#and the girl who stole the stars ... that means a lot to me from title alone. if u can tell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

byunbaekby · 4 years ago

Text

title — the things i know pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!) word count — 14.8k summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore. playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker

additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane and @astroboy-lele for proof-reading!

The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss.

When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever.

At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well.

The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.

He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates.

Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by.

“Yo, Jisung, check this out!”

At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.

Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer.

“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed.

“Where’d that come from?”

Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend.

Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult.

He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window.

Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker.

But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.

With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams.

He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal.

Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people.

“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”

“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”

Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands.

“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”

“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”

“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”

You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?”

“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”

Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”

What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home.

A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand.

“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”

“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself.

“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?”

Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”

Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”

“Next time, promise,” says Jisung.

“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before.

Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead.

Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!

A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs.

Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game.

A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.

Who is this superstar player, you ask?

His name is Jisung Park.

Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?

A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.

Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).

He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play.

It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck.

With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game.

“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.”

His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.”

Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s—”

You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”

“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”

At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”

You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”

“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?”

You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people.

“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head.

“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.

“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.”

Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”

“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.

Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts.

“Other people have done more distance.”

Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?”

But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”

Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”

“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”

“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?

“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?”

He gulps. “... No idea.”

A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.”

That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants.

For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet.

Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet.

No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it.

He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.

But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it?

Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty.

Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it.

He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal.

One kick, just nail this one kick.

He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…

Please go in, please go in, he’s begging.

The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal.

He won.

That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration.

“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!”

A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time.

He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”

“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!”

“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.

“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!”

Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly.

“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there.

He never should have done this.

Why was he born again?

“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.

“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you.

A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.

You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now.

You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.

“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”

Wait, really?

He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.”

This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”

“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.”

The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball.

“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.

His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45.

A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm.

He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”

When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.

Ouch.

That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.

He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.

For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.

His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.

Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.

It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job.

She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused.

“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.”

He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”

And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her.

He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.

Finally, today you’re in town.

It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.

Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good.

There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”

“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.”

“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you.

“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”

“Yeah, is that so surprising?”

“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.

He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”

For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him.

“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.

“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.

“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”

So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.

Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.

“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?”

No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?

Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.

She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.

His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so…

For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.

You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.

They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong.

He swears he’s never been so tired.

Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.

The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.

He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.

“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing.

“Hi…”

Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.

But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”

After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…”

“What, what is it?”

There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”

Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.

“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”

Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.

Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it.

He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”

It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”

Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces.

“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!”

“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.

“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”

Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”

“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.

“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.

Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.

It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.

His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.

It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.

Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.

He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p

Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.

The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”

You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”

“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”

You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”

Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”

You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus.

Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”

He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)

A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).

When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”

He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.

Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?”

“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”

Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”

“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.”

Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.

“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”

After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple.

He’s never really been in a hospital before.

For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart.

He’s so lucky to have you.

“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”

He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.

“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”

Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.

“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?

The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall.

When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.

He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”

It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again.

Jisung enjoys these moments the most.

The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.

Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”

A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”

“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.

“Are you scared?”

A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”

Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”

The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.

That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”

“I might.”

A beat of silence.

Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”

There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love.

Your voice is dry as you speak.

“You’d move on.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying.

“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?”

He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”

There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him.

Your lips meet, and everything is golden.

And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.

When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again.

This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.

“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”

You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.

“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms.

“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”

It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”

“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you.

He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest.

Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”

And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.

“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him.

“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.

“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”

“And what about it?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.

“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.

“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”

“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes.

That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.

“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.”

A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”

Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”

Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”

Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone.

A new email.

He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.

Dear Jisung Park,

Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp…

What a load of shit.

The past few weeks have been horrid.

Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?

He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual.

“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response.

“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”

“The same one you talked about last week?”

“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”

It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”

“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.

“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.”

He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”

“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet.

What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”

“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.

“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.

“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.

“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”

“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”

“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself.

His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.”

“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.”

“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.

“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.”

“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”

“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”

“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.

“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”

“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”

A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”

Then the line dies.

It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.

Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better.

A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.

He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.

His phone rings at three in the morning.

He knows what it means.

February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you.

It would never be the same again, and neither would he.

Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him.

He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart.

Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable.

The first few days had been hell.

He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago.

Eight months before it.

Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring.

He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same.

Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams.

The first few days went like that. Empty.

Then he was angry.

Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot.

And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.

He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better.

And above all, he was sad.

What would he do without you?

Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach.

He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth.

The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.

The air in the room is still for a moment.

“Jisung.”

It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets.

“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.

Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”

Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”

“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.

“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”

“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”

Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends.

Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time.

“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.

It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.

“You look like shit.”

Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say.

Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.

“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.

“You got this.”

The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him.

The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens.

An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.”

Him? Why him of all people?

Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on?

With a gulp, he nods.

Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.

When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?”

Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”

He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about.

“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”

“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity.

Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”

A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends?

“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”

Wait… what?

Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”

Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”

What?

Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say.

“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.

The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”

“But—But, you rejected me… why now?”

For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.”

Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall.

“She… wrote a letter. For me?”

“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon.

“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?

Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip.

“So? Will you accept our offer?”

Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”

“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.”

To Whom It May Concern,

Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung.

Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive.

In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer.

He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.

But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist.

The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved.

In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.

I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know.

He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too.

I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one.

I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him.

Sincerely,

(Name) (Last Name)

Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing.

Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.

“Need help?”

His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands.

“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.”

It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.

The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing.

“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”

“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”

For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles.

“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”

Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.”

Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.

“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”

In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.

People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.

Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.

It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine.

Jisung smiles.

He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.

I love you.

He knows that he means it.

At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice.

Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to.

Love is the same.

Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love.

It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.

But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.

Life moves on, and he will too.

#neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #neohbh #neothestars #park jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fluff #park jisung fluff #park jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic

686 notes · View notes

anonil88 · 4 years ago

Text

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

258 notes · View notes

twink-frank · 4 years ago

Text

hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

#adrian speaks #mcr #pencey prep #frank iero

37 notes · View notes

callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

#westallen fanfiction #westallen #barry x iris #iris west #strangers to lovers

20 notes · View notes

kornito · 4 years ago

Text

SOURCE: https://korngiant.tripod.com/kornisgoodforu/id10.html

Dead

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

All I want in life is to be happy", it's that simple. People say that it's become their own anthem. It's like whenever I start to feel good, something comes and takes it away and I feel like I'm nothing again, like I'm dead.

Falling Away From Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The song is about domestic abuse and that there ways to get help whether it's telling someone or calling a help line, there are ways to get out of those situations. Noone has to be treated like that.

Trash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Trash" is about how I threw my world and everything out. I threw her away. I threw my old self away. It basically comes back down to the sex thing. The battles I did on the road, this whole album is what I went through because I was on the road and I went crazy.

Beg for Me

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Beg For Me" is more of an angry thing because the whole thing for "Beg For Me" is the crowd. The only time I was good on tour was when I walked up onstage and that's what the song is about. Feeling wanted is something one thing I've always needed. I was shuffled around so much when I was a kid...Being up onstage was the only point was the only time when my anxiety would go away for an hour.

Make Me Bad

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

I need to feel the sickness in you" ... It's spawned from f**kin', basically, from having sex. That's where that line comes from, but it means a whole bunch of things to me. "Make Me Bad" was about the battles I had being on the road, being married and being with other women. I'm not married anymore... beause of my lifestlyle, and I just couldnt do that to my wife anymore. So that ended. But does it make me bad that I have a dick and I have f**ken other feelings to be with other people? Why should I be with just one? It seems like human beings are genetically engineered to procreate. Thats what we do, f**k everything, and that's what our natural insides want to do. It is hard to find someone like that. But she was a good woman and I didnt want to keep on... I did the right thing, I was a man about it. It was better for me to tell her and let her go on with her life and find someone who could help her and be like that. So that song was spawned by that, does it make me bad to want to be with other women? In a sence it was my only drug, why... because I dont drink anymore, I cant drink. I've been sober for a year. I dont have any other vices. So at least doing that could be something.

Hey Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

"Hey Daddy" where I was schizophrenic and there were these voices telling me to do sh*t... To kill myself, basically. Daddy is one of my nicknames, so its like I'm talking to myself the whole time. It's hard to explain.

Dirty

Song Meaning: Jonathan

"I feel like a fucking whore to record companies." "You know how it is...the way we are used and marketed." "How they make all the money off us and we don't make shit!" "The only way we make money is to go out on tour and sell merchandise" "Basiclly we write all the music and turn in and they make all the money." "So I feel like that and also I feel like a slut cuz I'd go out at night and fucking girls and so I said fuck it, I'm going to do it. The only way to escape is to have sex." "Its all kind of different issues."

Its On!

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's On is my sh*t peer pressure song. Me being so stressed out going out and partying. Everybody's just going 'Come on dude, it's on.' That's partying, it's alcohol, cocaine, women. All that wrapped into one. I wrote a song about it. And the chorus I talked about Why am I really doing this? It's all my fault that I'm doing this because all the alcohol, the booze an the chicks do is just make it worse. They just rearrange all the problems in a different order that I can deal with at that moment.

Freak on a Leash

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

One of the best titles I've heard ever for a song. That's my song against the music industry. Like me feeling like I'm f**kin' a pimp, a prostitute. Like I'm paraded around. I'm this freak paraded around but I got corporate America f**kin' making all the money while it's taking a part of me. It's like they stole something from me, they stole my innocence and I'm not calm anymore. I worry constantly.

Got the Life

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a song baggin' on myself. How everything's always handed to me. How I look up to God and don't want this anymore. Like I want something more out of life than all this. And I've got everything I really need but I sometimes don't like. I don't know how to explain it. I have to let it sit through the songs more to actually get into what I write. I truly know, really, the meanings of the songs almost. That's what I'm getting out of it right now.

Dead Bodies Everywhere

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the song about my parents trying to keep me out of the music business. My father was in it and he knew how it was and I totally understand now that I have a son. I want Nathan to be a musician but I him don't want him to go through the hell I went through. That's the same thing my Dad was doing. A lot of people can relate to it, because it's like the Dad's wanting their sons to be football players and their sons want to be doctors or something. That peer pressure its like trying to make them something they're really not. And the Dead Bodies thing is like so I did it and all I got out of it was dead bodies everywhere and got all traumatized. Thanks a lot Dad, Mom.

Children of the Korn

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's the song that Ice Cube is on Cube came up with the title. I fed off of what he wrote, he was talking about growing up and puberty. Dictating what he can do, like how you gonna tell me how to live and who to f**k? And all this stuff. And I took that and in my stuff I was talking about being a kid always known as the f**kin' town faggot. It's funny how things change. That some of these people picked on me and all of a sudden look who's laughing now. Also in another of the verse I talked about all these parents f**kin hating me for what I do, saying I'm corrupting their children, but in turn these parents need to step outside of themselves and really listen to what I'm talking about. Then I think they can understand that they were kids before. They're just really quick to judge me. All the Children of The Korn are all our Korn fans. All those kids going through that sh*t and feeling what I feel.

B.B.K.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Big black cock! That's what I call a jack and coke. Those little glasses they serve in Europe and everything. That's what I named it, big black cock. And that's another song about me dealing with the pressures of this album and how I, you know, I'm trying to kill myself, but you know? Do I really want to kill myself? Things I'm just questioning myself. Most of this is self-structured.

Pretty

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's a story about this little girl that came into the coroner's office when I was working there and she was f**ked by her dad. She was an 11 month old little baby girl. Her legs were broken back behind her and he just f**ked her like a toy doll and chucked her in the bathroom. It was the most heinous thing I've ever seen in my life and I still have nightmares about it.

All in the Family

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Fred was there after Korn TV and we said, 'Let's do a song together, Hey, man, let's go back and forth and rip on each other like an old school battle.' I don't know who's idea it was, I can't remember if it was mine or Fieldy's or Fred's but we came up with the idea and we started writing and we worked on it together. I came up with some bags on myself for Fred to say. It was all in good natured fun.

Reclaim My Place

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

This one is about the whole band and about all my life being called a homosexual. And then I became this big rock star in a band and I'm still called a fag even by my own band. So it's like I was f**kin' pissed off at them. It's like erase them all because I'm gonna reclaim my place and say hey, they owe a lot to me for what I did, and I owe a lot to them back. But, it still kinda sucks. I've never ever gotten away from that fag f**kin' title. Just because I'm a sensitive kinda guy. Kinda feminine it really sucks.

Justin

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Justin, that was the kid dying terminally with intestinal cancer. His last dying wish was to meet us and it really freaked me out. That threw a whole bunch of new kind of pressures on my head. That's really intense. Someone's gonna die and his last thing he wants to do is come hang out with us. So I truly just freaked out. It's like why would you want to meet me? What makes me so special? And in turn I talk about how I admire his strength and his life. I couldn't stare at him because he was so content he was gonna die. No one could look him in the eyes. And I totally admire his strength. I wish I had it.

Seed

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Seed. That's all about the same thing again. I laying in bed in my hotel room, thinking about do I really need all this stuff? All this pressure on me? Because I'm a stressed out freak. It's about Nathan, it's about every time that I look into his eyes, I see myself how I used to be, innocent and stress free. I'm kind of jealous of it. It really sucks, I used to be that way. It's like I have to work so hard at this thing in my life. I have to become a stressed out freak. I put food on the table for my child. Every time I look in his eyes, I just see myself staring right back at my @ss laughing. I was like care free, innocent as a child. It's really weird and I'm really jealous of it.

Cameltosis

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's a love song. It's about women in general, women who hurt me. It's Tre's lyrics. He's going on about chicks and my chorus is like I'm so scared to love anyone and really let them in after I got hurt really really bad by a girl. I've let Renee in a little bit, to be honest, but I'll never be that in love ever again. That's what I'm saying, if you've loved twice, you're gonna get f**ked, 'cause you usually do.

My Gift to You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Renee always wanted me to write her a love song and that's why I called it My Gift To You. It's my gift to her, you know how I get sick. I always had a fantasy of f**king her and choking her to death. I fantasize about what it would look like me in her body and watching me do it. So it's like a really sick f**ked up song. I did it totally like, I love her so much, I want to take her out of this world. It's really strange. She used to leave notes on my pillow like 25 ways she'd like to kill me. She's got this weird death fetish. We're kinda f**kin' freaky. She got it. She's all 'Thank you that's kinda f**ked up. I was expecting a f**kin' I love you, baby kinda song.' I'm all, 'No, you know me.' I mean I can't do that.

Chi

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Chi is about a lot of alcohol and drug abuse. People turn to that when they have problems so that they won't have to feel their pain. The song was named after Chi Cheng from the Deftones. We named it after him because he used to call it reggae, and he loves reggae music.

Lost

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's the sterotypical thing about your best friend meeting a chick, and then you're nothing

Swallow

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That's about being paranoid. Drug-induced paranoia.

Good God

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a guy I knew in school who I thought was a my friend, but who f**ked me. He came into my life with nothing, hung out at my house, lived off me, and made me do sh*t I didn't really wanna do." "I was into new romantic music and he was a mod, and he'd tell me if I didn't dress like a mod he wouldn't be my friend anymore."

"Whenever I had plans to go on a date with a chick he'd sabotage it, because he didn't have a date or nothing. He was a gutless f**king nothing. I haven't talked to him for years.

Mr. Rogers

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Back in the day when I was a speed freak, um... even further back when I was a little kid watchin' Mr. Rogers, that sh*t was scary. He was a freaky old man... Land of Makebelieve and Mr. f**kinMcFeely and sh*t... made me sick. So back when I was doing speed, like for 5 or 6 days I'd be trippin out and my brain would start to get freaky and get schizophrenic and stuff, and I'd tape it and watch it everyday over and over... I don't know, I was sick in the head. As a kid he told me to be polite and all it did was get me picked on. I f**king hate that man. Thanks for making me polite and trusting everyone, and easy to take advantage of. So I spent 3 months on that one song, just tweakin' on it, and it was totally just my Mr. Rogers obsession, about how evil I thought he was. Pretty much drug induced.

K @ # Ø % (Kunt)

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think it's sexist but it isn't. It's more subconcious b*tching at all the women who've been with me in my life. It's not about women in feneral, just those women who hurt me." "Initially, we wrote it to send to American radio for a joke, because they always chop up all the other songs. So we were going to send a 'real' single seven days later."

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It stands for all day I dream about sex. It's about how much of a pervert my ass is, and how I daydream about what a stud I am. But when it comes down to it, I'm a f**king pussy and I'm in there jacking off.

a** Itch

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

That was the last song I wrote, and I was so burned at writing out lyrics because everytime I write I get depressed because I start thinking about things, you know? So the whole song is about that. In the chorus it says, 'Before day, my sun will be dying'. It's because I put myself on the line all the time and for what? Because people aren't going to be listening to it anyway.

Kill You

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a relative I first met when I was 12. I f**king hate that b*tch. She's the most evil, f**ked up person I've met in my whole life. She hated my guts. She did everything she could to make my life hell. Like, when I was sick she'd feed me tea with Tabasco, which is really hot pepper oil. She'd make me drink it and say, 'You have to burn that cold out, boy'. f**ked up sh*t like that. So every night when I'd go to sleep, I'd dream of killing that b*tch. In some sick way I had a sexual fantasy about her, and I don't know what that stems from or why, but I always dreamt about f**king her and killing her

Ball Tongue

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

The meaning of ball tongue is simple. Some thought it had to do with oral sex, but in fact its about a guy we had to work with on a t-shirt (Jeff Creath). He either had a pierced tongue or a wart or something on his tongue and he was a dick to us.

Different live: Jonathan goes into a Rap (by Coolio) Called "Loddi Doddi" in the middle of the song.

Clown

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Korn was playing a show in San Diego for a clothing card. This skinhead guy came up and started flippin' me off. When we started, I bent down and the guy took a swing at me. Our tour manager, Jeff, got into it and knocked the guy out. I wrote this song about him: 'Scared to be honest with yourself/you're a cowardly man.

Faget

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

Everyone thinks I'm bashing gay people in this song, and I'm not. It's really about me going through high school being called 'pussy,' 'queer' and all that stuff, about getting picked on by all these jocks.

Shoots and Ladders

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It was written because all these little kids sing these nursery rhymes and they don't know what they originally meant. Everyone is so happy when singing but 'London Bridge' is about the Black Plague. All of them have these evil stories behind them." "The lyrics are all from nursery rhymes, and a lot of nursery rhymes go back to the Middle Ages. They're actually pretty twisted if you know the stories behind them, like about Black Death and stuff.

Helmet in the Bush

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

It's about a speed problem that I had. You know, you do a lot of speed and -- if you're a male -- your penis retracts severly. The guy heard at the beginning of the song is La Caco, a friend of the band. His real name is Michael and likes taco bell. He's a really Nice Guy and he has been friends with the band for years

Daddy

Song Meaning, Jonathan:

People think daddy' was writen because my dad f**ked me up the ass,thats not what the song's about. It wasn't about my dad or my mum. When I was a kid I was being abused by someone else and I went to my parents and told them about it. and they thought I was lying and joking around, they never did sh*t about it. They didn't belive it was happening to their son. I don't like to talk about that song, this is the most I've ever talked about it...

#korn #jonathan davis #just thought it was interesting

41 notes · View notes

sanchoyo · 3 years ago

Text

danny phantom 14-20 thoughts!! I finished up s1 :D these last few eps were actually really really good!!!

-did. did tucker really just say esperanto was a dead language only spoken as a secret code between geeks. google says around 100,000 people actively speak it. oh my god...it being an auxiliary language doesn't mean its 'just for geeks to speak in code' ...it helps bridge gaps between people who don't have a language in common...

-danny really isn't pulling punches when it comes to fighting the ghost-cop possessed people huh. like he SLAMMED KWAN INTO THE CONCRETE SO HARD. HE THREW PAULINA INTO A BILLBOARD. will that...I mean it WOULD carry over to their bodies non-possessed, right? like if the ghost piloting their bodies gets hurt?? itd be so upsetting to be possessed, lose time, then wake up covered in bruises (and possibly, broken bones??) real horror movie stuff im sure wont be addressed in any way

-tuckers parents seem nice! I like them :)

-WULF IS CUTE AND I FEEL BAD. im so glad the gang realized he was only causing trouble bc of the shock collar walker put on him and helped. also, him wearing that big hoodie with the hood on, and thinking its subtle. we can tell youre still a giant wolfie :) THEN GETTING SUCKED INTO THE PORTAL AAAAH :( anxiously waiting to see Him Again....

-DANNY BLASTING HIS PARENTS THINKING THEY WERE OVERSHADOWED LMFAO GET THEIR ASSES. maddie marking how many ghosts she gets with lipstick tallies on the side of her portal gun? kindaaa iconic tho. (ALSO, SHE WAS LIKE, 2 FT AWAY FROM HIM RIGHT AFTER SHE TRIED TO SHOOT HIM. HOW DO YOU NOT RECONINZE YOUR OWN SON??? like sure, he might have diff hair/eye colors. but like, if one of my family members dyed their hair, and was wearing contacts, its not like id be like 'wHO IS THIS STRANGER!!!' ...he still has all his facial features!! same everything!!! I hate it here)

-paulina being #1 girl realizing danny's a friendly ghost immediately. smart queen. lancer and kwan ran away right after he made this sweet baby face at them:

which is hilarious.

-ok. im not saying his bullying is JUSTIFIED, but. dash looked so pleased with the (cute!) poster he just painted, and danny comes thru the wall and spills paint on his nice letterman jacket. his anger is justified maybe 65% of the time so far...(not the way he handles it, but STILL.) at least lancer is stepping in!! and them making a silly little bet was...cute?? until dash pulled out his GROSS UNDERWEAR AND SAID DANNY WOULD HAVE TO EAT THEM???? WHAT THE FUCK MAN. TUCKER WAS SO RIGHT ITS FUCKING WEIRD TO CARRY THOSE AROUND EWWW. THIS KID IS UNWELL. lancer was right, his animatronic setup was SUPER IMPRESSIVE?? hes actually pretty creative. danny meanwhile is stealing the fright knight's design...I hope dash is taking art classes or smth with his sports

-fright knight is the most bestest ghost so far i LOVE THAT DESIGN. I am biased towards knights, and characters with swords, but he fucks so severely. and should sue danny for copyright infringement for stealing his design for his haunted house. if some 14 yr old broke into MY house and stole MY sword, id also be pissed. his evil winged unicorn rules too with its FANGS. and he just CAN SHOVE THE PORTAL OPEN WITH HIS HANDS??? is he the strongest ghost weve seen so far? idk but hes my fav. SOUL SHREDDER IS SUCH A COOL SWORD NAME TOO. ANY NAMED SWORD ALSO FUCKS. 'flaming bedsheets of DEATH' funny king. ALSO he was polite to dash and tucker when just asking for directions and telling tucker 'oh maybe, just a suggestion, maybe be nicer to me and be more respectful :)' I LOOOVE HIM.

-I noticed this in the Ember ep, but jazz has an electric guitar in her room!! talent musical queen!! its cool to see hobbies just in the bg.

-fright knight's murder castle reminds me of the booby trapped murder castle in zexal!! another supposedly 'for kids' show with murder/trap castles! we love that. if you are a dp fan reading this, give yugioh zexal a try. its also got 13-14 year old protags and involves (alien) ghosts. the cardgame is just a vessel for the plot, which is really good. (I just want more people to watch my fav yugioh, man)

-danny. with a SWORD.

-danny doesnt NEED TO WIN this contest, dash didnt STEAL HIS DESIGNS AND STEAL A SWORD. he also got excited to hear lancer got sent to a dimension with his worst fears too just so he could win the contest? DANNY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! BRO MAYBE YOURE 14 AND HAVENT FULLY DEVOLPED YOUR WHOLE BRAIN YET, BUT...THATS FUCKED. this kid casually says the most deranged things, I do worry for my spooky son. once again, therapy needed. that judo toss was great tho. I wonder if he actually did pick up some martial arts stuff from his mom?

-danny can fly 112 mph!!! thats so fast! I love the lil montage of him and his friends testing his abilities and stuff, very cute and a good way to showcase what he can do by now and how much more proficient he's gotten from ep 1!!! I'm sure he's going to get more abilities :)

-im glad...maddie's at least TRYING this ep. I do feel for her because her husband is a man baby. but the fact it took 16 episodes to get a kinda semblance of any kind of real concern or attempts at bonding. hmm. jack's 'BACK OFF SHES A MINOR' @ the ghost trying to attack jazz. also was very funny. and him wanting to make an action figure of her? are the parents redeeming themselves to me? slightly. they gotta Work Harder

-THE GHOST. IS FLYING. THE PLANE.

-fenton machete. but she doesnt carry a PHONE??? ???

-I mean I expected vlad when you namedrop him earlier in the ep, and also the title card picture, and dalv corp being fucking vlad backwards. but seeing him just pull up on a golf cart made me bust out laughing. WITH the gift baskets prepared. why wouldnt you at least be suspicious. also, if he wants danny to be his lil sonboy, why is he so fucking malicious?? dude you are going about this in such a bad way. stop it. get some help.

-maddie not even hesitating to drag danny out. fucking good. danny is so right, go on the internet to date. get a cat. how do you spend...how many years?? has it been since college?? at least 20, right, since the parents/vlad are in their 40s? hung up on ONE girl. my god, man. incel drama queen. her kung fu IS impressive, but dude. 'we both know hes a creep' SO right. it sucks but they do need a phone and shit being in the middle of NOWHERE. also, just stealing his helicopter was great. <3

-'you must be exhausted carrying the weight of that mistake you made years ago' 'well we all make mistakes. maybe I'll make one now!' WHY DID THIS EXHCHANGE SEND ME. AND VLAD WITH THE BREATH SPRAY EWWW BITCH. 'OLD BAIT BREATH' SOO RIGHT. both danny and his mom playing him HAHAH hes so dumb. or rather, I think he thinks with his emotions too too much and is...actually pretty gullible? lmao he believed danny was ready to give in SO fast. (which is sad hes that hopeful, like you have SO MUCH MONEY YOU COULD EASILY GET ANOTHER GIRL WHO HAS A KID. AND WOULD WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND BE SUPPORTED. GET OVER THIS (1) WOMAN ALREADY IM GETTING SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT AAAAH)

-GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR. it was also in the title card, but I still got very excited. we love bears here

-SAM'S BAT SWIMSUIT COVERUP!!! her outfits are simply iconic.

-'i'd tell you to go to the mens room, but I don't think you qualify' top paulina transphobic moments. :( and him wearing a tanktop to the swim park? hmmm! (actually I think she was overshadowed by then, so, KITTY top 10 transphobic moments??)

-kitty just piloting paulina around makes me feel SO bad tho, paulina's gonna wake up and be like 'wtf do you mean I was dating this rando' like youre leading danny on to make johnny jealous, and also just POSSESSING POOR PAULINA. dude take your relationship problems ELSEWHERE. last time we saw them, they seemed like such a cute couple!! wtf johnny!! I mean, she sucks for trying to make him jealous, he sucks for looking at other girls...maybe they need a break, but Not Like This. or, you know, just. better communication...

-and the A-listers having a full packet and a stamp system. who organizes this. kwan fucking owning being the new danny though, this is hysterical. THE TUCKER/KWAN FLOWER FIELD TWIRL. UNIRONICALLY ADORABLE. and him giving it his all for the poetry slam. bless his HEARTTTT.

-Star owns. actually, all of the extra characters are shining this ep and I love it.

-INVISO-BILL??? NOOOO THEY DID HIM SOO DIRTY. DANNY SWEETIE IM SO SORRY.

-johnny and danny bein friends and staging a fake fight (which danny takes too seriously, once again this child has aggression he NEEDS TO WORK OUT) I hope these three stay friends, I said it before but danny needs more friendly ghosts to hang with.

-at this point, Danny's ghost enemies are a lot like, I dunno, batman's rouge gallery is the first thing that comes to mind. they all have their own gimmick and unique designs, but most of them are easy to beat after learning the Moral Lesson. I still get excited when any of them show up again, though. 18 is another valerie episode!!!! :D skulker really said you two will get along if I have to handcuff you together <3 and the gym teacher really said, youre married now, have a flour baby! ngl, I'm not really watching this show for the shipping stuff (which I am very scared to look at the fandom for after I finish this watch through- I feel like there's probably discourse/arguing about ships...) but. I'm gonna put my opinion out there. valerie/danny > sam/danny. maybe I just really love the enemies to lovers trope. And the secret identity stuff adds Extra Flavor.

-SKULKER JUST HAVING THE BOX GHOST AND DANGLING HIM BY A STRING. HILARIOUS. and him watching them with binoculars and making his silly little commentary. AND MAKING THE SACK BABY CRY. LMAO. THIS DUDE IS A BABY KIDNAPPER. skulker is super fun

-danny, you just...collapsed the water tower. and then attacked the nasty burger machine...mascot thingy...out of anger..I KEEP SAYING HE'S GOT ANGER ISSUES BUT. HE REALLY NEEDS A LESSON IN MANAGING COLLATERAL DAMAGE!!! So does valerie!! They're both pretty focused on each other. I mean it's good of Danny to say he's trying to make sure PEOPLE don't get hurt, but... (I mean I guess it's not something 14 year olds WOULD worry about, but as an adult im like, who's going to fix that? how much money will that take??)

-TUCKER MAKING BANK. and sam and tucker being super emotionally attached to their flour baby and being pretty good parents. that's cute...also him just straight kissing her and being like. WAIT. O_O JDSKAFHD. his mom baking them into cookies was the funniest possible result. tbh I dont feel like this is on tucker, if anything the other kid's shouldve been more responsible! He was just taking an opportunity to get that $$ which I respect

-Danny being more understanding of Valerie's situation in the end (helping her at her job, too, and trying to keep that a secret for her!!!) And seeing them work together this ep, and also her letting phantom get her out of the ghost zone...was very sweet. LOVE that. more valerie eps pls

-me when I realize vlad's big stupid house exploded because of his own carelessness with changing the ghost portal ectofiltrator or whatever: *pointing and laughing*

-me when I realize it means he's gonna go make danny's life hell for it somehow: >:(

-SCOOBY PARODY!!! I feel like there's gotta be some scooby doo/danny phantom crossover stuff, right? also, 'guys in white' men in black wishes

-'oh, that's right! dad married the love of your life! you're bitter and alone!' DANNNNNYY GET HIS ASS ONCE AGAIN WE ARE POINTING AND LAUGHING AT VLAD

-'jack, you captured the ghost boy!!' UMM. he did nothing <3 'we have a weapon's vault??' YOU HAVE A WEAPONS VAULT??? and jack didnt put a handle on the inside. of fucking course he didnt! why would you leave that to your son!! or expect him to clean YOUR LAB when its where you work with probably dangerous chemicals and weapons and hes 14!! give him normal chores, like, I dunno, vacuuming, laundry, dishes...CMON. I hate it here. But I'm glad Jack is more chill about danny while he's a ghost, and willing to work with him for this ep. AND. I DID ENJOY JACK PUNCHING VLAD IN THE FACE. AND GENERALLY JUST OWNING HIM. the ghost punchy fists are actually amazing. like yeah, just punch a ghost in the face. that rules.

-ep 20 opens with the coolest fucking ghost lady design. her tattoos can come off and fight. MA'AM. I like ur nose ring and your cape maam hello 👉👈😳

-sam's grandma is hilarious and the most valid member of her family and I love her. thats my grandma now. and tucker covering for sam by dressing as her. thats true friendship <3 also skipping school to go to a goth circus. just bestie things! sam's parents are haters but for all the wrong reasons.

-'my family has controlled ghosts with this for generations!' WAIT. WAIT FREAKSHOW /ISNT/ A GHOST? I didn't expect that...he's just a fucked up guy controlling ghosts? anyway watching danny shoot at police cars and rob banks while mind controlled. its like, the most stereotypical 'bad' things lmao. (tbh an evil ghost circus troupe is a sick concept)

this gives off big deviantart emo edit vibes

(I'm going to assume evil circus reaper danny has a lot of fan content. people love an edgy au, except this one is canon (even tho its via mind control...having the protag go evil otherwise might be hard, I guess?) but au where he stays with the troupe...that has to exist, right?)

ANYWAY. excited to start s2!! lowkey surprised by how many notes some of these posts have gotten. I've gone back and tagged them all with 'dp thoughts' so they're easier to find on my blog! ^^ and I will probably possibly do (more) fanart on my art blog after I finish the watch of the whole show, so like. @sanchoyodraws follow my art blog :)

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

15 notes · View notes

thetimelordbatgirl · 3 years ago

Photo

Another owl house inspired AU on stories by me and my friend, @disneyfan50 , with this one being based on disneyfan’s Blue Fire and our crossover, Sisters Of Fire.

*Nephele Olympia- also known as The Dove Lady due to her cursed from, Nephele used to be in the emperor’s coven and used to be the lover of the former emperor, but when the over-throw happened and her daughter was sent away for safety, Nephele found herself on the run when cursed, as the lord of the isles is after the thing she stole from the coven while fleeing and in present, sells human junk from the human realm, and while doing this one day, she ends up with two humans running through the door, the two changing her life from that day onwards.

*Helena ‘Haley’ Del’Tazar- a human from the human realm, Haley doesn’t know about her biological parents or who they are, as she was found abandoned by her eventual adopted family and in present, is often the calmer one of her and her adopted sister, Jayla, as both have a love for fantasy books and often express said love in various ways, but one of these times that included their book reports, results in them being sent to the principles office and they were set to be sent off to summer camp to calm them down, but neither go, as both follow a dove for their book back and as soon as they arrive to the realm out of their books, Haley starts to feel connected to it in more ways then one.

*Jayla Del’Tazar- a human from the human realm, Jayla is Haley’s adopted sister and both have been close ever since the day baby Haley was brought home, and in present, Jayla is often seen as the chaotic sister of her and Haley and has a love for dragons the most in fantasy, but when one antic of hers and Haley’s results in the pair being sent to the principles office, both find themselves set for a summper camp meant to calm them down, but instead, both go after a dove for their book back and in the process, find themselves in a realm right out of their fantasy books.

*Cerberus- a demon that resembles a three headed dog, Cerberus used to be a loyal member of the emperor’s coven, but ended up leaving with Nephele as well and in present, is her roommate in their home and despite trying to be scary, he often just comes off as adorable.

*Stella- a demon that resides within the house, Stella is the Dove House in some sense and if not residing within the door, often moves throughout the house and beyond it, but despite coming off as annoying a lot, does mean well at the end of the day.

*Cloud- Nephele’s palisman that she made out of palisman wood years ago, Cloud resembles a dove and when not being used by her and Haley and Jayla eventually, she is either hanging around the house or getting human junk for Nephele.

*Nemesis Price- a member of the Lord’s coven, Nemesis is one of its leaders and is loyal to the coven fully, having helped Cygnus in his over-throwing of the former ruler and in present, is assigned the task to bring in Nephele, something Nemesis is willing to do by any means.

*Tiffany Locke- a Hexside student, Tiffany is the former childhood friend of Layla, as both were good friends until the day both fell out as children and in present, Tiffany is often the victim of bullying for her late bloomer status and her failing the Plant track a lot, but after sneaking in two humans one day, she ends up being switched to her rightful track of Construction and ends up befriending the two humans.

*Will Stronghold- a Hexside student, Will is known to try and live up to his parents expectations all the time, leading to him always working hard in his track off Potions, but still has a love for the human realm, leading to him helping Tiffany and the two humans she snuck into school, becoming the trio’s loyal friend.

*Layla Williams- the only daughter of her parents, Layla often is stuck with every expectation her parents can come up with and as a result, is often the schools mean girl in present as she is the star student off the Plant track and tries to avoid former friend Tiffany constantly, but after encountering the humans constantly, she slowly starts to change and slowly starts to fall for the human, Haley, in the process.

*Maya Fawcett and Warren Peace- Layla’s two friends due to their family connections, Maya and Warren are known to be a tag team a lot in their mischief, both studying Illusion track, but still exploring other forms a lot like water and fire, but while they do care about Layla, they do turn nasty sometimes if she tells their parents on them.

*Gwen Grayson- a Hexside student, Gwen is known as the schools second mean girl and with family connections like hers, she often gets away with a lot, including bullying many students like Tiffany, but she is still the schools sports star, with her working hard in the Abomination Coven.

*Penny Lent- a Hexside student, Penny is Gwen’s closest friend and often tag teams with her and bullying others but is like Gwen, a sport star within the school and works hard in the Illusion Track.

*Mrs. and Mr. Wiliams- the parents of Layla, the two are known to be often strict of Layla and be harsh with her in the process, with her mother being in the Plant coven while her father is in the Abomination Coven, as both own and run Williams Industries.

*Lord Cygnus- having overthrown the prior emperor whose fate is unknown, Cygnus changed the emperor’s coven to the lords coven to match his title, and is known as a strict ruler, but doesn’t like it when others could possibly be more powerful then him, hence the covens system and in present, hopes to reach the human realm for unknown reasons.

*Hypnos- Cygnus’ right hand man, Hypnos is known to be loyal to the coven fully and is known to be willing to do any task given to him, but doesn’t like it when the two golden guards start to slowly take his jobs.

*The Golden Guards/Toby and Damien- no one is sure of their origins, but the twin guards are a force to be reckoned with, as both are loyal to the coven that they grew up in, but both slowly start to show disloyalty after befriending the two humans.

*Thanatos Mortis- a old friend of Nephele’s, Thanatos only stayed in the Lord’s coven to find things out and in present, is the new head of the Abomination Coven, but in reality, is leading a mini rebellion, as a reunion with Nephele soon happens and both are determined to stop Cygnus by any means.

*Nike Olympia- the mother of Nephele and the principle off Hexside, Nike is known to be both strict and caring with her students and was relieved when Nephele finally contacted her as she agreed to enroll Nephele’s two humans at least, and despite not being a huge fan off the covens, she is in the Oracle Coven.

#megan's fanfiction #dani's fanfiction #the dove house #OCs #alternate universes

7 notes · View notes

bamfdaddio · 3 years ago

Text

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - Bonus: Avengers Annual 10/What If? 27

The X-Men, those Claremontian mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men! [more here]

(Avengers Annual 10 & What If? 27) - by Chris Claremont and Mary Jo Duffy, Michael Golden and Jerry Bingham

Avengers? You’re not here for Avengers! Let me make the following counterpoint:

Holy eye shadow, Rogue!

See, Avengers Annual 10 is less about the Avengers and more about three other things:

The rehabilitation of Carol Danvers who, after this, has had her fill of the Avengers and becomes an honorary member of the X-Men;

Spider-Woman and the X-Men trying to figure out what has happened to Ms. Marvel;

Mystique trying to spring her Brotherhood from prison, using a secret weapon: Rogue.

Depending on my mood that day, I might name Rogue as my favourite-ever X-Man, so I really could not skip her debut issue. Instantly iconic, all of this:

Her streak;

Her signature green outfit with hoodie;

Her accent.

Queen.

I love how Claremont once again almost effortlessly introduces a strong female character, one that single-handedly takes down three of the strongest Avengers. Also note how free Rogue still is with her powers: fun, flirty, without the tragic can’t-touch-anyone-angle that will define her for the next three decades.

I’m sorry, am I getting ahead of myself?

This story begins as a whodunit: who pushed an amnesiac Carol Danvers off the Golden Gate Bridge and stole her mind? For that matter, where did she came from? Wasn’t she happily married and pregnant in some alternative dimension last time the readers saw her? Spider-Woman rescues her from the choppy water and calls Professor Xavier to help out. He manages to retrieve the Jane Doe’s identity and knows who attacked her: a woman named Rogue.

Rogue, meanwhile, skulks about the Avengers Mansion, first taking out Captain America and then attacking Thor.

Considering what this comic is about, I don’t believe Hawkeye’s throwaway mysognism is accidental here.

Rogue’s powers work as follows: through touch, she can steal other people’s powers and memories. The longer she touches someone, the longer she’ll have them - with the looming threat of the theft becoming permanent.

After absorbing Thor, Rogue is faced with three Avengers who’s powers she can’t absorb - Spider-Woman (covered in a suit); Vision (robot) and Wonder Man (being of pure energy? Idk, I’m not really familiar with him other than his bromance with Beast). Hoping the three powers she has in her arsenal - Ms. Marvel’s, Thor’s and Cap’s - will be enough, Rogue flees.

Mystique, meanwhile, has duped Iron Man by pretending to be the Wasp and has paralysed Tony Stark in his suit with some sort of device. She picks up the powered-up Rogue and their plan becomes clear:

Rogue immediately earns her place in my heart by using billionaire Tony Stark the way the Coyote uses anvils. (Also note the odd way of spelling ‘sugah’.)

I love how both the Brotherhood and the X-Men continually pull focus from the Avengers: for an Avengers-comic, it's surprising how much they're pushed to the background. Again, this makes sense if you know what this issue really is about, but that won’t become clear until the epilogue. I don’t mind, it means we get a ton of great moments, like the Blob calling Mystique ‘Misty’:

My God, this era’s Destiny/Mystique is even more obvious than 90’s Rictor/Shatterstar.

A battle erupts. One funny moment is actually seeing Destiny fight. I’ve never really read comics about this incarnation of the Brotherhood and my collection mostly takes off after Legion Quest, so I mostly know Destiny posthumously. I always figured that, as a villain, she stood somewhere off on the side, delivering cryptic messages. I never realized she was the one to almost shoot Senator Kelly, nor that her powers are this practical.

X-Men drinking game rule 11: Drink anytime someone fatshames the Blob.

The fight is pretty evenly matched until Spider-Woman releases Iron Man from Mystique’s little trap. Soon, the Avengers overwhelm the Brotherhood. While Mystique and Rogue manage to flee, Destiny, Avalanche, Pyro and the Blob are detained again.

With the main antagonists sorted, we return to the actual storyline: the rehabilitation of Ms. Marvel. Professor X has managed to tease her out of her catatonic state and offers her therapy to restore her missing memories and powers. (The ones stolen by Rogue.) The Avengers, not fully understanding why Carol won’t ask them for help, eventually come by for a house call.

Carol asks the X-Men to leave while the Avengers gingerly confront her. It’s very awkward.

“Fuck the Avengers. Taking my beer.” - Wolverine, probably.

See, what all this refers to is the rape of Ms. Marvel. I haven’t read the particular comic in which this happens (Avengers 200), so if you want all the details, I’ll refer you to this article. Before I get into the details, it’s important to note that Claremont was the writer for Carol Danvers in her solo-series, giving her agency and turning Ms. Marvel into a three-dimensional character. The title was then cancelled and Carol was shuffled off to the Avengers. (Rogue was, in fact, planned to make her debut in that the solo-Ms. Marvel series, as one of Ms. Marvel’s new antagonists. Presumably, Rogue would steal her powers there, too. We all know Claremont loves to strip his heroes and heroines of their powers to show they’re even more badass without them.)

As an Avenger, Carol was wooed by some other-dimensional dude/entity named Marcus. He courted her by giving her flowers, worshipping the ground she stepped on and, oh yeah, ‘subtly’ influencing her mind to make her fall in love with him and consequently impregnating her.

Yes.

Now, Claremont is no stranger to putting his characters through their paces and he gleefully makes use of the whole mental manipulation-trope. In fact, telepathically coercing someone to fall in love with you is absolutely what Mastermind did to Jean Grey: he probably violated her just as much as Marcus did Carol. The difference is how it’s treated in the narrative: Mastermind’s actions are never laughed away or apologized for and are the direct cause for his downfall. They help trigger Jean’s transformation to the Dark Phoenix, whose first deed is taking out her fury on ‘Jason Wyngarde’.

That’s… not what happened with Ms. Marvel. There, the narrative condones Marcus’ actions by framing it as ‘her happy ending’ (married and pregnant, yay!), something which is celebrated by the Avengers.

This is where Carol calls them out for their bullshit.

We call this ‘The Reason You Suck’-Speech. It’s a thing of beauty.

The Avengers depart, tail between their legs, and Carol hangs out with the cool X-kids from now on. For now, at least.

So, this issue is not only a landmark because it’s where Rogue debuts, but you can also see Chris Claremont going to bat for one of characters: he (presumably reluctantly) gave back the character of Carol Danvers when her solo was cancelled, proceeded to see how terribly they massacred his girl and then claimed that ownership right back.

Good for you, Claremont.

***

The “What If… the Phoenix Had Not Died”-issue is kind of boring, because it’s basically a rehash of the Phoenix Saga. Why am I paying attention to it? Because of the (mild) gore (and because the Avengers Annual wouldn’t fill a whole post). Anyway, it’s like watching a Final Destination-movie: it’s silly, light on plot and never a particularly thought-provoking movie, but it’s still fun to see all those people inventively but haplessly die.

Plot! Instead of committing suicide on the moon, the Shi’ar strip Jean of her powers after her trial. Jean is trapped in a barren mental state, almost feeling like she's a veggie. But Jean's powers refuse to remain dormant: slowly, her telepathy returns.

When Galactus threatens the Shi’ar homestead, Lilandra summons the X-Men as her champions. Jean embraces her Phoenix-side and defeats Galactus. Everyone is grateful and super-convinced Jean can handle the Phoenix this time! Yay!

And, because that battle with Galactus took a lot out of her, Jean decides she can have a little asteroid. As a treat. She keeps slipping up on her diet, supping on the occasional meteor and lonely planet to keep her power levels up. It turns out to be a slippery slope: finally, she consumes another star (in an uninhabited system! And a small one! How dare you judge her!), but when she returns to the mansion…

The absolute worst moment to forget you have powers, Kitty.

Xavier attempts to bind the Phoenix, but last time, Jean helped him fight from within. This time, there's not much Jean left. Without breaking a sweat, the Phoenix wipes his brain. But she doesn’t stop there. Maybe the Phoenix remembers that, last time, she was undone by the principles of “friendship is magic”. This time, she’s determined to not let it get so far.

It’s absolutely bone-chilling.

And the stars blinked As they watched her carefully Jealous of the way she shone - Atticus

I wonder if there’s a rhyme or reason to the way Jean murders her friends: is it random? Does she go for the ones she loves the most first? Does she save Cyclops for last, knowing killing him might trigger Jean to respond?

The narration mentions that the three remaining X-Men are the most powerful ones: Polaris, Havok and Cyclops. (I would’ve swapped in Storm for Cyclops, but whatever.) They have formulated a quick plan: Polaris pulls focus while Havok and Cyclops shift into position. Phoenix disintegrates Polaris while Havok and Scott try and blast Phoenix to smithereens.

But at the last moment, Scott can’t. Havok’s blast alone is not enough. Phoenix shoots him through the heart and then, finally, kills Cyclops. That’s when Jean resurfaces, realizing what she’s done. She can’t take it - she’s in the mood to dissolve in the sky, as per Virginia Woolf - and she lets the Phoenix take over.

Phoenix finally lives up to her potential: The End of All That Is.

It's a mediocre plot with a lame ramp-up to a terrifying conclusion. In the regular universe, the thing that triggers the Phoenix is the utter violation of Jean’s body and mind; here, it’s being confronted by Kitty. One is the proverbial red cloth in front of the bull, the other is being assaulted by an ineffective wet cloth. The Phoenix Saga is iconic because all the pieces were carefully put in place; this just feels rushed an unearned.

Also, the Watcher is full of shit. You can’t say you don’t pass judgment whilst simultaneously comparing the merits of one tragedy to the other. Shut up, Uatu.

Check back next week for your regularly scheduled X-Men Abridged! It’s time for 1982 and the brood saga!

12 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years ago

Note

fic title: I’m falling and the sun is blinding me to your faults

i wanted to do an au of this one, so presenting: tony and rhodey, but make it villainous. i think it’d be fun!

James Rhodes is two things, first and foremost being that he is a businessman.

People call him a villain. He doesn’t really think he’s that villainous.

After all, he only took over New York. He left all the other states alone, so that has to mean something. He was gracious!

He also wouldn’t consider himself a villain because everyone who works under him gets health insurance. They don’t complain that much, although he’s gotten some about the quality of the buffet on Fridays.

Catering companies. Hit-or-miss, you know?

There have been a couple of companies who try to stop him. Rivals that hate that his products are better and employees are happier, for one. Those are easy to dismiss.

SHIELD is one company who tries, and fails. Repeatedly. It would be embarrassing, but Rhodes has respect for Agents Romanov and Hill, who have been the closest to breaking into his personal office.

The player that isn’t registering on the field is Tony Stark. Perhaps because he isn’t so much of a player on the field as an existing person who just happens to be on a field. Or a building. However you would like to imagine it.

In other universes, he walks like he owns the world because he could buy up everything and still have money left over to get ice cream at the end of the day.

In this universe, his father kicked him out of his house for various things, the most prominent being that Tony is rather partial to kissing guys and ladies, and that just simply won’t do.

(Tony also stole enough money out of his bank account to buy a house and also start his own business without his knowledge, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s just a small drop in the ocean.)

Tony made his own tech start-up business. He’s invented a few new things that hit the market discreetly, and he’s building up more and more clientele. He’s about to open another shop, and in all honesty he’s not worried about getting noticed.

This is until Rhodes comes across an employee bragging about a new repair guy who makes computers run twice as fast, charges less than most repair shops, and looks mighty fine in a tank top.

The last reason is reason enough to visit.

But also, to see who’s been fixing up Rhodes tech and can make it faster. He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t have just applied for a job.

Tony is not expecting Rhodes to enter into his building. He has people who are walk-ins, but usually you would expect a villain to make an appointment. Or not, they are villains.

“I heard that you’ve been improving my phones,” James says. He leans into Tony’s space. He smells quite nice, has a well-tailored suit, and Tony is trying very hard not to find him attractive. That’s not the sort of thing you could be focusing on.

“You gonna sue me or something?”

“No, I want to hire you.”

Tony blinks.

“Oh. No thank you.”

Rhodes pulls back.

“Why ‘no’?”

“I like my shop just fine. And you have things well-handled.”

“Could I consult you?”

“You can’t afford me.”

Rhodes grins.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I am. Can I get anything for you today, or did you just want to beg me to come work for you?”

“Most people would never be this bold.”

"What would they be? Terrified in your presence?”

“More or less, yes. It’s what I prefer.”

"I don’t cater to people’s preferences, it’s a character flaw and strength,” Tony quips.

Rhodes smiles.

It’s terrifyingly beautiful, really. Tony is at a loss for words.

“I think I’m liking you, Stark.”

“Tony. You don’t call me Stark. I don’t do the last name dynamic.”

“Sweetheart, then. Not your last name.”

“Pet names, seriously?”

“Oh you got it, honey.”

“Then go on, platypus,” Tony throws back.

“Platypus? Really?”

"Pet names are on the menu, honey bunch. Just try me.”

Rhodes smiles, turning to exit.

“I’ll be in touch, darling.”

Tony leans against his desk, legs shaking underneath.

There are two problems that he’s not sure how to solve. Here they are:

1.) Rhodes now has Tony on his radar, which is probably bad because Tony will absolutely be used for world domination or whatever.

2.) Tony doesn’t really mind as long as he gets to see Rhodes because goddamn. That man could get so many things, and he probably has. And Tony wouldn’t mind being one of those things if he played his cards right.

But for now, Tony just wants to fix computers and maybe just buy a new brand of tea, but he’s honestly not sure.

Rhodes makes an appointment to meet.

Of Fucking Course.

Tony is not impressed, and is also not impressed that he comes in with a very expensive custom-made designer suit, whereas Tony is not sure the last time his pair of jeans got washed, and an old t-shirt that’s advertising an ice cream shop that is closed now.

“You love to make an entrance all the time?” Tony asks. “What can I legally do for you?”

“You’re assuming I’m making you do illegal things, babe?”

“Yes, Rhodey.”

“It’s Rhodes.”

“Hm, maybe. But not to me. Rhodey. I wanna ruin your business impression.”

Pepper snorts besides Rhodes, who is suitably impressed that Tony doesn’t give one flying fuck about the fact that he could destroy him at any point.

“I’m ordering that on your next business card deal.”

“I’ll fire you.”

“You can’t find someone as competent as me, don’t even joke.”

“I came here for an opportunity for you. You’ve managed to get some people’s computers to speed up so much. And I want you to do it with all of my employee’s computers.”

“What, you couldn’t reverse-engineer it? See what I did for yourself?”

Rhodey grins.

“I never question a handsome man’s work, darling.”

Tony turns red.

“You’re really bad with professionalism, honeysop.”

“What the hell is that?”

“What, never heard about romance in the fifteenth century? Boring.”

“Will you do the job or not?”

“What are the terms, the conditions, and how much are you paying?”

Pepper steps forward, a sizable stack of paperwork in her hands.

The work would pay off the building. It would pay off his mortgage on his house. Hell, it would help a lot. He’d have extra to mess around and maybe go on a vacation.

The downside is that he’s helping a villain get faster speed and better battery life with laptops. This could also mean he’d die, but honestly he was kind of expecting an early death.

Rhodey assures him that he won’t die.

“If anyone touches you, then they feel my wrath,” he says. His teeth glint underneath the lights. “And honey, no one ever likes feeling that.”

“What, it isn’t all feather-light tickles?”

“Touches a bit more than that.”

There’s an unspoken story there. Rhodey’s grin goes from tight and eyes empty to refocusing on Tony and turning soft, genuine.

“We can discuss the official plans over dinner.”

“Dinner won’t work for me, I got plans tonight.”

“A hot date?”

"A special movie screening,” Tony says. “Can’t miss it. Maybe next time, or the next three times.”

Rhodey smiles.

“Maybe sometime.”

“Maybe.”

Holy fuck.

Rhodes International has a local coffee shop on the lobby. A barista is a cheerful girl who has neon yellow hair greets him and asks if he wants a complimentary drink.

“You...know who I am?”

“Not in the slightest!” she says cheerily. “I have a memory thing where I remember everyone I ever meet and who I don’t meet. What kind of coffee guy are you?”

“Um...you guys have mint syrup?”

“Yup!”

“Then I guess a peppermint latte?”

“Coming right up!”

So here is this girl humming what sounds suspiciously like the Winnie the Pooh song as she makes a drink, and that drink is amazing.

Also, people are wearing, it seems, whatever outfit they want. There are some people talking, and two look to be dressed in professional business clothing, but the third guy they’re talking to is wearing ripped jeans and a tank top has the phrase of “I’m Just Existing on a Manifestation of Reality” emblazoned.

It’s odd.

“So glad you could make it, Tones,” Rhodey says.

“Tones?”

“What, too much?”

“Tones sounds like you know me.”

“And I don’t?”

“What’s my favorite jam?”

“Why jam?”

“If you know someone well, you know their favorite type of jam.”

“Orange marmalade?”

“What the fuck do I look like, Paddington?”

“You’re right, Paddington’s not near as sexy.”

“This counts as harassment, right? This counts as harassment.”

“Don’t have him sue us already, he’ll win,” Pepper says, breezing to their sides. God, she’s gorgeous. Casually dressed in a pencil skirt and a blouse and acting like she doesn’t look like a goddess. Must be exhausting. “Tony, great to have you. Let me show you who you’re working with.”

He has his own fancy office, a team that knows what they’re doing, and catered lunch.

Catered lunch. It’s not even a Friday.

“Friday’s are questionable,” Rhodey says. “Weird selection.”

“You don’t wanna know,” says Intern Joe.

That’s literally on his ID card.

Tony starts work. It’s not bad, not at all. He works in the mornings on the weekends and Mondays as well as Thursdays, and then sometimes does work from his own office.

Rhodey is...nice.

This is a bit unsettling, because Rhodey literally just threatened the president over an environmental bill not being accepted and currently all employees are only slightly scared.

“This is just like three months ago,” says Janice The Badass. (Also on her ID card.) “Don’t worry, the government can’t do anything. They rely on us too heavily.”

“For what?”

“For safety.”

“Not asking.”

“Good, I’m not going to answer.”

“Okay?”

It’s also weird that Rhodey checks in on him. He brings him coffee how he likes it, and he makes him sit down and try new foods with him.

He’s not bad at conversational topics either. Tony’s used to talking, and he’s used to bad-talking on dates. This doesn’t come close.

No, they talk about the differences of Star Trek and how much Tony hates specific brands of pens, and how Rhodey is a disaster when it comes to coordination of ties.

“I don’t like ties,” he scowls.

“Then why wear one?”

“Pepper says they look nice.”

“Why do you need to look nice?”

“Most things are all about presentation.”

“Ah, need to be taken seriously.”

“Only at times when I’m facing government officials or weird corporate bosses.”

“Aren’t you a corporate boss?”

“I’m a corporate boss who is also an enemy of fellow corporate bosses. Weird thing.”

“That’s...intriguing.”

“How so?”

“Well, how does that work?” Tony asks, popping a couple blueberries into his mouth. “How are you both the same and an enemy?”

“Watch and learn, sugar. Watch and learn.”

Tony is allowed on the next business meeting. Which, coincidentally, his old Uncle Obadiah is part of.

This leads to rather undesired complications.

“You’re working for a supervillain?” Obie practically yells.

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Tony says. “I just work with computers.”

“Besides if he wanted to work for a real supervillain, wouldn’t he be working for you?” Rhodey asks.

He’s sitting in one of those rolling-chairs, and despite that, he made it his throne. He’s relaxed in it, perfectly at peace with the situation. All eyes are on him.

“I’m not the one that the government is after.”

“And yet I’m the one who’s successfully paid taxes. Where have yours gone, hm? Strip club in Vegas? Weapon sales in Afghanistan?”

Obie freezes.

Tony knows that when you freeze, it is your worst tell.

“Does dad know?”

This time, Rhodey turns towards him. He’s surprised.

“We’ll discuss that later. But does Howard know, Obadiah?”

“Howard is none of your concern.”

“Oh my god, he is,” Rhodey says grinning. “You haven’t told him about your little back-door escapades. I wonder what would happen if I told him.”

“You don’t want me as an enemy,” Obadiah says, shaking. He looks at Tony. “And you, boy, you just earned yourself a death sentence.”

“Funny, Howard said the same thing when he kicked me out of the house,” Tony says as he’s checking his nails. Rhodey thinks he is in love.

“Go ahead and try to get me as an enemy, see how well it works for you,” Rhodey says, pearly whites on display. “I took over the entire state of New York, leaving everyone in power allied with me. Plus, Tony hasn’t pushed his legacy from what I’ve seen, but what would happen if I just...let him talk? At the next press conference, perhaps.”

Tony grins, and it’s dangerous.

“Yeah Obie, what if I talked? I’m sure Howard’s disastrous attempt at fatherhood would be a real uptick in stock points.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Just watch. Just fucking watch,” Tony says. “I still know how to smile for the press, and I still remember all of my lessons for how to make sure anything is believable.”

He shakes.

Rhodey gets security.

Tony visibly relaxes as Stane is led out of the building, and Rhodey smiles over at him.

“What?”

“You wanna grab dinner with me?”

“Like as a casual dinner, or a date-dinner?”

“How about both?”

“Thank god, I can’t remember where my nice shoes are.”

Tony supposes it is odd to be out to dinner with one of the most-feared men in all of New York.

But it was hard to fear him when he was currently trying to lick ice cream off the tip of his nose with no such luck.

Or when Rhodey kisses him senseless on his doorstep and makes fun of the little gnome that he’s put outside, and Tony giggles and watches him leave in his fancy car, still leaning on his door.

Oh, he’s got it bad.

But he doesn’t mind.

#this was supposed to take a WAY darker turn #but then i forgot bc i listened to frank sinatra #so instead it is now funnie #lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #rhodey becomes a villain but like. ethical? i'm joking #i just wasn't sure how to make him Villain Supreme #tony doesn't exactly mind #pet names out of SPITE #i love that dynamic #tony stark #rhodey #james rhodey rhodes #obadiah stane

166 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 4 years ago

Text

The Ghost of Sweetness (Ao3)

Fandom: Vanitas no Carte | The Case Study of Vanitas

Summary: He was screaming again. Oh god, he was screaming again. It filled the room like a faucet someone hadn’t turned off steadily gushing all over the floor. Soon enough, it would drown them all. || Some Vanitas and Mikhail/Misha hurt/comfort. Written for the prompt “can I please request a misha & vanitas fic…maybe some hurt/comfort during their time at moreau’s lab.“

Notes: For @phmonth2021, vncweek Day 2, prompt: Passion.

Spoilers for manga Chapter 47+.

I hope you like it!! It would mean a lot to me if you could comment and let me know!!

P.S. Anyone have any better ideas for the title? I don’t like it but I can’t think of anything better XD

P.P.S. Is there really no vnc option on FF.net?!?

He was screaming again. Oh god, he was screaming again. It filled the room like a faucet someone hadn’t turned off steadily gushing all over the floor. Soon enough, it would drown them all.

Not the doctors though, no. They could breathe in this water. Or more, this water was like alcohol to them, intoxicating them, making them smile and laugh, and treat innocent children like animals and objects.

Was this all because of the vampires? Because their parents were killed by them? Other orphans got a nice orphanage, a warm bed, a friend or two. Numbers Seventy-One and Sixty-Nine got needles and knives. Was it for the simple distinction that their parents were killed by a creature with teeth, rather than an earthquake or a gunshot?

Number Sixty-Nine could do nothing but shake in his cell, put his hands over his ears, and bite his lip till it bled, and let hate pierce him, infecting him with its poisoned tip.

If this was alcohol, rather, it did nothing but burn and rot and claw at his insides.

This wasn’t what doctors were supposed to do. He’d watched a good one work before.

Hate coiled, curled and flared in him at the sound. How could they do this to him? He didn’t care for himself—(well, he did, but not more than those who would get hurt in his stead). But for the poor boy who had done nothing to them but exist peacefully, and lose his mother to vampires? This was more than cruel.

Vampires. The word was held more bitter tang than the things the doctors forced down their throats.

As abruptly as it started, it stopped. The screaming cut off, and all Sixty-Nine was left with was the fierce beating of his heart—or was it bleeding?

He drew his hands away from his ears and turned to face what they had done—though he couldn’t see much, just the boy strapped to the table, and the color red.

No, it wasn’t silent; the raging faucet had becoming a dripping one, and the tears were almost worse, like hell and defeat.

“He won’t last much longer.” One of the doctors said behind closed hands.

“Oh that’s alright!” Moreau flapped his sleeve at him. “The information he’s given is very useful!”

Sixty-Nine dug his nails into his palm so hard his whole arm shook.

Is that all this poor boy’s screams were to that monster? Information?

No. Sixty-Nine changed position as they came closer, the creaking of the door swinging open like the whimpering of some wounded beast. They threw the boy back in the cell with blood and tears and a cough or two.

He lay on the floor, and the faucet kept dripping.

Mikhail. Misha. The one with the name. They stole that from him, much like they stole everything else.

—(Were ‘they’ the vampires, or the humans?)—

But No. Sixty-Nine would still call him by it.

Misha didn’t get up. He lay on the floor, the sobs quiet and wracking his entire being.

Sixty-Nine wouldn’t shush him or tell him it was okay. He knew it wasn’t. And screams and tears were all they had in this empty place, he wouldn’t take them away from him now.

Those blue eyes flickered open, and they glistened with sadness and loss, but they looked at him like he was the moon and the stars, and everything in between.

Sixty-Nine wasn’t sure he could bear such a burden.

Misha leapt upon Sixty-Nine, wrapping his arms around him and holding him as tight as if, if he didn’t, he’d turn to sand and slip through his fingers.

They were trapped in an hourglass alright.

No. Sixty-Nine leaned his head back against the bar, trying not to listen to the doctors on the other side. He didn’t run his hands through his hair or rub soothing circles on his back, he merely continued to let him cry, and this was mercy and comfort of its own. He let him cry and the sound was flint to the already raging fire of hate inside him, soothed only by the thought that it was into his shirt rather than the palm of the doctors’ hands.

After a while he spoke gently over him:

“Once upon a time…”

Misha raised his head, blinking up at him and sniffing. “What?”

“The other day you were telling me about a story game you came up with, weren’t you?”

Misha nodded slowly.

Sixty-Nine raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Well…Aren’t you going to play?’

“Oh!” Misha realized what he was saying, and backed up, sitting on his knees.

“Once upon a time…” Misha put a finger to his chin, thinking, “There was a nice prostitute!” He threw his hands in the air, beaming.

Sixty-Nine tried not to let his eyes widen in shock at the word. Misha really had no clue what that meant, and he had no intention of making such things clear to him. He’d already seen far too much for a boy so young.

“…Sure.” He looked away. “A nice prostitute. And she…she liked tarte Tatin.”

“Tarte Tatin?”

“It’s…a dessert. A pastry with apples and…” He exhaled heavily, shutting his eyes. The words curved around his tongue, a ghost of sweetness.

“That sounds amazing! I-I never got to have nice desserts,” he murmured softly.

Sixty-Nine tried not to let that taint his expression.

He envied the boy, in a way: the echoes of the taste on his tongue now was almost worse than never knowing it in the first place.

“So she liked tarte Tatin.” Sixty-Nine repeated. “And one day…”

“One day a nice vampire came by with some!”

Sixty-Nine couldn’t help reacting this time.

“A nice…what?”

“Yeah! Sometimes I saw men bring mom gifts!”

“You said vampire.” The word was venom.

“Well a vampire gave her the loveliest gift of all! Surely they bring other nice gifts too!”

Sixty-Nine tried not to feel sick to his stomach, tried not to shout How could you possibly think that?! Tried not to spit The only gift he gave her is death.

But maybe that was a gift, in a way. Especially to the boy she would hit when he didn’t dress like a girl.

“Okay...” His breath rattled. “And he gave her some…and it was delicious and...he told her that he would be back with more.”

“And he came back the next week with a whole bunch of it!”

Sixty-Nine closed his eyes and spoke softly, “She he said it tasted like all the stars came down and burst in her mouth.” His breath heaved with the weight of the memory of taste.

“And he told her that he would take her away from all this. …Her and her son beneath the bed.

Sixty-Nine’s he turned to look at him. Misha only smiled.

“Y-Yes. Her and her son beneath the bed. And…he did.” He exhaled the words. “He came back with cakes, and tarts, and chocolates…and”—He couldn’t bring himself to the end the story on a kind note towards vampires—“he drank her blood, and he…took her away.”

“Yay!” Misha clapped. “That was a great story! Let’s do it again next time!”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Misha curled up against him, and after a pause asked softly:

“Do you think he did? Take her away? My mom?”

He swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth from the talk of good food, and looked away. “Yes. I do.”

“Do you think she’s in a better place?”

He thought of the church when he’d been with the chasseurs. How they always made grand speeches about Heaven.

He thought of the traveling players, and the general goodness to people he saw there.

He thought of the doctors here, and how sometimes people were cruel.

He thought of the sermons about the evils of sins like prostitution, and their consequences.

He thought of that one story about the prostitute who washed the feet of the son of God.

“I don’t know. …Better than us, probably.”

He stood up and grabbed the blanket from off his bed, wrapping them both in it. Misha leaned against him, and Sixty-Nine thought of how Moreau said he was to be his guardian, and tried to decide if he resented the command. He was never very fond of physical contact as a form of affection, but he knew it was all this boy had, and to take it away would be almost worse than what the doctors did.

“Say…Why do vampires drink blood?” Misha asked.

That hate flared behind his throat. He wanted to say Because they are parasites. He wanted to say Because they suck the life out of innocent for fun.

But then he thought of the doctors, and the needles.

“Did your mom ever drink…alcohol?”

“I saw her drinking stuff from a bottle a lot. It was red. It made her look all red too. She wouldn’t tell me what it was. What that alcohol?”

“Mostly likely.”

“She was always mad. She got even madder when she drank it.”

Sixty-Nine bit his lip, then continued calmly:

“Blood is like that for vampires.”

“But when the vampire drank her blood it made him happy.”

“Yeah, alcohol makes some people happy too.”

“So…he drank my mom’s blood, so he could feel happy?”

Sixty-Nine hesitated. “…Yeah”

He expected Misha to get angry at that, or sad. It certainly returned that burning to Sixty-Nine’s gut to think that human life was nothing more than a good drink to vampires.

“Then I’m glad!” Misha laughed. “I’m glad they could both be happy.”

And Sixty-Nine tried not to let horror affect his gaze.

When he thought of his father, of the gashes in his neck, the red all over everything, he didn’t feel glad at all.

18 notes · View notes

pinknerdpanda · 5 years ago

Text

Sunset

Word Count: 2,649

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, feelings of abandonment and hopelessness (but it gets better!!)

SSB Square Filled: “The man on the bridge, who Was he?” (bolded and italicized below)

A/N: This was written for my beautiful Name Twin - @amanda-teaches Writer + Reader Challenge (prompt bolded below) and also @captain-rogers-beard Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge (photo prompt in the title graphic is from 6/4). It also fulfills a square on my @star-spangled-bingo card. This began as something rather therapeutic for me, and it became a whole lot fuffier than I expected. So...yay?

Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul who always encourages me and showers me with love, and @princessmisery666 who has helped me with this fic in more ways than I can even describe. Everytime I hit a wall, she was there with help, support, love and ideas and I am so thankful for her.

It felt wrong.

The sunset was spectacular - fiery hues of crimson and amber evening kissing the brilliant blue of the fading day; ashen shades of violet and lavender the only evidence of their embrace. The last remnants of sunlight danced across the rippling surface of the water, painting the gentle waves in warmth as they lapped against the shoreline.

Salt hung heavy in the air as it whipped loose strands of hair around your face. The taste lingered on your tongue like a lovers’ kiss as you tried in vain to brush the wayward locks from your eyes.

So wrong.

Soft laughter punctuated every dull crash of the tide upon the sand. You watched the dwindling groups of people hold onto what little remained of their peaceful beach day. Though as the warmth of the day vanished, so did the people.

Being here was supposed to be a homecoming; a celebration of the person you were and the life you’d lived. It should have been a gasp of oxygen after surfacing from a deep dive; sustaining, energizing and life-giving.

Instead, the tranquility of the scene before you only seemed to underscore the pain boiling deep behind your ribs. Even as the sky turned to ink and the stars blinked down at their reflection in the water, the anguish seared your lungs and stole your breath.

It was unsettlingly unexpected.

A fresh wave of tears prickled the corners of your eyes and you clenched them shut in an attempt to keep them at bay. It might have worked, if you hadn't been immediately met with the vision of him behind your eyelids.

It wasn't his fault. Not really. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell. Seeing him today - even from a distance - was like pouring salt on a wound. The elation on his face as he'd grinned up at the little girl perched on his shoulders felt like a dagger straight to the chest.

The soft sound of bare feet on sand caught your attention. You sniffed, shifting to pull your knees up to your chest as the footsteps stopped beside you.

"You want some company?"

The gruff voice was soft and despite wanting to hate your new companion for lacing his words with such obvious pity, you couldn't. Your pain had been dealt by hands less sure than his, so you shrugged instead. There was something warm and comforting in his presence and your soul cried out for more. The feeling multiplied exponentially as he dropped to the ground beside you, his knee grazing your thigh as he folded his legs underneath him.

"'S'pretty here."

You nodded once, weakly. Even a broken heart couldn't make you think otherwise. Once upon a time this spot had been your own, personal oasis. Well, as much of one as a public beach could provide. But you didn't need much. Life had been simple, then. Now? Now, 'simple' sounded like a fairytale. Another on a long list of things you dreamt about, but didn't dare hope for.

“The man on the bridge,” Bucky began, his voice gentle. “Who was he?”

Brass tacks. It was one of the things you admired most about him; his ability to cut straight to the heart of the matter without poetry or pretense. It wasn’t a question borne out of irritation or obligation; instead patience and comfort reigned in his words. He could read body language and facial expressions better than 99% of the planet, but you knew even the other 1% could have plainly seen the pain in the heart so cruelly branded onto your sleeve.

“This was,” you cleared your throat as best you could with your heart taking up space there. “I used to live here. I always wanted to live by the ocean, so when I lost my job due to budget cuts, I decided ‘what the hell?’. Packed up, cashed out my savings and started driving. As soon as I hit the city limits, it felt like home. Had a hell of a time finding a job, but I did eventually. I met him there.”

You sniffed, stretching out your legs and leaning back with your palms in the sand behind you. Without having to look you knew he was watching you; waiting until you were ready to continue.

“I never believed in love at first sight; still don’t, because that’s not what it was. He was sweet, funny,” you smiled despite yourself. “Kind to a fault. The type of kindness that infuriates you because it makes you realize how selfish you actually are. But he loved me. I don’t know why, but he did. He loved me fiercely; even when I couldn’t return it and sure as hell didn’t deserve it.”

Bucky’s breaths matched the roll of the tide; calm and gentle and unwavering. You felt him shift, his shoulder grazing yours as he matched your position.

“What happened?”

The air between you vibrated with the low timbre of his words. Not that you noticed - not really. Remembering was always the worst part; remembering just how easily you’d been forgotten.

“The blip.” Your voice was so faint it barely registered in your own ears, but you knew he heard it. You knew from the way he inhaled deeply as he shifted; from the feel of vibranium fingers sliding gracefully across your own.

“I don’t blame him. He couldn’t know we’d all come back. I couldn’t expect him to live out the rest of his days mourning my ashes.”

The tightening in your throat and the tingling at the corners of your eyes cut off any other words you might have said. If the roles had been reversed, you wouldn’t have known what to say to yourself. But true to form, Bucky did. Brass tacks and all.

“Still hurts.” Not a question, because he knew. His words were meant every bit for himself as they were for you.

A humorless chuckle broke from your lungs and you nodded.

“It still fuckin’ hurts,” you agreed.

"So that's why you wanted to come here." Not a question, but an acknowledgement.

Biting your lip, you narrowed your gaze at the calm waves. "I guess I just wanted closure. I missed this place. Missed the memories I made here. I knew seeing him was a possibility, but I'd hoped.." you trailed off.

Bucky hummed in understanding of words you couldn't find.

You looked at him then, the sliver of moonlight above casting him in a sort of macabre splendor. Chestnut waves rendered a dozen shades of grey and gaze focused on the heavens. Trying to ease some of your burden while still obviously saddled with plenty of his own, he looked peaceful; tranquil in a way that felt contagious.

You sucked in a breath, hoping to provide him the same respite he offered you, willingly or otherwise.

“Coming back from that place - that state of nothingness - was jarring enough. But then having to face the five years worth of reality you left behind? It’s a wonder any of us are still alive today to mourn it.” Shifting again, you crossed your legs and turned to face him, his hand enveloped in both of yours. “But we are. You, me, Sam...all of us. Finding the love of my life had become a husband and father without me; it was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But I did - face it, I mean. And in some fucked up way, it led me to you.”

Bucky tilted his head toward you, his gaze narrowed and his eyebrow raised.

“You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies, sweetheart,” he deadpanned, though his eyes sparkled with affection.

You shrugged. “S’true.”

Even if you’d had a second to process the mischief in his expression, you still would have been startled by the quick tug of your hands as Bucky pulled you into him. You squeaked, landing with a muted thud beside him. He caught your hands just as you tried to flick sand at him, and held you close instead.

“You’re getting sappy, ya know that?” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You rose enough to see his face, blinking sweetly down at him.

"I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You purred, in feigned innocence. “I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

Bucky grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he lifted you both off the ground. “You’ve done it now.”

You giggled as you twisted away from the ticklish prodding of his fingers, though it was no use.

“Put me down, you neanderthal.” You shouted in mock protest, trying and failing to wriggle free.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that, doll,” Bucky crooned seconds before tossing you - rather ungracefully - into the shallow water.

Scrambling to your feet, you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. You kicked at the water, aiming for Bucky's face, but he anticipated it. Of course he did. He dodged deftly out of the way before grabbing your waist and pulling you both into the waves.

Coughing and sputtering, you shoved half-heartedly at his shoulder as a genuine smile bloomed on your lips. Neither of you seemed bothered by the water that lapped over your still entangled bodies.

"Thank you, Bucky."

"For what?" He scoffed, an incredulous but warm look moulding his features.

"For this," you waved a hand in the air. "You didn't even ask why I wanted to be here, you just offered to come with me. Never asked for details or tried to pry. You could be off saving the world...again." Bucky rolled his eyes. "But you're here saving me, instead."

Bucky's eyes dipped to your lips as the air began to crackle with unspent energy.

"You say that like it's two different things, doll."

The heat you felt under his careful gaze only intensified as the weight of his words settled on you.

Bucky stood before you could respond, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. He didn't let go as you strolled away from the water, instead he laced vibranium fingers with your flesh ones. Just as you reached the boardwalk that would take you back to the hotel you’d rented, Bucky glanced sideways at you before redirecting his steps. Smiling, you allowed him to lead you further down the beach, unwilling to let go of the bubble of peace you’d found just yet.

“Ya know,” Bucky murmured, his thumb stroking your knuckles gently. “It took a long time for me to reconcile my past with my expectation of the future.” He paused, noticing your questioning look before continuing. “What I mean is, my past is so…” Bucky shook his head and stopped walking.

You wrapped your free hand around his bicep reassuringly, encouraging him to continue but you waited patiently until he was ready to go on.

Bucky cleared his throat. “For a long time, I believed my past dictated my future. It’s full of so much pain and regret and things I can never undo. I always figured my future would be more of the same; a kind of comeuppance for everything I’d done.”

“Bucky…”

His lips curled into a half smile as he squeezed your hand gently. “I know. It’s taken a lot of therapy and literal reprogramming, but I know. It wasn’t me. Not really. Even accepting that though, I still always wondered how it would frame my life going forward.”

“Your past is just that, Bucky. It’s in the past,” you cocked your head to one side. “Your future is what you make of it.”

Bucky’s smile grew and he reached out to brush the damp hair from your face. “Yours is too, ya know.”

There he was, cutting straight to the heart of the matter, with as few words as possible. Again.

As your steps resumed, you kept your grip on his arm, snuggling in close as the temperature dipped slightly without the sun to warm the air.

“When I first met you, I had no idea what to make of you,” Bucky chuckled. “Honestly, you were a little intimidating.”

You scoffed. “You were intimidated by me?”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky sighed. “I was so irritated that Sam signed me up to be part of that support group - without telling me, mind you - but then you were there. You were funny, gorgeous and kind. You were so quiet, but there was this fire behind your eyes, and I wanted to know why you kept it locked up.”

The memory of that first meeting made your stomach twist. The plan had been to bide your time in silence so you could at least tell your therapist you’d gone. You’d wanted to be anywhere but there, until he walked in. The whole room had recognized him - if the quiet gasps and whispers were anything to go by - and it had been painfully obvious how uncomfortable that had made him.

Bucky laughed. “I’ll never forget the way you plopped down in the seat beside me, threw a bottle of water at me and glared at Frank and Donna until they stopped staring.”

“They were being rude.” You shrugged.

“They’re nice.” Bucky countered.

You shrugged again. “They are, but that night they were being rude. Nothing screams ‘Welcome to our blip support group’ like oogling the new guy.”

“Alright, well my point is,” Bucky stopped again, this time turning to face you, his hands gripping your shoulders gently. “I knew from the moment you shot icy death glares at them, that whatever my future held, I wanted you to be a part of it.”

Blinking, you opened and closed your mouth a few times before frowning.

“Remind me again who’s been watching too many Lifetime movies, Buck?”

“I’m serious,” Bucky chuckled lightly. “But, I get it. The wounds are still fresh, and I don’t expect anything, but I just want you to know that I’m here. And I’ll continue to be - in whatever way you’ll let me - until you send me away. This place?” Bucky waved a hand. “This is your past. But just remember that it doesn’t get to decide your future. You do.”

You bit your lip, allowing his words to envelop you with peace and warmth and - for the first time in a long time - hope.

“I think,” you paused, furrowing your brow, “Sometimes our wounds stay fresh because we keep picking at them. I think I’m ready to leave the past where it belongs.”

Bucky hummed, thumbs rubbing circles against the balls of your shoulder.

“And for the record, Barnes? I don’t plan on sending you away any time soon. So it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky barked a laugh before sliding his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You felt him press his lips to the top of your head as you snaked your arm around his waist, relishing his warmth.

“Well, lucky for both of us, doll. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

As you continued walking down the beach you’d once considered home, wrapped in the arms of the man who wanted to be your future, it struck you. The beauty of the setting sun had felt wrong because you’d been looking at it through the warped lens of your pain. The resplendence of the day drawing to a close wasn’t a mockery of the life you’d lost, it was a crimson and amber colored reminder that every day draws to a close and there will always be beauty to be found in the ending.

But the hope of the morning - when the sun will begin it’s reign once again, overpowering the darkness with it’s warmth and light - is where the true splendor is found.

You glanced up at Bucky - the man offering you the same promise of the rising sun, and for the first time in a long time everything felt right.

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

A/N 2: I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, see this post.

Weirdos:

@hannahindie @amanda-teaches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @feelmyroarrrr @masksandtruths @princessmisery666 @jamielea81 @foxyjwls007 @becs-bunker @super100012 @shy-violet-soul @emoryhemsworth @impandagrl

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes @bethbabybaby

#flex your writing muscles challenge #star spangled bingo 2020 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #MCU fanfic #panda writes #panda writes MCU #Bucky Barnes #bucky angst #bucky fluff

152 notes · View notes

glapplebloom · 3 years ago

Photo

Which of these soulless corporate movies is the least soulless?

Welcome to the Space Jam. Its your chance to do your dance at the Space Jam. Alright? Alright. Both movies are about a Basketball Star Teaming up with the Looney Tunes to play Basketball. So let’s see which one is the better of the two, starting off with...

THE STORY

Original - Aliens have come to kidnap the Looney Tunes. So they decide to have their fate decided by a Basketball Game. But when the Aliens stole the talent of other NBA players, the Looney Tunes decide to kidnap Michael Jordan (yes, they kidnap Michael Jordan as pointed out by Teen Titans going to the old Space Jam Website). After Hijinks they win the game.

Sequel - Lebron’s son got kidnapped by Al G. Rhythm and to get him back he must beat Al in a Basketball game. Thing is he is forces to get a team and he was sent to the Looney Tunes world where he finds Bugs alone. The others are seeing other Warner Brother properties so Bugs and Lebron work together to get them back. Thing is Lebron wants some heavy hitters and despite his efforts he only got toons. Even worse, the basketball game is not straightforward, more people’s lives are on the line and Al got his son to play for his team. Only until Lebron learned that he shouldn’t push people to be like him do the toons come back and win the game.

Winner - Sequel. Calling the original a plot is giving it too much credit. Its more of a concept that is put together than an actual story. If New Legacy’s story is more complex, its only because it has actual progression as things change.

THE BASKETBALL STAR

Original - As a kid, Michael Jordan was destined for greatness. He knew he wanted to be a big time basketball star and as a promise to his dad will also become a baseball star. He retired and is trying his best, but he’s not a good baseball player. It doesn’t help that others are treating him as something special (because they all want some free shoes ~Starfire). So when the Looney Tunes kidnap him, he didn’t want to help until the Monstars messed with him. Now back in the game Michael plays like he never lost a step and help the Looney Tunes win.

Sequel - As a kid, Lebron wants to play basketball. But he’s also a kid so he enjoys having fun like playing a Gameboy Game complete with Bugs Bunny’s Crazy Castle. But because of that, he lost the game. His coach at the time said he could become a great basketball player if he focused. So he did and became King James. Now an adult, he wants his kids to be basketball players too, but his youngest son prefer to make video games. This causes a riff that allows AL G. Rhythm to manipulate his son to work with him. Lebron, forced into the Warner Serververse has to make a team and is stuck with the Looney Tunes. He thinks they could win if they stick with the fundamentals but between the new rules and bias ref, they’re losing badly. So badly an argument breaks out between him and the Toons during halftime. When he figures out he’s treating them like his son, he realized the only way to win is to let them be them. With that knowledge, he ask his son for forgiveness and earns it. After winning the game, he lets his son go to the E3 Game Camp instead of the Basketball Camp.

Winner - Sequel. Lebron has an actual connection with Looney Tunes as a kid, was excited to meet Bugs, has a character arc that takes place throughout the entire movie. Even if you think he’s a bad actor, he at least felt like he was invested in the story.

THE REFERENCES

Original - For Background Easter Eggs, you got a few Looney Tunes Alumni, though they do repeat. Cameos feature other Basketball Stars and Bill Murray. And references are to things of the 90s: Dennis Rodman, Pulp Fiction, Beethoven and Babe, and for some reason Disney. I think the most clever is Larry Bird appearing. In one of the few sports things I know, Larry Bird and Michael Jordan were rivals. How do I know this? I played an NES game about their rivalry.

Sequel - Background and References subtle and not were all about Warner owned properties. As old as Casablanca to as new as Rick and Morty. We got to see the DCAU once more, references to old Looney Tunes gags and places, MC Hammer, Hanna-Barbera, Mad Max: Fury Road (and one I think is a Nostalgia Critic Reference) and so much more. In fact here’s a video featuring them all. Favorite of mine, Michael Jordan’s Cameo.

Winner - This is all your own preference so feel free to pick who you think wins here.

THE SOUNDTRACK

Winner - No competition. Between the title song (turned meme), the inspirational song (sang by someone who doesn’t know how to use a toilet), and the Monstars Anthem the new one can’t compete. But I will say for those thinking that Porky Rapping is “cringe”, the original also had a certain Rabbit rapping.

THE VILLAINS

Original - The Big Bad is Mr. Swackhammer, owner of Moron Mountain and voiced by Danny DeVito. Sadly he doesn’t do much but be the big bad boss of Nerdlucks. As their tiny small self, they don’t leave much of an impression but they really stand out after stealing the talent of stars and become Monstars. They become big, mean and slightly more different.

Sequel - Al G. Rhythm is an algorithm the Warner Brothers studios use to help make movie ideas. He wants some recognition and thinks if he can get Lebron on board he can earn it. Sadly, when Lebron refused, he didn’t take it well. So when he saw Lebron’s son take interest in him and ran away from Lebron, Al used that to his advantage. With that, he makes Lebron force to play a basketball game while manipulating his son to not only allow him access to his data but get him to play as well. The Goon Squads are a result of that as its Lebron’s son’s data on other basketball players mixed with superpowers.

Winner - Give Don Cheadle a Disney+ Show Disney! As great as Danny DeVito is, he’s just not in it long enough like Al. Can be manipulative yet also very agro.

THE TOONS

This category will be done differently. I’ll be focusing on their takes on Bugs, Lola, and the Rest. I am not including Daffy in this equation because he’s perfect in both.

Bugs - In the original, Bugs is Bugs. Wisecracking, carrot chewing, master manipulator as always. In the Sequel, he’s one of the few that stood in Looney Tunes world because that’s where he could be him. But the loneliness made him miss everyone (after all, how can he pull off schemes and pranks without victims). And while in the original Bugs saves Lola from being squashed, Bugs risks his life to ensure Lebron doesn’t get deleted when executing the glitch. It makes Bugs’ actions seem more noble than just saving the girl he likes.

Lola - In the original, she’s a “sexy” no nonsense girl who plays basketball, and that’s it. And despite her attitude, became a damsel in distress and Bugs’ prize for rescuing her. in the sequel, she wants to do her own thing, even doing an Amazon Trial to become one, but failed to complete it when Lebron and Bugs was in danger and finding out Lebron’s son was in the line. So she’s there to give the team another good player and also be a moral support. In fact, its thanks to her that Lebron realizes what he’s been doing to his son.

The Rest - If the original got one thing over the Sequel, its number. A lot more Looney Tunes play in their game in comparison. With the exception of Granny who was a cheerleader, every toon was in the game at one point. I can’t say the same for the Sequel. With that said, the Sequel did get to show their personalities more. Like compare Wile E. in both. In one he gives the Monstars a bomb. The other has him using an Acme device, placing bird seed on the button to get the Roadrunner to press it repeatedly, only to have himself be caught in said machine. They all got the chance to do their thing instead of sharing a spit take.

THE BIG GAME

Original - The Looney Tunes are losing badly in the first half. Why? Because they didn’t go looney for... Reasons. After being tricked into drinking Michael’s “Special Drink”, then they decide to go looney. This allows them to catch up but then the Monstars decide to take them out, which they do despite these attacks being pretty tame to what they can normally take. With a few seconds to go, Michael scores one more basket to win.

Sequel - The Looney Tunes are losing badly in the first half. Why? Because Lebron is forcing them to play normal basketball despite their opponents and the game itself is anything but normal basketball. When they came back, they came back Looney and managed to catch up and even get ahead. But then Al decides to cheat since he controls the game. Thanks to this being the kid’s game, they know that if they perform a glitch they can take control away from Al long enough to score one more point and win. And thanks to Bugs’ sacrifice and his son moving a power up right underneath him, Lebron slam dunks the final point and wins.

Winner - The sequel. There was no reason for the Looney Tunes to be less looney in the first half in the original and its short live as each one gets taken out. Meanwhile the Sequel gives a valid reason for everything to happen.

My Winner - Space Jam: A New Legacy

Both movies are basically overgrown commercials trying to get you to buy stuff. The original was based off a Shoe Commercial and banking on your nostalgia on Looney Tunes and Michael Jordan the Basketball player to make you interested in seeing him back on court and new Looney Tunes content. The new one is basically for HBO Max. And both movies have also not credited people who deserve to be credited. But between the two of them a New Legacy actually feels like its trying to justify its existence.

Lebron has a connection with the toons through childhood, has actual stakes in the game, and actually feels invested in the events. The original was basically the Nike commercial stretched to a movie length. And to me, that makes a New Legacy a better movie.

#other

4 notes · View notes

hwalovs · 5 years ago

Text

Second Star to The Right

→ Pairing: Yunho, Reader → Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Pirate Au → Word count: 17.3k → Warnings: Fighting, blood, unprotected sex, low-key soft sex, (I’ve never written smut before give me a break), multiple orgasms, I mean- teasing??, yunho with a lot of RINGS, yunho’s an asshole sometimes, hes a softie to you, lots of whispering, ANGST at one point, mostly fluff. → Summary: Yunho once found a map leading to the island of Peter Pan, telling you the story that whoever found the island would be granted with immortality with the person they loved most. He promised you that he’d get you to the island, that you’ll live forever together. → Note: you wont see much of ateez at first in this, mostly Yunho, but i promise they do appear. also im very aware this isn't accurate, it isn't supposed to be. its a fan fiction. I’m also pretty shit at summary’s oops.

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

The skies were absolutely beautiful in the morning, with the sun just peaking over the horizon. With the streets deserted and families home asleep, children are not yet ready to get up and torment their siblings or fathers. Near the docks, ships were tied off and empty. Their Captains all in Inns resting before having to put on their sea legs again. Only one or two ships still sail on the open waters, and those people were titled ‘Insane’ for staying up all night.

It was only when the village would slowly wake up, when the children would rub their tired eyes and cry out for their mothers. And to a normal woman, an everyday thing would be putting on their morning dress, heading down to the bakery to collect their morning bread and milk. Then heading home to commit themselves the rest of the morning to making breakfast for their lovely husband and four children. Afterwards, their lovely husband would go to work and they would stay home and take care of the kids, teaching the ladies how to do housework and how to be ladylike, and the boys would go out and run around with their friends. A certain group of boys would go down to the docks and point out the different types of government ships, to the bright ones that were just built, to the ones that just came back from fighting the filthy pirates. On some days, they would see a giant ship on the horizon, black flag blowing through the skies. The dark wood contrasting against any other ship, the sails large and intimidating, a pure white that made the clouds seem like impostors.

This ship was their favorite out of the other pirate ships that they saw, the others were faded more, looked broken and scary, intimidating them when they would slowly come closer and closer, but they never docked. Some would be so close you could be the men on board, pushing other people around and laughing gruffly, their swords reflected off the sun and their skin looked so dirty, these ships didn't even compare to the one that actually docked.

If they were lucky, the ship would dock. Of course, it would be after all of the government ships had left. They would watch the men leave the ship with torn clothes, the small bags at their sides full of gold coins. The men would leave the ship by rank, they came to learn. The last leaving always being the captain and his girl, they didn't know if they were married or if he just kept her around for fun.

Today was one of those days, the seven boys crowded by the dock gates, watching the crew walk off of the ship in uniform. The captain was wearing a large brimmed hat, a feather adorning the top. There were chains hanging around his waist and the black jacket he wore was unbuttoned to show off the crisp white shirt underneath. Following him was his girl, she was in attire close to his. Tight black pants with a crisp white shirt, the sleeves flowed around her arms, stopping tightly at her wrists, the ends hanging limp around her hands. She smiled shyly at the captain, linking her arm with him. The other men that came off before them quickly went into the small village to the nearby jewelry stores to pawn off what they stole, others going to the pub to drink or the market to stock up for their next journey. The captain and his girl always stayed by the docks, waiting patiently for their crew to come back. The girl sometimes came and talked to them, but would be called back over not a moment later by the captain. She always gave the excuse that he was just protective over her.

“Hello boys,” You said quietly as you walked closer to the boys, they all scrambled around each other to get Seonghwa, the oldest of the bunch, to talk to you.

“H-hi, ma’am,” He said with a small smile on his face, you smiled back, bending down so you were at their height. He glanced back to see the captain watching them, leaning back against the storage boxes with his arms crossed. Seonghwa glanced back at the others, watching the smallest out of the bunch, Wooyoung, make his way even further away from you. He was the shiest of the bunch, and did this every time you would come around.

“How’ve you guys been? I’ve missed all of you so much~” you cooed before reaching out and pinching his cheeks, seonghwa smirked shyly before leaning towards you a little.

“I bet I've missed you more,” he said, almost letting a stutter pass, shoving his hands in his pockets. You looked shocked for a moment, noting his sudden confidence. Suddenly smiling and reaching forward, grabbing the sides of his vest and pulling it back into place.

“Aw~ how sweet~ How about you boys come with me this time? We’d have lots of fun together,” You said with a wink, testing the small boy. Seonghwa gulped, his cheeks dusting a deep red. You laughed, standing at your full height and looking back at the rest. Smiling at how small Hongjoong and Wooyoung were, how San and Mingi were looking back at the captain. Watching him slowly walk closer, it was evident that they liked the look of your captain.

“How old are you now, Seonghwa?” you questioned, watching how he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. You knew that his birthday was sometime in the summer, remembering that he told you one spring morning how his father was going to buy him a new practice sword.

“Uh, 14?” he said back, almost as a question. You hummed, nodding your head while looking back at the Captain, who was close to standing next to you now. The brim of his hat covering the honey blonde hair on his head, the chains on his hips tapping together as he walked.

“You hear that, Yun? Our boys growing,” You cooed towards him, the captain looked towards you and sighed, shaking his head while putting his hands in his pockets.

“He’s not our boy, you know that. None of them are, actually,” you pouted and leaned against his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. Yet, you decided to stay a little further away from him, so you didn't gross the young boys out. Yeosang was glued to Jongho’s side, as usual, the baby of the group seemingly the most buff. He didn't talk to you much, but Mingi said it was from his mother asking him to rip apples apart. The captain looked towards the village and then back down towards the kids, taking note of the stars from the old fisherman and the pristine looking women by the tackle shops.

“Can we take em with us? Please?” You said again, leaning your head against his shoulder. The other boys looked towards each other, silently fighting. Some of them wanted to go with them, some of them didn’t. Seonghwa looked back and made the decision for them.

“We’ll go once we’re all of age, Jongho’s only 12. So come back once he’s, uh, 16!” he said rushed, stepping back from the two adults. you looked back down towards him and sighed, leaning back down. “Seonghwa, we’re not going to come back for a long time, hell, we might not come back at all,” you said softly, reaching out and softly grabbing his free hand. Seonghwa frowned, not fully understanding what she was saying. Mingi and San glanced at each other, then back up at the captain, who just looked back at them. Smiling softly at Mingi, he smiled back, eyes turning into small crescent moons.

“What?” Seonghwa said, brows furrowing. You pursed your lips, turning to look at the captain.

“Yunho? Help me out here,” you said softly, Yunho looked at her for a moment. He knew that you cared about the 7 kids, and that you only got off the ship so you could come and talk to them. He took his hat off with his free hand, blonde locks falling into his eyes. Bending down onto one knee and smiling softly at the young boy.

“We’re going on a journey, a very important one in fact,” he said, still holding his hat in hand, leaning forward towards seonghwa, he taps the brim on his nose. Seonghwa scrunched his nose and rubbed it.

“What kind of journey? We can help!” Jongho said from the group, you let out a laugh, leaning towards Jongho for a moment to ruffle his short brown hair. Yunho smiled brightly at Jongho, shaking his head with a glint in his eye.

“Have you boys ever heard about Peter Pan? And the story of his island?” He spoke, amusement lacing into his voice.

“No, but we would if you told us,” Yeosang said, Yunho glanced at you with pursed lips, who nodded in a silent agreement to tell the boys. Yunho side eyed the boys, smirking before fully looking at them again.

“Well, it's said that if you manage to find his island with the one you love most, you’re granted immortality and can forever live on the island. I found part of a map that leads to it, and we’re going to go off and find the island, but people also say it's hard to find since the waters around protect it from invaders coming to use the power for evil,” Yunho said, the boys looked at him with intent, seonghwa stepped forward, his shoes almost touching the captains.

“We can help find it, my mom used to read Peter pan to me when i was little,” Yunho chuckled at Seonghwa while shaking his head, standing up and grabbing your hand, tilting his head at the small boy.

“Maybe in a few years if we still haven’t found it,” yunho said with a slight smile, bringing the large hat up and dropping it down onto seonghwa’s head. It covered most of his eyes, him having to push it back to see up towards the two adults. The other small boys looked towards seonghwa with a bit of jealousy in their eyes, since they also wanted a Pirates hat.

“Now dont you let anything happen to that hat,” Yunho said, a smile gracing his face. Seonghwa gave him a thumbs up, feeling Mingi pull at the feather that adorned the top.

“And don't you let any bad guys think you’re a pirate now, you’re still a babe,” You said, watching how his cheeks tinted pink at the title of ‘babe’. Only his mother called him that, he didn't even consider himself a baby.

Yunho bought a hand up to his lips, bringing in a large breath and whistling loudly, the small boys jumped in surprise, still not used to it even after hearing it every time they came to town. The two adults in front of them looked back down, You smiled while leaning back down and kissing seonghwa’s cheek softly, leaning over him afterwards to pinch at Jongho’s chubby cheeks and ruffling San's hair. you linked arms with Yunho, both of them waving goodbye to them before turning and walking back to the ship. Their feet walking in sync.

“Do you think they’ll come back, Seonghwa?” Yeosang said softly, his brows furrowed. Seonghwa pursed his lips, bringing his hand up to push his hair back.

Walking back onto the ship, yunho turned towards you quickly and softly slapped the back of your head, you yelped and brought a hand up to rub at the spot he slapped.

“What’s that for?” you said, glaring at him.

“We can't take them, (y/n), you know that. If we do it’d be kidnapping and child endangerment,” He said towards you, you just grinned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I just wanted them to think they could come with us, I've seen them with their mothers yunho, they're so mean,” you said softly, brushing your hair back from your shoulders.

“They may be mean, but you know they wouldn’t survive with us,” he said softly, watching the way you signed and nodded your head.

Both of them walked up to the upper deck, looking back at the village. The crew was rushing to get back to the ship, some with large back of food and others with medium size bags of gold coins they managed to get from pawning. Yunho glanced at you, noting the way you watched the group of small boys running down the main road, the large hat slowly disappearing from sight.

“You’ll see them again, maybe if we manage to find the island, we can somehow find a way to get them there,” he whispered, causing you to turn towards him. Stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist, he put an arm around your shoulders, noting how small you were compared to himself.

“Every time you guys get close like that, it makes me wanna throw up,” A voice stated, causing you to turn and glare. Woohyuk smiled at your expression, carrying a small barrel of gun power. Changmin followed closely behind his brother, walking past quickly and slapping the back of his head. Changmin looked towards you both and gave a sweet smile, you began to mirror it before you remembered Woohyuk’s comment.

“At least I have somebody to do it with,” You said with gritted teeth, taking pride in the way Woohyuk’s cheeks tinted pink. Yunho rolled his eyes and watched as he set down the large barrel next to the others, disgust settling in his gut when he saw how dirty his hands were. Changmin quickly disappeared with whatever he was carrying, but you knew he would be back to collect his brother if nobody else did.

“Go wash your hands, they are filthy,” Yunho stated, Woohyuk only smirked and walked closer to the captain, holding his hands out in a teasing way. “Oh no~ My dirty fingers are gonna taint your purity~”

Yunho quickly let you go, stepping backwards with a harsh glare on his features, "Woohyuk, I swear to god if you touch me with those filthy hands, I’ll throw you over myself,” He growled out, watching the way Woohyuk wiggled his fingers as he got closer.

“I’m gone for one moment, and he’s already acting up,” You heard Jinhyun say from behind you, you looked back towards your boatswain with a smile. He had two bags of oranges in his hands, his eyes glazed with fatigue of running around trying to find everybody. “Looks like you missed this one,” You said softly, crossing your arms and leaning onto the large pillar housing the main mast.

Jinhyun groaned before stomping his foot on the ground, grabbing the attention of the Powder Monkey and Captain. You laughed at how mad Yunho looked, paired with Woohyuk’s small smirk.

“Would you get your ass back to work? We set sail in ten,” He said, causing Woohyuk to roll his eyes and walk away. He was more than likely going down to the lower deck to tend to the cannons, he couldn't forget to clean them before they parted from shore.

You glanced around and noticed Eunhyuk already on board, he was up by the wheel watching everybody on the main deck. He didn't have a smile on his face, but that didn't stop his eyes from showing amusement at the current quarrel. “Can somebody help, please?” You heard Chan say softly, his arms full of large white bags filled with different foods.

You were about to rush over and go help, but Minhyun, your quartermaster, was already there behind him. He grabbed one of the heavier bags and helped him carry them to the kitchen. Chan was always soft spoken, but Minhyun was always there to listen to him.

Looking around and taking roll, you pushed off of the pillar and made your way up the stairs towards the wheel. Yunho was hot on your heels, nodding towards Eunhyuk.

“Everybody here?” Yunho questioned, brows furrowing and looking towards you.

“All crew have been accounted for,” You said with a smile, you quickly covered your ears when yunho brought his fingers up to his mouth once more, letting out a shrill whistle. Everybody on board began to move around then, Woohyuk appeared from the lower deck and began to crank a pulley to bring up the anchor. Jinhyun began to bark orders to everybody, his voice wasn't as demanding as Minhyun’s or Yunho’s, but it still got the point across.

Changmin quickly rushed over to the main mast, pulling on many ropes and letting the main mast fall from its ties. You never got over how beautiful The Aurora was, her main masts were a beautiful white. The flag that adorned your ships insignia was a white compass, with a blue and black background.

“Let’s begin,” Yunho said, and with that the ship began to move slowly away from the docks, the village slowly leaving your sight.

----

It had been a few weeks since your last visit with the 7 boys, and being on a ship wasn't all that bad. Sure, there was the occasional sea sickness and rough storms that happen sometimes, but there was also the clear blue skies and the water that was almost see through on sunny days. Currently, you were on the main deck, leaning over the side of the ship. Looking down, you could see the waves crashing against the side of the boat, the paint fading with time. Yunho was currently inside his room, probably talking to Eunhyuk about navigation. Eunhyuk was a nice guy, he was a giant flirt, but he was able to get the ship to any point in the ocean.

With the skies being clear as can be today, it was the perfect time to steer the ship in the correct direction. Eunhyuk was able to somehow pinpoint the location of the island, he was just trying to locate different villages to stop by for food and clothes. Yunho didn't want to stop, you knew he didn't, but Eunhyuk said it was vital. Your Yunho was a determined one, he promised in hushed whispers that he would get you to the island.

You met Yunho when he was 16, he was a mere boatswain at the time. Being in charge of ensuring the condition of the ship, the captain was an old man who favored him way too much, taking him in when nobody else would, but the quartermaster, the man who ensured the captain's orders were fulfilled, didn't. He saw his position as second to the captain threatened, and brought you onto the ship so Yunho would get distracted, enraging the captain. The quartermaster was right, you did distract yunho. With sneaking around and stolen kisses throughout the day, the captain noticed it all. While the quartermaster thought he would get mad, in reality he was anything but upset. He was happy the once small and closed off boy was happy, holding hands and running around like an idiot in love.

After the captain died, giving his position to Yunho, the quartermaster left, cursing the now 18 year old to hell. Yunho closed himself off afterwards, staying locked away in his room and cursing the world for taking away the only father figure he had. He didn’t lock out though, he let you hold him when he cried, let you kiss away his tears and brush his tangled hair in the morning when he was too tired to do so. After a month of his sulking, you finally kicked him into gear. Yelling at him that the crew needs him to be a captain, and the ship needs to see the world. He was able to put on his fresh black brimmed hat and step up to the plate.

“What’re you doing out here, Little girl?” Speak of the devil, you heard Yunho call out from behind you, hearing him walk closer. You smiled and turned your back to the ocean, leaning up against the low rail, tailbone resting against the dark wood.

“I’m just waiting for you, Captain,” He raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning back to look down at you. Smiling, you brought your hands up to his shoulders.

Leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder, his hands came down to rest on your hips, giving them a squeeze. You hummed, closing your eyes and resting your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Feeling him lean down and put his head against your neck. He’s gotten taller over the years, you use to be the taller one, now Yunho towers over you. It sometimes amazed you how much he’s grown, from the scrawny 16 year old to the now wide-shouldered and healthy 21 year old. His skin had a healthy glow from the ocean sun, and his eyes showed a mature shine you’re sure you didn't reflect. Yunho was a man, while you considered yourself still a child. Yet, you weren't that much younger than him, only 2 years younger.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long, baby,” he said softly, turning his head and kissing your cheek softly.

“It’s alright, time passes quickly when you look at the pretty waves,” you replied softly. You felt him smile against your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. Sighing, you brought your head back and looked at him, Yunho reminded you of a bear, with his soft blonde hair and honey colored skin, he gave off the aura of a teddy bear a small child would get.

“But, I did get lonely, the waves can only do so much for a lovesick woman,” You said with a hum, slightly swaying from side to side. Yunho smiled, leaning back and looking down at you. The wind blew through his hair, making it seem messy and unkempt. You reached your hand up, brushing your fingers through it.

“What should I do to make it up to you, baby?” He said, tilting his head slightly. You hummed, bringing a finger up and tapping your chin softly. “Can I have a kiss?” You questioned, he laughed, nodding and leaning down.

The first time you kissed Yunho, it was messy and wet. Neither of you knew what you were doing, but it was okay. You remember how his hands were trembling on your waist, you felt him hold his breath, having to stand on his toes slightly to kiss you. Now when he kisses you, it takes your breath away, how his soft lips felt against yours. His kisses range from soft and loving, to fast and desperate. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer. He let out a sigh, breaking the kiss for a moment before continuing. His lips moved against yours easily, learning what you liked after so many years together. You wrapped your arms further around his neck, playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck.

You felt him groan, pushing you against the railing. Feeling your balance slip, you quickly slapped a hand against the railing to ensure you didn't fall backwards off the ship, even though you knew Yunho had a tight grip on you. He pushed further, his knee coming between your legs and moving between them. Reaching both arms down to grab under your thighs, lifting you up onto the railing. You laughed softly, breaking the kiss and looking at him, his cheeks were a soft pink, opening his eyes and showing you how dilated they were. Whining softly, he chased after your lips. You met him halfway, tilting your head to the side to allow him more access, biting his bottom lip softly.

His hands slowly made their way up your thighs, slipping the tips of his fingers underneath your shirt. You arched your back, feeling heat beginning to pool at the bottom of your stomach. Feeling Yunho smirk against your lips, he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You gladly accepted, the both of you fighting for dominance, but Yunho easily won. His hands slipping fully under your shirt and holding your back.

Suddenly remembering where you were, you pulled away and put your hands on his chest. He frowned, taking his hands away and placing them at the top of your thighs.

“As much as I'd love to continue this, we’re in public,” You whispered to him, glancing around and noting the eyes that glanced at you both every few moments. Yunho furrowed his eyebrows, looking around as well and glaring at the onlookers for ruining his fun. Looking back at you, he gave you a smirk.

“That hasn’t stopped us before,” He teased, stepping as close as he could, his hips pressed against your, you could feel the outline on him on your thigh, not surprised that just your kissing riled him up so much. You blushed, lightly smacking him on the shoulder.

“That was after everybody went to bed, not in broad daylight, idiot,” you hissed, glaring at him while pushing him away. Jumping down from the railing and walking towards his room. Turning around and walking backwards, you winked softly at him. You laughed when you saw him pull at his collar, looking around and further glaring at the other men.

“Get back to work! I don't pay you to play around,” he hissed, you laughed, turning and climbing the stairs to the upper deck. Walking down the hallway on the side of the ship, you heard quick footsteps behind you. Already knowing who it was, you slowed down. Feeling arms coming to wrap around your waist, kisses being laid on your neck. You laughed softly, grabbed the hands that were wrapped around your waist.

Twisting the knob to your and Yunho’s bedroom, he pushed you both through, turning you both around so your back was pressed up against the wood. You gasped when his kisses got more rough, more desperate than the ones before. Yunho reaches down, grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, arms tightly around his neck. He connects your lips again, this time more desperate and rushed. Dominating your mouth, he pulled you both from the door, navigating his way to the bed on the other side of the room.

You let out a yelp when you were suddenly dropped, back being cushioned by the soft bed. Looking up at yunho, you felt yourself getting wet with the sight in front of you. His eyes were dark, lips red and swollen, the collar of his shirt loose, he looked absolutely amazing. He tilted his head slightly, smirking down at you. Reaching up and untying his shirt, the multiple buttons and ribbons holding it tight to his body, you made yourself with also untying your shirt, being only left in your thin nighty, it was see through, a pale nude color against your tan skin.

Yunho looked at your skin with hunger slowly clouding his eyes, watching the way your nipples grew hard when hit with the rooms air.

“What were you thinking, hm? Looking at me like that on deck?” He growled, putting a knee on the bed while throwing his shirt to the floor, you gulped, throwing your shirt and leaning back on your elbows. He reached down, pulling at your nighty’s elastic strap before letting go, making contact harshly with your skin, making you jump back. It didn’t hurt, he only pulled it back slightly.

“Answer me, baby,” he said, bringing his hands back up and unbuttoning the top of his pants. The gems on his fingers shining in the light, his fingers looked delicious.

“I was thinking about you, and how good you look,” you said softly, goosebumps rising on your skin from the way he looked at you. He bit his lip, leaning over you and kissing you again, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of your mighty, pulling it up and away before throwing it with the other clothes on the floor. He pulled back, turning his head and kissing down your jaw, sucking on the skin. You moaned softly, reaching up and pulling at the hair at the base of his neck. He groaned against your neck, reaching up and grabbing your jaw to keep you in place. His rings brushing against your skin, he pushed your legs aside to fit between them.

“You look even better than me, baby, do you know how hard it is for me not to fuck you on every surface this damn ship has?” he said, pulling back. You moaned softly, pushing your hips up against his, feeling him getting harder through his pants. He groaned, reaching down and unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down slowly.

You knew your panties were soaked, you saw it while he was pulling your pants down. He must have seen it too, groaning and throwing them to the floor, leaning back down to your neck and sucking another mark onto it, he began to kiss down your chest. Stopping to bring a nipple into his mouth, you sighed, letting your head fall back against the sheets. He pinched your other nipple with his fingers, feeling your legs wrap around his waist and grind up into him, making him even harder than he already was. He pulled away from your chest, reaching down and pulling the rest of his clothes off.

Yunho’s cock wasn't big to where it would hurt you, but it wasn't small to where you couldn't feel anything. It was perfect for you, being able to reach your sweet spots and make you see blinding pleasure. Pressing his hips against yours, his cock rested between your lips, moaning out, you lifted your hips the same time he pressed down, his tip catching onto your clit, causing both of you to moan out. Yunho leaned back down, taking a nipple back into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin, biting it softly while grinding into you.

“I assume its very hard, but right now you have an opportunity to fuck me, why not take it?” You questioned stupidly, he pulled away from your nipple, he looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, “What do you think i'm about to do, baby?” He said, coming back up and kissing down your neck, his tongue darting out to swipe against your sweet spot. You arched your back, his hips not faltering in grinding against you. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten, breath coming out in short bursts, “Please move faster,” you whispered, he smirked at you, slowing down his movements. You cried out, the tight coil disappearing as soon as it appeared. You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I was about to cum, you bully,” you said with a breath, slapping his arm. He laughed, leaning down and biting your ear before taking the lobe between his lips, sucking on it softly.

“Please fuck me, i need you,” you pleaded, feeling the way your wetness coated your thighs from the grinding, glancing down and seeing how it coated both you and him. Yunho reached down between you, fingertips dragging up your slit, collecting your juices before bringing his hand up to his mouth, looking at you while sucking his fingertips clean, groaning softly while licking down to the rings.

“You always taste so good for me, baby girl,” he said, you moaned at the sight. He brought his hand down again, this time sinking a finger into you. Moaning out, you brought a hand up to his forearm, gripping it tightly. “Baby, please,” you gasped, feeling him add another finger, curling both up against your sweet spot. His thumb slowly began to circle your clit, pumping his fingers at a brutal pace inside you, he ensured that his rings would touch your skin, he didn’t want to hurt you with the metal. You groaned, elbow collapsing from your weight, falling back onto the bed. “I know you want me to fuck you, but you have to be patient baby girl,” he said roughly, your legs tightened around his waist, the coil in your stomach coming back. You arched your back off the bed, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, gasping out, “I’m gonna cum- please, let me cum-”

“Then cum baby, all over my fingers,” he said, pumping his fingers faster into you. Crying you, you felt the coil snap, pleasure running down your legs. Tightening your thighs around his waist, he slowed his fingers inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. “You’re such a good girl for me, always have been,” he said quietly, pulling his fingers back and popping each digit in his mouth, licking them clean.

He leaned back down, kissing you, licking into your mouth and tangling your tongues together. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the taste making you sigh softly. Pulling back, you reached down and grabbed his shaft, pumping it slowly. He groaned, leaning down and sucking on your neck. You leaned closer to him, “Fuck me now, Yunho, i need you,” you whispered, he growled, sitting up and grabbing onto your thighs, bringing them higher onto his waist and shuffling closer to you. Slapping your hand away and grabbing his cock, leaning forward and rubbing against your slit. You whined, bringing your hips up in hope you’ll catch his tip.

“What’s the magic word, baby girl?” He growled, glaring down at you. Gulping, you spread your thighs wide for him. “Please,” you said softly.

“Good girl,” he said, pushing into you in one smooth motion, hips pushing fully against yours, you moaned, gripping the blanket in your hand and arching your back. He always filled you up perfectly, his tip just kissing your cervix. You took little time adjusting to him, moving your hips slightly.

“Move, yunho, please,” you gasped out, hand coming up and gripping his arm again. He groaned and moved his hips, setting a slow pace at first, but it quickly sped up, a steady rhythm with him moving into you with skilled movements. You moaned out, pulling his arm softly to get him closer to you. He leaned down, one hand resting on your waist, the other resting on your thigh. He looked so pretty like this, his hair messy and tangled. His cheeks were red, lips swollen, eyes dilated. You whined, letting go of the blanket and wrapping an arm around his neck. He smirked, reaching down and looping an arm around your leg, bringing it up higher. It allowed him to reach deeper into you, bringing more pleasure. You moaned out, nails digging into his shoulder. He hummed, “What is it, baby?”

His hips didn't stop, his pace non faltering, you could feel the coil in your stomach appear again. This time stronger than the last, you knew you wouldn't last long. “Please, don't stop,” you said, looking at him. Sweat beading his hairline, you probably didn't look any different, you could feel your hair stick to the back of your neck, baby hairs sticking to your forehead, evidence of you both and the sun’s heat outside.

The coil in your stomach tightened, about to burst, yet it wouldn’t, you needed more. More of Yunho. “Baby- i need more, please” you rushed out, watching the way his lips tugged up into a smirk. He leaned back slightly. Licking his thumb and reaching down between your bodies, he began rubbing your clit with quick, tight circles. You yelped out, a loud moan following. He could feel your cunt tighten around him, groaning out at the feeling.

“I’m so close baby, please-” you said quickly, feeling him pick up his pace, hitching your leg higher until it was on his shoulder, leaning back and rubbing your clit harder. You reached beside your head and gripped the blanket there, arching your back off the bed and feeling your orgasm quickly approach. You could hear the bed softly creak under you, how Yunho groaned every now and then, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Cum for me, cum all over me sweet girl,” He growled, pressing his fingertips into your skin. By now, you wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises.

Feeling your orgasm wash over you, you moaned loudly, walls tightened around Yunho, causing his movement to falter. Slowing down to help you through it, he leaned down and kissed you, swallowing your moans. You pulled away from him, reaching up and brushing his hair away from his forehead, turning his head slightly, he kissed the pad of your thumb. “Cum for me, Yunho,” you said softly, causing him to groan and pick up his pace again. You moaned out, feeling the waves of pleasure become overwhelming. He leaned down, kissing your collar bone, feeling the coil in his stomach tighten quicker than he wanted, you just felt so good he couldn't stop himself.

Gasping, he felt his orgasm wash over him, pushing his hips against yours, feeling him paint your walls white. He groaned out softly, “Fuck,” he whispered to you, causing you to moan softly, feeling him drop your leg from his shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his neck. While holding him close, you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him against you.

After feeling him relax against you, you relaxed your legs and let them fall from around him. Feeling drowsy already, humming to yourself in content while closing your eyes. Feeling him push off of you, pulling out while he does so, he fell beside you. Turning his body and pulling you against him, you put your hand on his chest, drawing small circles as sleep began to take over your vision.

“Do you miss them?” Yunho suddenly whispered, looking up to him you noticed his head turned towards the open window on the other side of the room. The sun was slowly setting, casting orange and red hues over the ocean. “Them?” You questioned, voice small and masked with fatigue. He nodded, glancing down at you and reaching up to run a hand through your hair, making you hum in contentment.

“The boys in the village, the ones you always talk to when we dock,” he said, turning his head back to look out the window, you looked out the window as well, watching the waters become more and more calm as time passed.

“I suppose so, i think it was San’s birthday last week,” you said, breaking the silence.

If you had to pick a favorite boy, it would have to be San, he always had a passion for doing what he loved. Whether it be singing or learning taekwondo at his father's small studio. He was quiet when you first met him, he was so young, but after you broke through to him he warmed up to you so quickly. He would run around and sing with the other boys, but he warmed your heart so much when he told you that he loved singing the tunes you taught them, whether you learned it while sailing or from your own mother. Seonghwa was protective of the other boys, so was Hongjoong, Hongjoong introduced them all first, acting as a little leader to them all. And Mingi was so sweet to you, anytime he smiled his eyes would disappear into crescent moons. Yes, they all managed to squeeze into your heart, but San did it first. If he was alone, you’d gladly adopt him, take him with you and show him the world.

“Was it? Maybe we can bring him something from the island,” Yunho said softly, his hand under your body pulled you closer, rubbing your back with small circles that matched your own.

“Why would you bring them up if we’re not even going to take them with us?” You questioned, raising your head to look at him. He pursed his lips and avoided your gaze, keeping his eyes locked on the ocean.

“We’re running out of supplies, we didn’t grab enough when we were at the village, and it's the closest one to us right now that doesn't crawl with government ships. We can either risk it at another village and get supplies there, or turn back and lose the progress we have now,” Yunho huffed out, eyebrows beginning to furrow with stress. “We’re already out in open ocean, by the time we get back it’ll be the end of summer, and then the water would be cold, who knows if the water around the island freezes during winter.” he said, bringing his free hand up and brushing his hair back. You stayed quiet, thinking of what to say to him. Yunho was always the stubborn type, once he set his mind to something he tended to keep going at it until it satisfied him.

“What do you think, sweet thing?” He questioned, finally looking down at you. Looking into his eyes, you could see the conflict in them, for once this was something he couldn't decide on his own. You gulped, weighting over the options he gave you.

“I think we should keep going, turning around would only make us lose more materials and time, no?” You said quietly, licking your lips. He hummed, looking up to the wooded ceiling. It was dark in the room now, only a sliver of sun peaking over the horizon.

“Yeah,” he said softly, chest rising and collapsing with a sigh. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. With the sun gone, it was slowly getting colder in the room, the waves crashing against the side of the ship made it sway in a slow rhythm.

“For now, lets just sleep. I’ll speak with Eunhyuk tomorrow about it, get his input,” yunho said.

You nodded your head, feeling him move into a more comfortable position while reaching down and pulling the blacker up and over your shoulders. He hummed a bit, a tune he remembered from childhood. He would hum it to you after days like this, either pull of pleasure or stress, or both. It always managed to lull you off to sleep.

—-

For the following days, you’ve been at a nearby town. It was small, the people from one side knowing the people on the other side. You and Yunho were currently in a small inn that was near the shore line, you could easily look out the window and gaze over at your ship, currently it was being cleaned down and restocked by your crew. Yunho decided to stay the night, saying it would be better instead of staying up late to ensure navigational correction.

Sitting down on the bed next to Yunho, you leaned your head down onto his shoulder. You felt him slightly shift, opening the compass in his hand. He had gotten it from his old captain, said that it’ll point to what he desired most. As he opened it, the arrow began to spin wildly, pointing off in a different direction and then back at you.

“If it doesn't stop on me, I’ll cry,” you said softly, a chuckle following. A moment later the arrow stopped on you, causing a smile to grow across your face. “Looks like you wont be crying,” Yunho said softly back, leaning his head on top of yours. You both sat in silence for a moment, listening to the footsteps outside of your door, you could even hear the lady at the front desk if you listened hard enough.

The small in you both were staying in wasn't that fancy, but it wasn't that bad either. The bed was freshly cleaned and there wasn't dust anywhere. The dresser had four drawers to hold your belongings, but you both did not have any, yours were on the ship.

“Do you wanna explore the town?” Yunho said suddenly, tilting his head slightly to look down at you. “Not really, can we just stay here until they want us to come back?” You replied, feeling his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. He shrugged your head off, standing up and walking towards the window. You didn't mind that he shrugged you off, he did it often when he had nothing to do.

Yunho looked like a fallen angel standing by the window, but he was far from an angel to you. He had on a white long sleeve shirt that was paired with a dark vest. His pants were black, tan boots paired with it. Usually he had his long jacket on, a gold intricate design etched into the sleeves and down the back. Currently, it was thrown across the bed, his new hat resting on top of a pillow.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find the island? There's already things going wrong,” he said, voice breaking you from your thoughts. Humming, you stood. Walking over to him and grabbing hold of the hand that held the compass. Feeling how tense he was, you sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I don't know,” You said, honesty lacing in your voice. With the way Yunho was pouting, you could say he looked like a puppy, maybe one of those puppies that the king and queen would get.

“You look like a puppy,” you said suddenly, causing yunho to furrow his eyebrows and look down at you in confusion. “What?” He said, glancing over at the bed quickly to toss the compass onto it. Turning back to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“A puppy,” You started with a smile, “One of those gold ones the king and queen would get,” Giving off a laugh while pulling you closer. You watched with a smile how his eyes formed into small crescent moons, and how lips curled into a perfect smile.

“I guess I’m your puppy then, huh?” He said as he stopped laughing, but his beautiful smile stayed. You could feel butterflies erupt in your belly, and how your chest felt light and airy.

“If you want to be, then you can be,” You replied, your hands rubbing up and down on his upper arms. You could feel how much muscle he’s gotten over the past few weeks. Some of the crew managed to get another few barrels of gunpowder, even some more ammo if it was needed. Yunho decided to help, carrying a barrel and even a few balls of ammo. With that, and the constant pushing and pulling of ropes and crates, his arms had gotten much bigger.

“I just want you to be happy,” He said, his voice sounding serious. That caused you to stop smiling, the butterflies and the heavenly feeling both disappearing as well.

There was a dark side to Yunho that the crew didn’t know about, how he has his own demons he sometimes has to fight each and every day. You tried to help him every chance you got, but sometimes he just wanted to be alone and work though it by himself. Today must have been one of those days.

“I’m happy, honey,” You said softly, watching how different emotions clouded his eyes. “What’s wrong?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Yunho was known to have major mood swings sometimes, one minute he would be in a good mood, then the next he would be on the edge of tears.

“I don't want you to think I'm doing all of this for myself,” he said, voice low. You sighed, shaking your head. Why did he have to start thinking of this now?

“I don't think that, i never have,” You replied, bringing your hand up to his cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth. Yunho pursed his lips, hands gripping at the white shirt you were wearing. You tilted your head at him, hair falling off of your shoulder.

“Are you sure? The compass doesn't point to just you anymore,” he said, bottom lip beginning to shake a little.

“Just because the compass doesn't point to only me, doesn't mean you don't want me anymore,”

“I know, but i don't want you to think that i don't want you anymore. You’re the only person I actually want,” he whispered, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You brought your hand up, running your fingers through his hair.

There was a sudden knock at your door, causing the both of you to pull away from each other. Yunho huffed, walking over quickly and throwing open the door. Woohyuk stood there, sweat ran down his forehead and his clothes were a bit disheveled. His chestnut hair was frizzed out from the humid weather and he was panting. Yunho leaned out to look down both sides of the hallways before glaring at the young boy in front of him.

“What is it?” He questioned, glancing back at you.

“S-sir, its Jugeom- he has Aurora pined-” Woohyuk said, his usual sarcastic attitude gone.

Aurora was your ship, Yunho decided to use it after kissing you under the Aurora Borealis, and you couldn't agree more. Aurora was pinned? Who would wanna pin her? Had the government finally caught up with you both?

“What?! When did this happen?!” Yunho yelled, turning and rushing over for his hat and coat, pulling his coat on harshly before nodding to you as a sign to follow. After all, Aurora was your ship.

Yunho ran out of the room, you and Woohyuk hot on his heels.

“How did this happen?!” Yunho yelled, causing the lady at the front desk to look at you all weirdly. You ignored her, trying your best to keep up with Yunho and Woohyuk.

“I don’t know, one minute me and Changmin were helping take stock, then the next fucking Jugeom was shooting up the place-”

“Shooting up the place?!” You shouted, boots slapping against the brick street. Woohyuk looked back at you with pursed lips, his forehead shown to the world with all the running. How he wasn't out of breath astonished you.

“Yeah, he was spewing some shit about that compass you always have cap, but none of us know what he’s talking about,” Woohyuk said, turning his attention back towards the front.

As you all got closer to the coast, you could see the bright red and black flag of your enemy, Kim Jugeom. The man had his ship right up against yours, sails tangling together and black smoke rising from your beautiful ship, evidence of the fire he had set to your main mast. You could feel your gut fill with worry, where the hell was your crew? Are they all okay?

By the time you made it to the docks, you could smell the broken barrels of gunpowder, and you could hear Minhyun putting up a fight, could hear him yell out to get off the ship, how he’ll shoot him if he doesn't. It only made your gut drop, wishing you had your sword or your gun with you to be able to protect them.

Yunho suddenly stops, arms stretched out so you and Woohyuk run into them. Woohyuk glares at his captain, not appreciating the arm to the throat. “Woohyuk,” Yunho said coldly, not taking his eyes off the Aurora.

“Yeah?” He replied, staring at Yunho with furrowed eyebrows, Yunho only pursed his lips.

“Do you still have that compass i gave you?”

“Uh, Yeah? Don't know why you gave it to m-”

“Let me have it, now.” Yunho growled, he reached down and unhooked his compass, he had managed to swipe it off of the bed along with his coat back at the Inn. Woohyuk did the same, reaching down to his belt to untie the old compass. The old thing was Yunho’s first ever compass, it broke not long after he bought it, causing it to never point to true north. Yunho held out his hand and Woohyuk gave it to his quickly.

“(y/n), Take this, and don't you ever give it to anybody,” Yunho said, thrusting the good compass into your hands, you glanced down at its black casing before looking back up at Yunho.

“What’re you planning, cap?” Woohyuk said, the sword at his side glimmered, the golden handle tinted with gunpowder. “Something neither of you are going to like,” He said honestly, deciding not to look back at both of you.

“Yunho- Yunho!” You called out behind him, watching him for a moment how he began to stride forward. Woohyuk followed behind you, making sure that you were okay.

You stopped behind Yunho once you both got onto Aurora, the gut feeling only getting worse when seeing Chan tied up by the stairs, his eyes wide with fright. You could feel your eyes begin to burn, looking up and seeing Minhyun bloody and bruised on the floor. Yunho glared at the men dressed in old dirty clothes before him. Jugeom stood in front of a kneeling Minhyun, the way the older man was smiling made your stomach curl. Yunho could only stand before him, he didn't have his gun or his sword. He didn't know that this was going to happen at all. Minhyun leaned down onto his hands, his head following forward.

“Ah, Welcome to the party, Yunho,” Jugeom stated, the cigarette between his lips moving with every word. Yunho glared at him, not moving from his place. You slowly put the compass behind your back, tying it to your pants and sliding the bottom of your shirt over it, hoping that nobody could see it. Changmin was near Minhyun, also knocked out cold. There was a pistol not too far away from his body, meaning he tried to fight for The Aurora. He didn't look too bad, only having a split eyebrow.

“How are you here?” Yunho questioned, staring at the old man while taking into account where the rest of his crew is. Jugeom sighed and rolled his eyes, not wanting to explain everything to the younger.

“We simply tracked you, took note in where you stopped before and followed you every since. You know- You all are pretty dense to another ship following you,” Jugeom stated, a chuckle following.

“The hell do you want, Jugeom?” Yunho growled, hands curling at his sides. The man next to Jugeom smirked, walking over with another man to further surround you and your crew. Woohyuk turned around behind you, pointing his sword at one of Jugeoms men.

“You know what i want, little boy-”

“We both know i'm not little anymore, ass-hat,”

Jugeom only let out a deep laugh at that, the hat on his head tilting back to reveal an ugly scar that covered the side of his face. You had only seen him once before, and that was when you were little. Yunho went to take a step forward, but was stopped by the man on the other side of Jugeom, a blade now pointing at Yunho.

“And we both know i'm not going to give it to you, what's mine is mine, now get off my ship,” Stated Yunho, you could feel the dark aura pulse off of him, how he was holding back from jumping past the man and tackling Jugeom to the ground. Minhyun was trying to stand, blood trickling past his broken lip, but another one of Jugeoms men walked forward and pulled his foot back, releasing it to kick Minhyun in the ribs, a sickening crack following. You jumped, tears forming in the corners of your eyes from how Minhyuk cried out in agony. You didn't look at how he slumped to the ground, how the same man kicked away his sword before stepping back in line with the others.

“But I have a proposition for you, little boy!” Jugeom said with a smile, glancing back and nodding his head. Yunho furrowed his eyebrows, hands relaxing at his sides. You peered around his body, feeling dread creep up your spine with what you saw.

Seonghwa looked horrible, his hair was matted and he had a black eye beginning to form. His clothes were torn and his skin a sickly pale, tripping over himself. He came out first, the other boys soon following, but they didn't look any better.

This is when you rushed forwards past Yunho, but his arms circled around your waist to keep you further away from the sick man in front of you. Jongho and Wooyoung cried out for you, trying to rush forward and into your arms. Yet, the men that held them pulled them back, causing them to fall onto each other.

“You’re sick!” You cried out, gut curling with the way Jugeom only smiled at the way you were acting. Yunho quickly put you down, yet pushed you behind him and into Woohyuk’s awaiting arms. You continued to cry out and yell, but they soon died down when Yunho turned and looked at you.

“Now, if you want the boys, then you give me what i want,” Jugeom stated, nodding towards the boys and then back at you. Yunho cursed under his breath, the last thing he wanted was to give him the compass and the maps leading towards Pans Island. Even if he gave him the items, he would more than likely kill the boys before letting them go, Yunho knew Jugeom way too well.

“What if you take me instead, they won't be able to find it without me. I’m the only one who desires it the most. Plus, we both know you won't leave unless blood is spilled,” Yunho stated, stepping forward while holding his hands out. You could feel all the air leave your body, you could only hear static after he said that.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You yelled out to him, yet Yunho didn't look at you. You could feel the way Woohyuk froze behind you, and how your other crew mates were staring at Yunho like he grew three heads.

“Hm, and whose blood will I shed, eh?” Jugeom questioned, stepping forward and shrugging his shoulders.

“You already beat the kids, and Minhyun. You’ve burned my ship, and now you’ll get the captain. Yet, once i go with you, you’ll never bother The Aurora again, or i'll kill you in your sleep,” Yunho growled, watching the way Jugeom’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Yunho, we can figure something out,” Jinhyun said, you hadn't even noticed he was tied to the main mast. Next to him was Eunhyuk, the younger having a cut running down the side of his cheek. Yunho shook his head slightly, sighing through his nose. Jugeom had a sick smile on his face now, his teeth an ugly yellow.

“Not this time, we’ve been avoiding confrontation for awhile now, haven't we, Jugeom?” Yunho said, his voice was hard. You could feel your energy draining, you couldn't even tell if you were breathing or not.

“I suppose we can solve it with you coming with me, huh?” Jugeom said, making you look up at him. Even with your vision blurred with tears, you could see how the boys looked petrified, how Wooyoung and San were trying to cling to each other.

“You let those boys go first, then i'll go,” Yunho stated, watching the way Jugeom sighed and looked at the seven kids.

Once Jugeom nodded his head, the boys were released. Each one flying past Yunho and into your awaiting arms, Woohyuk let you go slightly to let you grab onto them. You clutched them to you, a sob escaping past your lips when you felt their hands grip at your shirt. You looked back up at Yunho, but already found him looking back at you. “Please, don't do this,” You said softly.

Jugeom’s other men slowly began to make their way back onto his ship, their smirks and smiles made Chan’s eyes fill with tears. Minhyun was still losing blood on the main deck, his body looking broken and beaten, the wood underneath beginning to color red. Jinhyun had a hard glare on his face, his hands red from being tied tightly. Changmin was slowly starting to wake up, but was kicked by one of the men that was walking past, causing him to let out a grunt before losing consciousness again.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him say softly, causing your heart to shatter. You could feel the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks faster, the boys you were holding hid their faces in your shoulder, some being held by Woohyuk’s free arm. “Yunho!” You cried, but he ignored you. Walking forward and coming nose to nose with the other captain. Jugeom smiled, bringing his hand up and patting his shoulder.

“No! Yunho- please!” You yelled, attempting to free yourself from the smaller boys, but with Woohyuk’s arm around you, you couldn't go anywhere.

Yunho glanced at you once more, his eyes rimmed with red. Another sob escaping you when you watched him turn around and walk onto the neighboring ship with Jugeom, the thin board connecting the two looked close to breaking from the mean body weight.

The last man following your Yunho and Jugeom held a gun up, pointing it at you and Woohyuk. Changmin was still knocked out cold, you could hear Chan cry quietly, his arms probably rubbed raw. Jinhyun and Eunhyuk stayed tied to the pillar, tears falling down their faces slowly at hearing your cries.

“Yunho!”

----

“(y/n)?”

There was a knock at the door, the soft voice and knocks breaching through your silent sanctuary. You were curled up in bed, eyes swollen and probably red. The thin blanket was wrapped around your body making you seem like a butterfly in its cocoon. You knew that whoever was on the other side didn't leave, you knew they’d come in anyways, just like everybody else did.

Yunho has been gone for three days now.

The yunho shaped wound left by him still stung just as bad as the day he left. Each time you closed your eyes you could still clearly see him walk away, not even giving you a second glance. Why did he have to go? Why couldn’t he just give them the stupid compass?

“(y/n) I’m coming in, please be dressed,” you heard the voice say again, but you didn't shift your eyes away from the window. The soft blue and pink tones gave off the first glimpses of the new day. The beginning of the fourth day without Yunho there, without Yunho to kiss you goodnight or mess around with Eunhyuk or Minhyun.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” with the voice clear, you knew it belonged to Chan. Suddenly, you could see how scared he looked when tied up. How his wrists were bleeding when Woohyuk took the ropes away, how his lips trembled with fear of losing his life. He was young, he had never experienced an enemy ship boarding.

The bed dipped behind you, and you heard Chan sigh. “How’re you feeling?” He said softly, his voice cutting through the air like a thick knife. You didn't say anything, didn't move, just kept breathing. That didn't stop Chan though, he kept talking like you were going to respond.

“The little ones are doing okay now. Sure, they’re still shaken up, but they’ll manage,” He said, a chuckle following.

He swallowed, licking his lips. He knew that you weren't going to respond, not after Yunho leaving. He watched the way you broke down, how you cried until your throat was cracking and raw. He was the one who got you to drink and eat his food, though it was difficult at first. You cried for hours on end, he and everybody else was there for you.

“We need you, (y/n). Y- He may have been captain, but you’re our first mate. We need somebody now,” he started, turning to look down at your form. You still hadn't moved, your breathing still even. It made him wonder if you were asleep, or just ignoring him completely.

“Minhyun said that once the ship is in working order, we’re heading for him. Seonghwa said that the village’s gone. It was in flames by the time Jugeoms ship left the dock, seonghwa said that they don't have a home to go back to; so we’re going to have to take them with us,” Chan said, his eyebrows furrowing. He listened closely how your breathing stopped for a moment, then how your shoulders began to shake. Small whimpers passing by your lips.

“Just come out when you’re ready, please, we miss you,” Chan said while standing up quickly, walking to the door and exiting quickly. He shut your door softly behind him and walking back out onto the main deck.

“Any luck?” Minhyun said, Chan responded with a shake of his head.

Minhyun had been the first to get treated after Woohyuk had untied Chan, after recognizing that his wrists were injured, he ran to Minhyun’s side, evaluating him and yelling at Woohyuk to get a crap ton of bandages from the med room. Currently, he was leaning against the railing right by the wheel, his waist was wrapped with bandages, and his face had been clean and stitched.

“You know, i might as well become the new damn captain if she isn't-”

“She’s devastated, Minhyun!” Chan yelled, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. The other boys on the deck stopped what they were doing to look up at the two.

Chan had only raised his voice one other time, and that was when Woohyuk took it too far with him in the kitchen and almost blew the entire ship up. Now here he was again, making Chan yell.

Minhyun could only stare at Chan with a glare etched onto his face, hazel eyes covered in a mix of pain and anger. Chan couldn't match up to his glare, but his dark brown eyes showed guilt, sorrow, and pain.

“You need to understand where she's coming from,” Chan seethed through gritted teeth, he clenched his hands (even though he could feel pain pulse form his wrists, wrapped in a layer of gauze).

Minhyun lost his glare for a moment, looking at him like he was crazy. “I have two broken ribs, a cut eyebrow, and a cut lip. You really think i don’t know where she’s coming from?”

Chan was then reflecting the look he was given, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes closing for a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“She practically lost her husband, she actually lost the love of her life to the enemy,” Chan paused for a moment, lowering his voice, “Usually they kick ass together, but i think seeing us all hurt and unavailable made him recall his shots, and i guess she thought the same after seeing all the kids she practically calls-” Chan stopped himself, knowing that he was starting to rant off. Minhyun sighed and brought his hand up, rubbing at his jawline where it didn't hurt.

“Calls her own, i know.” Minhyun said softly, his hand falling down to his side. He glanced off to the side, looking down at the kids, one or two of them being tended to by the remaining crew on board.

“They all talk about her like she’s their mom, or older sister. They’re really worried” Minhyun said softly, looking back at Chan.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, listening to San’s small giggles at Changmin. Even though they were all hurt, emotionally and physically, they pulled through in the last four days. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon now, the blue hues turning into beautiful golden rays. Tonight was the first night everybody stayed awake, all telling stories to take their minds off of the chaos around them.

Eunhyuk had found that the map room was ransacked, they took the maps leading to the Island. He was devastated, even almost started crying if it wasn't for Yeosang who came up and held his hand for comfort. Minhyun was trying his best to keep everybody together, from the maps to the compass, he really was trying. He talked to the boys a little bit, learning about each one. Jongho was his current favorite, but don't tell Wooyoung that.

“She’ll come around, she just needs time,” Chan was quiet when he spoke, but Minhyun was able to hear him. The amount of comfort in Chan's voice made his stress levels decrease just a bit.

The next following days had some, peculiar progress. You had managed to come out of your room, a frown was still etched onto your face, but the Seonghwa and Wooyoung managed to make a smile crack onto your features.

The ship had managed to get back into shape, and was now at sea. The mask was ripped in a few places, and the flag that bared the ships insignia was still burned on the edges. You managed to take over as captain of the Aurora, but you let Jinhyun and Minhyun do most of the heavy lifting. There was still a dark shadow over your heart, the events of that day still haunting your every waking moment.

The boys had found home on the ship, the makeshift bunk beds on the lower deck was more than enough. They were read to before bed, Eunhyuk did that. He would read them some of his books he used to study English literature with; he would read the books when the sky was clear, and when the seas would rock the boat slightly to give off the illusion of the rocking chair his mother used when he was a baby.

Chan went back to cooking, his mind getting lost in the various ingredients and combinations of different flavors. Hongjoong would help with the cooking, but he was in charge of watching the water and telling Chan when it was boiling. Mingi also helped, his job was to mix all of the chopped vegetables together in one large bowl. Jinhyun went back to barking out orders to everybody, and Changmin went back to the lower parts of the ship where he and Woohyuk played poker every moment. The two brothers were inseparable, Woohyuk would always win the games, making Changmin yell so loud everybody on board would be able to hear him.

Although, with Yunho gone, there was a constant shadow. Not just over your heart, but over everybody's. Eunhyuk was trying his best to find out where they might have gone with the remaining maps that were left, and he once said he was close to a theory on where they could be.

That was where you were currently heading, off to a nearby village that was fairly small, but made profit off of their large fishing market. Eunhyuk said that when he got a glance at the ship before they boarded, they looked to be low on materials. You jumped onto the idea quickly, telling him to take the Aurora there as soon as possible so they wouldn't miss them.

It had already been a week, you knew that if you were lucky they would still be there. It was a long shot, but you were willing to bet Yunho made them stay for a dumb reason.

You were sitting next to Seonghwa, his hands had gotten dirtier over the days helping Woohyuk and Changmin clean spilled gunpowder from the lower decks. You were leaning against the railing, elbows perched on it. Seonghwa was more daring, sitting directly on top with his legs dangling over the edge. You had yelped in fright when seeing him jump up onto the railing, instructing him to hang onto the rope that connected to the main mast next to him. Stating that if he were to fall, he would be able to hang on until you saved him.

Your eyes were closed, listening to the waves crash against the side. You imagined for a moment, that Yunho would come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist while peppering kisses down your neck.

“I really like it here,” Seonghwa said, causing you to turn your head slightly to look at him, cracking one of your eyes open. Smiling softly, you hummed.

“Everybody's really nice, and everybody likes it here too,” he said again. By everybody, you guess he meant the other boys. You knew they did, from the way they all ran around and had fun. To the way their laughter filled the empty parts of the ship, and how they brought the bright aura back. Almost chasing away the lingering sadness, almost.

“I’m glad,” you said softly, turning back and closing your eyes. Drinking in the sun and hearing the birds sing above you. The little boy next to you was silent though, but you knew his mind must have been working a million miles a minute.

“Do you think I belong here?” you suddenly heard seonghwa ask, you opened your eyes and turned to him. He pursed his lips and looked at you creepily.

“Hm,” You hummed, furrowing your eyebrows. Seonghwa sucked in a breath, holding a hand up to you.

“It’s just that- well- after what happened to my village I- we,” he paused, eyes brimming red for a second, “We don't have anywhere we belong,” he stated, his voice breaking off at the end.

“Well, nobody really belongs anywhere,” you began, watching the way his eyes snapped to meet yours, “we all choose where we want to be, we all choose our path in life. I think that wherever you want to be the most is where you belong. Whether that belongs with us, or with a family in a village,” you said, thinking of your Yunho.

He had said those same words to you once, when you were both young and stupid. He had taken to the back of the ship, kissed you senseless and made you breathless. Whispering how much he loved you, how much he wanted to run away with you and get married. How he wanted to get your own ship, name it after you and let you run it all by yourself, a woman captain. You had asked him suddenly ‘where do i belong then, with you or the ship?’

Even though you said it in a teasing way, he only smiled at you, pulled you closer and kissed your nose briefly. Telling you that only you could decide where you belong.

From that moment on, you only wanted to belong to him. To grow older with him and marry him, but now he wasn't here, and you felt so lost without him.

“Then i wanna stay with you and the captain,” seonghwa said suddenly, causing you to look at him in shock. He smiled at you, teeth a bright white, eyes a cute crescent moon. You smiled back at him, leaning over and pulling him into your side for a small hug. You paused for a moment, looking over at the horizon with teary eyes.

“Yunho,” You said, it was the first time you uttered his name since the day he left. It felt like heaven leaving your lips again, but it hurt all the same that it wasn't Yunho himself you were saying it to.

“What?” seonghwa questioned, looking up and raising his eyebrows at you. Laughing for a moment, you licked your lips, a sad smile taking over your face.

“The Captain, his name is Yunho,” you said softly, tears quickly blurring your vision. You blinked a few times, successfully making them disappear.

“I never really knew the captain,” he said in a hushed voice, lips forming a small line. You looked back out towards the sea, the sun's reflection making it seem like there were a thousand diamonds floating on top.

“Can you tell me about him?” He said again. His voice was hesitant, as if he was scared to ask you.

You only smiled at him, bringing your hand up and brushing his black hair out of his eyes. “When we get him back, you’ll be able to talk to him all you’d like with the others,” You said. Leaning your weight on one foot, crossing the other one over. You hand went back down to support your body weight against the railing, and you were sure there would be wood indents on the bottom of your arms.

“You’re going to let the others stay too?” Seonghwa said excitedly, a smile creeping onto his cherub face.

You nodded, “of course, i love all of you guys, how could i not want you all to stay?” he couldn't help the smile that fully took over, looking at you like you blessed the world with candy before looking back out to the open water.

Glancing behind you, you noticed Chan coming out of the door that led to the kitchen. He looked towards you and smiled, raising his hand and waving. He then turned and rushed up the stairs, going towards the bell and grabbing the short robe connecting to the pendulum inside. Covering the ear closest, he began to swing it widely, the high pitched ringing breaking the calmness the ship possessed before. Seonghwa jumped, eyes wide with shock from the sound. You laughed, pushing yourself away from the railing and grabbing his hand to help him off.

“Let’s head to eat, I'm sure you're starving.”

---

With the sun just peaking over the horizon, blue water painted a gold. You saw the village, the small homes dark and the streets empty. The sight of Jugeom’s worn ship made your stomach twist, the thought of Yunho on board making you sick to your stomach. You were standing beside Eunhyuk, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were turning white. Changmin was sitting with Minhyun not too far away, and you turned to them slightly.

“We need swords, guns, and ammo. Make it happen before we anchor down,” You said, eyes narrowing when looking back up. Changmin nodded before shooting up and running to the lower decks as quiet as he possibly could

You managed to make it to the village unseen, the familiar sight of Jugeom’s boat caught you off guard since you thought he would have made a break for the island by now. You told Eunhyuk to anchor the boat further away from the docks so you wouldn't be seen, and you left Chan to watch over the six boys. Although they were sleeping currently, you knew that wouldn't last long.

You quickly turned and rushed back to your room, slipping on your jacket and switching out your deck boots for the thicker boots you use when you go into any type of battle. The compass Yunho gave you was sitting peacefully on your desk, untouched since you took it off the day you stumbled into your room and sobbing mess. Looking beside it, you saw Yunho’s favorite ring. He wore it when he knew he would be fighting a battle that was going to be difficult to win, just like you were now. The band was thick and silver, while the diamond placed in the middle was a beautiful blue, there were engravings on the side, and even a few smaller diamonds placed throughout. You smiled softly, sliding the ring onto your thumb. Reaching over and grabbing your glove.

While Yunho often held a sword with his left hand, you held it with your right. He said it felt more natural that way, but you still called him weird. One day a year or two ago, he brought home a pair of gloves, one being bigger than the other. He stated that the leather will help with gripping the sword better, and he thought that it’d be cool for the two of you to be matching while kicking ass. So your right hand now adorned a glove, while the left held a gun.

“Are you sure about this?” Minhyun asked while you walked out of your room, you nodded your head. The only sounds in the hallway was the clicking of your boots.

“We’re getting him back, not tomorrow, not the next day, today.” You seethed, wanting to get yunho back as soon as possible. You knew Minhyun was worried, after all, he wasn't able to go with you. It would just be you, Changmin, and Eunhyuk.

“It’s dangerous, (y/n),” Minhyun said, voice hard. You glared at him, seeing Changmin holding guns and swords in his arms.

“Yunho would do the same for any of us,”

“But Yunho would want everybody to be safe-”

“All i want to do is slip in and out- even though i really want to kill the son of a bitch, i won't. Right now, my main priority is getting Yunho,” you said harshly, not feeling sorry for how Minhyun flinched.

The three of you made your way off the ship, stopping to give Minhyun a quick hug. The sword on your hip tapped against your thigh as you walked, and the pistol strapped against your thigh itched to be used. Eunhyuk and Changmin walked closely behind you, their feet in time with yours.

As you got closer to the small town, you took in how pretty it actually was. The houses were different colors of an off white, light blue, brown, and even some soft pink. All having the same brown details, white curtains hanging on the inside to bring out the windows. The roofs a dark brown, sloped towards the sky. The streets were paved with stones, flowers and bushes occupying some corners.

To ensure that you didn't get caught by any of Jugeom’s crew, you stayed pretty close to the sides of the streets, making sure to quicken your feet as to not alarm anybody who could have just woken up. You stopped for a moment, turning sharply into an alley with the two other boys to talk to them.

“He has to be at an inn somewhere, any ideas?”

“I saw a town map at the entrance, there's only one,” Eunhyuk said, you sighed in relief for his keen eyes, since you didn't see it. You raised your eyebrows and waved a hand around for a moment, “Well? Where is it?” you said, causing him to let out a quiet “oh,” before looking around a moment, pointing down one of the adjoining roads.

“It could possibly be down that way, i could be-” You didn't give him time to finish, already making your way out of the alley and to the street. Changmin chuckled softly while slapping his shoulder lightly, rushing over to keep up with you, “wrong.”

The inn was an adorable place, the building a soft pink while the shutters were a pristine white. It shocked you for a moment to think that Jugeom would actually stay there. You noticed two of his men sitting out at a table, the umbrella still up from the previous day. One was a blonde, he was sleeping with his head resting against his arms on the table. The other, a brunette, was sleeping on a chair, his head rolled back uncomfortably.

Changmin coughed softly to get your attention, “should we kill em?” he said, unsure of what you wanted to do. You shook your head, pursing your lips, “Yunho wouldn't want that, but do it if they are in the way,” you spoke softly, making sure to keep your eyes on the sleeping pair.

“Damn,” Changmin whispered, you could feel a laugh rise in your throat, having to swallow it down.

You huffed a breath, crouching down slowly and rushing to the side of the building. There was a window that overlooked the harbor, the curtains open slightly from the inside. You peered inside and saw an empty bedroom, quickly ducking and going to the next. This window was open slightly, the curtains’ edges softly kissing the morning air. Walking closer and peering in, you quickly pulled back once seeing who was inside. Turning around and heading back to where the other two boys were across the street.

“He’s not over there, and there's no windows on the other side. We’re going to have to go inside,” you said, causing the two boys to nod. Eunhyuk's fingers danced over the hilt of his sword, the gold fading into silver from how much he had to grab it.

“We’re going to have to sneak by those two idiots, once we make it inside, leave the doors cracked,” as you spoke your voice got lower and lower, pursing your lips once the boys gave you an agreement.

Turning back around and walking closer to the main double doors, you could hear the soft snores of the men get louder and louder. The main two doors were wooden, you were certain they opened to a large empty area.

Slowly getting closer, you managed to make it directly next to the brunette before he began to stir, you froze in place, feeling fear creep up your spine, but his head fell to the side, hand coming up to rub at his nose before his movements settled down again.

You let out a silent sigh of relief, reaching your hands forward and grasping onto the handles, slowly turning them and pushing the doors open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly once or twice before going silent. You stood corrected, the doors opened up to a restaurant type area, a few tables and chairs being draped over with table clothes. There was a podium by the door, probably where a server stood to sea you. There was a hallway to your right and left, probably leading to bedrooms.

You glanced back at the boys and watched how the doors were left slightly cracked, giving them a nod and heading down the right hallway. It was the hallway that didn't have any windows, you assumed they’d put Yunho here so he wouldn't know where he was.

Stopping by the first of three doors, you grabbed the knob slowly. Turning it, only to find it locked. You grimace, if they were to keep Yunho here, of course they'd lock him up.

That meant you needed a key, you needed to find Jugeom.

You had already done that, peering in through the open window that faced the ocean. You had also noticed how he was awake, sitting on his bed while looking down at maps. You leaned your head forward and placed your ear against the door.

Changmin and Eunhyuk had taken to the two entrances of the hallway, eyes peering out and feet ready turn turn and rush back if one of them saw anybody.

You couldn't hear anything, not breathing, not rustling, nothing. It was dead silent and you breathed a small sigh of relief that the doors were so thin. Moving onto the middle door, you grabbed hold of the door knob slowly, turning it. You cheered internally when finding it wasn't locked, and pushed the door open softly, the hinges did not creak.

Walking in, you almost started to cry. Tears welled in your eyes, breath choking.

On the bed in the far corner, was Yunho. His body curled against the pink tinted sheets, hair matted with blood, hands and feet being tied together, that must have kept him from running. He wasn't wearing a shirt, his body only being covered by the pants and boots he put on so many days ago. There was an oil lamp still lit, giving off just enough light to see around. You brought a hand up to your mouth, keeping in the small whimper. He looked asleep, with his body slowly rising and falling with his breathing.

Picking up your pace towards him, you brought your hand down to touch his shoulder. His body shooting up, eyes wide with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

He froze when he saw you, and you took that time to give him a proper look over. His jaw was bruised, eyebrow cut along with his lip. Red marking covered his neck, his chest had a large cut across it. From the look of him, it made your stomach clench with dread and breath come out in short spurts.

When he finally regained himself, he reached as far as he could forward and grabbed onto your shirt, pulling you harshly forward. You did your best not to hurt him as you circled your arms around his shoulders, hugging him as tightly as you could. Tears fell freely down your cheeks, emotions bubbling to the surface quickly. You could feel his tears hit your neck, his hair covering his eyes.

“I knew you’d come for me,” he whispered, his voice so quiet and broken you almost didn't hear him. You smiled, pulling back to crash your lips against his. His lips were dry, but that didn't stop any of the love he felt for you to be shown through the kiss. You felt his hands grip at your shirt harder, a sigh escaping from both of you.

You heard a throat clear from behind you, turning harshly and snapping your hand down to your sword. Your eyes met with Changmin’s, his arms up in a surrender.

“Hey cap,” Changmin whispered, Yunho only nodded his head back, knowing that if he were to try and speak, his throat would be too dry to produce any words.

Changmin looked to you, “the suns almost fully over the horizon, it's time to go,” he rushed out, turning around and quietly walking down the hallway to tell the same thing to Eunhyuk.

You turned back to Yunho, taking a step back before unsheathing your sword. He knew what your plan was and held out his hands, pulling them as far apart as his strength would let him. You slipped the tip of the blade between the ropes, stepping to the side for an anchor and using a quick motion to easily cut his hands free. He pushed the now cut rope form his wrists, reaching down and pulling it away from his feet.

You chose not to sheath your sword, having a bad feeling about trying to leave with Yunho injured as badly as he was. You noticed the bruising on his rib cage when he stood, stomach lined with black and purple splotches. Taking a step forward and wrapping your arm around his waist, he holds onto his stomach with the other.

“Let's go home, Yun,” you said softly, walking out of the room quietly. Eunhyuk and Changmin were waiting at the end of the hallway, watching with worried eyes and sad smiles at the two of you.

Your small group began to walk out into the main room, the main doors still cracked just like you left them. The room was starting to brighten with the rising sun, the rays shining through the windows. Getting Yunho back to the ship seemed so close, you just had to pass through the main doors and down a block or two.

Suddenly, the main door were slammed shut, and a chuckle was heard from behind you. Your stomach dropping as you turned, Changmin and Eunhyuk unsheathing their swords.

“If you really thought you’d be able to get away that easily, you’d be mistaken,” Jugeom said, three of his men appearing from the shadows. You let go of Yunho, dropping your hand to your side. While your fingers slowly traced your gun, you spoke out, “We knew it wouldn't be easy, yet that didn’t stop us, now did it?” you managed to pull your gun from the holder silently, turning it so the handle brushed against Yunho’s fingers.

Jugeom kept talking though, his old eyes not being able to detect the transition you just made, “that boy belongs to be now, he gave himself to me,” he seethed, his hand reaching up and unsheathing his sword, his men followed. Eunhyuk and Changmin focused their attention on one crew member each, yet always managed to glance quickly back at you, waiting for your signal.

“He doesn't belong to anybody but himself,” you growled, rushing forward and lifting your sword.

Eunhyuk and Changmin took that as the signal, quickly raising their swords and rushing towards a crew member. Yunho stood, gun pointed at the last. His eyes holding a fire of pure rage, finger pressed unhesitatingly against the trigger. The man in front of him widened his eyes, beginning to drop his sword and raise his hands, but it was too late. Yunho pulled the trigger and he let out a painful scream, filling to the floor while holding his shoulder.

First it was the gunshot, then it was the sound of your sword hitting Jugeom’s. The blades cutting across each other once, before hitting twice. It was almost like a deadly dance, whoever misses a step, death for them. Jugeom’s sword was bigger than yours, but that just meant it was harder to use. While you were quick and nimble, cutting at his arms and body. He was slow and steady, only able to cut at the air around you when you were able to dodge his attack.

Yunho felt his legs give out then, the lack of food and water taking a toll on his body. His knees hit the floor first, and when he raised his gun back up at the man in front of him, his arm was too tired to take aim and fire. Then, as quick as a bee, Eunhyuk dashed in front of him and slid his sword across the man's chest, his shirt ripping and skin tearing under the blade. He yelled out again, his blood dripping down onto the wooden floors.

You were still fighting with Jugeom, his actions still going strong. You were becoming tired, getting a few cuts on your arms. You could feel your thighs go numb from having to push your body in different directions to dodge some of his fatal attacks, but he wasn't letting up at all. “You should’ve heard him cry out for you,” Jugeom seethed through gritted teeth. The remark made you chest tighten, your other hand coming up to hold the blade. You tried to stay focused, “shut your damn mouth,” you growled out, anger rising further in your chest at the sight of his damn smile.

“Oh, and you should've seen the blood,” you glared harshly, kicking your body into full gear. He was now the one to block your attacks, the both of you jumping and pushing tables and chairs around, “his blood was so red too-” That made you snap, a cry reigning from your lips as you kicked your leg up and into his side.

His body fell into a table then, the top breaking off. His body fell to the ground, white shirt tinted with blood from the cuts littering his body. You could hear Eunhyuk and Changmin behind you, swords meeting. You could also hear the cries form his men, their knees hitting the floor.

“I could kill you,” you said, fury laced deeply in your words. The sounds from behind you drawing down into small groans and whimpers from Jugeom’s wounded men.

The man in front of you only smiled, teeth on display. You brought your foot down harshly again, this time the toe of your boot came into contact with his face. Pulling it away, you saw the way his nose was turned the wrong way. How blood quickly spilled from it, his eyes still having that teasing look.

“Then do it, i won't stop you,” he said.

You brought your sword up then, but hesitated, remembering that if you killed this man, you’d be a murderer. You had never killed anybody before, you only injured them and left them for the government to let them be arrested. Yet, with the way he took Yunho, how he almost beat him to death, it made your chest fill with rage.

“You got in the damn way of my happiness, you vermin,” you said, bringing the sword down quickly. The blade impaled into his throat, his hands coming up and gripping around the blade, palms being sliced int he process. His eyes widened, the life slowly beginning to leave them. He choked out, blood spilling from his lips.

Pulling the blade, you cringed at the blood the dripped off the tip. When you looked back down at Jugeom, his eyes were lifeless, hands limp by his chest.

“I thought you said no killing,” You heard from behind you, looking towards Changmin, you glared at him.

“This was different, leave everybody else for the government,” you said, yet when you looked towards the kneeling Yunho you felt all the anger in your chest be replaced with worry. Sheathing your sword quickly and rushing over to him, you helped him up. He groaned at the pain that spread from his stomach, the large cut on his chest being split open from the sudden movements.

“We need to get back, you’re lucky there was nobody here, but,” Eunhyuk started, coming up to Yunho's other side and taking the gun from his grasp, throwing it to Changmin. He lifted Yunho's arm, draping it over his shoulder, “Chan’s gonna have a field day when we get back,” He finished.

Yunho smiled, trying to keep up with the quick footsteps as Changmin threw open the door. He lifted the gun in his hands, cocking it quickly and firing two shots in the two waiting crew boys who were asleep this morning. He shot them in the stomach, blood beginning to stain their shirts as they fell to the ground.

Some women on the streets screamed upon seeing you four rushing down the street, but none of you cared. Yunho did his best to keep up, but his feet slipped a few times, leaving a wince to cross his face from the pain that would bloom in his ankle at the feeling.

When the boat finally did come back into view, Yunho felt relief. He was finally home, with you and everybody on board.

“Chan!” You yelled out once you got close enough, seeing the man's head pop out, he did have a smile on his face, but it vanished once seeing the state Yunho was in. He rushed away, coming out a few seconds later with a pillow case type bag filled with all the types of bandages and medical items a doctor would love to have.

There were a few boys awake, but they were still downstairs in their room. Woohyuk and Minhyun came running right behind Chan, their hand coming up and stabilizing Yunho to the best of their abilities.

“Take him to the bedroom, i’ll help him the best i can,” Chan managed to get out, you quickly let go of Yunho, letting the other boys take him back into your bedroom. Yunho turned his head to look back at you, lips turning into a small smile before all the boys disappeared into the bedroom.

---

“(y/n),” You heard Chan call out from behind you, you spun around quickly. He looked tired, eyes lined with red. You glanced down to the boys, you were telling them a story about one of your childhood stories.

“Can i?” you said softly, with a smile Chan nodded. You took off in a rush towards your bedroom, knowing that Chan would stay and keep the small boys company. Minhyun was leaning against the wall outside of the door, giving you a small smile paired with a nod before opening the door for you.

It had been a couple hours since you brought Yunho back, the Aurora was back on the open ocean, heading in the direction of the island. You figured that with Yunho around the strange compass he left with you, and the maps, you’ll be able to head straight for the island.

“Hi baby,” he said, a smile gracing his beautiful face. He was tucked in nicely, his wrists and arms wrapped in bandages. His head had a bandage around it, but his lip was still cut. His jaw was still bruised, but that didn't stop him from smiling beautifully.

When hearing his voice, his pure voice. Not the one from the room, the one that sounded broken and fearful. You could feel the way your chest swelled with this bright light again, eyes brimming with tears again. It only increased when he reached his palm open. You rushed over to his side, interlacing your hand with his and bringing it to your lips for a kiss. He chuckled at that, pulling you forward and making you crash down on top of him.

Pulling away from him and lifting yourself up, you finally smiled at him. Even though your vision was blurred with tears, he loved your smile. He reached up, thumb wiping away the falling tears.

“Welcome home, my love,” you said softly, leaning down and capturing his lips in a chaste kiss.

“It feels good to be back, but i won't fully be back until i can lead again,” he said, helping you when you began to lean over him so you could lay down beside him. Your fingers were still interlocked.

“You’ll always be captain, just because you can't yell at people freely, does not change facts,” you said, your voice quiet. He hummed, leaning forward again and kissing you.

You didn't blame him for wanting to kiss you, you wanted to kiss him just as hard. You wanted nothing more than to lay down and kiss him until your lips were swollen and numb, but he needed rest, you knew he did. He pulled away from you with another sigh, his nose rubbing against yours.

“We’re heading towards the island, the boys are coming with us-”

“I know, Chan told me,” Yunho said softly, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You’re alright with it?” You said, slightly shocked that he would just agree so suddenly. He nodded his head, licking his lips.

“I don't want them to go somewhere they feel like they don't belong, and if i remember correctly, Chan also mentioned something about them wanting to stay. I don't mind, I think it'd be nice having them around-” he paused for a minute, collecting his thoughts while closing his eyes.

“You don't mind having kids run around?” You said, him nodding in response.

“I’ve already thought about, you know, our kids running around. I wouldn't mind having them here too,” he said softly, your heart warmed at the mention of your future kids. Yunho only mentioned kids with you once before and that was right before he became captain.

“And the island?” You said, chest already so full with happiness.

“It was my goal to get us there,” he said, and you furrowed your eyebrows suddenly. “Now it’s my goal to get everybody there.”

The sun had managed to hit the ocean just right, the reflection caused streaks of light to invade your room. It made Yunho look ethereal, like he was an angel sent down to love and cherish you and everybody around. It almost looked like a scene out of a fairy tale, the light shining into the room, making shadows more prominent, you and yunho curled up together on the bed whispering sweet nothings to each other. The day was spent with just you and him together, occasionally one of the boys would come and talk. Seonghwa stayed the longest, and the way Yunho and him spoke and looked at each other made your heart flutter. Mingi also stayed for a long time, Yunho and him made a connection rather quickly.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, making you open your eyes and lift your head from his chest.

It was now sunset, the sun casted beautiful colors into the bedroom. The boys were gone, probably helping Chan make dinner, or help Eunhyuk read maps. Yunho smiled at you, bringing his hand up and running his hand through your hair, stopping to cup your cheek.

“I love you,” he said softly, and you smiled back at him, reaching your hand up and lacing your fingers together.

“I love you too,” You replied, the sweet warm feeling returning to your chest.

Stay Tune for the next one!

Next: On my fingertips (Wooyoung)

ending note: This is my very first story I’ve every done, so im sorry if it isn’t that great, but I’m proud of it no matter what.

My asks are open 24/7

#ateez #yunho imagines #ateez imagines #san imagines #seonghwa imagines #ateez smut #yunho smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fics #ateez fluff #kpop #kpop angst #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

388 notes · View notes