#fear of god essentials kids pull-over hoodie

[essentialshoodie]

These fear of god kids essentials hoodie vibrant colors and comfortable fit provide a casual yet stylish option. They give everyday fashion a comfy life and personality, offering various colors. By opting for vibrant shades, it can instantly become a statement piece. Black, blue, white, and green options are available.

[heartfullofleeches]

You know I can’t stop thinking about an angsty Bugman scenario where, in the Childhood best friend!Darling setting, Darling learns that one day the god living inside Bugman is going to awaken properly and essentially kill Bugman, prompting Darling to just breakdown sobbing for their first and only friend and pleading for Bugman to not die even if their fate is sealed and neither of them can do anything to stop it

Why would you do this to me, Chief. Like- good soup, without a doubt, but my heart hurts for these angels. Imagine making a really close friend as a child, but instead of you drifting apart or one of you moving away someday their body will be taken from them by one of the things you're scared <- Childhood Best Friend Reader in this storyline had a fear of bugs as a kid.

-

You still remember the day like it was yesterday. A promise made between friends upon which wove your separate futures along a conjoining path, avowedly destined to outlast the trial of time and the seasons of change as you both grew.

"Are you ready, Bug?"

Small, beady little eyes snap upwards from the large stone you finally manage to get a good grip on after several, harrowing attempts. A damp slab of smooth stone wasn't the easiest thing for your tiny hands to grasp, but the additional moisture apparently attracted more prey. Clutching the mason jar tighter to their chest, Bugman nods their head not once, but as many times it takes to give them a minor head rush - spurred on by the joy of having someone in their home, using the correct name it had picked out for itself years ago.

"On the count of three. 1....2....3!"

Driving your heals into the dirt, you pull upwards - lifting the stone inches off the earth floor as Bugman sets their jar amongst the grass to prepare for the scurry. Your skin crawls as you hear the pitter patter of tiny legs. It'd take a lot more than your friend's obsession with them to make you tolerate bugs, but the least you could do was making chasing them slightly easier for Bug whenever you visited.

"There's so many, Bug..." So many lives under one rock. You'd probably be more enthusiastic if a beetle hadn't made a beeline for your shoe, burrowing its way between your shoelaces as you do everything to avoid kicking the poor creature away. You might not have been the biggest fan, but that didn't mean you wanted to hurt them.

"Bugman, there's one on my-"

"I see her. Don't move, she won't hurt you." Bugman cups their hand, guiding the beetle onto their palm as you do what you're told. It strokes a finger along the insects thorax before carefully lowering it into their jar. Bugman gazes up at you once more, dipping their head in gratitude for your cooperation.

"Thank you, Y/n. On her behalf."

"What are you thanking me for, Bug?"

"You could have easily flung her off or stepped on her. I am aware we do not an interest in insects, but I appreciate your support."

"What are friends for, Bug? Besides, just because I don't like them doesn't I want them to suffer."

"Friends...."

The word sits heavy on their tongue. Soft laughter plays throughout the garden before they can ask the question that's been plaguing them for some time now. With the chirp of bugs and the flow of running water, the sound may have gone unnoticed had it not been joined by another voice. Surveying the area, a hand rises in the air from over by the water fountain - beckoning the two of you over.

"Forgive us for interrupting. Would the two of you mind joining us for a minute? We have something for you."

Exchange a glance with Bugman, all it takes is for you to take a step forward before the both of you race across the grass. Something you picked up on weeks into hanging out with Bug was how they liked to give you the lead. Two young women sit at the bench below the fountain. Both appeared to be in their early twenties. One had pink streaks in her hair while the other wore her sweater hoodie overhead. They smile at you, lowering their heads as Bugman matches up behind you. The one with the pink hair speaks first, patting the empty bench between them.

"Good afternoon. You two have been busy today, haven't you? I think I speak for all of Bug's family when I thank you for stopping by. I've never seen them smile quite like they do when they have you over."

Bugman hides their face in their turtleneck, mumbling into the thick fabric. "That's not true...."

You always found it so cool Bugman had so many siblings. It's like there's a new one every time you come over. Maybe their parents foster. You don't know much about them. The pink haired girl snorts.

"My bad! Anyway, like I said, we have a present for you. It's a gift for you both. Now before we give it to you, we have to ask. You two are friends, aren't you?"

There it is. The question Bugman had been dreading. You've called them by that title before, but there's a worry in the back of their mind that you are simply stringing them along until you find another, better friend. Did you really enjoy spending your days with the kid your other peers wrote off as strange and bizarre.

Assurance came to them in the pride of your voice as you happily announced.

"Of course! Bugman is my best friend!"

Best? The hooded girl spits a wad of chewed gum onto its wrapper, turning her body to face you fully. It's then you see a small box in her lap, filled to the brim with small beads and charms.

"That's all we needed to hear. If you two are really best friends you need what all best friends need?"

"What?" Bugman hides deeper into the neckline of their sweater as your voices overlap. You smile from ear to ear, furthering their embarrassment. The girls roll up their sleeves, presenting matching bands around each of their wrists.

"You need friendship bracelets. We'll help you make them."

"Whoa..." You march forward as the girls place the box within reach on the bench. So many beads and charms. There's even a few bug themed ones. Bugman will really like those.

"This is so cool, Bugman! If we never talk them off that means we'll be friends for life, yeah?"

"For life?.... You really want me around that long?"

"Why wouldn't I?" You stick out your pinky finger, holding it up for them to take. "We'll be best friends forever!"

Bugman stares at your outstretched finger. Picking up their confusion, you quietly whisper. "It's a promise, silly. Wrap your finger around mine and we have to keep it. Best friends forever?"

Bugman locks their finger with yours. "Forever...."

-

"....."

"Say it isn't true, Bug."

You always knew Bugman was special, but - not like this. How could they keep this from you for so long? Were they aware of this from the start? Did everything you say that day.... All plans and wishes you made together - did they mean nothing anymore?

"I apologize for not telling you sooner, Y/n. If it makes you feel better, I have already made sure that no harm will ever come to you. The being inside me is many things, but they will not go back on their word. I understand if this all is too much to bare. I do not blame you if you hate me now."

"Hate you? Hate you?" Angry tears stream down your face as you clutch their shoulders for balance. Sadness and rage quakes you to your very core. "Bugman, all I want is you! I want my best friend to be here with me. I don't want to lose you to some...some... bug god that's already been dead for centuries. This is your body, your life we're talking about here! Don't you want to be here with me too?"

It hurts. White hot, shearing pain rips through Bugman's ribcage as you sob pathetically against their chest. The air they breath is like sharp glass in their throat. What are you doing? This feeling - they've never had it before. Are they dying now? Is this what death feels like?

Bringing their arms around your shaking body is all that relieves this ache. Bugman realizes as you slam your fist against their chest that this is not death. It's heartbreak.

And it's so, so much worse.

"On the bright side, there is no telling when I will die. It could be any day now. It could be at the natural end of my lifetime. All we can do is hope for the best and relish the time we have together now."

"You better.... You better stay with me until we're both old and grey. I won't forgive you if you leave me before then."

Bugman rolls their fingers over the beads tied around your wrist. As children, you both made your bracelets slightly too big so they would follow you into adulthood. They fit perfectly now.

"I promised once that I wouldn't leave you. That is a promise I intend to keep."

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[jasonndeans]

young gods - shane “dio” morrissey x reader

word count: 1,990

warnings: brief scene involving harassment and brief use of the f slur at the end.

chapter: 1/?

summary:  You weren't looking for anything when you met Dio, but you also couldn't take your eyes off of him. You were drawn to him, shrouded in black mystery and his softer side he kept well hidden under that duster. A part of you knew when you first saw him, he was destined to fly too close to the sun. At first, it wasn't really anything he said or anything he did. It was the feeling that came along with him. You'd never felt this way before, and the crazy thing is, you didn't know if you should. You knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright, but...how can the Devil be pulling you towards someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you? Maybe he knew that when he met you, too.

Dio didn’t have much to bring with him on the day he took you up on your offer to live with you in your small New York City apartment; small, albeit big enough for two. He carried almost all of his earthly possessions with him in his pockets — the keys to his father’s ancient, barely running Honda, a pack of cigarettes, loose cash and change, and his trusty switch. The rest would have to be crammed into his car and hauled over, mostly consisting of clothes and shoes, thrifted or stolen. 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d rescue me from the Smack Shack,” he’d quipped, lips curling.

“The Smack Shack” is what he’d dubbed the worn-down, abandoned place he and his buddies — all of them pursuers of a list of drugs, some of them sellers like Dio — often crashed in when a softer, more secure sofa couldn’t be reserved for the night. Thus, The Smack Shack. You’d visited a handful of times despite the fact that it gave you the creeps. Dio had your trust, as did…some of his friends. The neighborhood just wasn’t the safest in Manhattan, needless to say, and there was no guessing what shady characters were looming about in these hollowed out homes. You’re just glad he’s out of there. And with you.

“Ohh, I rescued you, huh?” You’d teased back, your voice lilting in a sing-song tone. “I must be your knight in shining armor.”

He hummed in the back of his throat with a mock grimace, leaning forward to kiss you. “Don’t make me sick, birdie.” His lips were chapped and tasted of smoke, and as much as you detested the habit, it was something so purely Dio. A smirk played on his lips upon pulling back with decorated fingers idly tapping out a rhythm onto a tabletop of a squat little sandwich shop you worked at. “I seem to remember things differently.” Expectant, he cocked his head, casting a shadow of his star-shaped earring onto his neck -- one of many, many things that endeared you to the boy in black.

As if on cue, you turned sheepish with a duck of your head and a bashful smile cast downwards. He was referring to the day you two first met. Officially, that is. Along with the thrill of waitressing and constructing sandwiches, you worked behind a cash register at a record shop -- Empire Records. Music’s always been a constant comfort for you, in your ears when you needed a voice to scream your sorrows, your rampages or your little victories. You’d amassed quite the collection of records as you grew and your music taste with you for a player you’d fixed up and obtained from a seller when on the hunt for more important things like furniture and necessities to fill your then new apartment. You didn’t consider yourself to be one of those douchey vinyl connoisseurs, but you liked the place well enough. It was only a matter of time before you noticed the tall, dark, handsome boy who’d frequent the place without buying anything. He’d stick to the Industrial Rock or Post-Punk ailes and he definitely looked the type, decked head to toe in grungey black attire, adorned with silver jewelry and chains. Every so often the two of you would lock eyes, make slightly painful small talk about whatever was playing through the speakers. You even inquired once if he’d learned your shift schedule with how often he’d appear when you were working, and, leaning suavely on his elbows before you, he’d replied:

“Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. That all depends...would you think I was a creep if I said yes?”

Perhaps a normal individual would confirm this, but you had to admit the guy was cute. Okay, he was hot with his dark eyes lined in black, brow piercing and air of confidence. So you smiled and shook your head. Dio smiled back.

You recall during one of your early morning shifts, Dio asked for your coffee order, motioning to the cup in your hands. You gave it to him and he advised against grabbing your morning coffee the next time it was scheduled on your calendar. With curiosity, you obliged and on that day and each day after, in he strolled with your cup in one hand, his in the other. So you carried on like that for a while, chatting over coffee, much to the dismay of your manager.

“Your boyfriend’s a distraction,” she’d remarked one day. “And a loiterer. I don’t care how dreamy he is, he can’t keep hanging around here if he’s not gonna buy anything.”

Admittedly, that caused your heart to sink a little. Yeah, you understood her frustration from a business perspective, but despite not even knowing this guy’s name, his gloomy presence brightened your otherwise dull work days.

When you transferred your manager’s message, Dio issued a breath of...disappointment?

“I don’t believe in money,” came his confession, almost hardly classifying as one what with how casually it was delivered. He chuckled at your raised brow. “Everyone’s a slave to these meaningless pieces of paper and metal, even you. ” A nail painted black pointed at you. “If I want something, nine times outta ten, I’ll find my own way to get it. Seems a little fucked up to work for the essentials for survival, don’t you think?”

For a moment, you sat with this new information. Yeah, it was a little fucked up to fork over hard-earned cash for things like basic needs, but how else was someone expected to live? Mulling it over, you sipped your coffee, once again brought by him. You shot Mr. No-Name-Kid a knowing look. “Am I drinking stolen coffee?” Your smirk couldn’t hide from him.

Dio only laughed.

One night as you closed up shop, you were disheartened at the absence of a certain trench coat clad “customer” in the store that day. You couldn’t place where this was coming from. After all, the two of you were only..what? Acquaintances at most? Names hadn’t even been exchanged, and yet you found yourself scanning the streets outside for any sight of him at the door; reminded of his face when bands like The Cure filled the shop.

Your sigh deflated you as you dug for your keys in your bag -- both to lock up and for your car. It was whatever. This guy had a life too and was under no obligation to visit you as you worked.  You turned the key to Empire Records, locking it shut and gave the doors a pull to be sure, Yup. All good. Nodding to yourself, you turned to locate your car in the lot next door. The night was brisk, pushing past the fabric of your cardigan as you walked an empty sidewalk. Under the glow of buzzing streetlights and neon business signs, you tugged it closer to you. The work day was dwindling, at least on this street, cars every so often rolling past. You’re about halfway to the car park when your ears catch a second pair of footsteps behind you. Your lips and spirits lift with the hope that they might belong to the heavy boots of Dio after all and you turn to greet him.

“Nice night, huh?”

This guy’s not Dio. His hoodie covers shaggy chestnut hair, hands in his front pocket as he trudges along. This dude reeks of weed and booze. You ignore him and continue on your path.

“Not a talker. Got it. Listen, honey, you don’t gotta clam up around me, I’m a swell guy. I’ll walk ya’ to your car, that’s where you’re goin’, right?”

Jaw clenched, you ball your cool hands into fists at your sides, keeping your car key poking out from between your fingers should this douche not get the hint. “I don’t need an escort, thanks.” Your reply is sharp, eyes remaining en route. Other than that, you try your damndest to ease calm through your body. Tempting as it is to dash to the safety of your vehicle, you’re not about to put any fear on display for him. You’re okay. Breathe. The lot’s less than a block away now.

Then a hand snakes its way around your waist.

“C’mon, baby, ‘m just tryn’a be a gentleman. Isn’t that what broads want?” His breath is rancid in your nose.

You jerk away, shooting daggers. “Offer declined, now leave me alone.” Now you pick up the pace with your destination in sight. You don’t make it far before you’re jerked back by fingers at your forearm that tug forcefully. The bastard opens his mouth to spew more drovel, but you don’t give him the chance to speak. Screwing up your face, you reel your arm back and jab him with your key in the ribs.

Pain sputters through his lips. No skin was broken (unfortunately), but he’s stumbled back a few paces and grabs where you’d struck him. “You bitch!” He spits, his glare glassy. “Fuck’s your problem?!”

You’re halted by a chilling mixture of fear and shock at your own actions, snapping out of it when the drunk stranger lunges forward. No time is wasted in absolutely fucking booking it now. He may be hammered, but you’re taking no chances. You pay no attention to the string of swears and slurs from behind you and finally reach your car. The vibrations in your hands make unlocking the door difficult, and glancing up you can see your pursuer drunkenly heading toward you.

“Fuck!” You cry. “Stupid fucking--!”

“If I were you I’d stop right there, you piece of shit.”

The familiar voice that hadn’t been there prior snaps your head up, scanning the darkness to catch Dio crossing the street looking more menacing than you’ve ever seen him. You could get in your car and peel out of there right now, but you’re frozen in place watching the scene unfold.

Your attacker finds his way to his feet again, looking dumbfounded at the character who’s walked onto the scene. “Who -- who the fuck’re you?!”

You catch a smirk on Dio’s lips under flickering streetlights. “That all depends on what your next move is, jagoff.” He looks pissed as all hell, though there’s a layer of calm to his words that stirs your stomach. Dio now stands in front of the other with his hands in leather pockets, like he’s provoking him. He’s always exuded this...intimidating aura, clad in all black and chains but you’ve never seen this side of him in action. Maybe now is a bad time to come to this realization, but you have to admit: it’s sexy.

“Oh that’s, ‘s cute,” Mumbles the brunette guy, snickering. “‘S this your boyfriend comin’ to the rescue? Looks like a fuckin’ faggot if I’ve ever seen--”

Dio’s boot to this guy’s crotch cuts him off in the middle of his “insult” and he crumples to the concrete with a groan; if that isn’t enough, Dio lands a second kick to his temple.

You can only stand there lamely with your jaw agape and watch him swagger over after he just knocked a dude in the nuts.

“Sorry I was late,” he says smoothly. “I was in a meeting. You alright?”

Stupidly, you blink at him in the low light. “I--um...I’m…” Real nice. You shake your head to jumpstart your brain. “Yeah, I-I’m okay. I’m good. Thanks. Really.” So he’d come to see you after all.

Dio nods, appearing grateful to hear you’re unharmed.

You two begin to speak at the same time and chuckle in unison. He falls silent, ushering you to continue. You look your rescuer in the face, unable to swallow a smile. You’d missed those eyes, seeming so warm in the cool of the night. “So, do I get to know the name of my savior?” You prod.

He laughs once, low in his throat. “Dio.”

[jiminotopia]

An Unusual Tail of Love [2]

Genre: Romance/Angst/Fluff/Smut/Fantasy (Mermaid AU)

Pairing: Human Jungkook X Mermaid Reader

Summary: Junkook encounters Y/N, a helpless and innocent mermaid by the far ends of the sea shore. His immediate thought is to flee and wake up from this very realistic dream but when she asks him to save her with her deep blue, enchanting eyes, he chooses to protect her. He believes that in saving her, he’ll be able to rediscover his lost passion as an artist.

Rating: M

Taglist: TBA (Let me know if you’d like to be added and notified about updates on this fic)

Previous ||

Chapter: 2

A/N: Please forgive any errors.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: An innocent, non-fuckboyish, sweet but ‘shirtless’ Jungkook ahead. A semi-naked you..xD

JK’s P.o.V.

When he was still a child, Jungkook used to wonder why the kids his age talked about magic and fantasy and about witnessing something extraordinary. Something different. Something that he only use to hear from his mother in her bedtime tales. He never imagined coming across a beautiful fairy in the woods or saving one, like the other children his age loved to. Jungkook never gave such things the time of his day because he has always been a sensible child who keeps his head out of the clouds. So now that he is actually experiencing this unusual occurrence, he doesn’t know how to react. There’s literally no excitement in his form. Not even the slightest. What he is feeling though, is fear.

A tiny part of him that he has kept locked away till now— apart of him that has always wanted to explore the oddities is thrilled but the majority of him is scared of this unknown..

Jungkook can hear the waves crash across the sandy shore, wetting the tips of his feet just as much as the shiny fin of the mermaid on top of him. A bristle of wind touches his skin and he gulps. Jungkook was never a believer, okay? All that magic and fantasy shit is more of Taehyung Hyung’s thing. Not him though. No, not Jeon Jungkook. He has always been a realist because well..it’s real.

“Please..save me..”

Jungkook hears the girl’s statement of plea yet he completely disregards it, swiftly pushing her off of himself and scrambles farther away from her. Her completely uncovered breasts aren’t as much of a sight to him as the lower half of her body which consists of a single, long, blue tail instead of normal human legs. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes in hopes of seeing clearer and realizing that he’s only been hallucinating due to the heated rays of the sun. But nothing of the sort happens. The mermaid is still there and very much real. She is short of breath, the gills on her neck unable to help her respire at all. Anguish and helplessness are written all over her pretty face as she is trying desperately to crawl closer towards him.

“I’m not a monster!” she screams at him. “I just..I’m just alone!”

Jungkook ignores her, rummaging through his shorts in search of his cellphone when he recalls he had decided to leave it at the lodge. He didn’t think it’ll be necessary to have a phone whilst shooting at the beach. He simply wanted to explore the surroundings in hopes of being able to get back into the habit of making GCFs that his fans and he himself loves so much.

The panic and adrenaline aids him in standing up and he manages to jog further,reaching the rocks from where he had leaped off a minute ago. But just as he is about to escape, his conscience yet again gets the better of him and he commits the mistake of looking back. His eyes fall upon her’s and for the second time now, he feels a weird emotion— an inexplicable connection. It’s like their encounter was meant to be..

Jungkook’s body acts on instincts as if being called out by her and before knowing it, he finds his legs taking him back to her. He stops before her and she immediately latches a palm onto his leg in her last attempt at begging.

He sighs heavily. God he doesn’t know what he’s doing! Is any of this real? Is this actually happening? Maybe this is all a conspiracy of the universe. Maybe the universe wants him to believe in the unimaginable..

“Please..” is all that she is able to mumble before she finally passes out and he notices her tail beginning to thin, a small lining visible in the middle, along its length. The fish-like fins at the end begin fading until finally they are replaced by a pair of very human-looking feet. The lining along the middle of her fin deepens until it breaks her tail into two limbs of equal size and proportion and he realises what’s actually happening. He stares with amazement at the freshly formed pair of human legs on this girl/mermaid’s body as their bluish tone washes away, replaced by milky, white skin.

The fear within him is substituted by interest. He crouches down and places a palm near her nose. He can feel small release of air from her nostrils which is a sign that she’s still breathing. He frowns but then notices that the fine indents of gills on her neck have disappeared completely.

The fainting must be because she’s a being of the sea and the transformation is definitely a measure taken by her body to adapt itself to land. In fiction, water is essential to a mermaid's life even more than it is to humans. So for a moment, Jungkook wonders if he should just pick her up and toss her into the sea. That is bound to help, right? He mentally slaps himself at the ridiculous idea. He needs to be serious here. She had been sitting at the edge of the sea all this time. If she had wanted to, then she’d have jumped into the sea long ago which brings him to two plausible conclusions: either she didn’t want to live in the water bodies anymore or something was (and maybe still is) keeping her from going back. Therefore, taking her towards the sea is not an option for now.

So the first thing that Jungkook does is taking off his black hoodie. A part of him is glad that this mermaid is lying on her stomach because it’s atleast protecting the intimates between her newly formed legs, letting only her shapely butt be visible to him. He mentally berates himself for staring and with difficulty, manages to slip her small frame into his hoodie. It’s a good thing that the piece of clothing is big on her and reaches her knees. Then he picks her up bridal style, walks over the rocks and sloppily zips his camera bag. He slings it back onto one of his bare shoulders and starts jogging in the direction of the lodge.

Panic returns as soon as he arrives at the lodge. He didn’t think this through on his way here. How is he going to explain about this half-naked woman in his arms!? In the 6 years that he’s been with his hyungs, none of them has ever showed up with a woman at their dorm or any work sites. They prefer to keep their flings as private as possible.And Jungkook has never even had a fling. So how the hell is he gonna explain this mess!?

He sighs in worry and begins approaching the lodge. Jungkook is relieved when the company’s guard stationed outside the lodge doesn’t question him about the woman. He completely ignores the man and stumbles inside only to find the whole place void of any living activity. Where did everyone go?

“Jeon-ssi” Jungkook nearly jumps at the grim tone of voice and turns around. It’s the guard from before. He bows respectfully even though he’s probably older than Jungkook but Jungkook can only nod in response as his body is pretty much occupied right now due to another person being in his hold.

“Jeon-ssi, everyone left to enjoy the beach but they were worried since you had forgotten to take your cellphone and keys to this place.” The guard informs and Jungkook nods again sheepishly. These days he’s become so careless.

“If you want, I can call the others—”

“No thanks!” Jungkook blurts out, his face scrunched with worry. He still doesn’t know how he’ll explain this all to his Hyungs. He needs to think of a way to make them believe him first because he’s damn sure no one will accept his words if he tells them that this girl he brought with him is a real mermaid. He needs someone good with words. Someone who is patient but is also taken seriously at all times. A name instantly pops up in his mind and he clicks his fingers.

“Can you call Sarang noona?” Jungkook asks the guard in an unsure voice but relaxes when the guard nods in affirmation and pulls out his phone.

Meanwhile Jungkook heads upstairs with the girl in his arms with no difficulty.She isn’t heavy at all. He lowers her onto his satin bed-sheets and stares at her. It’s still hard for him to believe he saved an actual mermaid’s life. Well..he’s not sure if he saved her but the moment her tail transformed into legs, the fine indents of gills on her neck had disappeared too. And he can see the proper rise and fall of her chest, indicating that she can breathe like a normal human. So basically, her body’s transformation saved her. It's impressive how quickly her body adapted to the whole situation.

She moans suddenly and Jungkook is immediately at her side. He watches her, searching for any evidence of displeasure on her face but thankfully her breathing is even which means she’s only gone into a sleep. Maybe staying out of water for too long had weakened her body and the fainting was a result of loss of strength. In that case, it’s better to let her stay asleep like this.

An image of her enchanting eyes flashes in his head and he smiles. He has no idea why but coming across her today was a beautiful experience. Even with the fear of something new and unknown lurking in his being, he had felt so alive and blissful in those moments. And it’s the same even now. Her presence right now, in this very moment feels very soothing to him. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight flush to her cheeks, her chapped yet still pretty, pink lips, her whole tiny form in nothing but his black hoodie is a breathtaking sight. And although inappropriate to admit, the sight is also kind of a turn on. He has never seen a women like this. Moreover, he’s never been with a woman like this, wearing his clothes and sleeping on his bed. He knows its wrong but he can’t help but feel pleased at the sight. Caught in the moment, he picks up his cellphone from the side table, scrolls to and opens the camera app and snaps a picture of the innocently asleep beauty on his sheets. He thinks about using his digital camera instead because a phone’s camera won’t do justice to her heavenly form. And just as he turns around to act on his whim, he finds three pairs of eyes already watching him.

Jimin nudges Taehyung, the two smiling in amusement at their donsaeng but Manager Sarang glares bullets into him.

“Ho-How long have you guys been standing there?” Jungkook stutters out, something very uncharacteristic of him.

“Long enough to see you stare at her like a love-struck teenager.” answers Taehyung, a sort of pride in his eyes.

“No! I–”

“Is this why you left without telling us!? To find gullible women and take advantage of them!? I didn’t expect this from you of–”

Jimin places his palm over Sarang’s lips to stop her from scolding his baby brother any further. “Lets not jump to conclusions and let him explain.” He tells her softly. She narrows her eyes once at him but agrees.

Jungkook glances at Jimin hyung, who’s smiling reassuringly at him. It always surprises Jungkook how much Jimin understands him without him having to say a word.He is forever going to be thankful of Jimin.

“I..” He stops, wondering what exactly he should say now that he’s given a chance at explaining himself. He’s sure if he says shit like he came across a mermaid on the beach, he’ll get suspicious stares. He needs to take it slow. “I found her all alone, unconscious on the beach..” Yes! This is better. He can start from here and reveal about the whole mermaid-thing later on.

“And she was naked too?” Sarang asks, immediately noticing the flaw in his lie. Damn she is good!

“Ye-Yes” he tries to be confident but fails. He’s been stammering a lot today. What’s wrong with him?

The three elders eye him momentarily. Fortunately, Taehyung breaks the tension and shrugs his shoulders. “We can just wait for her to wake up and hear what she has to say on the matter.” Jimin nods in approval at the suggestion and drags his unwilling personal manager on his way out of the room.

“Oh wait!” Jungkook runs to the threshold of his room and peaks out at the retreating figures. They turn heads, stopping on the stairs and await his next words. “Noona, can you get her some clothes? Um..along with undergarments..” He asks awkwardly but thank goodness, she responds with an affirmative nod.

Y/N’s P.o.V.

Your eyes fidget as you rouse from your slumber. Funny. You don’t recall resigning to your bed of kelp to sleep. You don’t even recall swimming back through the sea to return to your home. The realization makes you snap your eyes open and sit up.You look down at yourself, lifting your arms in confusion, only to find your form covered in some sort of thick but soft material— a kind of material you have only ever seen non-mers use to cover their bodies. But why are you covered in it!? Your eyes dart around, trying to come up with some sort of explanation but then you notice you’re in a completely alien environment. When did all this happen? Panic begins bubbling within you, giving rise to a strong headache.

A sudden clicking sound from the side makes your whole form jump in fright. You avert your eyes towards the source to find some kind of space, a passage opening up and something, no,a non-mer appears. As soon as you meet his gaze, your memories begin bombarding your head. You recall all the bloodshed, the iron bars, the yelling voices, the mocking snickers and the distasteful frowns. All of it starts coming back. All of it till you remember a memory of yourself swimming away to the land where you came across this same non-mer.

“Please..save me..”

Your own words of plea echo in your head and you stare at the non-mer. Judging by the physique, your guess is that he’s a male. You were taught that a male non-mers generally referred as ‘Man’. So it was this man! He was the one who had heard you sobbing at the shore and had come to your aid. He is looking right at you, his hands weirdly moving over his upper body, as if trying to cover himself.

“You!” you address him since the lack of knowledge of his name and try to get out the soft thing that you had been sleeping on, only to tumbledown.

The man was immediately at your side, catching you mere seconds before the fall can occur. Instinctively, your arms wrap around him and you bury your head in his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently and you nod once into his chest.

JK’s P.o.V.

After requesting for a fresh pair of clothes from Sarang Noona for the mermaid, Jungkook drapes a blanket over her small form and goes to freshen up into the washroom. He takes a quick shower and puts on a clean pair of boxers and then wears his swimming shorts again instead of searching for some different clothes. Splashing his face with cold water, he stares at his tired face. So many thoughts are going through his mind. What is he going to do with that mermaid when she wakes up?There’s no way his hyungs won’t find out. Even if he manages to keep the mermaid from revealing her true self, sooner or later everyone is bound to find out. Shouldn’t he avoid that inevitable scenario and simply tell them himself? But the chances of them believing the raw truth are even lower. And he can’t always keep her around either.

So then..what is he supposed to do?

With all these thoughts muddling in his head, he walks out of the washroom. And suddenly, he regrets not putting on a shirt. The little mermaid on his bed is not asleep anymore. Fora moment, she stares at him in confusion and he stares back, trying to cover as much of his exposed chest with his arms as possible. He maybe a “bad boy” on the stage but he actually gets shy easily if people look too long at him.

“You!” she shouts out of the blue and jumps off the bed to reach him. Her newly-formed legs however stagger and Jungkook sprints to her, catching her mere seconds before the fall. It must be because she most likely never had legs and so, her brain and body aren’t coordinated enough to use them yet. She wraps her arms tightly around his naked torso and buries her face in his chest. He gulps at the skin contact and tries to stay calm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hoping she doesn’t catch the shyness in his tone. She moves her face up and down in what he thinks is a nod.

The two of them stay still, unsure of how to continue on with this conversation.

“You’re a mermaid and you were actually at the sea.” Jungkook says more to himself, to confirm to himself that all of this is not just him lucid-dreaming about fantasy novels turning into reality.

The girl/mermaid nods again in response to his statement and speaks, “Yes, I’m a mermaid. And I..” she hesitates for an instant before going on, “I swam away..”

Jungkook stares down confusedly at her sad expression. Swam away? Is this an equivalent expression used by sea-folk to convey an act of “running away”? He scratches his chin, his other hand still resting around her waist.“You mean you left the sea?” He asks.

She nods and looks up at him. But just as she is about to elaborate more on her previous statement, the door to his room opens and in comes Sarang Noona with two carry bags in her hands.

She sighs at the state she finds the two standing in. Then closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Jungkook, I won’t ask about what you two are upto right now, so just leave us. I’ll help her with changing clothes. After that,”she pauses for dramatic effect and points a finger at the girl/mermaid, “this girl will answer everything downstairs.”

A/N: So the name of Jimin’s manager was chosen “Sarang” because once an international fan on fancafe had asked what she should take-up as her korean name. A k-army suggested “Sarang” which means lovely. That I-army told Jimin about her korean name and Jimin replied to her, saying her name is very “lovely”. Cute story, right? :3

So.. Y/N swam away from her home in the depths of the sea. Why? will be revealed in the coming chapters..

Hope you are looking forward to the next chapter. Feel free to send asks..:)

Until Next Time...

|MASTERLIST|

[sign-from-god-complex]

A Gift From Me To You - Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Virgil works up the courage.

Warnings: Descriptions of bullying even though none is actually occurring, violence mention (though again, not occurring), anxiety attack and general anxious thoughts (this is Virgil after all).

A/N: Just the epilogue left to go!!!! I wrote 75% of this chapter all in one morning and honestly thank god I had cause I would not have been able to get it done otherwise, hahah. Honestly, thank you all so much for reading this fic. It’s been both a joy and a disaster at times, but I’m just so glad people are enjoying it.

AO3 Link //  Link to Chapter One! //  And Two! // And Three! // And Four! // And Five! // And Six! // And Seven!

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Virgil wandered the hall in an aimless haze. He had a free period last that day and it would be so easy just to go home early like he usually did, leave all this worry for another day, but something was stopping him. Virgil knew he wouldn’t get another chance like this for a week.

He knew where Roman was. And he had an excuse to be there.

Roman shared his last class with Remy—classics, because they’re both geeks, even if neither of them would ever admit it—and they frequently offer Virgil a ride home since he was too anxious to ever get his license. It wouldn’t really be that weird for Virgil to hang around outside the classroom under the guise of asking Remy for a ride and then…

Virgil exhaled sharply.

Then what? Just… go up and talk to him? Roman had never spoken to him before the hallway collision—it was unlikely he would know his name or even recognise him—why in the world would Roman want to talk to him? What if Virgil went up to him and he scowled in disgust? Or laughed in his face? What if he did recognise him and he demanded Virgil repay him somehow for knocking him over in the hallway? What if he got all his friends to force him to the ground and-

Virgil forcibly cut off his train of thought, counting through his quickening breaths. His hands went to tear at his hair but he stopped them halfway, bunching them up in the fabric of his hoodie instead.

Roman had no reason to do those things. Roman had never done those things before, and he had no reason to start now. Roman did not seem upset by Virgil running into him.

Roman was a nice person.

Or at least, for the first time, Virgil hoped he was.

Despite his insistent worries, Remy and Patton’s words were still echoing in his head, strengthening what little resolve he had. It wasn’t fair to keep things like this from his soulmate, no matter how much he wished he could.

He had a choice here, but he knew he had to at least make an effort. He had to try.

He was going to try.

Virgil marched his way down the corridor towards the classics room, hearing the bell echo through the halls as he approached. Kids rushed out of the classroom, pushing and shoving their way out the doors in a desperate attempt to escape and Virgil had to fight to not get swept away with the tide.

“Virge!”

Remy’s voice cut through the crowds of people and Virgil managed to force his way over to greet them, giving a nod to their knowing look.

“He’s still in the classroom. Hasn’t left yet,” Remy smirked, taking a sip of their coffee—and Virgil wasn’t exactly sure where they’d gotten that; the one from this morning must be cold by now—“Want me to introduce you? …Again?”

Virgil laughed but he knew Remy could tell he was losing more and more of his bravado the longer they both stood there. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Remy grabbed his arm, dragging him into the classroom and Virgil actually felt his heart skip a beat when he caught sight of Roman. He was alone, which Virgil was thankful for. He leant against the edge of his desk as he saw them approach, cutting himself off mid-laugh and hurrying to put away his cellphone.

“Roman,” Remy announced, pulling Virgil to their side in front of him. Virgil had to remind himself to breathe because locking eyes with Roman was overwhelming and more than a little terrifying. “This is my friend Virgil. He has something he needs to talk to you about.”

Roman raised his eyebrows, nodding his head slowly. “Right, okay.”

Virgil cringed into himself, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie again and ducking his head slightly. He felt a steady hand land on his shoulder and looked up to meet Remy’s gaze.

“Oh, V, you need a ride?”

The posed question seemed casual but Virgil knew it was anything but. This was Remy's way of asking whether he was good to do this alone or whether they needed to hang out with comfort and chocolate in case things went wrong. Virgil gave a small smile; he had such a good best friend.

He placed his hand on top of theirs for a brief moment, tapping his fingers against the back of their hand before pulling back. “Uh, could you maybe wait for like 10 minutes and I’ll let you know?”

“No prob, hon. I’d be happy to,” Remy smiled. It was a genuine one, void of its usual playful nature and filled instead with compassion. It wasn't a smile many got to see—pretty much just himself and Emile—so Roman should count himself lucky.

With one last squeeze of Virgil's shoulder, Remy pulled away, disappearing out the door with a subtle wink.

There was a long moment where neither of them said anything, Virgil fidgeting and averting his eyes and Roman watching him with what Virgil thought was a curious gaze. He hoped it was only curious anyway. He didn’t think too much about it—if he let his mind run away with all the possibilities of what else it could be, Virgil would never work up the courage to say anything.

“Hi…?”

At the words, Virgil looked up, taking in the comforting smile that had graced Roman's face. He tried to ignore the way it made him feel to have that smile directed at him, biting at the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing nervously.

“Uh, hey,” Virgil replied.

Roman's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, before returning to his regular expression. He glanced around the classroom awkwardly. Virgil realised Roman was waiting for him to say something but it was like he'd suddenly forgotten every word he'd ever learnt; he was sure that if he opened his mouth to speak it would have a disastrous outcome.

Clearly given up on waiting, Roman cleared his throat.

“Are you feeling better? You know, after the whole—” Roman waved his hand about generally—“bathroom thing.”

Virgil flushed bright red, panic seizing his chest and crushing all the confidence he had left.

Had Patton spoken to Roman about what Virgil had been freaking out over? Did Roman know that Virgil had his soulmark and hadn’t said anything because he didn't want him? Was he just humouring him now? Giving him hope before shooting him down?

At least this answered the question of whether or not Roman had remembered him, though he honestly wasn’t sure if this was the better of the two outcomes.

The fear must have been obvious on Virgil's face because Roman rushed to assuage him. “Oh! No! Patton didn't tell me what upset you, just that you were upset! He wouldn't do something like that, I swear.”

At the mention of Roman's boyfriend, Virgil felt a spike of guilt shoot through him, but he managed a tight smile nonetheless.

He felt like such an asshole. He was essentially telling someone, “The universe decided your relationship isn’t good enough and instead said you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with me! Someone you’ve spoken to a grand total of one time!”. Yes, Patton may have been the one who'd urged him to go ahead with this in the first place, but he still couldn’t help but feel like he was ruining everything.

Roman tilted his head as he watched Virgil compose himself, studying him, not necessarily unkindly, but still in a way that made Virgil feel vaguely uncomfortable. It was just a little too open for his liking and Virgil drew his hoodie tighter around his body.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what was it that upset you so? It-” Roman scrunched up his face for a moment. “I just feel I made things worse somehow.”

“No!” Virgil yelled, before hesitating. He didn’t want to lie, but there was also no reason for Roman to feel guilt over Virgil’s own shortcomings—him being upset was certainly not his fault, even if he did technically make things worse. “Well, I mean, not… intentionally. Look, it’s complicated.”

Roman shoved himself back so he was sitting on his desk with his legs hanging off the side, swinging back-and-forth. “Well, I’ve got time. If you’re willing to tell me.”

“That was kinda the whole point of coming in the first place,” Virgil muttered under his breath.

Roman furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Look, um… I was up… late, last night and something… happened… to me. And I heard—and I guess saw—that it… um, might have happened to you too?”

Okay, that was possibly the least descriptive Virgil had ever been in his life. He winced, pulling his eyes up from the floor to meet Roman’s confused gaze.

“I have no idea what you are talking about right now.”

Virgil deflated. Oh, what the hell. This whole carefully-explaining-every-aspect-of-what-led-you-here thing was agonising, he might as well just get to the point. Band-aid method. He could do this.

Virgil pulled his sleeve back, revealing his soulmark to the cool air of the room. He watched Roman’s eyes widen as his gaze traced over the skin, taking in the sight before him, and Virgil was sure he’d never felt more exposed in his life.

“This,” he admitted finally. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for sharp words and denials.

But it didn’t happen.

Virgil cracked his eyes open a fraction, watching as Roman stood up from his desk and made his way over towards him. His motions were careful and deliberate as if he was afraid Virgil might run away if he moved too quickly—something he may not be entirely wrong about.

Reaching a point directly in front of him, Roman went to grab Virgil’s wrist and Virgil made no move to stop him. The emotion in his eyes was difficult for Virgil to place, Roman trailing his thumb along the mark, outlining thin borders and bright colours. He could feel his skin tingle at the contact and he tried his best to not let out a sigh. The hard part may be over, but they weren’t done yet.

A quiet, “Oh,” filled the air and that’s all Virgil was able to process before he was being dragged out the door of the classroom.

Shit.

Virgil’s mind immediately kicked into overdrive.

Roman hated him. Roman didn’t believe him. Roman was most definitely going to take him outside to where his friends would be waiting and they’d all laugh at the loser who faked his soulmark to get with his high school crush or worse they’d push him up against the brick wall and scrape his skin along it until he was raw and bleeding they would hurt him they would hurt him he’s in danger he’s in danger he’s in danger-

“This is Virgil.”

Roman’s voice cut through Virgil’s panic and he managed to open his eyes—and when did he close them?—enough to see the silhouettes of two people standing in a semi-circle in front of him. He didn’t recognise them, the sun too bright and his fear too large for him to process anything outside of they were people and they weren’t Remy.

As much as he could right now, Virgil readied himself for mocking words or harsh shoving.

But it didn’t happen.

Instead, he heard a voice say, “Roman! He’s having an anxiety attack!”

The voice sounded familiar but Virgil wasn’t really focusing on that right now because he knew with every fibre in his being that he had to get out of here. He had to find Remy. He had to go home. He couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t.

There was the sound of overlapping voices, apologies from Roman and chastisement from one of the others, but Virgil tried to focus on the voice directly in front of him. He could hear reassurances break through the arguing of the other two and although he wanted Remy or his mother or someone familiar, Virgil settled for this.

“You’re not in danger, Virgil,” The voice said softly, “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe, you’re alive and you’re okay. You’re okay, honey. It’s okay, I promise. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

Virgil listened to the voice mutter on as he slowly opened his eyes. He still kept his gaze firmly directed to the ground though, avoiding the harsh or judging stares he was expecting to see. The voice may seem kind, but Virgil knew better than to make any assumption on its character based on that—lots of people he’d met had seemed nice at first, before they’d gotten to know him.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Everything is okay.” The voice seemed to have a happier note to it now, something brighter, though Virgil didn’t necessarily understand why. “Am I allowed to touch you?”

Virgil thought back to the way Roman had traced over his soulmark, how his skin had prickled and heated at the contact and how he wasn’t sure if he could handle that again right now. He shook his head quickly.

The voice didn’t seem discouraged by that, continuing its whispering until Virgil could finally take a deep breath, look up, and lose all of it again.

Patton.

Of course, it was Patton. Virgil knew this was coming, he knew he’d have to face Patton and let him know that he was the one in the bathroom stall and he was the one who’s boyfriend had the same soulmark as the boy in the bathroom stall, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to do it right now.

Patton's eyes were kind as he recognised Virgil slip back under another wave of panic. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. I promise you, it’s alright.”

And he looked so sincere that Virgil let himself believe it for a second.

He looked around himself properly, taking in the sight of Roman and Logan, who were still arguing. Patton spun around and glared at them for a moment before loudly clearing his throat, causing the two of them to freeze mid-sentence and look over at them.

“Roman,” Patton said, very reminiscent of a disapproving parent, “I think you have someone to apologise to?”

Roman’s reaction was immediate. He rushed his way over to Virgil, dropping to his knees in front of him, much to Virgil’s dismay. He didn’t really need an apology. It wasn’t Roman’s fault that Virgil freaked out, it was just how things were sometimes.

“I am so, so sorry that I didn’t pay enough attention to how you were feeling, my dear. I only hope you can forgive me.”

Virgil winced at the endearment coming out of Roman’s mouth. It sounded so natural—Virgil having heard it a dozen times directed to Patton and even a few jokingly directed to Logan—but at the same time, they’d barely discussed their relationship. Virgil wasn’t sure pet names were a step they’d reached yet.

“Don’t sweat it, Princey, it’s no big deal,” Virgil mumbled, “And do-”

Virgil was interrupted by a gasp from Patton, his eyes wide as he flung his hands up to his mouth in shock. “Anxiety?! Oh my goodness, I’m so proud of you!”

Virgil blinked.

“Proud of me?” he asked incredulously, “Patton, I essentially just told you I’ve had a crush on your boyfriend for years and you’re telling me that you’re proud of me? How can you be so happy about this?!”

“Oh, kiddo…” The look on Patton’s face was pitying, like he knew something Virgil didn’t, but it didn’t last long.

Patton drew the sleeve of his jumper back, revealing a bouquet of daisy-like flowers sitting right there on his wrist. Virgil froze, taking that in for a second, but was startled by Patton elbowing Logan in the side.

Logan scowled at him. “Alright, alright.”

He reached to pull back the sleeve of his button up and… They matched. They all matched.

“Oh.”

It wasn't love at first sight, because that doesn't exist. It wasn't as if Virgil saw the soulmarks on Patton and Logan's wrists and suddenly he realised he'd had feelings for them the whole time because he didn't. He respected them, it would even be fair to say he liked them from a distance, but he didn't feel the same way for them as he did for Roman—and even that he knew, wasn't really love.

But that was all okay.

Because now Virgil could imagine it.

What Virgil felt now wasn't love, but potential. He could imagine movie nights, curled up on the couch, bickering and snuggling and loving each other just the same. He could imagine Roman coming home from work and collapsing directly onto Logan, much to his loud protests, with Patton puttering around the kitchen making dinner. He could imagine date nights with Patton and Roman dragging him and Logan by the hand because "we've been waiting to see this new Disney movie forever".

He could imagine looking up one day—seeing Logan and Patton maneuver around each other as Patton made pancakes and Logan attempted to pour more coffee out of an empty pot, seeing Roman burst in through the door singing his good mornings���and realising he was in love.

He wasn't right now, but that was okay.

Because he could be.

Roman turned his head sharply to look between Patton and Virgil, the expression on his face half disbelieving and half cocky. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you say years?”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “Since the musical in our second year.”

Roman snapped his fingers and pointed at him, a bright smile on his face. “Oh! I knew you looked familiar! Virgil Moore, right? You ran backstage for a couple of my scenes! You did such a good job!”

Virgil bit his lip, feeling a bit taken aback. He hadn’t actually expected Roman to remember his involvement—it was such a different time.

The musical felt like decades ago, back when his moms weren’t even together yet and Remy was still going by he/him pronouns. So much had changed since then. He had changed so much since then and he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted Roman remembering the way he had tripped and knocked over half of the set the same way Virgil did basically every time he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

“Uh, yeah-”

Logan interrupted his stuttering acknowledgement. “You are also situated behind me and slightly to the left in our shared chemistry class.”

He blinked. He’d be honest, he wasn’t really expecting some of the most popular people in the school to recognise who he was in almost any capacity. And, woah, his soulmates were some of the most popular people in the school. Virgil shut that train of thought down immediately.

“I, uh, didn’t think you’d noticed me,” he admitted.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Why would I not have? You’re an incredibly competent individual, even if that friend of yours seems to have a hugely negative influence on your ability to actually pay attention to the lesson.”

Virgil didn’t even have time to process the compliment as at the reminder of his best friend, he blanched.

“Oh, shit! Remy! Can I…?” He gestured with his hand over to the parking lot. Patton must have realised they were waiting for him, despite not being there to witness the conversation, as he gave a bright smile.

“We’ll wait for you here,” he answered, “I can drive us all back to Roman’s after. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Powerwalking his way over towards the parking lot, Virgil spotted Remy’s car stationed towards the front, eclipsed by the shade of the building. He pulled the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat, watching as Remy jumped so high they almost hit their head on the roof of the car.

“Jesus, fuck, Virge, you scared the everloving shit out of me!” they exclaimed, breathless.

Virgil just grinned, unable to hold back now that the reality of the situation was finally sinking in. He had 3 soulmates. They liked him. Holy shit, they actually liked him.

He had a future with them—a future where he didn’t have to worry about overstaying his welcome or overstating his importance, a future where he was accepted and loved for the person he was, a future where he truly was good enough.

There was still a voice in the back of his mind telling him it was too good to be true, but Virgil pushed it back. He wasn’t going to let any more anxiety ruin this day for him.

He could feel himself tearing up slightly as he spoke. “They’re all my soulmates, Rem. Roman, Logan and Patton. All of them.”

Remy’s eyes widened as they turned in their seat to face him. “Oh, holy shit, gurl! You hit the jackpot!”

Virgil laughed—he knew it sounded slightly hysterical but he was mostly past the point of caring.

“Yeah, I, uh-” He cut himself off with another laugh, launching himself across the middle of the car to wrap his arms around Remy’s shoulders. It was kind of uncomfortable but Virgil wasn’t focused on that, trying instead to somehow form a coherent thought among all of the chaos that filled his mind.

“Thank you.”

Remy shook their head, pulling back to look at him properly and it was so similar to that day all those years ago—Remy looking him firmly in the eyes and telling him everything his emotional mess of a self needed to hear.

“There’s no need to thank me, V. I might have given you a little push, but actually working up the courage to tell them? That was all you. You did it.”

Virgil beamed and he was definitely crying and it was so stupid but he was so happy.

“I did it.”

He took a moment to get himself together, trying to stop the tears that continued to make their way out, clinging to his eyelashes and dropping onto his shirt. Eventually, he managed to calm down enough to breathe properly again, giving Remy a small smile which they returned effortlessly.

“So, am I driving you home?” they asked, swinging their keys around their finger.

Virgil shook his head. “Nah, Patton said he’s gonna take us back to Roman’s so we can work some stuff out. But… thank you for staying.”

“Anytime, hon.”

Virgil took a steadying breath as he stepped out of the car, preparing himself to head back to his soulmates. Before he closed the door, however, Virgil leant down and poked his head in one last time.

“Remy?” They looked up from where they were inserting in their keys to glance over at him. “You are the best best friend that I could have ever had. And you might not be my soulmate, but you mean just as much to me as they do. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, V,” Remy smiled, “I love you too.”

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Epilogue

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Tag list: @bunny222​ @jadedfantasies231​ @221b-quote​ @reinefandoms​ @i-really-dig-the-purple​ @bionic-egypt​ @not-so-innocent-bi-sander​ @mistress-jinx09​ @soijusthavetoask​ @marshmallow-the-panda​ @the-writersblock​ @theunoriginaldaisy​ @therubyjailcell​ @sandersfandersblog​ @hghrules​ @that-smol-tired-gay​ @sanders-sides-stuff​ @inan-sanders​ @frogdog145​ @follow-pheonix-inside​ @forestwulf​ @coloursintheblur​ @cosmic-melodies​

General tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard <3

[the-y-generation]

Not My Type (Chapter 3)

Summary: “Do you know how you stop a craving? You give in to it.”

When she signed on to be a road manager, she had no idea it was going to be for one of the biggest bands in the world, much less how they were going to turn her life upside down, nor how she was about to flip theirs too. Especially one irritating frequently-late vocalist who knew exactly how charming he could be.

Pairing: Idol!Jimin / Manager!Original Character (I personally haven’t written in “y/n” format, so I just gave the reader a name, but barely even mention it)

Genre/Themes: fluff, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: Starts off G, but M in later chapters

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Things got better between her and Jimin after the awards fiasco. Not right away, and definitely not painlessly, but they got there eventually.

Jimin would still be late but only sometimes now, and she’d no longer want to rip his head off. Nowadays, when he’s come rushing in, aware of how late he was, he’d flash the irate girl his best boyish smile - the one where his eyes scrunched up into crescents and he showed all his pearly whites.

In retaliation, she’d reach over and flick him on the forehead once, just to slip the cheeky grin off his face and earn a few chuckles from his bandmates.

Other times, he’d take the charming route - leaning in close when she fixed his collar until their faces were only a breath away, and her every exhale pushed into his lips. He’d stare so deeply into her eyes, it was almost as if he could read the future of the universe in them.

Jimin knew what he was doing. But so did she.

Most of the time, she’d shove him on the shoulder and walk away.

But sometimes, when she was particularly frustrated with him, she’d hold his spell and push back. She’d lean in even closer, just until she could almost feel the warmth of his mouth on hers. She'd watch the panic slowly simmer in his eyes that she might actually finish what he started. Then Jimin would back away and let her win that round.

So it went, their little game of cat and mouse when they were on the clock as road manager and artist.

But when they were off the clock, things went a little differently.

Being of the same age, they forged a friendship that was easy-going and relaxed. Without a senior-junior dynamic, the two built a bond as equals, founded on their ability to make fun of the other, where both could be their authentic selves.

She laughed at his dumb jokes and put extra pieces of fruit on his plate. He let her sort out his messy suitcase and stole from her fries. She borrowed his plain sweaters sometimes. He used her hair products.

Without the underlying tension of work, they became fast friends, much to the relief of the rest of the band. Namjoon was particularly grateful as he was getting tired of having to pull the two apart, in fear that one might actually murder the other.

Now, she and Jimin exchanged spare hotel room keys, knowing that they’d end up hanging out in each other’s rooms anyway.

But sometimes, on their days off, she wanted to be alone. Like today.

She decided to stay in her room and get some quality rest. It had been an exhausting week - they crossed a continent, she fought with one venue partner for not providing an airconditioned dressing room (“There are seven of them! What are you going to do if one of them collapses with a heat stroke in this cramped room?!”) and Hoseok had a wardrobe malfunction last night.

Feeling like she deserved some Me Time, she planned out her day - sleep in, grab a fancy brunch, get a mani-pedi, and end the day with a long soak in the tub.

But Jimin and Jungkook seemed to have other plans.

Just as she had finished getting dressed for her brunch out, the pair barged into her room unannounced and plopped down on her bed.

She rolled her eyes at them in the mirror as she applied some light lipstick. Jungkook rolled over and buried himself under the covers while Jimin laid on top of the sheets and met her gaze in the mirror with a curious smirk of his own.

“Don’t tell me you have a date,” Jimin asked as she fluffed her hair.

She chuckled. “Fine then. I won’t tell you.”

The boy frowned, brows meeting to scrunch up his button nose. “So you do have a date?”

“I thought you said not to tell you.”

It was Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes and groan at her. “Fine. Be that way.”

She laughed and turned around to face them properly instead of having to converse through the mirror.

“I’m going out to brunch by myself, okay?” She said, starting to pack her essentials into her purse. “So you guys are gonna have to leave the room.”

“You’re not gonna invite us?” Jungkook pouted, voice muffled by the pillow partially suffocating him.

“Nope, I just want some personal time today.” She shrugged unapologetically.

She turned to face Jimin to tell him not to use his spare key to enter her room without her permission while she was gone. But the second she met his eyes, she immediately regretted it.

He looked at her with the full force of his puppy dog eyes, his baby cheeks puffed out, and his plump lower lip pushed out in a boyish pout.

It was adorable and sexy, and just about everything sinful in the world.

“Are you sick of us already?” He pouted at her.

She stabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “Put that face away before I make you regret it.”

He laughed hard, the type that squeaked at the end, causing the pout to slip from his lips. Then, without prompting or permission, he crouched over her open suitcase lying by the foot of her bed.

“Is this a BTS sweater?” Jimin chuckled, holding up an oversized black sweater.

“No shit,” She deadpanned, eyeing the “BTS” printed in big bold letters at the back, with their tour dates underneath.

Jungkook got to his feet as well and joined Jimin in violating her privacy. She remained standing as she watched them - like little kids digging for treasure, they sifted through her clothes in search of more of their merch.

“Why do you have so many of our shirts?!” Jungkook asked amusedly, holding up another band shirt with "BT21" printed on it.

Anna glanced at her watch, resigned to the fact that she’s going to have to let them ride this curiosity out. With a sigh, she sat on her bed, her ankle gently kicking Jimin’s shin as he sat on the floor by her feet.

“You guys own a lot of your own merch too, you know?” She countered, smirking at Jungkook. “I figured I should buy some too.”

Jimin snapped his head towards her, eyes wide in confusion. “Wait, you actually bought these?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jimin looked at her like she just grew two heads. “Why would you buy them? You could just ask us to get you some.”

“But I didn’t want to do that." Anna shrugged, lifting her feet to fully sit on the bed. "That’s like abuse of position or something.”

“But you’re with us. You shouldn’t have to pay for our merch." Jimin replied.

"Yeah. Do you think Taehyung would go to a store and pay for his own band’s shirt?" Jungkook chimed in.

She rolled her eyes at their strange sense of protectiveness. They really got worked up over the weirdest things.

“Well, Jin buys every RJ he comes across, so what’s your point?” She countered. The two boys opened their mouths to retort, but nothing came out. Taking advantage of their silence, she swept the conversation under the rug. “And anyway, you can’t do anything about it now. I already bought them so….relax.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes at her in a final attempt at being intimidating but continued sifting through her pile of shirts.

"Oh! Speaking of-" Jungkook exclaimed, holding up a Tata shirt.

The two boys exchanged looks, starting with pleasant surprise, blending into mischief.

“Did you get all of the characters?” Jimin asked, but he needed no answer. He and Jungkook were already halfway through her suitcase and elbows-deep in her clothing. The exasperated manager sighed, already anticipating that she had a lot of cleaning up to do later.

“I think so?" She chuckled, leaning back on her elbows while keeping an amused gaze on the child-like boys before her. "I don’t even know anymore.”

They continued digging, laughing at each character they find - an RJ sweater, a Cooky hoodie, a Van shirt, and so on.

But when they reached the bottom of her luggage and her suitcase lay nearly empty on the floor, Jimin looked up at her with doe-eyed confusion.

“Where’s Chimmy?”

God bless those eyes. That hair. It's disrespectful, really.

Wait. He asked a question. What did he say?

“What?” She blinked at him.

“Chimmy." He repeated, pointing a finger at himself. Then he looked down, gesturing to the shirts that lay before him. "You have everyone but Chimmy. Where’s Chimmy?”

Anna tilted her head, sifting through her memories of interviews and fan merchandise, to try and place what the hell a Chimmy was. Eventually, the visual of a yellow hoodie-wearing chubby-cheeked canine came to the forefront of her brain.

“That’s the yellow dog, right?”

“What the-" He choked, jaw slack with shock and distaste. "Yes! Yes, the yellow dog.”

“Oh. I think I don’t have that.”

He looked like she might as well have slapped him across the face. Or kicked him in the balls. Or told him that she was a puppy murderer.

“Why not?” He whined.

“I don’t know, okay?" She rushed to backpedal. "I just...don’t? I’ll buy one next time.”

Jimin didn't respond, looking positively livid and thunderous that it made her head spin with confusion. Then, without another word, he got on his feet and stormed out.

The slamming of the door rang through the stillness of the room.

"O...kay?" Jungkook broke the awkward silence. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea." Anna chuckled dryly, still staring at the door.

"Did he seriously leave me?" Jungkook groaned, rising to his feet. "We actually came here to invite you to lunch, but I guess that's not happening anymore.

"I'm sorry." She pouted at him.

But before she could continue, a sound came from the door, pulling Anna's and Jungkook's attention.

Jimin stomped back into the room, eyes blazing so much that Anna had to look away. He clutched some balled-up black thing in his hand, which he aggressively chucked into her suitcase. Then, he spun on his heel and stormed back out.

Anna and Jungkook didn't move, gazes transfixed on whatever the hell Jimin just tossed in the suitcase. Eventually, she snapped out of it and reached for the offending item.

It was his Chimmy shirt.

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I've been to Wildwood. The Jersey Shore is crazy in general but wildwood is next level. The board walk has like 200 of the same t-shirt store, feels like you're walking through the fires of hell, and is jam packed with kids on camp trips. I've only ever done the board walk there but I've seen the walk you have to take to get out to the beach, it's insane. I can only imagine what it's like with family. How old are your cousins and what are they like?

My family has literally been coming to Wildwood every year since, like, at LEAST the 1930’s, I’m not sure on anyone earlier than that, and my family is insane, so let’s dive into this.

The Main Characters In My Life On Vacation Are:

-My Grandmother, who was a child dancer star (she tapped on the radio!) who’s been coming down here her whole life- her parents used to come down the same day there would be a talent show, enter her in it, and then use her first prize reward for the money they’d spend throughout the week. Has been in the old person stage of “I’m an elder, who cares what I say or do” for the past 15 years. Has eight living kids and Too Many Descendants. Loud and refuses to admit she can’t walk half the time.

- My Mother, who gets confused very easily, overshares and breaks off into meaningless tangents in the middle of stories, snores like a literal demon, always wants to be asleep, keeps pushing for family activities, doesn’t realize all the kids think she’s lame.

- Me, who is always Extra Depressed in the summer months, and is the Sole Person In This Family My Age- everyone just stopped having babies for a few years when my mother decided to have me (Everyone is either over 25 or under 16). Because of this I’m usually confined to my room, unable to really do anything on the boardwalk because going on rides alone is depressing and my mother has heart problems. Just wants to read and write, but the children keep Screaming.

- My Aunt and Her Husband- A Very Loud Couple, she likes to control everything and he’s the only one who ever bothers to yell back at her. They always fight exactly once, every year, and every year somehow I always end up being the only other person in the apartment while its happening, so I just have to sit in awkward silence until my aunt finally huffs out “I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of my goddaughter!” and storms out to go find her kids. They make a lot of jokes and think their children are very dramatic.

- Jenna, the 14 year old cousin. Very dramatic. Mastered the art of the eye roll at a young age. Has literally looked like a mini model since she was born. Can’t be bothered to deal with anyone. We usually have one (1) tiny girl-bonding moment each vacation and then she promptly acts like she doesn’t care even though it’s clear she does. Athletic and artistic and musically/theatrically gifted. Very sarcastic. Always doing cartwheels.

- Seanie, the 12 year old cousin. Middle child syndrome. Tries to hard to be funny for attention. VERY dramatic. Will cry at the drop of a dime (I’m typing this and I literally just heard him burst into tears in the other room??). Super adorable, you can tell he’s gonna be one of those high school boys that pulls Ridiculous Shit but after one charming smile the teachers can’t bring themselves to stay mad. Very loud. Currently addicted to video game youtubers.

-Zack, the 7 year old cousin. Adorable. Loud. Lowkey a prodigy child but they can’t afford to get him into Special Schools so he’s always bored in class. Baby Of The Family syndrome. Currently in an aggressive pokemon phase. Doesn’t understand he’s literally a child, he acts like an old man half the time.

We’re all shoved into a small apartment for a week, but there are Others:

- Kathy, Grandmom’s second oldest. Literally the most bland person I have ever encountered on this planet. Very, very into trying to plan ‘fun’ family events. Thinks any conversation is a riveting conversation.

- Kathy’s husband, who is just a plain old guy who’s lowkey a hoarder and jokes around a lot, but every time someone mentions his past or his family it gets more and more confusing??? He may have a brother who was in the CIA??? He may have been homeless or he may have lived with his sister???? He may have killed a man???? I literally know nothing concrete about this man other than he’s apparently been with my aunt since they were teens but I. D. K. Every new piece of information I receive just scatters the puzzle more.

- Their eldest daughter and her husband spend most of the summer down here but always make sure to match up the schedule for when we come down. Loud, energetic couple. I have no idea what either of them do for work? They might currently be unemployed? Really into alcohol. At some point in the week every year, everyone in my apartment bonds together to diss them after we get back from the beach. Like, they’ll do something or another EVERY YEAR that sets EVERYONE off.

- The 16 year old. Tries to show everyone memes on his phone. Never really talks to people. Does NOT get along with his parents because he’s kinda an outlier in the family. I feel like he might be a stoner, but if I find out he’s got a hidden gun collection, I wouldn’t be surprised? That probably sounds awful but he’s a good kid I promise.

- Danny, 12. Adorable. Quiet. Mini golden boy. Makes jokes when you aren’t expecting them. Very resigned to the fact he has to hug me and my mother when he sees us.

- Kathy and Mystery Man’s youngest daughter, a librarian, and her stand up comedian husband, and now their three month old who is ADORABLE and everyone was surprised to learn they hadn’t named her Hermione.

Other recurring family members are prone to popping up throughout the vacation- Aunt Margie, Grandmom’s sister-in-law, who, I love her, but remember that chocolate episode of spongebob with the old woman that was essentially a stick in a wheelchair and had a chain smoker voice??? Put that in the tiniest bikini you can imagine and add a wheezing laugh and you got her. Her daughter who I could not recognize on a street if I tried. Her son Michael, who is best friends with my mom and apparently Not Gay (no one’s really convinced). A step-cousin sometimes pops by, she’s very breezy and easy-going and you can’t distinguish her Actual Talking Voice with her Talking To Little Kids Voice.

Anyway, Wildwood itself is just. Goddamn ridiculous.

The aesthetic of this place is somewhere between the 1950’s, a trailer park, and the kind of developed land you get when a moustache-twirling man wants to convince all the old people he can to retire to his buildings. Some buildings are harsh metal, and others are bright pastels, but the only thing joining them together is the fact that it looks like no one has cleaned anything here in years. EVERYTHING, even the knew stuff, looks worn and faded. Even like…the AIR is faded. It’s not just the sun being too bright, everything you’re looking at looks like it’s an old photograph. If you stay too long, you might start to fade into the landscape yourself.

I have never once seen an animal that wasn’t a seagull here. Most towns, islands, places, whatever- you usually have at least squirrels running around, maybe some variations of birds, just. ANYTHING. But it’s all seagulls all the time. You cannot exist in a spot for longer than a few moments without one of them dive bombing you. They are not mere birds. They are feathered demons that Hath No Fear Of The Foolish Mortals Of Mankind.

The song “Wildwood Days” plays on the Boardwalk every half hour. It is the only way to appease the spirits. It’s the modern, New Jersey-ian version of painting lamb blood over your door frame. As much as I’ve grown to hate the song, to twitch and clench my fist at each note, I deeply fear for the day the song doesn’t play on time and the curse is unleashed. I have a deep, sinking feeling that this moment will come within my life time.

If You Don’t Stop To Watch The Fireworks, Your Bones Shall Never Be Found.

You hear the ongoing chant of “Watch the Tram Car, Please!”, and look around, but there isn’t a Tram Car coming. The order grows louder and louder. You realize you aren’t even on the Boardwalk any more. The sound is right behind you, but you can’t find the source. “Watch the Tram Car, Please!” you realize, to your horror, the sound is now coming from inside you. You never find your true voice again.

Despite The Fact That This Place Is A Mosh Pit Of Families From All Over The World, If You Can’t Immediately Place My Accent Or Figure Out What Language I’m Speaking, I Have Legal Grounds To Kill You.

The sand simply isn’t normal. It’s ADVANCED sand. It doesn’t make sense. It never truly washes off. The more you scrub, the more appears.

Ancient gods from multiple pantheons like to chill out on the beach, have a few beers. You never know for sure who is who, but you Know they aren’t the same as you, and you know they know more about you than you’re comfortable with. For your own sake, NEVER ask them to turn their music down.

There is always at least one plane flying over with a sign reading “Jen, will you marry Sean?”. It’s been decades. Will Jen ever say yes?

Elevators Are For The Weak And We Use Them To Judge Who To Do Away With First.

The ocean goes back and forth between green and grey, and you know the color makes a significant difference but you can never quite put your finger on what.

Fish Are Fake.

All the stores sell everything you want, but nothing you need.

King Kong Is Our Fierce Protector, Loving Hero, And Just Enforcer

All the police officers and firemen and general ‘in charge’ jobs seemed to be run completely by 18 years olds

No one truly knows who pulls the shots when it comes to deciding the Boardwalks style each year. Every store sells the same Designated Style, and each year they make less and less sense. You buy a specialized hoodie anyway, and you have no idea why.

I could keep going on with that list, but the point is, Wildwood is a Strange Place and I have a Ridiculous Family, so every year is always a bit of an experience.

Like, no one in my family really has anything in common other than everyone’s always loud and everyone’s always right and everyone is always ready to loudly fight over the fact that they’re definitely right, but like. Imagine crawling through some Hillbilly Murder Showers in the garage of a condo, using all of your force to pry open a suspiciously heavy and questionably mechanized door, walking under the boardwalk and trekking over sand dunes just to find a bunch of screaming yet physically relaxed people under the flag for Montserrat. Some guy’s cracking stand up jokes while no less than three children are fighting each other, your mother is promising for the 14th year in a row that you’re gonna go on a whale watching trip and everyone knows she’s lying, some woman’s trying to hold a conversation about buying applesauce in bulk while her husband and children get drunk, there’s a skinny pale guy with horrible sunburn blasting songs from N.W.A., a girl’s cartwheeling around the site to the point you think she doesn’t know how to move any other way, a boy’s quietly drinking pickle juice, there’s a 7 year old literally trapped in a giant hole that he dug, your mother is snoring loud enough to alarm the people around you, and just when you’re starting to get a little comfortable about the feathered demons and start to relax, a tide comes in so strongly your chair literally starts getting pulled out to sea with you in in. It’s average. It's fading into the landscape with the rest of the place.

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[cntrlsayler-blog]

the crash | owen & sayler

Owen had to leave the house to go food shopping to stock up some meat in the freezer along with more food for the kids to eat so that they don't end up eating out almost every night. He decided to take Sayler along due to the much needed time alone and talk of what she'd like to do with the baby - she had an plan all worked out, but she never admitted if she would want to keep it or not. Holding the keys in hand, he headed around the new used truck he's gotten an week back to settle into the driver's side then waiting on Sayler to settle in the passenger side. Once they were buckled up and ready to go, he headed down the trail that would lead them out to the road on where they needed to go for the grocery store. "Pretty day out." He spoke aloud for some small talk as music would play softly from the radio in the background.

sayler was still battling morning sickness, but it wasn't so bad when she was up and around. getting out of the house seemed like a good idea to settle her stomach a little, so she wasn't hesitant when she was asked to ride to the store. she looked up from her phone and out the window for a few seconds when she heard her father's voice. "yeah... think we'll have any storms roll through? i miss the thunder," she said. even as a child she liked the storms. she never was one to get scared very easily, but she did have an irrational fear of moths. she hated them because 'they fly like they're broken'.

Owen gave an soft chuckle to when storms were mentioned - she always did liked the storms while his husband was complete opposite. "Shouldn't be long now 'til we do." He looked up to the sky for an second then back to the trail. After fifteen minutes of riding the trail did he stop at the section to where there's road, making an turn after looking left and right to head up the road to where the intersection would be.

sayler watched out the window for most of the ride, subconsciously resting her hand on her stomach. "...why do we live so far away from town?" she asked. for as long as she could remember, they'd lived in the house they're in. it wasn't that she minded much, but it sure was annoying sometimes having to wake up an hour earlier than most other kids in school just to get there on time.

Owen glanced over to her as she had her question on hand then smiled an bit. "Me and Papi liked the quiet. No nosy neighbors, just out on our own with our kids. Plently of space for you and your friends to run around in or go hike." He licked his lips as they came to an intersection, looking both ways since no cars were there before going once the light is green to continue on down the road.

sayler listened and leaned her head back on the headrest of her seat. "makes it harder to get places, though. ambulances take forever. it takes a while to get anywhere. we should petition for a gas station to be build between the house and town, my gas guzzler died the other day and i had to face the annoyance of the one and only jimmy mason for him to siphon from his tank to mine. god, i hate that kid," she muttered.

Owen chuckled as she went on about her gaz guzzler, making an few turns before shaking his head an bit. "That kid. He's something." He made an face to let the other know he's teasing - looking in the rearview mirror before they pulled up to the next intersection to where the right turn willl lead them to the grocery store. "Alright - Almost there. Is there anything you want? Text your siblings and ask them what they want."

sayler rolled her eyes. "he's a pest. we met in kindergarten and he ain't left me alone since, i'm one 'hey sayler, in love with me yet?' away from giving him a new face," she said as she got into her messages and started typing away. "anything that'll make my stomach settle down, i'm tired of throwing up every day. i need a break. my ​ribs​ need a break, i'm gonna end up cracking one."

Owen smirked an bit then shook his head before turning on the intersection to the right to make his way down the small hill then into the parking lot to park. Once he's parked - he turned off the engine with an soft breath then looked over to her while thinking over things that she could eat. "Jello. Oatmeal? .... Popsicles." He looked to her once more then took out his phone to text Carson that they were there before moving to get out, slipping the phone into his back pocket once more before closing the door.

sayler scrunched her nose a little. "oatmeal just reminds me of everything that comes back up. can't eat jello cause the only good one is the red one and i'm allergic to the red 40, but popsicles. popsicles i can do. as long as they're blue. ​especially​ if they're blue," she said. it was a pain being allergic to a food dye number that was essentially in anything that contained any type of red coloring, but she always thought at least it wasn't something life threatening.

Owen nodded his head then walked around the truck to open the door before looking over to her. "You didn't think I was going in alone. I brought you for a reason - get a move on it, porky butt." He teased with an smirk before leaving the door's side to head down the parking lot then turning once he's there to see if she's coming. Either way - he headed into the store to get started on the grocery shopping.

TIME SKIP - DONE WITH GROCERY SHOPPING, GOING HOME

sayler was wrong about feeling better if she'd gotten up and around. she was okay walking around the store for a little bit, but by the time they were done putting the groceries in the truck, she was more nauseas than ever. she didn't even get in the truck right away, instead leaning against it and breathing through her nose slowly. "oh my god," she whispered, letting out a slow breath.

Owen got done with putting the groceries in the back of the truck along with putting the cart away before coming to her side. "Yep, lovely part of being pregnant." He wasn't going to make it any easier on her - mistake is an mistake, but he is still there for her regardless. "Need to let it out?" He asked while standing next to her side.

sayler whimpered, resting her hand on her stomach. "if i ever talk about having more kids when i'm older, remind me of this day. i've never hated myself more than i do right now. this is the worst f-" as soon as it hit her, she automatically leaned forward away from the truck, retching much to her dismay.

Owen smirked an bit then moved an hand toward her to rub her back gently as she went to puke. "There we go..." He murmured then scrunched his nose a bit, using his free hand to pull up his hoodie a bit to his nose to avoid the smell then looking to her when she's done. "C'mon, Saybug." He spoke while moving to open the door then helping her get into the truck. Making sure she's good - he closed the door and got in from his side to start the engine once more. "Ready?" He looked to her ; fourty-five minutes from home and they'll be to relax an little while putting away groceries. Pulling out of the parking lot, he stopped at the end to look both ways while waiting for the light to turn green.

sayler as she buckled up, she nodded, resting her head on the window. "yeah... i need to brush my teeth," she said. "and ​sleep​."

Owen looked over to her with an smile and an nod of agreement before turning back to the intersection. Exhaling an soft yawn, he saw the light turn green then looked both ways before following behind the red car, going through the light and merging onto the highway - the next thing was total chaos. Loud roar coming from Owen's side as he had turned his head enough to see lights heading right toward the front of the car. The car rolled easily into the next lane over as the semi-truck had tipped onto its side - hanging upside down from his seat ; luckily with an seat belt on and only severe injuries. From the glass being broken, it shot toward his face to make many little cuts and create some bleeding while the motion of the impact had cause him to jerk forward, busting his nose and causing bruising around the underneath of his right eye and due to the motion of rolling, knocked his temple into the car door of the window edge where luckily no broken glass stuck to - rendering him unconscious.

sayler had looked over just as she saw the truck coming. a scream escaped her throat as the car rolled, and she did her best to curl herself into a ball. if she couldn't protect herself, she could at least try to protect her baby. although it happened quickly, to her it seemed like it happened in slow motion. her head was pounding, she had blood dripping from somewhere - probably her nose from when the airbag deployed, but she couldn't remember. the one thing she knew was that they were upside down and it was making her dizzy. she panicked, looking around quickly, trying to find a way to at least half way safely getting out of her seat. after thinking for a few seconds, she used a hand to hold herself in place as she unbuckled her seat belt and slowly maneuvered herself in an almost back flip so she was now technically sitting on the roof. tears ran down her face, she felt blood dripping from her chin, and she knew she had shards of glass in her hands and probably a bad case of whiplash and a possible concussion. her eyes fell on her father and she whimpered, crawling towards him and placing her hand on his shoulder. "dad. daddy, wake up," her voice cracked.

END

@owcnx

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