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marygodwin-bsd · 1 year ago

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Rating members of the Port Mafia based on nothing but my own vibes (I haven't seen all of season 3)

This is a part 2. ill post a part 3 with the guild if i wannaaaa and maybe even a pt 4 for some stragglers

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

3/10 for that lung capacity bro ok real talk his design is alright i give it 7/10 I wish atsushi had kept his black streak so they could be more yin/yan but whatever- he kinda looks like he's trying too hard. I shall throw him a 8/10 for that trauma he's holding onto and how desperate he is for dazai's attention that he THROWS HIMSELF OFF A BRIDGE THING anyways voice fits him so 8/10, the ninja suit thing he wears of rashouman when he's fighting Fitzgerald is 10/10 top tier i ENJOY VERY MUCH thank you overall he gets 7/10

Higuchi Ichiyo

oh girl. oh GIRL. 5/10 on her thing with akutagawa because idk if it was me but i couldnt tell she was in love with him like at all... anyways her whole look is basic but effective and does the job so 7/10 on that, 10/10 on her loyalty i like that and also her being basic-looking but that plays into why shes so good at her job??? ok overall 8/10

Chuuya Nakahara

10/10 on looks, we know that, he's not the one I simp for (my heart belongs to Kunikida) but out of all the port mafia dudes this one is a good pic. COOL BACKSTORY 9/10. 8/10 for looks bc he actually looks like a mafia dude who watches mafia movies and despite the weird hair I am kinda into it all the colors go really well im sorry for the abuse from dazai i would throw him a bone but hes already high sooo overall 9/10 because I like the hair but objectively its a weird half mullet

Kōyo Ozaki

9/10 for how much she wants to protect Kyouka. Love her fit, 10/10, gives the perfect vibes and she's probably difficult to animate and I have a lot of respect for it,the umbrella is great. 5/10 for the atsushi abuse. I don't have much to say at this point other than that overall, 7/10

Motojiro Kajii

Ok looks are 4/10 he looks like melanie martinez's ex idk his name but also his vibes are like VECTOR from despicable me???? so 6/10 for that its amusing ANYWAYS. The fact that lemons and grenades make lemonade is a 10/10. the sass he gave Nathaniel Hawthorne was 7/10. the way he talked to Yosano gets him 4/10 overall, 7/10 on average and hes ok I don't dislike him

Rando

I cannot find a gif.

He is fantastic and gorgeous and i love him 10/10 on both how COOL his ability looks and how PRETTY he is. love him. but 4/10 for the chuuya abuse. overall 7/10 we dont know a lot about him

Kyusaku Yumeno

Looks are........ 7/10. very effective and cool but looks like HELL to draw and i don't really like that. the optimal thing would be black and white, but atsushi and akutagawa are black and white, so they gave them brown and purple???? and a weird hat to denote femininity??? I know the point is that no one can tell their gender I'm just saying the hat is unnecesary. Ability is so 9/10 and the resilience is 10/10 because COOL. Tbh i don't actually like how they act so 5/10 on personality i guess but overall 8/10 for coolness

Elise

MY BABY GIRL 10/10 for the SASS she gives- I know she doesnt TECHNICALLY count bc shes the result of an ability but I love her and i need her to STAB MO- this isnt about mori im sorry anyways moving on. design is 10/10 effective easy to draw and aesthetically pleasing with colors. dress is relatively conservative and she stands out against everyone else bc to my knowledge shes the only blond besides Higuchi. 10/10 because i love her and i need more elise content of her being rude to mori bc he deserves every roast and i need her to hit him

Gin Akutagawa

Giiiiiiin baby is 8/10 with the design both ways are effective, she looks great either way. I know very little about her but shes a badass and 7/10 for being the less intense sibling I don't know much about her but she gets an overall 7/10

Michizo Tachihara

10/10 for having the same english voice actor as Ban from SDS. 6/10 for his design, i'm sorry, it doesn't stand out and at first glance I was shocked because i thought he was Junchiro double crossing the ADA.... on his own he's okay but his design doesn't really... tell us anything? although to be FAIR, he basically never shows up so he doesnt have to tell us anything. 4/10 for never being there even though he's super cool overall 6/10 because "I hate to say it i really hate to say it idk who this man is"

Ryuro Hirotsu

Okay... 9/10 for that design, I like it, good old rich guy persona. 4/10 for the fact every time he snaps it bothers me because he's wearing gloves and that doesnt work that way. 7/10 for the voice its aight. 6/10 for how few times i've seen him so far? but hes around more than Tachihara so points for that. 8/10 and y'all know why

Mori Ogai

ugh, gods... THIS DUDE..... 0/10 for his taste in women. 8/10 for his design because he looks like he's copying dracula to try and gain control but its not working so its effective. 3/10 for the dazai abuse. 2/10 for the yosano abuse ive heard about but not seen. 7/10 for his real life counterpart having a daughter and that daughter invented yaoi and im not into yaoi but thats pretty cool?? overall 4/10 because his whole..... everything sucks? but at least he looks okay and he has a character and hes not 1 dimensional.

pt 1 here pt 3 here pt 4 here

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fox-buried-in-maple-leaves · 2 years ago

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1 to 25 for masterpiece !!

Ask Game

What were their first impressions of one another?

Besides nearly having a panic attack due to how pretty Fennel is and the fact he didn't notice him listening to him play; nice, charming. And incredibly talented. What was their first date like? If they haven’t been on a date yet, how would it go?

Finn didn't know, and is still too shy to ask, if their outing to mcdonalds after his recital counted as their first 'date' or if that was just a friendly little outing. He's really not sure. He tells Amery it was their first date though so.. It’s late at night and your characters want food, what do they order/find in the fridge?

Ooh Finn could cook something for them both but he's kind of lazy so he'll open Uber sooo quick. sprawled across Fennel's lap as he forces him to decide where to order from cause fates know Finn is indecisive. What’s a typical Sunday like for them?

Fennel is usually back home with his family and Finn is usually practicing at his apartment. When Finn starts to visit with Fennel though, they're usually laid up in bed until noon just snuggling. Then it's spending time with the family, and the drive back to the apartment. What’s their love language like? Are they compatible with one another?

Finn's receiving are words of affirmation and quality time. His giving are gifts and words of affirmation. Praise, so so much praise. Do they have any pet names/nicknames for each other?

Oh okay so- ha. Finn calls Fennel mainly by his name but sometimesssss "hase" which is bunny, which he also sometimes uses in english too. "mausebär" which is mouse bear.. and also "my rock" What do they argue about?

Family,,, their clans don't like each other. But yk they're fine, they work through it. Who does what chores, and why?

Finn likes to cook but he makes Fennel do the dishes. Finn also hates menial tasks like sweeping or dusting or mopping. But he'll do laundry and wash the bathroom. What’s the most difficult thing they’ve been through together?

Oh they ain't seen nothin' yet. How do they make up after a fight?

Bath!! With bath bombs, of course. And nice smelling oils. And takeout. Andddd snuggles. Also Fennel must concede the movie choice to Finn, only natural. Who causes the most arguments?

Fennel, and not necessarily because he's causing more its just because Finn's anxiety is so bad he's not starting arguments. But he is making them worse lol. What would they say each other’s worst quality is?

"Fennel sometimes resorts to violence a little quicker than I'd like.." What would they say each other’s best quality is?

"Have you seen his eyes when he smiles? Like light.." How would they describe one another if asked?

"Fennel? Ah well.. Haha.. He's so sweet.. and so incredibly talented! I think he could really make it as a professional in the art world.. He makes me so happy. His hair is so soft and his hugs are so warm.. There are too many things to say about him." What names are they saved as on each other’s phone?

"Pretty Bnnuy<3" What would they consider quality time?

Fennel drawing while Finn plays his violin. Artistic in their own rights, inspiring each other. Who decides which movies to watch?

Finn will pout to get control of the remote more often, but sometimes he lets Fennel pick lol.. How are they like on a road trip together?

Finn tunesmaster 5000!!! lots of road trip snacks. Fennel drives 100% lol It’s raining, did either of your OCs bring an umbrella? If so, who, and do they share it?

well I know Finn did lol- mf is ready for anything. he has one of those foldable umbrellas in his bag for class. And yes, he shares. But Fennel is taller so he has to hold it- What are they like when sharing a bed?

what is personal space? Who is better at games? Does the loser take it graciously?

Fennel is better. But Finn is a good sport about it! He's just here to spend time with boif<3 Do they ever share clothes?

Most of Finn's clothing is oversized so Fennel CAN fit into them, and of course Fennel is bigger and taller so Finn frequently yoinks those. Lots of sharing between them. Your OCs are on a trip and there’s only one bed! What do they do?

Sleep together? It's fine. What do your characters think about marriage? Are they for or against it?

Finn really wants to get married one day. He's just afraid about the whole uhhh family feud thing.. Pick a physical attribute that they love about each other.

Fennel's ears, 100% cute elf ears.. and then the bunny ears.. oh Finn loves both so so much.

#From The Fate ; Rowan #☾*✲⋆. Essence of Myrrh #⋆｡°✩ Masterpiece #⋆｡°✩ Finn #𓆩✧𓆪 Fennel

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

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his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?”

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call.

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows.

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer.

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.”

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz.

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought.

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.”

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :)

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?”

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission.

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.”

“Even a blind date?”

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!”

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?”

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.”

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now.

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives.

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished.

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself.

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!”

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?”

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse.

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired.

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships.

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?”

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie.

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!”

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets.

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!”

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?”

“Well…”

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths.

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background.

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left.

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose.

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence.

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence.

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.”

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.”

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?”

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.”

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.”

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night.

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest.

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves.

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.”

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart.

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.”

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.”

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been.

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her.

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest.

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined.

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination.

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs.

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale.

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?”

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless.

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!”

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate.

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact.

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

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irwingiggling · 5 years ago

Text

friends of friends. | pt. 1

A/N: Sooo guess who’s back with a new fic?! Please let me know what you guys think, and if you want me to continue this - I have lots of ideas for it! If you enjoyed it, please give it a like so I know people are interested in reading more :) The band does exist in this fic, but it’s more of a casual thing and none of the boys are famous. In this fic I tried to really focus on the characterization and in improving my writing, so yeah this is my little passion project rn while I’m in quarantine. [Also a little shoutout to @cakesunflower, I don’t know her at all but her fics (wglylm, quiet hours, etc.) and her writing is honestly incredible and she was one of the many awesome writers on here who inspired me to start this. :)]

Word Count: 2,100+

Rating: PG-13 (mentions of alcohol, swearing)

---

"Who's Calum?" Audrey was perched over a tall wooden stool, hands around a mug of steaming hot coffee. Her short brown hair landed just above her shoulders, cascading perilously towards her coffee as she stared down her friend, a sly smile on her face.

"Just a friend of a friend," Rose replied with a shrug.

Audrey's eyebrows arched in response, unsatisfied with Rose's answer.

"No seriously. I barely know him, I met him the other day at some get together Nina dragged me to."

At mention of the other girl, a smile crept onto Audrey's face. "Damn, Nina. How's she doing?" The three were close friends back in university, sharing a dorm for two years. But after school, they'd all started to go their separate ways. Nina was in public relations. A true socialite, she loved meeting new people, and could keep up conversation for hours. Since landing her new job as an assistant for some small music company, she'd managed to drag Rose along to various parties and social gatherings with increasing frequency. The two lived on opposite sides of town in Boston, but remained decently close despite this. On the other hand, Audrey had moved back home to Michigan after school, and the two didn't see her very often at all.

"She's good. Still a true extrovert." Rose said with a gentle shake of her head.

"Gotta love that girl. She was always a go-getter." Audrey laughed, taking a sip of the creamy drink.

In contrast to Nina, Rose would describe herself as a simple person. She had her little apartment, her work, a well-stocked supply of coffee, and her dog, Olive - who she'd somehow managed to sneak under her apartment's 60lb weight limit. Everything else was extra, but as long as she had those few essentials, she was perfectly content. Though as a recent university grad who was still working part-time at a coffee shop, and taking whatever freelance work she could on the side, she didn't have a lot of room for extravagances anyway. In contrast, Audrey found a job as a radio broadcaster back home right out of school, and could now afford to make the flight down to see her girls.

"Anyways don’t try and change the subject, you haven't had a man in your life in ages!" Audrey exclaimed, teasingly poking a finger against the arm of Rose's blue sweater.

Rose gave her head a faint shake, smiling gently. She had no doubt Nina had already recounted the entire work gathering to Audrey over one of her long-winded FaceTime calls. Nina had a way of getting carried away with the stories she told, which likely meant their distant observation of Calum had morphed into a much closer brush than it actually was.

----

She vaguely remembered him from that last work event. He was easily recognizable by his dark curly hair, tanned skin, and youthful appearance, especially since the vast majority of others mingling looked to be in their late 30s. Rose caught drifts of conversations about sales and pitches and various public relations-related stuff. She had caught him looking over at her during one of the speeches. When she met his gaze he'd turned away.

"Who's that?" she asked, tugging lightly on Nina's arm. Nina was in the middle of rambling about some publication technique to boost online views.

"Oh, him? That's Calum. He's a member of one of the newer bands the company's signed. Seems decent, haven't really had a chance to chat with him yet."

Calum.

She never got the guts to go over and talk to him that night, even though he looked like one of the only people who was actually having a decent time, chatting animatedly with an equally tall guy around his age, drink in hand. Instead, she stayed by Nina's side, letting her talkative friend fill the silence and introduce her to many people whose names she would inevitably forget.

---

It was two weeks later, and Nina had caught Rose off guard yet again, getting her to agree to another one of her work parties before Rose even really knew what she was saying yes to. The term ‘party’ was an exaggeration, to say the least. Only the watered-down drinks and the 70s hits playing at a whisper in the background gave the faintest suggestion that this was a party. Rather, it was a way for people at Nina’s company to schmooze with those from other nearby labels and PR companies, collaborating on techniques, getting insider information on new signings and album releases. And Nina was so thrilled at the prospect of sharing her knowledge and making new friends, that Rose felt obligated to say yes. However, not knowing a thing about the music industry or public relations made it difficult to relate to any of the conversations, so she often found herself glued to Nina’s side, maintaining an appropriate amount of nods and smiles to the people Nina talked to, waiting for the agonizingly slow clock to tick down. She sharply reminded herself to not give in to Nina’s pleas again, that this would be the last time she would let her Friday nights turn out like this.

Letting her thoughts wander, she remembered catching a vague glimpse of the dark-haired man earlier on in the night, but she hadn't seen him at all in the past half-hour, and figured he'd gone home. She wished she could leave too, but sadly Nina was her ride, which meant she'd be here for a while longer. By this time Rose was frankly sick of Nina's incessant chatter, and with feigning enjoyment in meeting random people she truly had no interest in.

She politely excused herself from the conversation, and made her way towards the kitchen, in the hopes she could scrounge up another drink to get her through the night. Taking a look around the kitchen, she let out a small sigh when she didn't see any alcohol. However, her eyes landed on the same curly-haired man from earlier. So this was where he'd been hiding out. His cheeks flushed a vague tinge of pink at seeing he'd been discovered, but he let out a relieved breath when he saw that it was her. One of the only other people here around his age, who didn't seem like she'd want to chatter endlessly about the management side of music.

"Hey, I remember you." He stood facing her, a gentle smile on his face. "Calum," he introduced, taking a hand out of his pocket and extending it towards her.

"Rose," she replied, lips curving into a smile as she shook his hand, his larger one temporarily enveloping hers.

"Nice to meet you," he nodded. "Do you work here?" He was sure if he'd seen her before that he would have remembered.

"No, I'm actually a struggling arts major," she confessed with a small chuckle. "My friend dragged me here. Nina."

"Oh," Calum nodded, eyes flashing lightly in recognition of a name he couldn't quite place. "The really… social one?" He asked hesitantly towards the end, unsure exactly how to phrase it.

"Yeah, you can’t miss her,” Rose said, giving her head a small shake in amusement. She felt a sense of relief as Calum's light chuckle flooded her ears.

"So I'm kind of hiding out here right now," he began, looking past her for a second to the crowd of people mingling past the doorway, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he confirmed none of the guests were interested in pulling him into another conversation.

She chuckled lightly, moving to place her empty glass near the sink. "Do you come to these kinds of things often?"

"Not really," he shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "But the label wanted me to make an appearance. Somehow I keep drawing the short end of the stick this month for that kind of stuff."

She laughed, glad she didn't have to pretend this was an enjoyable party.

"It's kinda.. stuffy?" he added, nose scrunching at the word.

She nodded in complete understanding. "Yeah. A lot of middle-aged record and publication people. Not exactly my crowd either."

"Tell me about it," Calum sighed, taking a long sip of his fruity drink. "And this was all I could find," he added half-heartedly, raising the glass.

She chuckled, trying to muffle her amusement at the strange drink that didn't seem to quite fit with his look. The vividly coloured mini umbrella and bright purple liquid contrasted sharply with the metal rings that adorned his tanned fingers and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt collar.

Noting her amusement with his drink of choice, his eyes began to light up, and he chuckled along with her.

"I figured," she said, fighting to contain her smile. This only served to make him more amused, a full-blown laugh bubbling out from his full, pink lips. His laugh seemed too pure, too alive for this subdued party.

They stood in silence for a couple beats, letting the low buzz from the various people in the room flood their ears again, before Calum drained the rest of his drink in a gulp. "Did you wanna get out of here?" He asked, setting his empty glass down on the counter beside hers, gesturing vaguely to the direction of the front door.

"Oh!" She wasn't able to mask her surprise, eyebrows rising and a faintly amused but apologetic look on her face. "Wow, um… I think you're great, I really do, but that's just not quite something that I'm-"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her response. He tilted his head slightly to one side, lips parted, as he tried to figure her out. Eventually his lips curved into a smile and a gentle laugh erupted from his mouth as he realized where she was going with this. "Shit, I meant food. My bad."

And then she was blushing profusely, wanting to melt into the floor in embarrassment because how could she fuck that up? She sighed, letting out a small whine of contempt, and when she finally got the courage to look back up at him, he was watching her, eyes sparkling. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, trying half-heartedly to contain the smile that still graced his face at her expense.

"Yeah, ok." She nodded, letting out a small chuckle. "I can do food."

---

She didn't quite know how she ended up at the fast-food place at 10pm, seated in a tiny booth across from Calum, watching the curly-haired man munching happily away on fries, their knees occasionally knocking against each other.

When he looked at her it was as if he was looking into her. His dark curls cascaded over his forehead, a hint of stubble on his jaw. His eyes were soft and dark brown. They crinkled around the edges when he laughed and they felt like home. It was weird for her, to feel that way with a stranger. But in many ways Calum felt more like an old friend. Like someone she'd known all her life and was just reconnecting with. At this point in the night he was beginning to look tired and sleepy, but just when she thought he was losing interest, his eyes would light up at a funny comment, and it would bring her in closer, creating the most comfortable, at ease feeling deep in her stomach. That night she learned Calum had a wicked dry sense of humour, and that his warm laugh sounded like honey.

They were there for over an hour, long after the remnants of their burgers had gone cold. Only the buzzing of the neon sign in the front window, and the quiet shuffling of the lone staff member were background noise to their conversation.

Eventually they decided to part ways, both tired and content from the night. They put their empty trays in the garbage, and left. Outside they stood only a few steps apart, trying to use each other's bodies to evade the cold wind blowing through the empty parking lot. It was already April in Boston, but some nights still felt like winter.

"Alright," he said, tugging the hood of his jacket over his head so only a few curls poked out. "Get home safe, ok?"

"I will. You too, Calum."

She turned to leave, but his fingertips brushed across the fabric of her jacket. She looked up, the movement garnering her attention. His tongue darted across his bottom lip, brown eyes searching her own.

"We're doing a little show at The Reign next Saturday night. You should come, if you want."

"Yeah I'd love to. I'll be there."

And then he was smiling, hands buried in his pockets. She took a step back and gave him a wave, which he returned, watching her for a few moments before turning in the direction of his own apartment.

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