stern, and the yoke design is lovely, crocheted I would think.

And yet more purple! This is a bit more on the dusty side of the spectrum because Mary is a Proper Lady wearing her half-mourning, but the dress has a lot more movement to it, the silk satin waving in every direction, so I’m lenient. The tie collar is back and gets a little silver brooch with a gem tacked to it.

[theramblingsofadork]

Time to ask about Rivet, Charge and Hunter!

Roots edition:

3, 9, 18 for the twins

Art-themed asks:

Pen for Hunter. To me, Hunter seems that kind of parent that would regret doing/not doing something small to his children a lot, even though he doesn't look like a person to do that. Am I right?

Charcoal for Rivet, Charge, Hunter

Pastel for Rivet and Charge

Chalk for Rivet and Charge

Red asks:

🍓 for Hunter

🍄,🎈, 🌹 for Rivet

🧣 for Charge

3. How did your OC feel the first time they left home? Why did they leave?

It was a mixed bag. Both wanted to get out and see the world, but were also nervous as the village was all they knew, and they would be leaving Hunter behind. However, it was time, and they promised to return to visit soon.

9. Did your OC receive any kind of schooling? What did they study? How were they as a student?

Hunter taught them the basics of education, such as how to read and write. He also taught them how to fight and protect the world around them.

Charge didn’t get any speciality training, but has worked tirelessly to better control his powers. (Like with the field of flowers. Trying to tune his energy output so he can mass bloom a patch of flowers rather than accidentally fry them with too much power.)

Rivet, while she learned through trial and error, never had any formal training, though she did find several mentors who helped her better understand and hone her understanding of mechanics. She did struggle at intervals though to stay focused though due to the nitty gritty details being so boring.

18. If your OC were to return to their childhood home now, what would that look like? How would they feel?

It would be a nostalgic yet painful feeling. A time when things were easier, and the world was simple and small.

They’d laugh and comment about how their beds were so tiny, and say hi to the little creatures they lived with that still inhabit the village, as well as reminisce about the good and bad times they had there.

Pen: what's one minor moment your character regrets? A small mistake, but something they "can't erase"?

I suppose so! Hunter certainly tries his best, but wasn’t the best equipped to raise two children by himself.

A small regret… Hmm… Maybe getting mad at the twins for taking something like his mug and yelling at them, only to find out they were just trying to decorate it to surprise him as a thanks for being their father. That would make him feel guilty for sure.

Charcoal: share any unique physical features about this character that are not scars or tattoos.

Not super unique, but Rivet and Charge are very fluffy, and Hunter is completely blind so his eyes are gray.

Pastels: Give me three colors that best represent your OC. Now give me three colors that your OC likes best. Is there an overlap?

Yes. The twins defining colors are some of their favorites or relate to the things they like. Only unique one would be a rainbow prism for Rivet. While she doesn’t wear a ton of colors, she does incorporate them into her creations.

Chalk: what was one activity this character enjoyed with their sibling(s) as a kid? If they don't have siblings, what they did with their neighborhood friends

They loved to play hide and seek with the creatures that lived in their village. They got good at hiding, but once Charge was ‘it’, everyone kinda gave up because he could sense their auras regardless of where they were hiding. XD

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Hunter is a strong believer of and has a close connection with Gaia. It saved him long ago by sending Flickys and Chao to aid him when he was on the brink of death. Ever since then, he’s quietly lived in nature as it’s guardian, working to preserve the great forest as thanks.

🍄 (mushroom) - Does your character like being in nature or do they prefer the indoors? Do they have any outdoor hobbies like camping or fishing? If they prefer the indoors, why?

Rivet enjoys a healthy dose of both. She likes going on fast paced adventures with her hoverboard out in nature, but also likes working on inventions inside where no bugs can bother her.

Her upbringing is mostly responsible for this, seeing as she grew up surrounded by trees and mountains. But her love of mechanics gave her an appreciation for indoor work, as the summer outdoors does not have air conditioning. =w=

🎈 (balloon) - What does your character do at parties? Are they a wallflower or a party animal? Do they go with friends or alone?

While it doesn’t happen a lot, Rivet does enjoy the occasional party. She’ll usually go out with the girls or to a fancy shindig with Starline, chatting up the guests, and occasionally getting drunk if she’s in a particularly good mood.

🌹 (rose) - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Rivet admires intelligence and maturity, as well those with a driving passion, like with Starline and Smithy. She also enjoys those with a bit of sass, like Cello, who isn’t afraid to be blunt despite the fact she’s so short. She also sees people who care deeply about their friends and family as important, like most of her Restoration friends.

It absolutely runs through her friend group and her love interests, and a few of the traits she herself owns.

🧣(scarf) - What comforts your oc? Is it an item? An action? A person? Whatever it is, how and why does it comfort them?

Ironically enough, Charge’s scarf is a big part of his comfort. Although he doesn’t like to admit it, he’ll often sink into it and hide his nose when he’s feeling bashful or embarrassed.

He’ll also go sit out in nature, particularly by a stream or a lake, and reconnect with the planet, which also helps comfort him.

…And food. Nothing makes him perk up faster than food.

[moondust-bard]

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

Thank you to @tananaphone for the tag!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Sort of? My government name never felt it belonged to me, so I chose a new one. I named myself after the moon and after one of my favorite characters.

2. When was the last time you cried?

A few days ago, I think. I was very frustrated. I only ever cry when I’m mad.

3. Do you have kids?

I’m a single mother of four… cats. No human offspring.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I use it a normal amount of time, I think? My mom brings it out in me. She likes to ask ridiculous questions at inopportune times.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

If we’re meeting in person, I notice the way a voice sounds first. If it’s an online meeting, I notice the way someone talks— the words they use, the way they form sentences differently from other people, the regional or cultural slang they prefer.

6. What’s your eye color?

Somewhere between blue and purple, according to my family and friends. Like a frosty periwinkle, I guess? I can’t really see my own eyes

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Neither! I love a hopeful ending the characters had to fight to achieve.

8. Any special talents?

I can text with my nose

9. Where were you born?

The south of the United States

10. What are your hobbies?

I enjoy herbalism, sketching, chalk pastels, reading tarot, baking, stage acting, writing, making digital art for my writing projects, reading, revamping thrifted items, various crafts, befriending feral cats— anything that lets my brain relax and engages my creative side is a yes from me

11. Have you any pets?

I have four indoor cats: Emily, my eldest and fluffiest, will be eighteen in March; Madrigal, my cinnamon sugar princess, will be four in June; her littermate, the rascal prince, Galileo, will also be four in June; and Puck, the naughty baby, will be a year in March. I could talk about my monster children all day.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

ABSOLUTELY NONE 😂 could you imagine? I’d be awful in every sport that exists or has existed ever

13. How tall are you?

5’4, but everyone who has met me says I look taller

14. Favorite subject in school?

I was a theatre kid. If we’re talking the basics, English was my jam

15. Dream job?

I’d love to be a lot of things. The goal is to be one of those multi-talented, dynamic creatives. I’d love to write for the stage, tv, sell my books, and have a hand in directing my written work.

I am tagging

@saintedseraph

@mjjune

@ravenandcat

@sleepyowlwrites

@uraniumwriting

@moonscribbler

@songsofloke

@faelanvance

@isabellebissonrouthier

@garthcelyn

@harinawa

@minutiaewriter

@ashirisu

@antique-symbolism

@mercurialsmile

[daydreambelievcr]

❀ *◦ jo serim ( onda ). demi woman. she/they. panromantic demisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that sun-young “valeria / valerie” graves-seong? i think that the twenty-six year old from aurora, west virgina works as an aerialist at the carnival of time and daycare worker at the moon & sun daycare, but outside of that people describe them as bright summer days, velvet theater curtains, tangles of wildflowers, sidewalk chalk art, and pastel electric guitars. i hear they are guarded & withdrawn, but they are also known to be optimistic & generous. consider giving them a visit at their home in the marionette and get to know why they’re called the songbird.

-a sweetie that just wants to recover her lost childhood -endlessly optimistic, always smiling -was a circus performer in her youth -had a career in child acting for ten years under the stage name margo sutton -will go quiet if you insult her, but won’t hesitate to defend the people she loves -a believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt -but give her a reason to not trust you, and she won’t look back -she has a big heart, but doesn’t want to be taken advantage of again

pinterest board / playlist

flowers, i remember fields of flowers: lore.

tw: mentions of death, abuse, grooming, and sexual assault

Childhood:

Valerie doesn’t remember a great deal about her biological parents, having lost them at such a young age. Regardless, she still considers her childhood a largely happy one, and one that instilled in her a passion for creativity, performance, and whimsy.

During her time traveling with her family and performing as carneys, she trained in gymnastics and dance, performing as a trapeze artist and silk aerialist. She also discovered her love for music when she was still young, learning to play the guitar and ukulele. 

At the age of nine, Valerie was scouted by a modeling agent at one of her family’s shows. Soon, she was offered the chance to fly out to LA for auditions, and the prospect of performing in a more mainstream manner and making some money to help out her siblings proved enticing to the young girl, so she jumped at the opportunity.

Adolescence:

Her journey into child acting was initially exciting, and after years of performing alongside her found family, she was accustomed to the demands of show business. Her professionalism and “maturity for her age” was something that made her both an asset to the projects she worked on, but also the target of a powerful person that she worked under.

At the age of thirteen, Valerie began to be mentally and verbally abused by a producer, which continued for two years before the abuse turned sexual in nature. When Valerie finally mustered the courage to confide in someone about the abuse when she was eighteen, she was swiftly intimidated into silence and blackballed in the industry.

Though she attempted to keep her career going with her team, in two years, she grew largely disheartened with the industry, no longer enchanted by the idea of working on sets and missing the simplicity of her childhood.

Becoming a has-been by the age of twenty was certainly a shock to Valerie, but she had no desire to continue her professional acting pursuits in Hollywood.  

Present Day:

After deciding to leave her silver screen dreams behind and start anew, Valerie sought the comfort of her family, relocating to Anchorage to be near them in her twenties.

Currently, she works as an aerialist at the local carnival, happy to be reconnecting with her family, making friends, and getting back to the root of what she loved so much about performing to begin with.

Nowadays, she tends to avoid the topic of her former career in general, choosing instead to focus on the future and what lies ahead for her.

She would love to become an advocate for the protection of children somehow, but without a formal education under her belt, she has no idea where to start. In the meantime, she treasures her job at the daycare, happy to be a part of the childhoods of the children under her care.

soft beneath my heels, walking in the sun: stats.

General Info: Full Name: Sun-young “Valeria / Valerie” Danielle Graves-Seong. Nicknames: Valerie, Val, V, Sunny, Ria. Age: 26. Date of Birth: February 20th, 1998. Zodiac Sign: Pisces. Gender: Demi woman. Pronouns: she/they. Sexual Orientation: Demisexual. Romantic Orientation: Panromantic. Relationship Status: Taken, crushing on Cha Seojun.  Alignment: Neutral Good. MBTI: ENFP, the Campaigner.

Appearance: Faceclaim: Jo Serim ( Onda ). Height: 5′5. Eye Color: Brown. Hair Color: Brown naturally, but she regularly dyes it platinum blonde. She used to have bangs in her childhood/adolescence, but she currently wears it all one length. Tattoos: A watercolor dandelion on her right shoulder blade. Piercings: A single earlobe piercing on each ear.

Background: Education: Homeschooled throughout her life, finished high school at the age of seventeen. Occupation: Aerialist at the Carnival of Time and Daycare Worker at the Moon & Sun Daycare. Residence: The Marionette. Class: Middle ( comfortable, has plenty in savings from her acting days ). Ethnicity: South Korean. Language(s) Spoken: English / Korean / Spanish.

Identity: Label: the songbird. Positive Traits: kind-hearted, optimistic, empathetic, generous, enthusiastic. Negative Traits: absent-minded, withdrawn, guarded, nonconfrontational, emotional. Quirks/Habits: her eyes are very expressive, goes quiet/retreats into herself when she’s upset. Love Language: Physical touch and quality time. Hobbies: playing the guitar/ukulele, singing, baking. Likes: statement earrings, sugar cookies, knit cardigans, cowboy boots, homemade ceramics. Dislikes: people that make her feel dumb, feeling pressured to do things, being infantilized. Fears: revisiting her traumas, letting her past change who she is, losing her softness.

[spine-buster]

What does Sorcha like to do in her free time? What kind of art does she make? Does she gift them to people? What is her love language? Has she had boyfriends before? Does Canada have high school reunions and if so, would she go? Was it really hard for her and victoria to be on opposite coasts? What type of date nights does she like?

She paints a lot, or works on her art/sketching, in her free time.

She paints, mostly, but she will also sketch, use chalk pastel, and work with watercolour.

She gifts pieces only to those closest to her. She's painted only for her parents, her brother, and Victoria. Otherwise, she sells!

Quality time and acts of service.

She had an Italian boyfriend when she lived in Florence, and some situationships in Toronto and Halifax, but nothing super serious.

Canada does have high school reunions but I don't think they're as popular as down in the States. If her high school had one, she would not go.

Not really, only because they're so close that their relationship can transcend any distance.

Sorcha's a big dinner-and-gallery viewing girl!

[fading-event-608]

Thank you for making this post, in case you are wondering why they need tents you can see this post [here]. There is also a recent article from Al-Jazeera explaining how much food costs in Gaza [here]. And there's no shortage of new of martyrs in Gaza, just yesterday there were 41 martyrs and 131 injured from the hands of Israeli aggressors.

Falastin is doing everything she can to promote this and save her family, from messaging users to doing a raffle (check it out [here]!) with a help of her friend. Her campaign was verified multiple times, on different platforms, and her family's story was even covered by Al-Jazeera ([link] to her post with video at the end).

So really there should be no reason for the last donation to be 9 hours ago. Especially when posts about her campaign still get reblogs.

I'm tagging for reach, thank you and please dm for removal.

@papenathys @slicedblackolives @nimbooz @hiveswap @paandaan 

@anneemay @tumkaafiho @balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @irhabiya

@fleshdyk3 @27moremoons @northgazaupdates2 @kyra45-helping-others

@itsfookingloosah @rooh-afza @shesnake @akajustmerry @himejoshikaeya

@lonniemachin  @dykesbat   @watermotif  @hussyknee

@stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal  @chilewithcarnage  @ghelgheli @sayruq @palms-upturned @spindly-counting

@readingsquotes @bellybuttonblue2 

@bees-fart-too @andiv3r-reblogging @ambidextrousarcher @fresh-bed-old-sheets 

@starless-gaze  @esperantokomencanto   @thinking-about-giraffes 

@cripsycremecuckery @mercurysreal

@blueberryblowfly @mione-g @monstermashpotato   

@theultracharmingladynoire @nibeul @wayward-bitch 

@bignightengineer @khudrang @m-an-u @rdx-dcm @sleepyhomosexual

@cuntinyew @novastarology @artoatsblog @elderscrollpdf @seeaweead

@frodig-skog @sloanevictor @swaggy-transfag @theropoda

@dodojavelpelo @somethingaboutsomethingelse

@seekerofthesightlessway @the-necrobotanist @vioisgoinginsane

@creatures-of-love @d3ad-on-arriva1

@schrodingers-slut @deadingenue @raytoroinmybackpack

@hexxeh @thegayquail @thatdiabolicalfeminist @repotting

@isuggestforcefem @backfliips @xenodile @solarpunkcast

@white-chalk-sapphomet @shamemp3 @shadow-von-vamp

@solarpunkwitchcraft @gabzilla-z @joshpeck @endorphinmachine

@sealbf @extremelycursedimages @rednines @renmorris

@pastel-cryptids @pyrrhuria @chiiri-h @pespillo @jinsouled

@linterteatime @mirrorcage @2bu @log6 @kil9

@saturngalore @laraenglish @bogor-o @left-reminders

@routeriver @bezbzn @problemnyatic @ciderjacks

@blissocean @grox @spitblaze @gender-euphowrya

@whalefill @combaticon @lytransthropy @certifiedsexed @okruee

Source

Falastin is raising money to be able to provide necessities for her family of 24. The prices in Gaza are exorbitant, and needs continue to raise as the weather gets colder. The cold means that blankets, warm clothes, and tent repairs have to be made. The cold also brings sickness, and especially so to the vulnerable young and old. Getting treatment is expensive, and that is on top of the daily expenses like food, diapers, and formula.

To help keep this family with the provisions they need, donate below. And if you can't donate now, keep Falastin and her family in mind for the next time that you have something you can spare

10$ = 106 SEK

Vetted: #282 + #957

[tonispencerart]

I was looking for more photos of people to draw, still looking at the theme of Human Form, and bored of searching Google Images for something, I turned to my Facebook people and asked them if they wouldn't mind sending me any images of themselves - the more expressive and interesting, the better! I'd already tried some drawing with my non-dominant hand and the results were fun. They were distorted for one thing, which was a big part of what I was doing at the time, so I explained that the likelihood of anyone recognising them wasn't huge... That's when an old school friend of mine told me about a whole album of photos she had from a showcase she took part in when she was taking Burlesque classes and that I could use whatever was in it if I wanted to. Burlesque is something that has always kind of fascinated me as an art form. If you know me in the real world, you'll already know about the annual Bucket List I make every New Year's Eve. Again, if you actually know me in the real world, you'll know exactly how I feel about NYE, but that's another story... It's not an actual Bucket List, it's essentially a list of random stuff that I'd quite like to do before the end of the year. I've made this list every year since 2012. On it is some really quite random stuff, usually. Learning how to hula hoop, reading a whole book series, finishing a sketchbook, figure out a fool-proof recipe for cookies that are both crunchy and chewy... and since 2013, I had Learn Burlesque on it for no other reason, really, than it looked like a fun thing to do. But I didn't know anyone involved in it - certainly not in Glasgow at the time, anyway - so it always ended up Never Done even though it's been on the list every year since then. That's the thing with the Annual Bucket List, though (I should probably come up with a new name for it, really). It doesn't matter if you only manage one thing on the list - or none of them. They're not Resolutions, just things I'd like to do at some point but there's no pressure and no target. Some things get put on the list every year and sometimes there are new things on it. Part of the fun is coming up with random stuff to do, actually. Anyway, when my friend said I could use this photo album, I had a look through it and was positively vibrating at the thought of being able to use the images for something. I could potentially do some pretty awesome stuff! So I started with her - my friend. The images shown here are actually of the same image, just at different stages. The one on the left is the drawing I made initially, using my left hand (non-dominant hand). What was interesting was that the proportions were more accurate without even trying very hard - which is something I struggle with normally with my right hand (dominant hand) - not that I was actually trying because I was aiming for distortion! it turned out better than I expected. The image on the right is the same drawing but finished with a blending stump/tortillon, and my trusty Tombow stick eraser. I love that thing. It looks like a 'clicky' pen and is great for fine detail erasing and mark making - or rather lifting out pencil marks. It also works on chalk pastel and charcoal (the powdered stuff) although a soft/putty eraser is best for that if you wanted to try it. This was also done with my non-dominant hand to add to the shaky, distorted quality I was going for in the first place. I actually really like this piece. So did my friend, actually...

[thewarriorspecial]

Greenhill High (CH3 - First Class)

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Katma Tui

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A little something special for @hobicat!

Kyle steps up to the challenge of teaching his very first class. He gets caught ogling Guy from afar and he gets pulled deeper into the plots afoot at his new job.

Kyle takes a deep breath to steady himself and heads into his new classroom. Two steps in he realizes.

He doesn’t have his bag.

He doesn’t even have pencils.

He’s not ready.

He feels like he’s in one of those Naked In Math Class dreams as he crosses the front of the room. Twenty-five teenagers, armed to the teeth with finely honed trolling skills eye him up like a pack of piranhas. 

“Hey everyone!” He says awkwardly, standing in the front of the classroom like a lump.

No one moves. No one blinks.

“So,” Kyle says, clearing his suddenly dry throat, “I’m Mr. Rayner. I’ll, uh, write that on the board,” he stammers, looking for chalk and finding a black marker. “Right. Whiteboard. Okay.”

“No, wait!” One of the students cries out as Kyle gets the first few letters out. 

Kyle looks down at the Sharpie in his hand, “Ah, fuck! I mean shit! Oh boy.” He frantically rubs at the growing black smear with the heel of his hand. Several students burst out laughing.

The pink-haired girl appears next to him with spray-cleaner and paper towels. “Here,” she says gently, “Just don’t use that spot. It has to be re-waxed.”

“Ohmigodthankyou,” Kyle whispers. 

The young girl returns to her seat.

Kyle slowly turns to face the class. The students that were laughing have covered their mouths. Some have looked away. They all appear to be attempting to compose themselves. Kyle appreciates their restraint. 

“Man,” Kyle says, leaning on the desk, “I was gonna come in here and just jump in and like wow you guys. Like, I was gonna start with art philosophy and criticism and how not feeling it is also a valid experience.” He hangs his head and laughs at himself. “Hopefully I got my damage out of the way for the day. Alright!” Kyle walks to the front of the desk and leans back on it, shaking his shoulders out and taking a more relaxed pose. “Let’s do the normal thing and just, like, tell me your name and why you picked Art for your elective. I’m Kyle,” he says, pointing at himself, “I went to art school because I love to paint and I picked this class because I like paying my bills on time. Let’s start here with my hero,” he points to the pink-haired girl, “and we’ll work our way around, yeah?”

“So, everybody knows I’m Sarah!” The pink-haired girl says excitedly to the whole class. Everyone responds warmly with smiles and a playful drone of ‘Hi Sarah’. “So, I draw all the time. I love pencil the most and I love trees and birds but like, I love anime too, though! Oh and I do photography sometimes! I’m just all about it, yeah.”

“That’s awesome, Sarah. I’m really excited to have you. Go ahead,” Kyle says and points to the blonde girl next to her.

“I’m Heather,” the petite, pale girl with freckles says, tucking one side of her perfectly smooth long bob behind her ear without looking up. “Um, Sarah really likes my flowers. Um, I paint but like it’s just the cheap dollar store stuff like, I’m not—“

“You are!” Sarah insists.

“I am not!”

“You so are!”

“Ok, like I’m a painter, I guess. So yeah I wanna be like, better,” Heather finishes, still looking down but smiling.

“That’s great, Heather. You know I love painting, too. We’re gonna have fun. Alright, next?”

The girl next to Heather is in complete contrast. Heather is wearing pastel clothes in fitted, classic cuts with chunky, white-rimmed sunglasses resting on top of her platinum blonde hair. She sits perfectly straight, hands in her lap and ankles crossed. 

The next girl sits slid halfway down her chair with one elbow slung across the back. All of the tears in her black clothes are held together with rows of safety pins. Dozens of patches adorn her jeans and hoodie. Her dark hair is in elaborate patterns of braids with some of them dyed a deep red. When she smiles, her canines are pronounced and sharp. “Everybody just calls me Ray cuz they can’t spell my name. Normally, I’m in music or with my band doing drums however,” she slides out from the table, showing off the calf-high cast full of drawings and signatures, “I broke my foot doing a really cool jump on my skateboard soooo, I’m taking a little break.”

“That’s awesome! You’re in a band?” Kyle asks.

“Yup. Thrash. Speed metal. That kinda thing.”

“She’s literally the best,” says Sarah.

“Soy la mera mera,” Ray laughs, pointing both of her thumbs at herself. 

“Muy bueno! We’ll make sure to incorporate music into our lessons. Okay, next?” Kyle continues around the room getting answers that mostly fit the typical art lover molds. A few more students are trying something new. 

The round-robin introductions arrive at a tall, lanky boy with strawberry blonde hair sequestered in the back corner with an empty chair between himself and the next student on either side of the table. Kyle can’t see the boy’s face because he’s holding a large ice pack over his eye.

“I’m Dave. This is the only elective that still had seats, so,” he says quietly with a shrug. 

“That’s cool, man. You don’t have to be good at art to appreciate and you don’t even have to like art to do well in my class,” Kyle says and that makes Dave perk up. “All I ask is that you use what I teach you to tell me why you think something sucks and that’s good enough for me.”

“I could tell you that your favorite painting sucks and you’d still pass me?” David asks.

“You can tell me my paintings suck. As long as you show me you understand the concepts I’m teaching you can tell me: Hey, Mr. Rayner, you’re paintings are very colorful and realistic but they don’t say anything. I don’t feel anything when I look at them. And then use what I taught you to explain why and, yeah, you can tell me my paintings suck and get an A.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Kyle smiles to himself. He couldn’t have asked for a more interesting group of students. His head is already buzzing with new directions he wants to take the next days’ lessons. 

He finishes letting the students introduce themselves, and with the little bit of time he has leftover he lets them vote on which medium they want to start learning with. Paint wins out by a huge margin. He decides they’ll start monochrome, looking at line and value. He already has several famous paintings in mind to discuss at the end. 

——

Kyle finds himself unoccupied during his break period. Without any papers to grade and his lesson plan mapped out, he finds himself lamenting this whole adjunct/part-time thing. He really, really regrets forgetting his bag because now he has nothing to draw with. 

Kyle leans back in his desk chair and resumes trying to balance a pencil on his forehead. How did he keep himself busy back in high school? He can’t even remember a time when he didn’t draw every minute he was awake. 

He remembers going to the movies and haunting local diners late into the evening. He has fond memories of himself and his friends packing into the arcade. He remembers cutthroat Dance Dance Revolution competitions. Anytime he wasn’t drawing he had a pack of friends to pass the time with. They shared earbuds and mixtapes. They laid on the ground and watched clouds go overhead. 

It’s a gorgeous day outside and the windows of Kyle’s room give a beautiful view of the sky and part of the nearby houses. The stadium sale seat that surround the football field cut a sharp, metallic line just below the homes on the tallest hills. 

The sharp screech of a whistle draws Kyle’s attention. Either gym class or one of the teams is out there. Kyle walks to the window wondering what the school’s colors even are. 

A quick glance down and Kyle sees shiny helmets shimmering above maroon and silver football uniforms. He feels his cheeks flush as he can’t help but scan the field hopefully for that trademark flash of red hair. 

Kyle spots the only person not in a football uniform and he hears the distinct timbre of Coach Gardner’s voice. He’s too far away to make out what he shouting even at the extreme volume. 

Guy’s demonstrating some kind of running drill involving cones and turns and just entirely too many steps in Kyle’s opinion. Guy takes off sprinting in perfect form, big chest bouncing and back flexing under his tight, polo with every step. 

Kyle’s hands grip the windowsill and his throat goes painfully dry. 

When Guy stops and turns, the long, long line of his legs bunches and flexes. The fact that he’s got super-tight Underarmor covering every inch of skin from neck to ankle does nothing to hide his statuesque figure. When he finishes his demonstration, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. 

Now Kyle really, really regrets forgetting his sketchbook. 

“Do I really want to throw this job away to get tangled up with another teacher?” Kyle thinks. In his mind, he imagines cartoon devil and angel versions of himself perching on his shoulders and arguing about it.

“Look at him. He has abs. He has the things!” Devil Kyle sighs, gesturing at his hips.

“We have a job.” Kyle thinks.

“Look at him! Fuck this job,” says Devil Kyle. And he has a point.

Kyle turns to look at Angel Kyle who is adjusting himself uncomfortably under his robes.

“It’s been two years. We’re not Kardashians; we don’t have to be sloppy about it.”

“Really?!” Kyle thinks.

“I’m just saying, we’re all adults here. Coworkers have sex all the time. We weren’t planning on doing it at school,” says Angel Kyle, quite reasonably. After a pause he asks, just to clarify, “Were we?’ He almost sounds hopeful.

Kyle shakes his head to pull himself out of his daydream. There’s more unintelligible shouting and then he hears Guy laugh. It is a gorgeous, honest sound and Kyle feels himself sigh. He wants to press in close and fell that laugh rumble through his own body. He wants to reach his hands under that tight, sweaty shirt. He wants—

“I see you like the redheads.” 

Kyle nearly jumps out of his skin. He sees Jordan standing not two feet away and wonders how long he’s been there. 

Jordan raises the steaming mug he’s holding to his lips as he raises an eyebrow. He glances down at a small, tan bird with a red head sitting on the outside windowsill and then back up at Kyle. He smirks.

“Uh?” Kyle grunts. He looks at the little bird. It looks up and cheeps at him.

“House finch. Very pretty song.”

“Oh. You’re a birdwatcher.”

“I watch everything,” the English teacher says, bouncing the tea bag in his mug. “Which reminds me, there’s this little café some of the staff likes to visit. They have a projector and we watch bad movies. Very MST3000. Guy will be there.” 

Jordan lifts the teabag out of the hot water, letting it drip for a moment. The he places it in his mouth, sucking the tea out of it. He winds the string around his finger. He licks the bead of warm liquid off of his top lip very slowly. He keeps his eyes locked on Kyle the whole time, looking immeasurably pleased with himself. “You should come.”

“Uh. Okay. Cool.” Kyle manages to squeeze the words out. He knows his eyes helplessly followed the path of Jordan’s tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other. He knows Jordan watched, unblinking.

Jordan tosses head, flinging his bangs out of hi face, “See you there.” He turns to stride elegantly out of the room. He makes it two steps before he slams his knee off of a table leg and hisses.

Before Kyle can ask if he’s okay he hears Jordan mutter, “Fucking kill myself,” as he stomps out of the room, licking spilled tea off of his wrist. 

The little bird in the window sings its high, lilting song. It sounds like a schoolgirl’s giggle.

“What. The fuuuck?” Kyle whispers to himself.

——

Guy walks towards a 20 year old, dented Dodge Neon. Most people identify it because the driver’s side door is red and the rest of the vehicle is blue, but Guy wasn’t gifted with color vision. The thing’s got so much damage it looks like a trash can that’s been tossed in a rainstorm a hundred times. 

“Ay, Oscar da Grouch,” Guy hollers, rapping his knuckles on Hal’s car window. 

Hal is laid back in the front seat with his jacket over his face. The collection of fast food bags, paperback books, and spare clothing doesn’t help the comparison. “Go. Away.” 

“Fine. Get your own snacks.”

“Wait,” Hal shouts, sitting up and pulling the jacket off of his head. He spies Fruit Roll Ups and Flaming Hot Cheetos in Guy’s hands. He can’t let Mr. Piggy abscond with the best snacks the gas station across the street can offer.

Hal pulls the door handle to its limit and kicks it several times to get it to creak open. After he gets out, he forces it shut with a groan and crunch. “Hey!” He shouts again.

Guy tosses a Fruit Roll Up over his shoulder, smacking Hal directly between the eyes. 

“Uncivilized wretch.”

“Weird way’a sayin’ thank you,” Guy says over his shoulder. He slows down a little so Hal can catch up. They head towards their bench that sits near the school entrance.

Hal sits crosslegged on the bench, gathering the offered packages of snacks in his lap like a basket. 

“You done bein’ mad at me now?”

“I accept your generous peace offering,” Hal says, looking at Guy sideways and through the curtain of his bangs. “I thought you enjoyed our jesting.”

“Well, Lancelot, the jesting used to come with a lot more kissing. Now it just feels like jousting.” Guy pushes his sunglasses onto his head and looks over at Hal.

“Oh,” Hal says softly. He turns to fully look at Guy for a long moment, immediately seeing the confused scrunch of his eyebrows and the sad, sideways pull on his lips. Hal’s heart still skips a little at Guy’s half-pout. It’s still cute. He asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nah, I just…” Guy trails off, shoving a few Cheetos in his mouth as he thinks it over. “I just don’t know how to tell when you’re playin’ and when I’m really pissin’ you off anymore. I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, meeting Hal’s eyes again.

Hal looks away. 

Guy puts his hand on Hal’s shoulder, “We’re cool, right?”

Hal takes a deep breath, swallows hard before he turns back. “We’re cool,” he says, mostly honest. He wants to be. He wants things to be like they were when they rode their bikes to the park and played D&D on the weekends. Before his car broke down and he noticed all the freckles on the back of Guy’s hands as he changed the serpentine belt. Before that goddamn French project that paired them up alone in the back of the library. 

“You’re a tough nut to crack sometimes, Hal.”

“Je peux être en peu difficile,” Hal offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin. 

“Tu pouvez être un peu belliqueux,” Guy’s thick American accent lopes heavily on the consonants, thumping and clumsy compared to Hal’s near perfect, nasal vowels. He pronounces the last word less like belliqueux and more like belle à cou but Hal holds back the vampire joke. 

“Tout est jutse dans l’amour et la guerre,” Hal plays on the word Guy meant to pronounce instead. He offers a rare, warm smile as well.

“Alright, we have our little signal now. I can live with that.” Guy can’t help but smile back. 

“Will you come to Radu’s this weekend?” 

Guy pauses to think about his practice schedule, “Probably won’t be till like, six?”

“That’s perfect.” 

“Alright man. Here,” Guy offers the rest of the Cheetos to Hal, remembering they’re his favorite.  “See you Saturday.”

“Later.” 

Hal’s glad they had this talk. He’s looking forward to his setting his plan in motion. He wants to see his best friend happy.

Even if his heart still aches a little.

A/N:

I'm new at Spanish and I haven't actually used French since college. Don't judge me! :'<

Also, sorry for the slow-burn I've accidentally created. So many ideas! So many!