#i was talking a lil with ivy about it but this is like more detailed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 10 months ago

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oh ivi, it's been literal ages that i replied to your feedback and i missed rambling so much!!!

it's always so baffling to me how good you are at guessing lil details and plot points!! like the fact that it was her dad on the phone (or maybe i'm just not very subtle LOL), either way, it's always very interesting to read your thoughts and see them aligning with mine. his and her struggle with their parents have been such a constant theme, and i guess for just a bit more, it'll remain a recurring one. here's to hope that things improve, and when they do, it'll be glorious (always taking guesses about what might happen tho hehehe) <3

i guess that's ultimately who oc is 🥺 she always sees the best in people despite having been hurt. at her lowest, that hope fades a bit, but. my strong baby. she's been trying :( and she learned from the best!! jungkook, despite understanding how vile her parents can be, also never shit-talks them, or even his own dad, partly to be respectful and partly because he doesn't think anyone's truly terrible (except himself. the only one he thought such a thing about was himself…). and, side info (see? rambling), jungkook still respects his dad. he still wants his love and attention, which will… make the moment he actually receives it all the more emotional. gosh.

also, now i wanna know what things jk has said so far that made you stop and take a breather 🤣

"Good thing he didn't say that out loud because I don't know about OC, but that would persuade me for sure"

yes, bc… can you even imagine :') him leaning in and tucking back a strand and whispering, "fuck, not when i'm kissing it off…" LMFAO i can confirm that she'd melt right there and then, and then she'd scold him for derailing kjsdfhjksf (even though she behaved way worse that evening).

oc is the loveliest at her happiest 🥺 also, i'm super flattered whenever you express your love for the bodypainting scene bc AHHHH it was so important like literally the reason for this lil tale's existence <3

jimin's relationship with oc is genuinely so tender, despite his outbursts at times. he loves her so so much :( we'll see more of that in cmi12 (and more of jimin/jungkook as well!!), so i'm super excited for that. jimin is really trying!! and i think jk deserves that warmth, too!

BEDROOM! RIGHT NOW LMAO HE'S. HAD. ENOUGH!! sometimes i lay awake and think about what might have happened after 🥴

"One thing about cmi Jungkook is he always knows exactly what to say and how to say it to reassure her 🥺"

most of the time, i try my hardest to capture jungkook's rl personality in cmi anyway. but it's moments like these that i truly put ALL of the love i have for him into words, bc… whenever he came live, he'd say he's not good with words and that he doesn't know how to express himself, and then he'd go on a whole eloquent rant that touched and comforted me so deeply and… i think cmi jk is the same? he thinks he shouldn't open up and don't talk much bc of what he went through, but whenever he does talk, it's like… how are you so emotionally intelligent, yk? (yes, i am talking about a fictional character i wrote and no i am not taking credit bc he has a mind of his own djshfjsd)

mmh. someone i once knew and loved used to tell me that he didn't have a type but that i built it for him. when i asked him, he said i had become his type and standard, and… that gentle thought process lives in jungkook, too, because i think, while it's okay and great to have standards and a type, it's truly gorgeous when someone else becomes just that for you instead.

ahhh the oc tattoo dialogue!! one day she shall get it and then we can freak out about it together 🤣 joon is just. my comfort person. and we shall see more of him in the future <3 cmi jk also adores him so much.

"Poor baby still has insecurities about not being good enough for her huh 🥺"

yeah, they both think super highly of each other. he's scared of not being good enough and she's scared of abandonment. and hmm. i think that'll carry into the next chapters a bit. not too much or anything! but there'll be moments when she'll be like, "you can talk to me. about everything, always." :((( </3 his dad needs a good ass scolding!!!

it made you wanna cry? aaah :') i think i did tear up while writing it omg 😭 and while the next chapter is largely fluff, i think it'll be those soft moments that'll kill me. thoroughly. i'll need a dark room to write in bc i will be sobbing :'D he really does love her so deeply, not quite sure how it could get more than that, but… it will. it so will.

"It also reminds me of how he wants her to be completely herself when she meets everyone because that's who he loves"

YES YES OMG I WILL CRY 😭 bc he knows everybody will love her, bc she's lovable and delicate and sweet like that!!!!!! her parents made her bitter for a while, but fock, oc is seriously the kindest soul in his universe 😭 i'm so happy he's become your standard over the time, ivi. hopefully he'll continue making you swoon like this bc there's so much affection ahead i can't even express the amount :( so so excited for the trip and the wedding!! i do believe it'll be big, detailed chapter filled with comfort and warmth. thank you for always reading, ivi. i always love going through your feedback so damn much 🥺🤍

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

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

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

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

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

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

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

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

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

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

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

You’re sound asleep.

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

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

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

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

Just, never as much as today.

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

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

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

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

He chuckled.

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

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

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

Not that it makes any difference.

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

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

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

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

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

Trust in me when I say…

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

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

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

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

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

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

Ah. Odd.

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

But.

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

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

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

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

“Oh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God…

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

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

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

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

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

“…You think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fix it?”

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

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

Enough with the papers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

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

Calm, but thinking.

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

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey— ouch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look! This is you.”

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

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

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

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe even that was too early.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

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

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

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

“Or…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

“…Do you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Laugh?”

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

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

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

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

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah. Oh?”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh… babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

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

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

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

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

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

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

“Oh, I believe you.”

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

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

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

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

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

“…You said the last bit, too?”

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

Oh, all too well…

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

“…How?”

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

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

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

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

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

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

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

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

“And I want you so bad.”

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

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

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

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

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

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

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

Like today.

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“…How so?”

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

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

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

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

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

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

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

Better not find out yet.

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

How fitting.

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

“Like what?”

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

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…I— What do you mean?”

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

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

Curses its limitations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

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

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

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

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

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

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

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

Hmm…

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

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

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

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

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

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

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

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

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

Reflexively, you look up.

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

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

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

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

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

Because…

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

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

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

“…Too obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

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

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

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

Must be a good day approaching.

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

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

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

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…

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

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

And you…

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

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

Ugh.

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

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

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

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

Oh…

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

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

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

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

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

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

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

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And… what if it does work?”

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

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

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

“Ah… ah, really…”

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

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

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

He…

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

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

Because…

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

When had his senses last heightened this much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

“What then?”

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

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

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

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

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

Oh…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And those tangled thoughts say—

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

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

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

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

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

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

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

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

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

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

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

Just you.

You, you, you.

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d think we’d learn.”

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

“Ah, just.”

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

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

“Why’s that?”

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

Even before you did?

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

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

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

Oh…

Shit, man.

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

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

Shit.

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

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

Just days ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking easy with you.

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

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

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

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

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

Stay stay stay.

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

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

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

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

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

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

#omg i wrote an ESSAY LMAO #but those long reviews really make me think so thank you <3 #feedback: cmi #fic: colour me in #ivi <3

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digital-dhampirs · 3 years ago

Text

thank you very much for the ask, @kachowwwww !

I did do a covernalysis for Vol 3, which you can read here: [https://digital-dhampirs.tumblr.com/post/168641851375/here-it-is-the-beautiful-twosome-vanitas-no ], but after staring at the cover of the volume for a little while I’ve started to notice some stuff I didn’t see way back in my original post from 2017. So! I will be doing an all new (hopefully improved) covernalysis four years later! oh by the holy glow of the blue moon it’s been four years

this is technically a part 2, but it’s completely separate from the first part! feel free to just read one or the other..!

VnC Volume 3 covernalysis: part 2

Volume 3 is our first cover featuring multiple characters together, and boy is it a fantastic way to start the trend! Vanitas and Noé lie peacefully in a pool of water, a golden frame between them. There is a Lot going on here, so let’s get started with breaking down the frame!

Volume 3’s golden frame is absolutely dripping in Chasseur imagery— the frame is decorated with stacks of skulls similar to those in the catacombs, the design in the frame’s corners is just like the Chasseurs’ six- winged sword symbol, and at the top of the frame we see the high- ranking vampire skull Roland shows our protagonists in chapter 14. Vol 3 contains chapters 11 through 15 of the manga— the time leading up to and the beginning of Vanitas and Noé’s adventures in the catacombs— so these Chasseur designs seem very relevant. We see one of those ever- present butterflies perched on the dead vampire’s skull, a symbol of transformation and rebirth.

We also see daisies growing in one section of the frame, possibly symbolizing innocence, purity, rebirth, fidelity, and/ or new beginnings. Maybe these daisies symbolize the new developments for Vanitas and Noé’s relationship during and after the events in the catacombs? Or maybe they’re a callback to an old Celtic myth in which daisies grew to console parents after the loss of a child? Or maybe something else!

The other plant featured on this frame is ivy— a symbol of attachment, immortality, fidelity, and eternity. Both daisies and ivy have something to do with eternal life and eternal faithfulness, which is very interesting considering Vanitas’s eventual demise. Ivy is a plant that holds on to things and doesn’t let go, which is pretty neat considering the events of chapter 53..!

There’s one last part of the volume 3 frame I want to mention before moving on to the rest of the cover— the skeletal hands adorning it. Two of the hands are holding the inside edges of the frame, reminiscent of the hands on Vanitas’s frame in volume 1, and two more are holding the vampire skull in a manner eerily similar to the way the Teacher’s hands frame Noé’s face on the cover of Volume 2.

The volume 3 frame has a lot of lil details combining aspects of Vanitas and Noé’s frames from the two previous volumes— the rectangular shape of Vani’s frame with the skull at the top, the row of beads and stick bone decoration thingys (if anyone knows what those things are please tell me I’ve been wondering what they are for literal years at this point) from Noé’s frame, the skeleton hands from volume 1 in the Teacher’s position from volume 2… the Volume 3 frame might have a lot of chasseur elements, but it’s also a combination of Vanitas and Noé’s symbolic details, once again indicating the pair’s developing relationship.

And with that I think we’re finally done with the frame! Now it’s time to tackle the main subject of this ask, the boys themselves.

Vanitas, smirking, shows his mark from Luna to the viewer. The Book of Vanitas rests on his stomach, and he has two more marks of possession on display— Jeanne’s mark, which is bright red, and a duller purple mark on the other side of his neck. We don’t know who this third mark is from yet, but just based on the mark’s color palette it seems pretty likely it’s from Noé. Unlike the marks from Luna and Jeanne, though, the purple mark isn’t leaking out onto Vanitas’s clothes— it’s just there, like a bruise, and the only place its color is really echoed is on the Book. I don’t really know what this means and I suspect we won’t find out until Noé drinks Vanitas’s blood in uhm… chapter… 105… but it’s a notable difference nonetheless!

Moving from Vanitas to his partner in crime! Noé is lying above Vanitas, with the chain from the Book of Vanitas wrapped around his arm. He’s wearing the comfortable sleep clothes he wore in chapter 11 and seems to be calmly watching Vani as the latter shows off his mark from Luna. Noé’s right hand is resting on the Book of Vanitas’s chain, but he isn’t trying to remove it or snap it, he’s just touching it.

The chain around Noé’s arm reminds me quite a bit of another piece of official art,

But on the Volume 3 cover, the chain around Noé’s arm is Noé’s classic purple-magenta color, rather than Vanitas’s cobalt blue like it is in the official art. This difference in color (along with the drastically different poses between the cover and the official art) makes the official art look far more aggressive and confrontational, while the cover image looks much more peaceful and relaxed despite the chain.

The chain’s color on the Vol 3 cover makes me think that, unlike in the official art, Noé is in control of what’s going on and is choosing to keep things this way. He could get rid of the chain at any time, but keeps it wrapped around his arm. In a way, it’s tying him and Vanitas together rather than dragging them apart.

So we’ve covered the frame, we’ve talked about our protagonists… all that’s left to talk about from this cover is the background/ whatever’s going on with the water Noé and Vani are lying in! And honestly? This is another one of those things I have no ideas about. Water symbolizes a lot of things— life, purity, the moon, transformation, and a whole lot more. But I don’t quite know why Vanitas and Noé are lying in it beyond ‘it looks very pretty’.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that there are shards of glass lying in the water with the boys. Where might those shards have come from…? My best guess is that the frame between Vani and Noé was originally a complete mirror or picture frame made out of glass, but at some point it was shattered, and now the boys are able to lie down side by side between it.

The internal walls separating Noé and Vanitas start to crumble with their argument during the ball and conversation on the roof, and fall apart a bit more during their time in the catacombs. It’ll still be a very very long time before they can even approach the idea of fully understanding each other, but at this point in the manga they’re slowly getting closer and learning to walk side by side.

Annnnnd with that, I think this covernalysis is complete! For now. Thank you so much for reading this ridiculously wordy covernalysis, and thanks again for this ask! Thinking over a cover again four years after my initial analysis was a truly unique experience— maybe in 2025 I’ll come back to this cover one more time and cringe at this analysis the same way I’m currently cringing over my 2017 cover breakdown. Hope you enjoyed this meta/ analysis/ confused rambling thing!

Fun Fact

This volume’s inside cover features the lovely Dominique! Domi doesn’t feature too heavily in this volume, but she plays a major role in Chapter 12, and we learn a lot about her true feelings for Noé during the chapters she’s in. The color scheme of this inside cover is particularly notable when compared with the vibrant yellow and magenta of Domi’s volume 8 cover— Domi isn’t exactly colorless here, but she’s definitely quite desaturated compared to her volume 8 appearance. The magenta color reflecting on her hair and bow actually seems quite close to.. that… faded………. purple….

#vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vnc #covernalysis #meta-ish #i m so inordinately proud of myself for getting slightly better at cover analysis in the past four years #the fun fact is just a joke I swear #unless…….#nah it’s 1000% a joke #unless……….

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moth--blood · 3 years ago

Text

Rewatching IT Chapter One and this is what i wrote down in that time

• George's last word was him calling out to bill :(

• "is that how you wanna spend your summer? inside an arcade?" "beats spending it with your mother" i love them

• stan: *is reading from the book* "put the book back in my office, obviously ur not using it" bruh huh

• "hey eddie? are these your birth control pills?" "yeah, and im saving them for your sister -_-"

• "do you want one from me too mrs k? :D"

• DUDE THE LIBRARIAN JUST STARING AT BEN WITH THE BOOK SCENE MY GOD.

• "WOAH- henry!" the one redeeming character in Henry's lil possy and even then not that redeeming

• "not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley"

• "have you ever heard of a staff infection? >:(" "*holding a stick* oh I'll show you a staff infection >:D"

• "..im fine. whats wrong with you?" "none of your business-" "theres a kid outside and he looks like someone killed him ;;-;;"

• god the first scene with Bev's dad is so fucking uncomfortable

• bev: *jumps off the cliff into the water* richie: "whAT THE FUCK-"

• ben: "cool, huh?" richie: "no :D"

• i think it would be interesting if they included the "*number of cents* for a blowjob" conversation Eddie has with the "homeless man" in the book into the movie, because that could lead a bit more into his character when we eventually get the confession in the second movie but i digress

• "wowowowowoah! what if her dad comes back?!" "do what you always do! start. talking. >:("

• oh my fucking god do i kin Ben.

• Eddie: "shut up richie" Stan: "yeah, shut up richie" Richie: "oOoooh, trash the trashmouth! >:("

• "wait- can only virgins see this stuff? ..is that why im not seein' this shit?" Richie Trashmouth Tozier my beloved

• "ROCK WAR! *gets it in the head with a rock*"

• and, of course, "go blow your dad you mullet wearing asshole!"

• i love the details of richie fighting the guy with the tuba ("fuck off dude! >:(") and then eddie giving him ice cream

• again: details man. eddie starts using his inhaler and Richie immediately looks over at him; when the slideshow starts going and shows IT richie reaches out to eddie and they're clinging onto each other until it "comes out of the projection"

• richie: "you guys are lucky we aren't measuring dicks" eddie: "shut up, richie."

• "beep beep richie :))"

• "dont let him get away" bill what the fuck.

• fuck u too Mrs K

• mike my dearly beloved

• okay Cinema Sins made this point before but this is such a good use of "Dear, God". its only the first verse but it portrays the emotion so well

• henry you leave that fucking cat alone you bitch. i hate you so much but i can admit your dads more of a dick than you are

• god i fucking hate her dad

• YEAAH KILL THE DICK

• "what sickness, ma?" YEAH EDDIE BABY YOU GOT THIS ILY

• i love how Mike brought the gun for the sheep with him. smart kid.

• i love the detail of Eddie going down the rope just like Bill did; it really shows his admiration for the guy, even if that admiration is limited because here its portrayed in film

• oh my god this scene the fucking dancing scene in the sewer this shit is so finny to me

• i love how mike basically just fucking murdered Henry

• oh my god stan honey nO BBY I SWEAR THEY STILL CARE ABOUT U

• "why isn't she waking up?!" ben honey

• .....i kin ben god fucking damnit

• "and now? im gonna have to kill this fucking clown. WELCOME TO THE LOSERS CLUB, ASSHOLE!"

• "i know what I'm doing for my summer experience essay." richie u little queer-coded mf i love you so much

• richie being the first to hug bill when he starts crying over georgies jacket :((

• oh god the dream/pact scene. ow. my heart. im already mourning for Eds and Stan ;-;

• the shot of the loser/lover cast im sobbing

• "I gotta go. ..i hate you. (smiles)" STANNNN

• not the kiss please bev ur getting blood on his face

#IT #it chapter one #bill denbrough #bev marsh #it richie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it eddie #horror #why did i take notes on a movie #stephen king

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

Note

Quit torturing me with Shiver & Gold tags and hand over the writing woman

Bahahahahaha, wellll uh..... it could be a bit before I actually start writing the fic from start to finish but here’s a lil preview of it 😏🤩🥰. Context is, this takes place about a quarter way through. Everlark have crossed over into romantic but haven’t gotten around to saying I love you yet. Oh yeah and also... this is unedited and probs has typos so ya know 💁🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️. Don’t expect much ��😅😎.

“Peeta, I don’t belong here,” I whisper in a half-pleading voice as he runs his fingers through my hair. “Okay, I think this was a mistake to-“

“But you wanted to come yesterday?” He points out and I deflate back against my maroon velvet comforter. Or rather, Peeta’s maroon velvet comforter. After all, it’s his bed. He’s the one who gave me this room. He’s the one who let me even be a guest in his house, let alone a guest at his family’s annual ball.

And he’s also right. I was the one who wished to come, instead of following Gale’s lead and wisely opting when I had the chance.

Peeta kneels down in front of me, his hand coming to rest on my leg, right where my ivy green slip ends. “Talk to me,” he urges, his thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of my thigh, causing me to sit up as an involuntary shiver to runs down my spine. “What has you suddenly so afraid?”

At that, I let out a humorless laugh. “What do you think? Your family. Your friends. The people who are on their way right now.” Yesterday when I said I wanted to come, when I looked into the deep blue eyes of the boy who’d been so gentle and kind to both me and my ungrateful friend, who’d made me feel at home in a place I never imagined as anything but cold and creepy, who holds me in his warm embrace at night and didn’t shy away when I kissed him without warning, I didn’t truly consider what his family’s annual ball would entail.

Of course, how could I? It’s not like we have balls in Twelve. It’s not like I have any experience with royalty or mansions or the elite class of society.

But if Peeta could be born and bred of these people, then they couldn’t be all bad. Right? They couldn’t all be like his mother and Brann. There had to be other good ones here in this city.

“Katniss,” Peeta murmurs in a serious tone and tips my chin until I meet his gaze. “I promise you, I will not let anyone be cruel to you. You’re going to be by my side the entire night. My mother and her friends won’t even have a chance to glance at you without me there.”

I roll my eyes at his assertion. “Your mother is going to figure out a way to make me disappear one of these days.”

“No, she isn’t,” he sternly disputes before picking up my hand and bringing it to his lips. “My mother hasn’t had control of my life for a long time. And she knows it.”

His words bring me relief, however temporary but I still can’t stop myself from adding, “I’m a blemish on your family tree in her eyes.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a blemish on the family tree in her eyes. Alright, for the last time, don’t worry about my mother. The only person she likes around here is Brann.”

I chuckle at that, though even that sound is taunt with nerves. “You could never be a blemish on anything,” I murmur, my voice somewhat more flirty than before.

Peeta’s eyes suddenly light up at the change in my tone. “Maybe,” he halfway agrees, his voice becoming sly. “Except you didn’t know me three years ago.”

“Oh, really?” I laugh at his implication, though it’s more a curious sound than a real giggle. “Who were you three years ago?”

“Yeah, Peeta,” I hear an unwelcome voice chime right in, like they were invited into our conversation. “Tell her who you were three years ago? Or better yet, why don’t you tell her where you were two years ago at this time?”

In an instant, right on his brother’s words, the color drains from Peeta’s already fair skin.

And I don’t know why, I don’t know what possesses me to snap in his defense—a boy I’ve only known for a for months—when I can’t even find it in me to fight for myself inside these castle walls. But before I can even consider my actions, I’m barking, “Is it not enough that you make your wife miserable, Brann? Do you really have to make everyone want to crawl into a hole?”

The older, larger man looks like he’s about to snap back when a loud crash echos down the hall.

“Alina!” Brann scolds, abruptly turning and rushing down the hall. “I told you not to touch anything!”

Peeta’s eyes follow his brother’s, as if waiting for him to come back. Come back and berate him, come back and make him remember an experience so horrific, that he won’t share with me a single detail about it.

But I know him well enough now to recognize the cloudy look that crosses his deep blue eyes, every time someone alludes to it.

“Hey,” I soothe, reaching out and touching his cheek, bringing his gaze back onto me. I’m not longer self-conscious or nervous for the ball. My entire body goes into protective mode when someone I care for is hurting.

He leans his face into my palm exhaustively. “Hi,” he whispers back, shutting his lids as my hand holds the side of his face.

“Come here,” I invite, and tug him with me as I lay back onto the bed beneath me. I pull his body on top of me, wrapping both my arms and legs around him, running my fingers through his blonde curls.

And for some reason, I know the words he needs to hear. The same words that console him after a nightmare.

The only words that console him after a nightmare.

“You’re safe here with me.”

I feel his lips smile as they touch my neck softly, as his eyelids flutter open and shut again. “I don’t know how I ever got by without you.”

#everlark #shiver and gold 🐴 💍 👑 💐💰👸🏾🤴🏼#my writing #asks 🦋#lovely tothe bone 🐬🦴🧡

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mallowstep · 3 years ago

Note

For the love of god, please consider renaming some cats, I've seen names like

"One-Eye, Halftail, Oddfoot, FLIPCLAW (what kind of prefix is 'Flip'?) Twigbranch, Clawface etc. Don't get me started on those atrocious SkyClan names with KITTYPET PREFIXES

Harrybrook, Snookthorn, Rileypool

Like tf?

so i'm going to start with saying! as a general rule, i love these names. i will address them each in turn, but i don't have a problem with warriors having "bad names," i have a problem with names that don't make sense given their context.

it does not make sense for blackfoot to be named blackkit, when he's mostly white. (and, as a colorpoint cat, i assume, would be born entirely white.) etc.

but i have no problem with bellaleaf, because well, yeah! makes sense to me.

after all, leaf was named leafdapple, why shouldn't bella be named bellaleaf.

i'm going to discuss each name you brought up in turn, and then, under the cut, i'm going to ramble about naming philosphies.

one-eye: i'm fine with this. i don't mind cats being named after their disabilities, not when it's an established part of warriors culture. (even if it doesn't happen anymore because people would be pissed about it.) i don't know if i think it's right, or if i think cats would have a problem with it, but i think it's good. i'd like to think most cats wouldn't have a problem with it, though. that said, for one-eye in particular, her name was already white-eye, so it feels redundant. food for thought, i suppose.

halftail: i'm not okay with this, because he lost...half his tail? trust me, as someone who had a cat with half a tail, you don't notice it. doesn't make sense. he can keep sparrowpelt, altho tbh i almost always forget about him.

oddfoot: oops i forget him initially! i actually assumed he was named odd because of numbers or something, but apparently it’s a deadfoot situation. we don’t know his kit name, so i’ll assume he was named as either an apprentice or a warrior to fit. it wouldn’t make sense for him to just have the prefix odd, and i’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he didn’t. if he did, however, i would have a problem with it because that makes his name a compound name, not because his leader renamed him.

flipclaw: i don't have a problem with it. what kind of name is flipkit? the kind of name a mother would give who looks a lot like the cat who traumatized her, i think. more importantly, i think it's cute! doesn't bother me. would i name an oc flipkit? probably not, but that's just me.

twigbranch: oh no i love her name. i love it! it's so cute. it means something, too! it has meaning. nope. no one is taking twigbranch away from me. i love it.

clawface: mixed. i don't really have a problem with a cat being named clawkit, but it feels...violent. shrug. i don't like it, but like, i also don't like sandynose.

and i won't directly address skyclan because uh i already stated my thoughts on them.

skyclan in particular, tho, it actually makes a lot of sense for their names to be like that. there is no reason to apply any clan norms to skyclan names.

i really hope they keep their names, too. tradition and legacy of names is important to them (pebbleshine and violetshine for the most direct example, but it's everywhere), and i want that to stay. i love that leafstar named her kit harrykit. never change skyclan.

as always, i want to say that i do not have a problem with anyone's methodology of naming cats. i do not care. i support every single name in existence (barring certain combinations of color and "-face," and anything in that vein), and i do not want to come across as telling you what you should do.

that includes you, anon! i do not think you should listen to me when i say i like these names. i think you should rename them whatever you want. (i strongly suggest reconsidering skyclan renames, tho. there's established reasons in canon for them to have those names, and i think it's a cool cultural thing worth exploring. i keep meaning to write a funny lil one-shot about it.)

but you know! if you want to rename them, go for it! i support you!

that said, here is what i think (and i am not an authority on this in any way, shape, or form) about names:

i've written extensively about naming traditions in the clans. if you want to read that, "names. leaders. meaning" and "names part two" are where i recommend you look. (note: first link is to my main, before i migrated warriors content here.)

i'm not going to go over any of that in detail, because well, i'd rather talk about something new?

anyway, i don't think there's a reason to rename the vast majority of cats. i have very, very, few rules. heck, in ashes, i even had squilf come out and say that there's not even a problem with cats sharing a prefix.

the two cats i have renamed are yellowstorm and runningcloud, both for very specific reasons: -fang is a suffix that only makes sense if you're a warrior, and yellowfang names runningpaw runningnose, but in this au, sagewhisker names him, and she doesn't seem like the type to give that kind of name.

in yellowfang's secret, which i do generally treat as canon, yellowfang explains runningnose's name. i don't have a problem with her giving that name to him in the slightest. i just don't think sagewhisker would, and that overrode my general conservative approach to cat names.

but i do think, to an extent, cats are named for the world around them. i explored this in "without warning," where cats can be named after all sorts of strange things (elevator is my favourite), because well, they don't know what strange names are and are not.

so, for example, if there was a kit named, say, chaffinchkit, i would probably rename them, because i've set my warriors in the pnw, and there are no chaffinches in america.

i would just name the kit finchkit, because really, a chaffinch just a specific type of finch anyway.

i also refuse to name a kit maggotkit. there are probably other canonical prefixes in this nature that i refuse, but maggot is the big one that comes to mind.

but i don't care that ferns are green and cats aren't green. maybe it's a name passed down through the generations, one they don't even remember the origin of, but now, it is a thunderclan name.

or maybe, it is given to a riverclan cat simply because their mother thinks ferns are nice and soft.

none of that matters to me, because i personally find limiting name to appearance is incredibly boring, and gives up a really nice chance to worldbuild.

in "fair is the night," ivypool and tigerheart have a brief conversation exploring this.

"ThunderClan is different," he says. "You don't use names in the same way. You don't know the Ivy before you. But ShadowClan isn't like that. Dawnpelt knows Dawncloud and Flametail knows Flamefur, but...I have Tigerstar." "That seems ineffective," Ivypool says. "You can get more mileage out of your names. Here, Ivy is for grey kits, right? But wiry ones. We need strong roots. And Dove is for grey kits, or white ones, but its for the ones who are born soft."

they go on, but i would never pass up an opportunity to explore that type of thing. (and yes i see the typo)

similarly, i like the renaming system. i am like, this close to saying i love it.

the only reason i don't make brightheart lostface in everything i write is because it'd be too much of a headache to remind people, and i also don't want to needlessly invite arguments about it.

she keeps her name in "saccharine tithes of love and glory" because it's the kind of au where i can throw small things like that, without worrying, because it fits, tonally.

i wish it didn't set a fic in a very specific tone, but it does, and so, i usually use brightheart.

(also, it's clear that she prefers brightheart in the books, and i respect that. i don't think, in my culture, that makes sense for her, but i've talked about my works as being on a spectrum between canon and me, and most stuff is far enough away from me that i call her brightheart.)

anyway.

part of it is, renaming cats is imposing my rules over canon. i feel that saying "flipclaw should be named something else" asserts that my world is correct, and canon is wrong.

like, tallstar as a name does not make sense in my windclan. a kit can't be tall, and i've established that windclan names are very literal. but i've let it go, because i chose to make that a rule, and now i live with it.

i hope i didn't come off as prescriptivist, here, because i honestly believe if you want to rename cats, you should. i'd even be happy to discuss alternatives.

for clawface, might i suggest scorchface? (the suffix is malleable, frankly, but i don't feel like thinking much about it.) scorch deliberately has negative connotations in shadowclan, so you keep the same effect as clawface. especially since it just kind of sounds ominous.

but as for what i will do, it is not rename cats. i like their names (especially skyclan's), in all their idiosyncratic glory.

#ask #anon #long #essay #names #warriors names #traditional naming #name discourse #kind of?#mine #txt #warriors #warriors culture #warriors worldbuilding #4th #June #2021 #June 4th 2021

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those-weird-twolegs · 1 year ago

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so. i heard y'all are firefans. (+ holly bc its part of this convo)

(continuing the conversation) "What is Firestar’s personality and arc here?" - mod dorito

"He’s barely changed, the other clans just hate and fear him because he has established enough strength, power, and connections that if you openly oppose him, he can fuck you up if he wants to. He wouldn’t, but he could." - mod soda

"he’s “above that”"

"Pros of being a prophetic child and all"

"Cons: trauma" - mod dorito

"true" - mod soda

"Fire spends a lot of his days worrying and sometimes in full-blown panics in his den with sandstorm and his daughters. It’s a clan secret that The Great Firestar is nothing more than a mask, an illusion created to protect thunderclan."

"He isn’t the confident, happy cat everyone thinks he is"

"He’s traumatized, panicking, and worst yet, he doesn’t know who his allies are, because his own half-brother killed him"

"granted, he’d only recently figured that out when it happened, but he wanted to have a private chat with scourge about it. Unfortunately though, scourge killed him as soon as they were alone."

"He knows he shouldn’t have taken it as hard as he did. But having learned he had a brother, and his brother was his enemy of all things, he’d hoped to convert scourge and actually have a relationship with him."

"It actually took fire maybe 15 minutes to stop crying to himself after he regained consciousness. He was so distraught that his own brother didn’t even want to hear him out that he couldn’t bear seeing him again… but he knew he had to. He knew he had to kill his own brother. He couldn’t stand the idea…"

"But he did it anyways."

"He did it before he could think, ambushing scourge as he was about to kill tawnypaw, and killed his own brother with a swift bite like he was nothing other than prey"

"In a way… he knows how swiftwish feels now." (swiftwish post comes next)

"How’s the xenophobia?" - mod dorito

"Its bad for most cats (fire is an exception still because he has a bit of blind faith) but after holly and ivy team up it starts getting better" - mod soda

"holly+ivy team up happens after holly leaves the clans for a bit post-df battle" (this was rewritten)

"because fuck holly dying like that"

"she didn’t die she just became a loner"

"she meets fallen in this time and is like “wow you’re fucked up. just like me fr. never talk to me.”"

"also idk why but i like the concept of sol meditating???" (relevant for details i will reveal in a more in-depth hollyleaf post)

"like, bro gets down in a loaf, closes his eyes, and just. t h i n k s."

"i imagine shit just rapid fires at hollyleaf after the secret gets out, between her mental break and sol then theres the fact shes not exactly welcome back by anyone but those closest to her. and they might not forgive her even so soon after everything harmful she did. i dont even think she’d know how to change which is why ivypaw befriending a hollyleaf (loner or back in the clan) strikes me real good. hollyleaf looking at this baby like “training in hell is Not going to solve your problems. here. let me help” holly helping others and slowly learning how to help herself thru that and she eventually teams up w ivy after she becomes a loner and gets a nice break and self discovery journey" - mod haze (the hollyleaf pioneer. we love mod haze.)

"yes" - mod soda

"what if… she transes her gender a lil and then changes her name" (she is mtf here)

"she names herself fox berry… like the berry" (this has been changed to snowleaf, like snowberry due to future edits to her design and character.)

"yes omg" - mod haze

"hollyleaf discovering she trans later in life is so real of her!!!!!!"

"nd. it’d make sense i think!! she’s been such a stickler for the rules and always [n]eeded guidance only when shes finally on her own does she get to figure out who she is and what she wants, not dictated by a code or any other cat"

"him being a late bloomer is kinda cute. he realizes “maybe i like being a tom. just maybe” - mod eva

"or maybe. she was a tom" - mod soda

"and then became woman"

(the rest is spoilers for the holly(snow)leaf post + discussing the afterlife and things related to it)

swiftpaw's wish clan culture rambles, c/ped from disco, written by mod soda

Introductory speed notes:

thunder group-hunts and eats raw food if they have to, they often fell one or two antler-less deer every shedding season and their scores from these huge deer-hunting patrols are greatly valued.

wind sundries herbs, meats, and some spices. going with the logic that they can only use herbs and spices that wont kill them, though.

river dries their river reeds, and then weaves them into baskets used for: trade, transport, and occasionally given a top, filled with water, and lined with cotton in the winter to keep it from melting too easy, and the water is filled with various raw foods. they freeze the water, preserving the food until the end of winter when their bought supplies from the solstice are running out.

shadow cooks and smokes whatever meat they get their hands on. frog? cooked or smoked. rat? cooked or smoked. traded goods? cooked or smoked. crows/ravens? cooked or smoked. they are renowned for their amazing skills in preparing the best looking and tasting meals. they are, however, also known for not having the best foods for trade, so they tend to bring valuables they find in the carrionplace, by the thunderpath, and in the swamp.

Note: below is a poorly formatted + edited discord conversation.

"maybe it used to be that shadow cooked and smoked the food they got from hunting and wind dried, but ever since brokenstar and tigerstar tried to assimilate the clans their traditions are all mucked up" - soda

"shadow less than wind tho"

"and because of brokenstar they now cook as well"

"They couldn’t before?" - dorito

"All clans can cook, but shadowclan is renowned for their excellence at it." - soda again

"Since cooking and smoking food is the best way to preserve food in the wild swamps of the lake and forest (yes we’re making the lake pine forest a swamp forest because swamp ≠ pine in skills), shadowclan had to perfect their talent and skill."

"as for windclan, they preferred drying their meats, herbs, spices and snacks."

"But then, obviously, brokenstar tried to force shc traditions on wc and vice versa and. things got muddled."

"Shadowclan can now dry things, if they really try hard, and windclan now knows the basics of making actually amazing foods" "now all shadowclan is known for is their food presentation"

"Brokenstar takes over windclan?" - dorito again

"For a short bit yes" - soda p3

"then they revolt and get driven out"

"And then ofc, moons later, thunder and wind and eventually river and shadow are forced to merge to defeat tiger + bloodclan"

"at first, windclan is uneasy about it, but willing for lionclan to happen because it has to. But then riverclan joins and they start seeing clan cats sharing their traditions and god, it’s horrifying to the more traditional windclan cats."

"Do the clan have their own exclusive traditions or holidays?" - dorito p3

"Yes" (looking back w/ what i have now, not really) - soda boogaloo

"Windclan, thunderclan, and riverclan celebrate the summer solstice as it brings about wonderful times of prosperity for their traditions. Shadowclan celebrates summer too, but it’s not as big as the winter solstice."

"To them, the winter solstice is when they’re able to appreciate the power of their fires most, and the act of cuddling around a fire and sharing tongues with clanmates is invigorating to them."

"Shadowstar is the one who brought fire to the clans, so shadowclan was always known for their amazing flames. But eventually, for the safety of the other clans, they had to learn to share their flames, but keep their best tending secrets to themselves."

"This was so less cats got sick from hunger and cold during winters, ofc"

(brief diverge) "Difference in clanmate + family dynamics?" - dorito boogaloo

"Shadowclan is more closed off and independent, while windclan is very communal and open. Riverclan is more like shadow, but not as strongly independent, and thunder is more like wind" - soda v5

(diverge over) "anyways— It’s said the five four original clan leaders brought their skills to the forest."

"Shadowstar brought fire tending, Wind brought sun drying, Thunder brought hunting, and River brought weaving."

"In secret, though, many of the revolutionary ideas were from skyclan, who was the clan that was the best of all at smoking meat. They were forced to teach shadowclan their ways before leaving, however, so the clans could continue to have the tasty smoked steaks and such (scrapped this part)"

"(Note: not necessarily clear sky. just skyclan.)"

"It is “unknown” to most cats why the ideas stopped flowing in after some time."

"The last warriors of skyclan were actually able to build makeshift shelters better than ever seen in a clan before, as all of their last cultural ideas were stolen."

"hrmmm would thunder have brought useful hunting techniques and such specifically? as they would all Know how to hunt id think :0c they could also be attributed to the mutual respect between cat and prey and giving thanks for it" - mod haze

"Yeah— He brought up the idea of group hunts!" - mod soda

"Since thunder was born on the forest territories, it’s more like he just brought in the idea of herding prey, and eventually developed and evolved it into herding whole deer fawns"

"A skyclan cat was the one to propose [killing] adult deer after they shed their horns"

"It was considered bonkers at the time to herd whole adult deer, but it was actually genius when it turned out that cat had meant that you wait until antler-shedding season"

"Shadowstar along with Fire could bring the art of trapping and ambush" - mod dorito

"Yes! That was back in the days before the clans fully formed, though, and the fire later was no longer offered to the other four clans after they did" - mod soda

"Clear sky brought. very little value to the table in hindsight. Many thought he was a skilled tactician, but once he died, everyone looked back and realized he was just manipulating people."

"Many even refused to call him “skystar”"

"Even his own clanmates refused him that right after his death."

"In the old days, every clan had a little of all five skills — Experimenting, Cooking/Smoking, Drying, Weaving, and Hunting."

"But as things progressed, they began refining them, until it came to be that Skyclan cats were the best at experimenting and smoking meat, Shadowclan were best at cooking, Windclan were best at drying, Thunder at catching, and River at storing (weaving)"

"Riverclan had developed the skill of insulating cool places with ice and cotton w/sky’s help a few moons before disaster began striking skyclan"

"So riverclan knows how to refrigerate stuff and has the best resources to do that with (running river water + later sterilizing it through an early skyclan invention (charcoal water filters) and then freezing it in a basket with the food you wanna preserve until later inside)"

"it’s less a practice done to store food for all of winter and more done to store until the butt end of winter and early days of spring, when prey are barely starting to come out again and their dried/cooked/smoked food from the last solstice festival is running out"

"the festivals are dropped during the great journey because of how much of a toll it took on the clans"

"but later they get picked back up in the form of daylight gatherings at the lake territory when those become things"

"The daylight gatherings are more common than the festivals, and so the clans find it much easier to survive the inbetween weeks and they therefore have less animosity"

"Now, let’s talk about windclan. Windclan was vastly known for their amazing skill at drying herbs and meats quickly and efficiently. While not as tasty, things like dried meat, herbs, and spices (on occasion) were better to get through winder months with, so the clans were very reliant on the windclan drying process. This is part of why brokenstar took over and tried to eradicate the drying traditions."

"(To be clear, the clans used baskets and such from riverclan to transport their goods and tradable valuables to and from locations such as half-way camps and festival locations)"

"(Halfway camps are usually created halfway into the territory towards fourtrees/the island, and are locations for reprieve in the territory if you’re out too long or hurt/injured.)"

"(Clans with 2+ full medicine cats will have the excess med cats wander through the halfway camps and base camp to help heal any warriors who are resting there, injured. Halfway camps are also easy quarantine areas, but MUST be doused with hot water afterwards, as this is the only way the clans have found they can prevent further outbreaks in warriors who go back there.)"

"(This is part of why bluestar is so worried about kits in into the wild’s prologue. they only have one medicine cat, and per the ways of the clans, that is simply Not Good.)"

"When brokenstar eventually tries to assimilate shadow and windclan, he is fought against by Deadfoot and Tallstar, but they are sent fleeing past the borders as their clanmates are asleep or too confused and scared to fight. Windclan is communal and giving, so the idea that a clan would want to assimilate with another in such a violent way confuses them greatly."

"When tallstar and Deadfoot come back, it is with firepaw, greypaw, and the barn cats (of which there are multiple at the time). The barn cats rally the windclan warriors — hell, even some shadowclan warriors fight back (looking at nightpelt & others) — and soon, shadowclan is forced out in the middle of the night."

"No one knows which shadowclan warriors it was who fought back, either, because everyone was so confused and exhausted in the fray of the fighting that they just. couldn’t tell it was even shadowclan warriors"

"They just think that fire and grey brought more than they actually did"

"Tallstar lost a life in that fight, and so did every barn cat except barley, who was very upset at the loss of his friends, allies, and colleagues (of which there were 3)"

"This is also around the time raven joined barley, but barley insisted the young cat stay home and protect the barn."

"So, after that, the windclan cats were not sure what to do. They struggled to rebuild their clan, and were finally doing well (but not the same) again when tigerstar proposed the merge."

"Some of the cats born or raised during brokenstar’s rule over windclan were all for the idea of assimilating their cultures. They wanted more skills, more options and opportunities, but they were all shut down and forced to think like the rest of their clanmates by mudclaw."

"Of course, these young warriors and apprentices had no idea that tiger was worse than broken. Hell, some of them thought tall was weak and soft because he wasn’t like broken, who they remembered strongest from their childhoods."

"When this was discovered, everyone was appalled and showed them the horrors of what brokenstar had truly been doing through… less than helpful means."

"Honestly, it’s mudclaw’s willingness to and skill at stamping out these quarrels and horrible beliefs that makes him the prime candidate for deputy in tall’s eyes after deadfoot’s death."

"Anyways, windclan still wants desperately to get their old traditions of drying back, but it’s not the same now that shadowclan knows their secrets. And now Firestar wants to merge his clan with Tallstar’s, to defeat tigerstar…"

"To say they were uneager to merge clans again would be understating the problem."

"Of course, the elders’ fears came true. Thunderclan and Riverclan and Windclan youngsters began to train together, teaching each other the individual ways of their clans. This was put to a stop as soon as the clans went back to their individual camps, but things were never the same, not to those elders."

"Of course most of the bleeding of culture faded over the next year or so, but that didn’t change the fact that what was done was done."

"And then… we have thunderclan."

"“Let all those whose lives are forged from the blood they spill gather under the highrock for a clan meeting!”"

"Little thunderclan, being forged on the blood of prey animals and the act of hunting animals heavier than one can ever hope to carry on their own. Thunderclan, the ones known as regal and generous natures, despite the absolute cruelty and chaotic ways they treat their prey with."

"Thunderclan, the ones who just can’t seem to keep their opinions to themselves, thunderclan, the ones who always have to get their ways, thunderclan… the one who was founded by a child."

"It isn’t helpful that the cat prophesied to save the clans came to thunderclan. It isn’t helpful that he became loud and obnoxious like the rest of them. It isn’t helpful that he became their leader."

"Do the rest of clans get the prophecy?" - mod dorito

"crookedstar and tallstar do. brokenstar does not." - mod soda

"thunderclan is the most hated, the most annoying, the most brutish fighters, and they’re aware of it. They know the other clans won’t fight their will because if they try, they might risk making themselves a target for the great warriors of thunderclan, a target of the greatest leader ever, even. Firestar isn’t like that, but he will make it known when he thinks his course of action is the best. Which is all of the time."

"Is it firestar’s idea? Yes? It’s great, keep going. Is it anyone else’s? No, stop it."

"Do they fight over Firepaw?" - mod dorito

"Uhhhh not really? Crookedstar is more occupied holding riverclan together and tallstar is trying to repair windclan. Neither can really take on the responsibility of a prophetic child." - mod soda

(the rest delves into more cat and arc-specific lore instead of culture stuff.)

#warriors rewrite #warrior cats #swiftpaw's wish #firestar #hollyleaf #snowleaf

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curious-menace · 4 years ago

Note

A rogue headcanon dealing with trying to lose some holiday weight or trying to stay healthy.

interesting idea! ill see what i can do.

Penguin

haha you must be joking. man hasn't exercised since grade school. the only reason he’d be doing it is on sufferance at the behest of his overpaid doctor. like “if you don't lose some weight and eat a piece of fruit now and then you are going to die”. He’s not happy about it and is prepared to make it everyone elses problem .like “if i have to eat rice crackers so do all of you”. now his goons are also being forced to eat healthy with him .

don't even get him started about giving up the cigars.

twoface

another one who doesn't really exercise as much as he should. at least he’s healthier than penguin. he has a medical condition that prevents him from doing really high impact exercise. generally, just likes to take long walks and cut back on the drinking for a little while. he does a lot of heavy lifting around his hideouts ( since they need decorating with garbage and marble columns etc) so he looks pretty fit and healthy even if he eats like shit.

Ivy

ivy is one of those infuriating people who doesnt need to exercise to look good. she doesn't eat, since shes a plant and all and she’s moving around almost constantly so what more does she need to do in the way of exercise? girl has it made.

Riddler

the very IDEA that he is in anything other than PEAK PHYSICAL CONDITION is laughable to him. he’ll detail you his daily exercise regime and count you off the all the calories he eats in a day until you think he’s some sort of fitness expert. then when he’s by himself, he lives off cereal. he’s really out of shape and refuses to admit it. he’s one of those people who looks fine but is a mess inside. he’s going to go home and stand in front of the mirror and see his how he has a lil bit of a muffin top. he’ll decide to diet right then and there and last maybe 3 days before giving it up.

Scarecrow

scarecrow cant seem to put weight on, no matter what he does or doesn't eat. he’s been the same weight for years. he doesn't go out of his way to exercise or even stay healthy. he just takes the stairs and walks everywhere rather than take the car. he’s got good cardio from all that running from batman he does. He eats well, when he remembers , lots of whole grains and veggies since he’s a farm boy.

Harley

harley is pretty healthy in general but occasionally she’ll get put down by joker and go into a health frenzy , exercising to the point of exhaustion and nearly suffocating herself with tighter corsets. Joker is an ass, he wont help her and will have forgotten he said something so rude by the next morning. he’ll probably shout at her for wasting time and send her running off to ivy. at least with ivy, if she couldn't convince her she was fine as she was, harley would lose weight in a healthy way.

there you go ghostly. i empahise with wanting to lose a little holiday weight or just be healthy. sadly the winter depression and TERRIBLE northern irish weather have me sat on me bum doing this instead

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

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fencesandfrogs · 4 years ago

Text

cloudtail’s daughter: jayfeather

alright, strap in, it's time for jayfeather. i've been holding it in on him for what feels like forever now; he's ya boy's favorite character

also, aside from dove and ivy, he's the character with the highest volume of changes to canon. even above cloudtail and brightheart, because they continue their lives, it's not a big deal. and lion and cinder go to the tribe, but like, that's it. (i'm figuring out if jay goes with them over the course of this essay. i think i said he did in holly? but he literally hasn't been mentioned once in that arc because there's a lot going on.) anyway lion and cinder don't get up to anything. but jay's priorities shift and we see that in his books. i'm really excited to write him but i need to finish arc 1 lmao.

but first, same deal as always. this is part of my cloudtail's daughter au, where dovekit and ivykit are born to cloudtail and brightheart. i don't know how well this will read preemptively, but i suspect it will be rather dependent on the others. cloudtail's daughter: dovewing and/or the long post that explains it are both good places to start, see the cloudtail's daughter tag on my blog.

[2.5k words, 14 minute read, one of the last warriors essays on this blog. i'm going to finish out with my character essays and then everything will be on new sideblog. so check out @mallowstep for more.]

section one: the leafpool business

at the beginning of this series, leafpool and jayfeather are on bad terms. they will stay on bad terms for basically the entirity of the book series. while one of my main complaints with po3/oots is the lack of acknowledgement of adoption, jayfeather has been lied to by his mother and his mentor, something neither hollyleaf or lionblaze have to contend with, and then his sister kills herself over it. obviously she doesn't, but from his perspective. so he blames leafpool because he was really close to hollyleaf and now she's gone, and it's his first real loss, and there's so much going on.

and so he's a grouch and he's unhappy and he's just trying to function when his whole support system has been dismantled over the course of what, like, a quarter moon? yeah so dovekit and ivykit are like "wow what a grouch he sucks" the same way they don't realize prey is dying of thirst & etc.

for the most part he's j chilling and then hollyleaf comes back and man is it some family drama. unfortunately it's postponed til book 4 because hollyleaf and jayfeather have journeys but anyway i'm getting ahead of myself, because this section should end and unlike the hollyleaf essay i want to actually have decent organization.

section two: hollyleaf is away (but jayfeather doesn't get to play)

holly, cinder, and dove go to deal with beavers. we only get jayfeather through lionblaze in the books, but jayfeather is...conflicted. he got his sister back and lost her again and oh i should say. i think jayfeather and hollyleaf are the closer pair of the siblings. not that they don't love lionblaze the same, but you know how cats pair bond? like, it's usually a trauma thing, but even in feral cats, you see very close friendships. anyway yeah so for other au's i've been sorting siblings n denmates into pairs for this purpose (mostly jaywing au because there's a lot re. dovepaw and jaypaw and remember they are reincarnated siblings they've got a close bond going.) and it's kind of...i don't know my point is jayfeather misses his sister because she's like, his best friend too. or she was. and then she died and now she's back and she left again, and lionblaze is more concerned about cinderheart, so jayfeather just comes off as grouchy all the time. but really he's lonely and sad.

so yeah, jayfeather is kind of moping around camp and then the tree falls and whoops now briarpaw/light is parapalegic.

and uhh this goes more or less as in canon but we don't get pov which is fine bc u can sub in canon. but jayfeather? he's still a sad boy but now he's a sad boy with purpose and that makes all the difference

yeah he's close with her. they're sweet. it's sweet. he's pressured by brambleclaw to take an apprentice. he's bristly and angry and "you're not my real father" you know?

beaver crew gets back. jayfeather, who had missed holly, is back to being angry for...angst and plot purpose, really.

but you know, when you love & miss someone and they leave and they come back and somehow that's worse because now they can leave you again? and you can't tell them you want them to stay because you're angry and hurt but you want them to stay? god i'm excited to write these chapters i love emotional turmoil.

he's protective of briarlight, he's trying to keep dovepaw from being a medicine cat, hollyleaf is apologizing but he's not ready to hear it and lionblaze and hollyleaf are beginning to reconnect and it feels like betrayal. so when cinderheart and lionblaze go to the tribe, he tags along. everyone, uh, strongly encourages he go. he is the big grouch.

section three: time travelling times

okay so the timeline for these books is...messy. if you track the chronology of my writing, it's messy. which is to say, i was thinking i could put forgotten warrior and distant whispers over the same time span, but that actually doesn't work, as i review my notes for FW because a big part of it is ivy and holly's relationship. so. fake news. whoops. that sucks.

or maybe it doesn't? idk i don't usually tell linear stories. i like messing with emotional impact of events. so writing 600k of very linear story telling is very not easy for me. but i'm trying.

right so basically the official order of events until i change my mind again is as follows (names abbreviated as DIHLJC because they're all unique): DCH returns from beavers, DILCJ go to tribe with some other random warrior undecided, J + rando return, JH start awkwardness (beginning of TFW, middle of DW), DILC return (end of DW), time travel stuff (middle to end of TFW). hopefully that was intelligble, but it is admittedly 85% for my own benefit.

alright so we've covered during beavers, now jayfeather and hmmmm let's say, uhhhh, let's say they go with, literally any interesting background character, uh, bumblestripe! he doesn't do anything in this au bumblestripe goes with them. also since his name starts w b i can still write DIHLJCB and have things be unambigious. and it means there are fewer bs in thunderclan and trust me you don't know how frustrating the existence of like 6 b characters is.

alright so we really have 3 sets of two pairs of cats here. maybe i won't go w bumblestripe, bc he doesn't have an existing relationship w jayfeather. i dunno. i'm a big fan of jay & briar, whether as a ship or just besties, but that's just out, and hollyleaf can't come a) because i said so and b) honestly maybe she can? actually wait hold on that solves my problems. hot damn so 6/6 of the pov cats go to the tribe and this will be one of the only times all six characters are plot relevant at the same time. but i'm going george r r martin on it and seperating the books not by time but into DICL + JH because they're two completely separate character arcs that happen to take place at the same time. (don't worry i'm going to resolve the fallen leaves thing. in this essay ig bc i've already covered hollyleaf.)

okay so yeah hollyleaf is sent bc jayfeather isn't planning on staying w tribe for long time. just short time. and he's all "firestar why"

"well jayfeather," firestar says, "you don't talk to your family."

"i talk to dovewing," jayfeather says

"you're not related to her," firestar says

"there's a whole prophecy about how i'm related to her," jayfeather says

"you know about that?" firestar says

and that's how the cat gets out of the bag.

so anyway. jayfeather and hollyleaf are sent because...hold on, spinning the wheel of reasons for a character to go on a field trip...because...because...because...because...jayfeather had one of those dreams. i don't know. rock or something. now he's going.

they get there, and this is where the books get a lil time wonky, bc jayfeather and hollyleaf stay for like a moon, during which jayfeather goes back in time. i think.

i haven't worked out the details and probably won't until i do an updated au synopsis because it's hard to keep track and i'm more concerned about character through lines. like, jayfeather does this and he feels sad, and hollyleaf is sad about her ghost boyfriend, and they're travelling back together, and hollyleaf is his sister and she doesn't make him feel like he needs protection and lionblaze is bad at that, and they start to talk again.

and yeah, they bond. again. it's kind of, on top of their old bond? like they don't repair anything, they bond like strangers. but it's not nothing, and that matters.

so jayfeather gets back, and we're moving into book five, and i don't remember when the last time i made a section break was or what number we're on, so...sorry.

section ???: old man yells at cloud

alright it's finally jayfeather's moment. you know, he's one of my favorite characters, and he only gets a book and a half. "but mateo," i hear you saying, "doesn't every character get a book and a half? and more importantly, 6x1.5 is 9, so how does every character get a book and a half?" well, yes, every character does, but dovewing and ivypool are relevant in books 1-3 and 6, cinderheart in 1-3 and 5, lionblaze in 1-3, and hollyleaf in 2-5 (and has a critical role in 1 and 6, just no character development), while jayfeather is just really essential to books 4-5, and has a background role in 3. that means he's about equal to lionblaze. he's equal to lionblaze. as far as the numbers go, i cannot tell you. it's a mystery.

right so the reason for this is because (a) jayfeather doesn't do that much in oots. i love him, but he's not, like, super important, and (b) he's going to work better in these books if he's concentrated. because his big theme is his relationship with hollyleaf and the past. they're both kind of stuck in it but in different ways. and that prevents them from ever properly healing. so jay never has a full arc in this. i mean he has a full arc, it's just not a satisfying one. and that means he's sort of got to be put in the containment units.

so anyway, he gets his real big moments in the fifth book, when he's reuniting starclan. i think this is one of the riskier decisions on my part: we'll see whether or not i can deliver on him the way i plan to. but i think i can pull it off so that his arc is more meaningful condensed as such.

right. so. jayfeather is decided. he is going to fix starclan. because dead cats need to get thier shit together and he dgaf.

he spends a decent amount of time arguing with yellowfang and bluestar, because basically no important cats have died. at least we're in omen of the stars so it still makes sense? i have no idea why yellow/blue are still so important. please kill more important cats. it makes us feel things.

but feathertail is also probably going to be involved, i don't know. i haven't read these books (specifically, books 4 and 5 of oots) in forever so i don't really remember what happens. but he's kind of, super done with everything. i think he'll probably try to get the support of mothwing and kestrelflight (which is canon i believe?) and try to work as a team. i feel like there's weirdness w shadowclan too i should sort out.

so yeah, there's some medicine cat bonding, everything is OK, sol is happening? but cinderheart is dealing with that. jayfeather is naturally very upset about disconnects with sol but like he's also dealing with stuff i...i really need to reread outcast and sign of the moon. well, they're on my list after "all of these fucking riverclan novels like why they don't show up in the main series but i still have to read a bunch to be able to write them that's not fair."

alright, well, with that very vague description of what happens, moving on, the prophecy gets revealed to the clans at a whole in like...the ending eighth of this book. trying to maximise the amount of exposure to other clans without messing with the pacing.

so jayfeather and undecided warrior B (definitively not hollyleaf) go to windclan. jayfeather is...very unhappy about this. he does not want to leave. thunderclan is his home, and he's blind, and it's really hard to adapt to a new space and he thinks everyone is going to treeat him badly.

and well, if you've read my culture posts, windclan is....very pro-medicine cats and pro-prophecy cats. funerals. mourning. prayer. is probably the best place to start, but to get to the meat of it, start with general clan culture. to summarize, windclan: religious. but kind of like catholics, they don't believe in an individual connection with starclan. only leaders, and medicine cats, and very rarely members of prophecies have a connection. so. jayfeather. he's twice over. that's very cool to windclan.

so cats are kind of falling over themselves to help him, and like. i mean jayfeather is a grouch and he hates that he needs someone to help him through the territory, but at least they don't treat it like a chore, or like he's pitiable. this is a desirable task. apprentices want to know about his powers. and kestrelflight is a respected part of the clan, arguably more important than onestar, and jayfeather has never really gotten over being shoved in the healer hole as a child like it was lesser or easier to be a medicine cat, and so it's a big change.

and yeah. so i mean. an unobservant reader might say jayfeather has sufficient ego. he does not need stroking. they, of course, would be wrong.

jayfeather has a complex, but it's not an ego issue. he's...he's been denied everything he's wanted, and he's jaded, and weary, and he's never really believed that his clan views him as able and equal. in canon, at present, he's lost almost every cat he's every cared about. alderheart is his strongest remaining tie, and his fear at losing him, but willingness to let him leave, is very telling.

so yeah, jayfeather enjoys being accepted. anyone would. he doesn't really have confidence issues, but....argh. i know why this is good i swear it'll come out in the writing.

anyway, that's...that's pretty much it. jayfeather? done.

#warrior cats #warriors au #warriors #hollyleaf #jayfeather #q #mine #txt #13th #March #2021 #March 13th 2021 #cloudtail's daughter #essay #long

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leafy-wings · 4 years ago

Note

Hey. Wanna talk about your ocs?

yes 🥺

i always want to talk abt my ocs so if you see anyone specific and want me to talk about them more. i am always here

ive conveniently marked which characters are for roleplays because i have my fingers in so many pies. some of these were used for multiple rps like aglais and petrichor. heres short summaries of all of them under the cut bc its long

- AGLAIS is being used for that skywing roleplay im never in Oops! I got lost. but i love algais a lot! theyre a silk/skywing who was raised underground with out wind so their wings are all fucked up! they have light flamesilk, and are obsessed with resolving conflict and making sure everyones happy. a sunny type character yknow.

- BRISK was a character for sundown-falls on dA, idk if its active or not! im not there at least, ever. ive never used her!! idk her personality really, i liked imagining her as manic and cheerful

- BUCKTHORN and skipping a few characters HAWTHORN [and seer/sear] were for an arc 3 rewrite i had planned but probably scrapped because uhh things hard. its an au where clearsight has more leafwing partners than silkwing so there are thornwings instead of hivewings. itd be focusing more on the societal implications of a silkwing oppressive society, ft the headcanon that the hivewing mind control was a nightwing power. hawthorn has it too, previously shes very faithful to her society up until shes almost murdered for trying to investigate a case of silkwing puppetry and assassination. ah!! it follows her adventures within the underbelly of pantala, and then the second book wouldve been about buckthorn, who was always anxious, because he has a lil bit of mindreading, and he has firey palms. he goes to pyrrhia to try and ask for help, and turns into a suicide bomber. its very half baked i just wanted to make dragons

- REDACTED for DRIFT SPOILERS

- HARLEQUIN is just jewels dad. hes fucked up bro!!

- HARUSPEX was for moonborn!! i never really got into him, i love his concept, but i dont like rp where characters know each other before starting. the conceit of moonborn is three of a handful of dragons were going to fly up to the moons and no one knows what happens to them then, so hes terrified of socializing or getting close to anyone because of that. hes like.. protective and helpful but isolated. quiet.

- JEWEL!!!! might be my favorite character!!!!!!! like sometimes i forget about him or languish about writing him so so bad but seriously im so nostalgic for him and love him so much. he was for the destined, his father harlequin was a doomsday prepper [yknow like, bunkers ‘ the worlds ending soon’] before the burning and is vindicated when the world does start ending, lol. hed been training jewel to take up the mantle as fucking insane doomsday person, i really wanted to get him more of a hypochondriac and survivalist but more often than not he just was timid and friendly.. at the start of the rp!! he made good friends with wisteria and hexapod :) and then people started fighting 24/7 and fucking dying and so jewel becomes a cannibal because hes terrified of being weak and dying, he wants to prove himself worthy of being there + a sprinkling of harlequins “eat people to absorb their powers/cannibalism isnt bad” mentality. jewels kind of unhinged for the rest of the rp but still holds his friendship with wisteria and hexapod close <3 i dont think he ever did anything important or useful. but he was there!

- ORIUS was for PPAU on dA, im not active on it anymore lol! orius is FUCKING BUFF AS HELL!! shes just a huge lady and her shtick is that she is dumb as rocks and suffocatingly selfless, she loves doing work for other dragons. her parents were neglectful so she just goes into towns and does busywork for random dragons, getting super buff because she has nothing better to do and she hopes it makes people treat her better, she just loves helping others because its.. all she knows how to do to get any affection. she busts a drug smuggling ring and gets enrolled into a big cool school :]

- PETRICHOR was for dawning rain and i am hoping to reuse him for animus academy!! theyre a dramatic actor rainwing, i remember when i submitted them i added aside from their app that says theyre naive and stupid that they are literally just lying and actually pretty smart and malicious. theyre like acting childish and silly and daft as a way to get what they want and a smoke screen to commit crimes. in dawning rain they got kidnapped for 4 days and no one noticed and they were bitter about it for fucking ever. they made gay with a nightwing, tranquility, but the writer had their stuff taken away :[ petriquil 4life.

- POISON IVY was for PPAU also! they have evil fucked up leafspeak that kills plants, and theyre a paid assassin. they used to steal to survive and kill people he had beef with so he was like wait a minute. i can do both. so he affiliates with good dragons to kill bad dragons while pursuing his hobby in baking :) hes very aloof, a lil flirty, just friendly and casual.

- lets just toss puddle, nimbus, crow, and caiman into one category; this was for my roleplay, the royal division! the conceit being that the skywing and mudwings had affiliated with the other tribes [aka; took them over with force] so now the tribe is split in two, except for a collection of dragons specially chosen by a nightwing prophet. all she knows is that youve got to deal with it, and deal with it they do! ill not give details about the twist; it might just be reused for something special coming up soon... oh yeah, rouge was there too! but rouge isnt a trd character;

- ROUGE is one of my oldest characters, for my FIRST wof roleplay, refuge and rogues, run in 2018!! rouge is a skywing animus, abandoned to KISMET and WEED [kismet is my oldest wof oc! her first name was chameleon because it was before i read escaping peril], kismet and weed are part of a problem solving group called refuge where they go around the continent fixing things for dragons. or taking in eggs if you dont want them, i guess. rouge is a BAD BOY!!! hes like a rebellious teen so he splits off and makes his own version of refuge but its EVIL and for BAD BOYS LIKE HIM!! well, theyre not evil- they still help people, but CHAOTICALLY! like with CRIME! if someone took something of yours refuge would barter with them to get it back; rogues would just steal it.

- WEISS and SUPERNOVA were for the PLANNED but currently UNPLANNED sequel to the royal division, titled the rising occult! WEISS is actually not a wof oc- hes a different version of one of my mains, still named weiss! with the last word in the title you could just guess what its about. but, hey, dawning rain crowd, i had the rising occult planned in 2019 so IM the first wof cult person, HA!

- WHIRLWIND was for THE LEGENDS, i never participated just because i felt like i did not belong. but whirlwind was going to be a petrichor type character, but genuinely incompetent. theyre a rainwing who pretends to be other tribes to get things, mostly love. very silly and stupid! they have rot in their brain.

UNLISTED: is CADDIS for shattered seas, who was a cowboy pirate!!!!!!!!!!!!!! seawing/rainwing, when he was young he hung out with the wrong crowd and owed a debt with his dearest friend- the fucking weirdos who he owned the debt to had them pay in BLOOD! one of them had to die. caddis’ friend wouldnt kill him, no, but they snapped his horns off and took his eye off and pretended that caddis had died. so caddis spends his days HUNTING HIS FRIEND DOWN! and refusing to let anyone else get so close to him. i never got to unveil that in rp, instead caddis appeared, had sex, and then presumably died as the rp ended

and extras;

these are characters for my old rp, the animus code, which is currently on hiatus! they and a lot of the setting and lore will be lifted and reused for animus academy!

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70swonderpoisonstark · 5 years ago

Text

Poison ( IV )

Villain’s are people too, are they not? (Y/N) is taking the “home grown” terror title a little too seriously. You’re really really bad, until you meet a certain super soldier who makes you consider a career change. It’s a lengthy process, but you’re willing if it’s for the right reasons. Maybe you’re not so bad after all?

//basically poison ivy and a little bit of bane but with marvel characters?? I’d be original but I love her and them so much so sorry. also some changes, idk I’m making them my own but completely based of the DC characters SNS. Nickname Ivy, real name, yours duh!//

***this is my first attempt at fanfic so any feedback is welcome! I love all these characters dearly so, here goes nothing! Hope you enjoy***

A/N: Violence, language, crime. Mentions of domestic violence and sexual assault(no details or descriptions) I’ll update these as the chapters come out

recap: the team has been desperately searching for you, but you’ve never been a predictable catch.

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Months of searching, months. They knocked on every door of every person on the list, tracked every donation, stood on every street corner, and found nothing helpful.

"I don't know who donated that, we're very thankful, so if you do find her, tell her we are so very blessed by her loving deed." The receptionists were too nice, they definitely knew something, they had to, right?

"You think even if I knew her name that I'd give it to you? My child, and a a lot of these children were able to eat because of her. Medical bills, education, groceries she just comes, knocks on our doors and hands us the money. I hope you never find her."

"Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Ivy's not her real name, but that's all we ever get. She gives us what we need to be safe, clean needles, condoms, ways to defend ourselves. She bailed Mary over there out of jail a week ago, totally unfair the way she got arrested. I doubt you'll get much more out of anybody else. We know she's not an Avenger like you guys or anything, but knowing she's around, and cares, makes life out here a lil easier."

These were the responses they got from everyone they questioned. Nobody was willing to give them anymore information than they already knew. You were smart enough to transfer the money through various account trails, all leading to different banks in different countries the US wasn't allowed to have access to, so that was a dead end too.

"Who the hell is this chick? She's poisoned multiple people out of cold blood, stolen millions upon millions of dollars from various organizations and people, and just gives it away? What kind of threat are we dealing with here? What makes her charities different than the ones she's stealing from? Why these families, why these street corners?" Tony was in overload, something that started out so simple spiraled way the hell out of control. He knew chasing a criminal was going to be a challenge, it always was. However, you gave them the leads, and still, not an ounce of information was given.

"I'm thinking the same thing, Stark. We're missing something here, it's not adding up right." Steve glanced over to his friend, everyone was consumed in confusion, but Bucky, he had no idea what to think. Why had she given him the information, what did she mean by she liked him, why did she trust him of all people?

Buried in thought, the team returned to the compound exhausted from another day with no new leads. As they entered the building, soft laughter broke the silence of the semi-defeated heroes. Immediately refreshing the team, all thoughts of a good night's sleep escaped into the wind along with Peter's soft laugh. Tony, who had left Peter at the compound to finish homework, took the lead due to his imminent worry for Peter's safety above everything else.

"Kid, you doing alright in there?" He yelled out into the living area where he last saw Peter. He could hear a feminine laugh along with Peter's, did he have the balls to invite a girl over while they were gone? No, not Petey, there was no way, plus they were so far away from his school..

"Yes Mr. Stark! Mr. Banner's niece stopped by while you guys were gone so we've been hanging out waiting for you guys to get back!" He heard papers rustling and a chair scooting. Tony's hair stood up on end, his muscles clenched, and his heart rate accelerated as the adrenaline rushed throughout his body.

Banner doesn't HAVE a niece.

And if he did, he surely would've shared that she was coming to visit. Tony walked out into the living area, trying to remain as calm as possible to gauge what exactly they were up against. Natasha and Clint headed for higher ground, hoping to gain the upper hand in whatever was about to go down. The rest of the team followed Tony, all to be entirely taken aback.

There you were, the woman they'd been trying to find for way too long, sitting in the living room of one of the most state of the art buildings with a whole ass teenager. You were in a leather jacket, a "Save the Fucking Planet" t-shirt, bell-bottom jeans, and converse, casually talking to Peter. Your red hair was unmistakable, and for Bucky, your piercing (Y/E/C) eyes solidified the fact that it was you.

"Let's not make this awkward, shall we? I know Widow and Bird boy number one are a floor above with their sights locked, bird boy number two probably went around back and is coming from that direction to try and capture me. Well, I have no intention of being thrown in jail, so, if you'd like to avoid a very unnecessary conflict I suggest everybody calm the hell down and chill the fuck out." Nobody moved a muscle. They weren't going to negotiate with a criminal, not in their own house. You groaned, tired of fighting everybody you ever came into contact with, and rolled your exhausted eyes. "Are y'all always this prejudice? I came here, and hung out with your kid, who's probably one of the coolest teens I've ever met, just a by the way. If I wanted to harm you, I would have started with the youngling and picked you guys off as you entered the building, not helped the spider-kid with his homework." Still nothing. Good intentions pave the way to hell, and nobody, especially Tony, was going to risk dropping his guard because a terrorist said so. "Okay fine, we can do this the hard way." As you spoke your last word Natasha and Clint were ripped from the top floor, a thick, green vine had wrapped around their ankles and torn them off their feet. Plummeting them down a story, stopping only an inch short of the ground where they now hung upside down. Tony readied the blasters, Rhodey secured his mask, Steve's shield was in his hand in less than a second, and Bucky was hesitant, but ready to fight. Thor glanced around the room, his kingly intuition analyzing the scene in front of him, anxiously weighing his options, would this be worth the risk? You weren't engaged in battle until you were forced, you posed no threat to the most vulnerable, and even Banner wasn't hulked out.

"WAIT!" Thor yelled to his colleagues. "Wait just a damn minute! Are we willing to risk injury and destruction to our dwelling, to fight a woman whom we've just spent hours looking for, and who was with the child of spiders for Odin knows how many hours? Are you unharmed, son of Tony?" He looked at Peter, who was red in the face, scared, and embarrassed that he'd let a bad guy into the actual Avengers compound. Peter shook his head, he was having the worst anxiety attack of his life being in the middle of all this, but he was physically intact.

"Hey, Petey" You moved closer to him, making him flinch, but fear kept him relatively close. "I know this is a lot for you right now, all of us pointing things at each other, but if you want to go over towards Tony and the rest of your family I won't hurt you." You gave a reassuring forearm squeeze and shifted you full attention on Peter. You now had your back to the team completely vulnrable, looking Peter dead in the eyes with a caring, strong, and kind demeanor that confused the other half of the room while reminding Peter of his Aunt May. Natasha was trying her hardest to free herself from the vined-snare, they just kept growing back anytime she made progress.

"No, I think I'll stay where I am if you don't mind."

"Of course not, love. I don't think it's the safest option for you, but you won't have to listen to me yell at you later." You winked at Peter, who was now completely carefree with his position. Thor had a point, all you had to do was drug him or something and he'd have been dead by the time they'd gotten back, but instead you'd helped him with his advanced biochemistry homework. "If you change your mind let me know, there's no need for you to get hurt in all this, okay?" Another reassuring smile, as your gaze shifted Peter could see your demeanor change, you were fierce, and tense and ready for anything. He knew it was wrong, but Peter kind of liked you. He admired the strong, and if you're ballsy enough to face the entire Avengers team by yourself, that was a pretty strong feat to even try.

Tony hated it, but he was going to entertain the idea, if Peter wouldn't come over to him so he could blast this bitch into mulch then he'd have to play it safe for Peter's sake, who was in so much trouble Tony couldn't think about what to do with him.

"Fine. We'll sit, but the second something sounds or looks funny I'm arresting you, release my assassin's." And you did, they dropped with a thunk, and the guns and weapons they had on their possession were confiscated into the new plant life that enveloped the living room. The team reluctantly sat along the three long couches in the room after what felt like an hour of disarming everybody in the room except Thor and Banner. With the couches full and you standing, they all began to worry about an off guard attack, but just as Tony wiggled out his hands, you GREW a fucking throne made entirely out of a tree that spouted in the middle of their hardwood floor.

"So. You've heard, and seen a lot of me over the past weeks. Lots of stolen things, maybe a hundred bodies, and large amounts of money. All of that ring a bell, yes?" The team, still reserved and hypervigilant slowly nodded, never taking their eyes off of you. "Well, first of all I want you guys to relax, you're not in any danger unless you want to be. I, am Ivy, obviously, and you've all met Viktor, who is not here fyi, and I'm an advocate for plant and human rights. The media still thinks I'm a man of great brute strength and blah blah blah. So. I have a preposition for you."

"And why would we listen to anything you have to say, murderer?"

"Ooh, talk about your cold shoulder." The corners of your mouth turned down, revealing a frown, with absolutely no real emotion behind it. "You know," As you spoke, a very large very frightening thing grew next to you. "I always wondered how many people died in that alien attack however many years ago, or that robot escapade across the world, or even that DC disaster not too long ago? Anybody? Death toll counts? Start at what, at least a couple hundred thousand?" You sat and waited, nobody was going to throw stones at you, especially not when they lived in glass houses. Absolute silence filled the room, tension spreading thick through the air like the plague.

The Avengers were collectively pissed, and rightfully so. This Villainess walks into their home, converts THEIR spider-kid, and is now throwing this in their faces? The only thing keeping any of them going was knowing you'd be arrested in about half an hour. Tony couldn't think of enough ways to broadcast your arrest, would he be the one to escort you to that max security prison in the middle of the ocean? He sure hoped so.

"So, everybody here has killed somebody, yes? Except for you Petey, I know you wouldn't hurt a fly." You flashed him what seemed like a genuine smile. Peter knew the death left after the Avengers battles weighed heavily on Mr. Stark, and none of them were on purpose, he wasn't a bad guy at all, he was just doing his job and the bad guys were the ones who hurt all those people.

You didn't want to re-traumatize the avengers, you knew they were just good people attempting to help a vulnerable world. But they were already looking down on you, thinking of you as a lesser, evil being. Maybe a little sadistic, but evil? Certainly not.

"Not on purpose, not through poisoning, not slowly and painfully how you do it."

"Oh Sammy dear, I think internal bleeding after a buildings fallen on you is a pretty slow and painful death, wouldn't you say?" Another smart-ass smile.

"We never killed on purpose. Innocents have died yes, but never on purpose, and always with a large emotional toll on all of us. You kill on purpose, you take people out one by one. The media may not be on to you, but we know the call signs." So noble, thinking death in any way is better than another.

"Aw Stevie, I'm sure your thoughts and prayers really mean a lot to the families whose loved ones were taken away and never mentioned because the rest of this city was too busy sucking your dicks to care." You shook your head in disbelief, they really didn't know? These "great guys" that wound up dead, they thought THEY were innocent. Good lord, for a unit ran by an intelligence agency, they were fucking idiots. "Do you guys even know the targets I took out? What their skeletons in the closet were? What they did in their spare time? I could name chilling details about every single man and woman I've killed, and trust me I remember all of them." You waited again, you knew you didn't have to explain yourself, but you needed them to trust you if you were to get what you wanted.

"Chad Emerson. Great guy, faithfully married, donated millions to orphanages around the globe, adopted and raised children who weren't adopted before the age of 16. You poisoned him in his penthouse suite, leaving a single black rose behind. What could have been so wrong with that guy?"

"Chad Emerson? That's who you picked for your first option, as if the red flags weren't big enough with him. Try twenty-four charges for sexual assault of a minor that were all dropped due to the fact that he had money, and 'provided them with a better life'. Try embezzling money from his wifes non-profit, and using that to participate in sex trafficking of, you guessed it, MINORS. Any more questions?" Keep 'em coming, You going to rip the roof of off the rich guy ring of corruption.

"Brandon Wilfred. Again, faithfully married, raised two brilliant children, lives quietly with his wife in the middle of nowhere, and occasionally donates to wildlife and ocean preservation organizations. You strangled this one with a plastic garrote in his living room, again leaving behind a single black rose." Ugh, again with the faithfulness, is monogamy held that high in society that not cheating on your partner made you a saint? It's boring how low the standards are.

"Wilfred, he was a fun one actually. Yes because he not only cheated on his wife any second he got a chance, but also beat the living hell out of her if she said anything about it. I'm not even talking about confronting him, just asking him to wash the sheets afterwards, or at least telling her to leave before fucking his twenty-three year old mistress on the kitchen table. She's had more ER visits within the past year than some of you have had all your life. Oh and the donations? Just a cover to hide the fact that his factories and businesses have been ruining my planet's seas and poisoning her skies with toxic waste and mass amounts of CO2 production. Conservation? All that man knew how to do was exploit and ruin."

This went on for some time, each person they named worse than the last, all violent, corrupt, and some down right evil, not a single one of them were anything like what they presented. The harsh justice you gave them made the Avengers very uncomfortable. You were killing them, ending their lives for good, and didn't care because what they had done had evened out your sin of murder. It was a wicked way to think, terrifying at the least for anybody around you.

"Okay, we get it, every rich man or woman with the white picket fence is a corrupt asshole who abuses their partners and children and animals and steals and lies and cheats and steals. Why are you here, and why should it matter to us?" Tony was not falling for this bullshit. He understood that they deserved punishment, but actually killing in cold blood was wrong.

"Because I want to make a deal. You bring me onto the team, provide legal support for the women, children, and families affected by this cities corruption, and I'll stop killing, and become a full forced good guy." You knew this would be a tough sell, however, you had a slight feeling that things might go her way.

"That's it? You'll stop killing, and we're supposed to just welcome you to the team? You lie, and cheat, and steal-"

"And give the money back to the people! The people you seem to deem unimportant and forgettable!" You were on your feet now. "You say you care about this city but I never see any one of you volunteering in low income neighborhoods. I don't see you providing care for the homeless and the prostitutes. Thousands of people are starving and freezing to death on these very streets. You say you protect this city, but suddenly that protection stops once you hit a certain tax bracket."

**6 Months later**

After a very heated argument, long talks, a contract, extensive fingerprinting, DNA samples, and blood draws, you were allowed to be trained. Your only drawback was that you refused to give them your real name. You'd deleted your true identity years ago, they couldn't trace your DNA to anything or anyone even if they tried. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) did not exist anymore, you'd buried her a long time ago, and refused to share that intangible information with the team, only giving them Ivy, or Poison. You weren't trained as a member of the team, but at the very bottom of the totem pole. You were taught how to punch, how to kick, and how to defend yourself from a thirteen year old with no previous fighting experience. It was awful, but you knew deep down you needed another way to provide for your loved ones. You weren't trained with the other entry level recruits, which was nice; however, one on ones with various members of the team wasn't all that great either. They would either keep it at a beginner level, or use their time to try and kill you. Natasha was your favorite person to train with solely because she never went easy on you. Sure, waking up with two swollen eyes, a busted lip and a fucked up shoulder wasn't your favorite way to start your mornings, but after a while it turned into one black eye, then none, then just shoulder pain, and eventually just busted up knuckles.

The team hated you, or at least they wanted to. After spending time with you for six months they couldn't deny you weren't too terrible of a person. You spent a lot of time by yourself, but the conversations you did have with them were either insanely intelligent or outrageously hilarious. They would get all wrapped up in the conversation and forget they were talking with a confessed serial murderer. You had multiple PhD's, making you one of the most educated members on the team, spoke twelve different languages(Including Russian which really shocked the hell out of Bucky and Natasha one morning), and were tech-savy. You were helpful with chores, cooking(which always made everybody very nervous, you WERE poisonous), rarely complained, and spent your free time in the med bay helping injured recruits.

You, however did complain a lot, to yourself at least. You were not used to rules and regulations, strict training schedules, and intense security. You were forced to sign a log telling FRIDAY when and where you were going, how long you estimated you'd be there, and tracker installed into your phone (which you were very capable of disabling, but that wouldn't be a very good way to build trust, would it?). You were still allowed to help your people out, Tony was more than willing to help provide for the less fortunate, especially if it meant people stopped dying on both sides, and even started mapping out a Stark refuge for the struggling and homeless. He said it would include a food pantry, basic necessities, shelter, and healthcare.

It was a Friday night when the team finally started to warm up to you. Game night to be exact. The team had mandatory bonding time every great once in a while to ground themselves from the busy day to day of tracking hostile threats. You had just gotten back from a twelve hour shift at the hospital (Twelve PhD's were paid for by a Nursing career((and stolen money from now-dead men but shh))) and were walking past the living room to the kitchen when a drunk Natasha invited you to come relax with them for the night. You froze, not knowing whether this was a trick or a joke.

"I'm being serious P, we're being normal people for once and I think there's more to you than we know and we have WINE!" Okay, you can either run away screaming and potentially murder your chances at these people actually accepting you, or you can take a deep breath, make your way over to the group of people that have kicked your ass for the past six months and deal with whatever repercussions come later. The second one was less humiliating... and it did give you a chance to build rapport.

**2 hours later**

They had drank their way through seven bottles of wine, a large flask of Asgardian mead, two bottles of whiskey, and a very miniscule amount of water. The team was crying laughing and playing truth or dare, each answer seemingly getting more and more detailed.

"Truth." Natasha said, slurring the entire word.

"Uhhh, if you had to sleep with anybody here, who would it be and why?" Tony always went for the sexual ones. Shocking

"OH OH OH!!! I, It would have to be, hm, UH, fuck, uhhhh. Wanda." Cue intense laughter from all the females. "The rest of you are unnaturally greasy and she's the only one I'd be okay with seeing me naked." The men were appalled, however you, Nat, and Wanda were laying face down on the ground shaking with laughter.

"Okayokayokay, Ivy, you know the question, pick!" Though Wanda was sitting on the ground, she swayed with every word and ended up leaning on you as she yelled.

"Truuuuth. Y'all ain't gettin me to do nothin." Giggling filled the room again, You couldn't tell if it was just the girls that were drunk or if everybody else was as trashed and you were. It didn't really matter though, you were actually having fun with these people and you'd do anything to keep it going.

"What actually ARE your powers? Are you just a really good gardener or what?" Oh shit, she wanted to get personal.

"I, can do lots of things, growing scary plants, I can make this thing that makes everybody become like super duper high, uh, I'm immune to all poison, duh, I can charm snakes, I can do a lot of things, mostly plant ssstuff though." You were trashed, swaying, slurring, giggling, the whole nine, and nothing, absolutely nothing could get you to stop staring at Bucky. He was so stunning, even as he sat there and pretended he didn't notice you glancing at him the entire night. He was so off, so unique, an emotionally vulnerable man who truthfully wanted nothing more than to be happy again. You could just eat him up, honesty in men was, in your experience, very hard to come by. (Unless you have them dangled over a balcony but shh)

Bucky watched on as the group became more and more drunk, his eyes never leaving the cold blooded woman beside Natasha. He barely spoke to you the entire time you were around the team. How do you say "Hey you tried to kill me and knocked me out every time we met but I can't stop thinking about you for some reason and I'd like to know why." without sounding like a freak? You were smart and funny and kind of a bitch but in a good way? You had to be messing with him, or up to something entirely. You were slipping your drug into his coffee or blowing it into his air vents, he couldn't be this invested in somebody with a wrap sheet like yours. but here he was. Something about you made him crazy, he hated it, and it wasn't exactly something he could share with his teammates.

"She's actually pretty hot huh tin man?" Sam fucking wilson nudged Bucky as the inner circle kept going with truth or dare.

"She killed people, for sport, Sam." Bucky shot him a death stare, yes, watching you interact was enough to get Bucky to think about an unwholesome thing or two.. He was NOT sharing that with Falcon of all people.

"Yeah but that adds to it, the dark, secret, mysterious 'I could stab you and make you say thank you' vibe's kinda hot." Bucky rolled his eyes, feeling his facial expressions reacting to Sam's shallow statement before his mouth even had time to speak. "That's fine if you don't think so, Cap obviously does." Whiplash. Bucky had turned towards his best friend so fast he was sure his brain slammed into the bones of his skull. Bucky had hoped Sam was teasing to get a reaction out of him, but Steve really was close to you.

"So you can just touch somebody and poison them?" Steve slowly moved closer to you as you answered him. He wanted to know how, somebody as innocent looking as you could kill a person simply by placing your soft hand on their shoulder. You seemed sweet enough, but that's probably why you were so good at your job. OLD job, Steve corrected himself.

"Well kindaaaaa, it's whatever I feel like at the moment." Your body shook slightly as you giggled, causing you to just barely lean into Steve as you spoke. "Like when I met you and Bucky for the first time, instead of poisoning you I just made you really really angry and full of lust." Steve lowered his voice and drunkenly whispered into your ear.

"Are you doing that to me now?" Steve had searched his brain for months trying to find a reason why he found you attractive, not just physically, but as a person you were intense. You never took no for an answer, rarely compromised, were tough as nails, and never backed down from a fight. Your intelligence took the whole team by surprise, you were almost always right and rarely bragged about it. Steve loved all those things, but Natasha was the same way and he didn't feel like this around her. He chalked it up to the alcohol and decided to let the conversation go wherever it was supposed to.

"Are you angry right now? Cause that might be because you suck at this game." Smirking, you winked at the drunk Captain. People were so predictable when they drank. You couldn't deny how handsome he was though. His muscles, the golden boy reputation, his undying loyalty to the people, it was all very enticing... You tilted the amber whiskey bottle back, a little to forcefully and fell backwards pulling Natasha with You.

"Dammit Ivy!" You yelled at yourself, they were all sitting down so it's not like you were in any pain, just embarrassed at how clumsy you never failed to be. Natasha looked over to you, she really was enjoying hanging out with you, and you really liked being liked. The girls were both laughing as you handed Natasha the whiskey bottle. "Apparently I've had too much."

Bucky loved watching you, but watching Steve flirt with you heated his blood to a not so safe level. His super-soldier hearing didn't help much either, the circle might not have heard Steve's flirty whisper, but Bucky sure had.

"I think it's time for me to go to bed, one of you are going to wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn to fuck me up." You tried to stand, but your legs were numb from sitting so long, and the alcohol hadn't helped either. The girls all laughed daintily as you tried to stand straight, you were wobbly, and your steps, when you finally did get up, were crooked and stumbled. You thought you had finally gotten the hang of it when you tripped over your feet, bracing for impact you tensed up, only to be caught by the one and only Bruce Banner. Steve wasn't far behind, and Bucky had shot straight up out of his chair when he saw her trip, much to Sam's amusement, but Banner had gotten there first.

"Thanks, Bruce. I don't understand how my own two feet can plot against me like this." You smiled weakly, embarrassed again by your own clumsiness.

"Self-sabotage, the worst kind. Let me walk you up, if FRIDAY wakes Tony that you're passed out on the floor he might have flashbacks." Looking at Bruce's soft features made it so obvious as to why Banner was your favorite. He was the only person that never treated you too much like a villain. He was always asking you questions about your research, if you'd read a new article that had come out about microbiology, your day. He was like the cool brother you'd never had, and that made you open up as much as you could with Bruce. You took his arm and followed him to the elevator and all the way to your room.

"I appreciate you Bruce, I knows it's a lot of gross emotion but, you're family to me now. Jus figured you sould know." Drunk, blurry vision, barely able to stand, and now you were professing emotion? You needed to stay far away from the liquor with these people for sure. YOu were sure it would have weirded the always quiet Bruce out, but he cracked a faint smile, kissed you on the forehead and spoke.

"Welcome to the team, Ivy."

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// How’s it doing so far?? I’m really liking how it’s all going so far! P.S. if you guys want to throw random vocab words at me I’ll try and find a way to incorporate them and tag you! Thanks for reading! May Odin bless you! //

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goddessofthundathighs · 6 years ago

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808’s & Heartbreak: The Story of Ivy and Erik Chapter 4: Redemption, Pt. 1

Ivy’s Heart Introducing Bernadette The Apology (1) The Apology (2)

A/N: This chapter is cute & fluffy as hell. No freak nastiness.. yet.. I was asked about a sub-chapter detailing Taj’s date with Thicc Daddy, but idk.. we’ll see how that goes..

Song Inspiration: Beyoncé- Love Drought

“Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings But ten times out of nine, I'm only human

Tell me, what did I do wrong? Feel like that question has been posed I'm movin' on I'll always be committed, I been focused I always paid attention, been devoted Tell me, what did I do wrong?”

IVY’S POV

In the weeks since Erik’s return, I’ve found myself replaying that last night over & again in my mind. “Just leave!” He had never been cold to me. He always told me that I was his light. The calm in the storm that was his life.

“SO WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LEAVE ME?!” I shouted to no one in particular. A knock on my door pulled me out of my sulking.

“Package for Ivy Kennedy,” called the woman from the other side of the door.

“Thank you,” I responded, signing for the medium sized box. I didn’t even have to check the sender. Everyday for the last three weeks I received a new gift. A replacement Ivy leaf bracelet with matching earrings, a green Chanel classic flap bag, roses, candy, you name it, I got it. But today’s gift took the cake. I opened the box and screamed. It was the green Versace Greek platform sandals that I had been eying for months.

“How did he even –“ my thoughts trailed off as I read the note in the box.

“You’ve always been my green Goddess. These looked like they were your style.”

–E. S.

I couldn’t fight the smile that crept across my lips. Even after two years, he remembers. Erik always was one to memorize the little things.

I figured I’d go to the office today. I’d been working from home for the last 3 weeks, not wanting to risk a chance encounter with a certain charming prince. “Dr. Kennedy!” My assistant Andrea called.

“Here’s your coffee and you have a call waiting from a young woman named Shuri Udaku.”

My face fell. Shuri was Erik’s younger cousin and a scientific prodigy. I had taken her under my wing while we were dating and she never ceased to amaze me. Though I dreaded the call because I knew Erik would somehow come up, I missed her playful banter and allowed Andrea to patch the call through.

“Hi Shuri,” I said casually.

“Hello, Dr. Kennedy.” His deep voice sent shockwaves to my core.

“Erik, my assistant told me Shuri wanted to speak with me,” I tried to keep my tone even.

“She does. She’s been working on enhancements to an experiment here in the states and was wondering if she could borrow a few of the chemicals in your lab,” he explained.

“And what exactly does that have to do with you?” I asked.

“She’d asked me to come pick them up,” he responded quietly.

“If you don’t want to see me, it’s fine we’ll send someone el–“,

“No,” I interrupted. “It’s fine. I’ll be here until 3.”

ERIK’S POV

I was more than surprised she wanted to see me. Ivy could be stubborn and I was more than prepared for her to draw this out another 2 years just to get her point across.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be getting, Shuri?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“See if she has any Love Potion #9,” she retorted, doubling over with laughter.

“Real funny, lil nigga,” he sneered.

“I know it was, Big Nigga. Seriously though see if she has any hyaluronic acid, titanium, and agar, oh and Taj is waiting for you downstairs.”

“Thanks cuz, I owe you one.”

“Just don’t let her go this time, eh?” she said back.

“Taj Mahal, what’s up?”

“Don’t push it, Stevens,” she responded, limping in my direction.

“I see M’Baku still out here breaking your back,” I said laughing. If looks could kill, I’d be dead, but she soon returned the laugh.

“Do you really wanna talk about how great that Jabari dick is?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Nah.” I responded in disgust.

“So what’s the plan, T? I can just walk up in her office demanding that she listen to me. I tried that shit already & got ghosted for 3 weeks.”

“She didn’t ghost you, idiot. She types messages to you everyday, she just doesn’t send them. Every single thing you’ve sent her is on proud display around her house. She hasn’t taken off the earrings and bracelet since she got them. She misses you just as much as you miss her, she’s just prideful.”

I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights at her confession because she giggled before continuing. “Just go to her E. Both of y’all keep dancing around each other and you’re only hurting yourselves. Yes, LA is a big city, eventually y’all are gonna have to see each other.”

She was right. Being in the same city with her without communication was torture. I needed my girl.

I sat nervously in her office waiting for her to finish her meeting. When she walked in, my heart stopped. She was dressed in her lab coat and a black bodycon dress that stopped just below her knees. True to Taj’s word she was wearing the Ivy leaf bracelet and earrings and black red bottom heels. Her curly hair framed her face perfectly and to my surprise, she had a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses similar to mine. My chest swelled with pride. This was my girl. She made a move to speak, but I interrupted. I had to get this off my chest.

IVY’S POV

“I found my daddy with panther claws in his chest.” he stated suddenly. Nigga, what? I thought to myself before he continued.

“When I was eight, I found my dad murdered in our apartment. He had panther claws in his chest. Turns out, the guy that killed him was my uncle T’Chaka, who was the king of Wakanda and Black Panther then. I had no idea that I was royalty and I had so much anger and resentment built up against them that I decided to get revenge. When I left you, I went to Wakanda and challenged T’Challa for the throne. I won and was king for all of 48 hours before he came back and kicked my ass.”

I chuckled.

“Long story short, even after all my bullshit, they accepted me. T’Challa even gave me a job as his trusted advisor, but I told him I wanted to work in the states. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the LA branch of the Wakandan Outreach Center was about 15 minutes away from my favorite chemist.”

My eyes rolled and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling. Grams was right. He came back for me. As happy as I was, I couldn’t give in that easily. I still wanted to make him beg.

“I thought you needed chemicals, Stevens,” I said, leaning against my desk. He stood up and my breath hitched.

“What I need, is for you to stop acting like you don’t miss me.” He stepped closer.

“What I need is for you to stop ignoring me.” His right arm snaked around my waist and pulled me flush against his scars and his third leg. He tucked his left index finger under my chin, tilting it upward, forcing me to look into his hooded eyes.

“What I need is for you to wrap those thighs around my head and let Daddy show you how sorry I am for abandoning you.”

THE DAM BROKE.

TAG LIST: @hearteyes-for-killmonger @thehomierobbstark @wakanda-inspired @siriuslycollins @sicksadgen @wifeyofnjadaka @panthergoddessbast @amethyst1993 @princessstevens @ange-sensuel @another-imaginesblog @youreadthatright @allhailnjadaka @eriknutinthispoosy @muse-of-mbaku @blackpantherismyish @thehonorablekingerik @tgigoldie @bartierbakarimobisson

#ivy & erik #808’s & heartbreak #vanity writes #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black!reader #killmonger fanfiction

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especially-heinous-ada · 6 years ago

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A Police Gala, Part 12

FINALLY! I have completed Part 12. In this chapter, Raf and the reader have just spent the last few hours at the precinct going over the incident that ruined their shopping trip. Rafael grows increasingly worried as he gains information that redoubles his suspicions against Kazuma. Who really is Kazuma Minamoto? Will Rafael ever truly know? And was it really Shaw who sent the gunman? More plot twists and excitement planned over the following chapters as the story progresses, so STAY TUNED!

As always, feel free to holla at your girl in the comments. Or if you’d prefer, go ahead and hit up my asks (they’re a lil’ empty these days). For any new eyes, you can find the first 11 Chapters of the story here.

The hour was nearly midnight. Rafael had spent forever at the precinct with you and several officers, going over how everything had happened in the clothing store that day. How someone had waltzed in and nearly taken both of your lives. Now on top of having to testify against Francis, you were facing the reality of potentially having to testify against the lackey he’d sent to wipe you out--unless the DA could convince him to take a plea and spare you the added stress.

After you were done at the precinct, the two of you rode home. You were so exhausted that you’d fallen asleep on the way and he’d carried you on his back, holding you through the elevator ride and into the apartment, laying you down in bed and tucking you in. Kissing your forehead lovingly, he left you in the care of Rollins, who had taken over guard duty. He had something to take care of and he knew you’d never approve.

With a heavy sigh, Rafael walked down the cold, soulless hallways, accompanied a corrections officer on each side, with one leading the charge. Soon, they stopped.

“Here.” The officer said, pointing to a cell. “Polizia, get up. You got a visitor.” Rafael found the meaning of the man’s name ironic, seeing as how he was definitely on the wrong side of the law. The man stood and approached the bars.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the lawyer boyfriend.” Polizia scoffed as he laid eyes upon Rafael’s form. “You’re lucky your buddy Minamoto was there to save you, or we wouldn’t be standin’ here. Neither of us.”

“Who sent you?” Rafael demanded, already knowing the answer, but needing witnesses to hear it. Polizia ignored the question and deflected with one of his own.

“How’d you get in with Minamoto, anyway? He runs an awfully tight crew.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Rafael frowned, becoming rather annoyed with the uncooperative man. Polizia chuckled.

“Must not be as squeaky clean as you seem, if you’re bosom buds with him. I don’t know how you’d be useful to him though—a guy like you? Underneath that ivy league bravado and expensive suit, you’re soft and squishy as your girl’s tits.” He laughed raucously, obviously entertained by his own lowbrow insult. “Man, she’s got a nice rack. Almost woulda felt bad deprivin’ the world of somethin’ like that…” He trailed off, eyebrows raised, a lecherous grin on his face.

Rafael became enraged. He clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to keep his cool. Guys like this loved to get a rise out of people—he refused to give him the pleasure.

“You want to talk about Minamoto? Fine.” He said, trying not to let his irritation show. “What kind of ‘crew’ does he run? We talking guns? Drugs? Hookers?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you nothin’? Must not be very important to him.” Polizia asked, sounding amused. He stared at Rafael for a moment, making eye contact. When Rafael refused to back down, he sighed. “Minamoto? He’s got a hand in all of it. If it sells, he’s sellin’ it. A real entrepreneurial type, he is.”

“What’s the name of his crew?” Rafael pressed. After a moment of hard silence, Polizia set his jaw, then cleared his throat.

“Last I knew, they were runnin’ by the name Lokos. Minamoto’s the one calling the shots…and the headshots.” Rafael’s eyes narrowed.

“So who calls the headshots in your crew?” Polizia scoffed.

“You think I’m stupid, or somethin’? You squeal around here, you die. That’s it, son.” He shook his head, turning around and sitting down on his bunk.

“I think you’re a hell of a lot more scared of Minamoto than you are of whoever sent you and that’s why you couldn’t go through with it.” Rafael said with a deadpan expression. Polizia stood once more, approaching the bars. He turned his head from side to side, checking to see whose eyes and ears were near. With a grim expression, his cold eyes returned to Rafael.

“Obviously, Minamoto hasn’t told you what he wants with you yet. If he’s interested in you, you better watch your step. Otherwise, you might get knee-deep in something, if you know what I mean. ”

“Appreciate the sentiment, but you obviously don’t know how to stay out of trouble, yourself, so I’ll take it for what it’s worth.” Rafael snarked before rounding on his heel and stalking off in the opposite direction.

Rafael’s mind was practically whirring with the way his thoughts ran through it at breakneck speed. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. It seemed the situation got more and more muddled as the days went by. First, Shaw kidnapped you. Then someone greenlit the two of you, sending Polizia to take you out. At first, he was convinced it had to be Shaw. Now, doubt began to seep in.

Could it have been Kazuma who’d sent him, after all? No; Polizia was petrified when he saw him. Unless he’s secretly the greatest actor of our time, Kazuma’s presence was a surprise to him. And what exactly is Minamoto involved in to make Polizia so terrified at the mere sight of him? I’ve heard of the Lokos before, but the only ones I’ve ever met were low-level thugs racking up misdemeanor offenses. Nothing to warrant that kind of reaction.

He had to determine how much of a threat Kazuma really was. If he was truly the big, bad gangster Polizia made him out to be, neither of you were safe being so close to him. Rafael let out a cry of frustration. This situation felt like a ticking timebomb. How long could they hold it off before it exploded? As the thought crossed his mind, the ringing of his phone interrupted his anxiety.

“What?” He answered sharply, too stressed to care about the caller’s feelings.

“Hey Barba, I got an update on that Minamoto guy.” Fin reported, unphased by Rafael’s lack of pleasantries.

“Oh.” Rafael muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed by his lack of manners. “So what did you find?”

“Looks like your boy Minamoto’s clean. Couldn’t find anything to tie him to Polizia, or Shaw.”

“Anything tying him to the Lokos?” Rafael asked, his headache growing worse by the minute.

“Hold on, he’s that Minamoto? Barba, you better be careful.” Fin warned gravely. “And watch your girl. We may need to increase your detail from one officer to two.” What am I missing here?

“Since when are the Lokos that dangerous?”

“Since Minamoto got promoted.”

“What do you mean? What has this guy done?” Rafael exclaimed.

“Let’s just say he’s pretty nasty. I gotta go, Barba. Take care of yourself.”

“Wait-!” Click.

With a groan, Rafael shoved his phone back in his pocket. As he approached the door to his apartment building, he could feel the stress spreading through his body, adrenaline and cortisol pumping to his extremities in excess quantities. He’d never felt so on edge. In the past, he’d only ever had one person at a time want to kill him. Now he didn’t know when to expect an attack, or who to expect it from. Even worse, he wasn’t alone anymore—you were in even more danger than he was.

Grumbling, Rafael pushed his way inside the apartment building. The doorman on duty tonight was Giles. That gave him an idea.

“Good evening, Mr. Barba.” Greeted the older doorman.

“Good evening, Giles.” Rafael replied courteously. He paused for a moment before posing his question. “Say, have you noticed anything unusual about my neighbor, Kazuma?”

“Aside from his wardrobe?” Giles gave a booming chuckle. “Nothing out of the ordinary to report about Mr. Minamoto.” A frown crossed Rafael’s face and he nibbled his lip pensively. After a moment, he managed to stir himself from his thoughts.

“Thank you, Giles.”

“Something the matter with Mr. Minamoto?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” Rafael replied with his best reassuring smile. After filing into the elevator, he slammed the button for his floor a little harder than usual in frustration. He couldn’t seem to catch a break when it came to solving the enigma of Kazuma. When it reached the top, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Speak of the devil.

Leaned against his apartment door, puffing on a lit cigarette was none other than Kazuma Minamoto. His face bore a focused expression as he blew delicate rings of smoke and watched them dissipate to ethereal wisps. The sound of the dinging elevator must have alarmed him, because his eyes darted to where Rafael stepped into the hallway. He stood in place as their eyes met, pausing to take in the weight of the moment. Several moments passed and Rafael started toward his door, breaking eye contact.

“I’ll have you know, smoking indoors is illegal in the City of New York.” He said as he strode toward his apartment door.

“My bad, counselor.” Kazuma smirked, putting the cigarette out, then flinging it away with a flick of his fingers. Rafael’s eyes darted from the cigarette back to Kazuma.

“So is littering.” Though, I doubt he particularly cares, given what everyone seems to believe he’s been doing.

“It’s awfully convenient that you showed up—I have a proposition for you.” Kazuma replied, ignoring Rafael’s last comment. Rafael’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was this what Polizia was referring to? Was Kazuma going to try and recruit him for his gang? Try to bribe him to go dirty? Ask him to look the other way from his crimes? Or was he going to attack him instead?

“What is it?” Rafael replied, perhaps a bit too brusquely. Kazuma straightened up and walked toward Rafael.

“My girlfriend always nags me that I need to make more friends. I wanted to get her off my back, so I told her you and I hit it off. Now, she wants me to invite you over for a dinner party at our apartment. So, consider yourself and your girlfriend invited.” He smirked.

Why does he smirk so much? And why is he REALLY inviting us over?

Rafael opened his mouth to reject Kazuma’s offer, but quickly reconsidered.

“Consider the invitation accepted. When’s the party?” He answered, offering the slightest hint of a smile.

“Tomorrow night.” Kazuma responded.

“We’ll be there.” Rafael affirmed with a nod before turning toward his apartment once more. He opened the door and darted inside, feeling his heart race. Once the door was shut soundly behind him, he pumped his fist in the air in celebration.

Being invited into Kazuma’s apartment meant he no longer needed cause for a search warrant to snoop around. His elation abruptly halted as another idea crossed his mind. He went to the kitchen and dug around in the cupboards. Finding what he was searching for, he ripped a piece of plastic wrap off the roll, then went back to his front door. Slowly and carefully, he cracked the door open, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he peeked out into the hallway. When he saw that the coast was clear, he entered the hall once more. In one fluid motion, he swept up Kazuma’s discarded cigarette inside the plastic wrap and blanketed it to prevent contamination.

“Perfect.” He muttered to himself as he slid back into his apartment with the plastic-wrapped cigarette in his hand. He crossed through the entryway into the living room to find Rollins sitting on the couch with only the dim light of the television to illuminate the space.

“How is she?” He asked, sounding concerned. You’d had an awfully long day. Rafael was almost used to the death threats by now, but you were a normal person—one with a job that didn’t involve regularly making enemies of city’s more unscrupulous residents.

“She’s still sleeping.” Rollins reported. By the bored tone of her voice, Rafael surmised the night had settled down since you’d left the precinct. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.” He said. Rollins frowned as her eyes rested on Rafael’s hand.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Minamoto’s DNA. When you go back to the precinct, can you make sure this gets run against the database? I need to find out who this Kazuma really is. He’s too close to let him play games unchecked. I’m playing along for now so that we don’t alert him, but if he’s as bad as everyone thinks he is, we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Fin told me earlier he wasn’t finding anything on him—he’s just a socially awkward tech nerd.”

“Right. And the fact that the leader of the Lokos is also named Minamoto is just a coincidence.”

“Wait--this guy is Lokos?” Rollins exclaimed, standing. Rafael nodded.

“It’s looking like it. But like I said, I need you to run his DNA. Obviously, he found a way to dupe the first search, so we’re going to need to go at this from all angles. He invited Y/N and I to a dinner party at his place tomorrow. While I’m inside, I’m going to get an object from his apartment that has his finger prints on it, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Barba, you can NOT bring Y/N over there if this guy is Lokos. It’s bad enough you’ve got Shaw and the Crimsons coming after you—”

“I have no intention of putting Y/N in harm’s way. How irresponsible do you think I am? This is the love of my life. I would never let a creep like him lay a finger on her.” Rafael seethed, feeling insulted. Rollins studied his expression for a moment, then held her hand out for him to give her the cigarette.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Barba. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.” Too angry to form intelligible words, Rafael stalked off toward the bedroom. He couldn’t wait to see you again. It had already been far too long. He opened and shut the door gingerly, so as not to wake you. Quietly stripping away his clothes, he slid into bed beside you. You must have sensed the movement of the bed beside you; you stirred underneath the covers, turning toward him. A smile stretched across his lips as he laid eyes upon your face—almost angelic in its state of beautiful, sleepy tranquility.

Small, sweet, innocent noises escaped from your mouth as you yawned, stretching an arm around him. He couldn’t help but chuckle. How adorable. You felt the rumble of his laughter on your cheek as it rested against his chest in your new position. The sensation roused you awake.

“Rafael?” You murmured, feeling his warmth against you. You tilted your head up as you blinked yourself awake. As your eyes focused, you recognized your boyfriend’s smiling face as he looked back at you.

“I love you, cariño.” He whispered, brushing your hair from your face affectionately. You felt a warmth bubble up inside you and you couldn’t help but smile. When Rafael was with you like this, it was heaven on earth.

“I love you too, Rafi.” You grinned widely, nuzzling into his chest. No matter how difficult life had been the past few weeks, it was worth it for moments like these.

Absentmindedly twirling your hair between his fingers, Rafael closed his eyes, pushing away any thoughts of the war he was certain would come. He tried his best to relax and enjoy his little slice of heaven, knowing he would do anything it took to protect it—to protect you.

#barba x reader #svu fanfic #rafael barba #a police gala #part 12 #angst #suspicious #drama

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villainau · 6 years ago

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both aus / general

very soft hair when it’s not styled but you can’t touch it unless you’ve caught him when he’s sleepy and/or just waking up because you will be assassinated

his uncle’s surname is trumble so tbh valeska probably wasn’t lila’s real surname. she’d have changed it to sound more “exotic” in the circus. but let’s thank god for that and the fact that the twins are valeskas

doesn’t tend to lie because he’s more the “cruel honesty” type, but is a very good liar when he does - not as good as jeremiah because lying was always jeremiah’s forte, but jerome can easily put on an act or think up a story on the spot with enough detail to make it convincing

can easily go days without sleeping, and when he does fall asleep it’s only in his actual bed like 40% of the time

throws all of his red clothes in with jeremiah’s white clothes for washing constantly

swears so often. can easily say “fucking” twice in one sentence and throws one use of “shit” in there for good measure

no short sleeves outside ever. in private maybe, but not for long

his favourite colour is red, but he actually kinda likes pink too, especially hot pink

his first word was “miah”

villain au

lowkey hates being touched from behind e.g. pats on the back, a hand on his shoulder, etc, especially unexpectedly (and just hates the feeling of being snuck up on in general). he’ll stiffen like hell and the only people who can get away with it without him reflexively whacking their hands off of him are jeremiah and bruce, but they tend not to do it anyway because they can tell he doesn’t like it

absolutely had a super embarrassing doodle of a heart in his diary with “j + b” inside it, along with some v crude scribbles of things like him and bruce holding hands and them stabbing someone

Scary Kinks tbh. knives, pain (both others’ and his), blood, whatever, he has very little sense of limits. he is honestly not above even sticking a gun in your mouth if that’s what he’s feelin’. he’s only done that with bruce once, during the rebellious phase and the early days of the physical stuff, when he was still pushing limits and seeing how far bruce was really willing to go here and there weren’t a ton of Romo Feelings involved; he’d straddled bruce on a chair and he put the barrel of a pistol to bruce’s mouth, expecting nervousness or panic or some kind of reaction along those lines - but bruce just maintained steady eye contact and opened his mouth slightly, with no fear and watching him right back, which basically resulted in jerome thinking oh and yep, brucie’s something alright, grinning and throwing the gun off to the side to be ignored while they got on with Things. he wouldn’t do that with bruce anymore though - as dangerous as their lives generally are and as much as he loves that, he’s far less willing to go carelessly pointing loaded guns at bruce himself these days

does not like being tied up during NSFW Activities because he hates feeling confined/trapped and not being able to move his arms and not feeling in control because it’s too vulnerable, but bruce being tied up is Another Matter Entirely

lowkey praise kink. will either tell you to shut up or find Ways to distract you from talking if you actually try it, but is secretly kinda into it because he requires positive feedback in Most Things

identifies as bi but really couldn’t give a flying fuck about gender. if you’re fun and you can give him a good time, the rest is background noise

is annoyed when people are taller than him, so he avoids standing directly next to people who are too often (but on the other hand really likes standing next to shorter people because he likes to make it obvious that he Wins)

takes the fact that jonathan is the only person in the team taller than him as a personal threat. once idly mused to him about the possibility of sawing off his feet so he could be superior and just got a very deadpan try it. look and decided “…….maybe some other time”. it was probably a joke anyway. like 90%.

despite having a boyfriend who wears black almost exclusively, he pretty much never wears black himself. he’ll occasionally wear dark suits or one item of black clothing or whatever, but he always has something in his outfit with colour and tends to go for brightness over anything else

sends awful memes in the team group chat at 3am and no one thinks they’re funny except him and jervis. sometimes ivy does, and she occasionally sends a nice response even if she doesn’t just to be polite, but other times they are just Too Bad even for her

does also pm ivy Nice Things that remind him of her though, and these she does like. he also sends her random pictures of animals and flowers w captions like “is it just me or does this beanstalk kinda look like jonathan” and she can’t help giggling a lil at some of them and then feeling bad for it

master of the ironic “UWU” and “OWO” emojis and everyone else hates it

him and jervis are the only people jonathan actually responds to on the phone (other people can call him but he’ll just silently listen to what you have to say and then hang up, so it’s in the air whether he even heard you or not) and he finds it disproportionately funny that jonathan once answered the phone with “whomst.” instead of “hello”

he never self-harmed in the sense of cutting, but he also doesn’t have the same reservations about causing himself pain that others do, so he’s done things like put out cigarettes on his wrists/hands, test the sharpness of knives on himself, etc. and physical pain can be something of a release for him

generally fearless, but he was genuinely scared of his mother, uncle and the men his mother had over - killing lila and zach helped with a lot of this and made him feel like he’d won. he still gets a little on edge when someone reminds him of them in speech/appearance/personality, but he’s more likely to use it as an opportunity to prove to himself that he has power over the memory of lila/zach and that they can’t hurt him anymore by getting one over on the person in question too

in the very early stages of the abuse, he coped with it by believing that his mother loved him no matter what and clung to the hope that it would all stop one day and she’d sober up and love him properly. it sinking in that she didn’t love him at all and that it was never going to change was one of the things that ended up contributing to his eventual psychotic break

what is a stable self-esteem? jerome doesn’t know. can go from calling himself garbage to calling himself a god in .0002 seconds

tried to strangle an arkham therapist once because she brought up his childhood abuse and kept pushing him to talk about it and he just lost it. after that, all attempts at therapy for him were dropped

has an uncomfortable amount of knowledge about how to set broken bones and put in dislocated joints because there were times in the circus when things got really really bad and he should have gotten hospital treatment, but obviously nobody would have taken him, so he had to learn to do even the serious shit himself. early on, he came dangerously close to seriously fucking himself up and making his injuries worse more than once thanks to his amateur first attempts at fixing them

people in the circus were kinda-sorta aware of what went on with his mother, but basically just didn’t care; it wasn’t their business

touch-starved. one of the reasons he reacts so strongly the times when bruce is super gentle with him is because literally no one has ever just touched him softly before (and generally he isn’t used to being touched at all without pain immediately following) so at first it’s almost too much

generally isn’t affected by his facial scars and isn’t self-conscious about them at all, but is very used to other people finding them scary/unpleasant so was genuinely thrown off-balance the first time bruce traced them and called him beautiful

surprisingly, he can actually cook - he had to make his own food a lot in the circus when he was younger, it was either that or scrounge from the circus food stalls, bc lila sure as hell wasn’t making him meals - he just chooses not to anymore because, frankly, he can’t be bothered

he and bruce don’t really ever say “i love you” in so many words. they know what they have going on, so why would they need to verbalise it all the time when they already know it’s there? jerome’s really not into that kind of thing anyway, and honestly bruce isn’t the most emotionally open person either. bruce was the first of them to acknowledge and accept how he felt, and never denied it when asked by someone else, but he knows jerome and his background and thus never said it first in order to avoid pushing him into territory that may be uncomfortable for him. but the first time either of them said the words to the other, it came, surprisingly, from jerome, spur-of-the-moment - one of the nights he spends in the city with bruce alone, doing the dark shit they do. at one point, bruce slit a man’s throat in a particularly vicious way; jerome was at his shoulder, watching how he did it, and it came out without him really meaning it to: “god, i fucking love you.” bruce might not need to hear it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good when he does - he made sure jerome had no chance of trying to play it off as a joke by turning around and promptly distracting him with a kiss. ...blood-covered and all.

has some experience with sleeping rough because sometimes lila would just kick him out because she didn’t want to see him that night, so he had to crash with someone else in the circus if they took pity on him or find somewhere else on the grounds/surrounding streets. he’d venture back a couple of days later when he knew she was out, and she’d come back and see he was there - she wouldn’t say anything and would basically just blank him, and that was the cue that he was safe to say

used to cry a lot and got called a crybaby by other kids in the circus when he was very young. over time, he taught himself to laugh whenever he felt like crying, and it got to the point where it was just an ingrained thing, so instead of breaking down and crying, he would get half-involuntary laughing fits instead. he got into a mindset of “everything is hilarious if you just think about it for long enough” as another coping method, because why should he be sad when everything in the world and everything that is happening to him is so damn funny?

doesn’t happen often, but very occasionally he sleep-talks and says some weird shit and bruce is just like “……..Alright.” he never remembers this in the morning

sleeping position varies depending on the time period. he’s either curled up on the very edge of the bed and taking up as little space as possible without falling off, or he’s sprawled out over the entire thing, and there’s no in-between. the ‘taking up no space’ thing is left over from childhood, but bruce notices this and the longer he’s with bruce and the more comfortable he gets with him (and the more it sinks in that, no, there will not be Consequences if he just lets himself relax - because he does a great job most of the time of not showing any vulnerability over his childhood, but when it comes to night-time and sleeping with someone else there, old habits and fears kick in a little at first), the more he just becomes The Most Fidgety Sleeper Ever. bruce gets smacked awake by his arm in his face a few times, but he has figured out a Solution - if he intertwines his fingers with jerome’s or shifts jerome’s arm down to his waist or something, jerome will just latch onto him in his sleep because warmth. no mentions of this in the morning allowed though, and he was definitely not cuddling, never call it that, he can’t control what he does when he’s asleep, BRUCE

still has nightmares sometimes - nights are when he’s at his most vulnerable basically, so bruce knows damn well that jerome letting him see that side of him is a gesture of trust

is lowkey intimidated by ecco because that girl picked his ass up when he was unconscious and dead weight, so she could absolutely pick him up while he’s fully awake, and that’s just too much strength for such a tiny woman. he will never admit this. tries to scare her instead because he has a reputation to uphold and is eternally annoyed about the fact that she doesn’t seem at all affected (but he’s convinced that she’s just hiding her fear really well)

high school au

climbs through bruce’s window a lot unnecessarily because he doesn’t want alfred to open the door. alfred usually finds out he’s there anyway, so he would be perfectly fine just going to bruce’s house the normal way, but he likes to pretend that he’s being sneaky and thus cool

watches a lot of stand-up comedy but is also the world’s worst critic and constantly makes comments about how he “could have made that joke better” or “there was a better way to word that”, which is what originally kickstarts the idea of going into comedy himself

………hm………. concept………. jerome w a pierced tongue………

watched twilight “ironically”. team edward if he had to choose, but thinks both edward and jacob are idiots and will get into an argument about this. will also legitimately debate about vampires vs werewolves. thinks that there should have been a big bloody fight at the end where everyone died, because if there is no violence/gore it’s a shit movie, this is a non-negotiable rule of his

has a fondness for gross/creepy creatures. he’s not at all scared of spiders and will kidnap the bigger ones in glasses and attempt to keep them until jeremiah (and later bruce) makes him put it outside. he’ll straight-up pick up a spider and let it run across his hands while other people scream about it

before bruce and elijah come along and before things start to change, he’s essentially living for jeremiah. if it weren’t for the fact that he has to look out for jeremiah and would never leave him in that environment alone and the fact that they promised each other they would always be there for each other no matter what, jerome’s lack of self-preservation would be a lot worse than it is bc without that to keep him tied to something he just wouldn’t care

when they were very little, the twins had a habit of sneaking into each other’s beds to sleep at night, usually after it had been a bad day with their mother and something had happened. they grew out of it when they got a little older, especially jerome once he stopped being so open with vulnerability/affection, but it was still a comfort that they slept near each other thanks to their caravan being too small for anything else so they knew the other was close-by. once jerome developed a habit of sneaking out at nights, this was also how jeremiah would often hear him leaving or would wake up and immediately notice he was gone

no one will play mario kart with him anymore because he gets ridiculously competitive and ruthless and he has no honour. he will shove you off of your seat so he can overtake you while you’re still getting up.

the only people who can tell him and jeremiah apart by voice alone are bruce and elijah. if anyone else calls their apartment, it’s just impossible to immediately work out who’s answered the phone at first unless they throw in a really obvious mannerism. if the person who picked up the phone is speaking with their mouth full and answered with “yo wassup”, it’s probably jerome. that or jeremiah’s finally broken.

speaking of phone calls, jerome is a nightmare when jeremiah is expecting a work call. if jerome gets to the phone first, it’s just: “is - is this mr. valeska?” “…you’re gonna have to be more specific, pal.” “…the j. valeska that i was supposed to call–?” “nope, pause, do better than that.” then the caller has to wait on the line while they hear “[muffled voice in the distance] JEROME, IS THAT THE CALL I SAID WAS IMPORTANT” “i dunno, maybe. i wasn’t really listening” “i SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER THE PHONE IF IT RANG WHILE I WAS SHOWERING” and then vague sounds of clattering and voices before they get a flustered jeremiah on the line like “i am so sorry”

jerome is by far the messier twin, so his room is always a heap of dirty clothes and food packets and empty bottles/cans, but jeremiah can get really fixated on his work so his computer desk and his work-spaces are just full of papers and documents and empty coffee mugs. whenever he gets on at jerome about cleaning up after himself, jerome’s like [WILL SMITH POSE @ JEREMIAH’S DESK] WHAT ARE THOOOOOOSE

jerome and elijah have been to the hospital so many times because of the stupid shit they do that they’re basically on a first-name basis with a bunch of the doctors and nurses. whenever they come in, it’s like “oh, what have you boys done now?” (but really the nurses all love them bc they’ve charmed them and their stories about what happened this time are always hilarious)

bruce cooks sometimes and jerome “helps”, by which i mean he sits at the kitchen counter and just gossips to him, plays on his phone and/or watches him without actually lifting a finger to do anything - until he gets bored and things end up burning because bruce gets Distracted. eventually bruce enlists him to help chop vegetables and stir things because if he’s here, he can be useful, and jerome’s like “hmm what do i get in return?” so they develop a barter system where [x] activity gets jerome [x] amount of kisses and thus things actually get done while satisfying both of them without too much distraction. the only issue being that jerome keeps a) raising his prices and b) insisting on getting rewards for the most ridiculous shit now, like passing a bag of carrots over the counter because it’s just “SO MUCH UNPAID LABOUR, BRUCE”

still has moments where he reflexively flinches if someone significantly older/bigger/taller than him moves too quickly or suddenly, though people around his size/age or less are fine

is actually more self-conscious about his burnt hand than he lets on. he puts on a front like it doesn’t bother him, but the fact that he’s usually wearing fingerless gloves or has a bandage wrapped around it or has his sleeves pulled over his hands when he can’t have either of those says something. he actually managed to keep bruce and elijah from seeing it for quite a while, since that would have been harder to explain away than other things - they noticed he usually had his hands covered but didn’t think it was for a particular reason beyond it being a Jerome Quirk. one of the most notable things that happens in the future when things start to improve is that he stops wearing the gloves and eventually actually lets bruce hold that hand, whereas before if bruce tried he’d usually pull away and switch sides so bruce could hold the other

the others convinced him to see a therapist after he was officially diagnosed and unexpectedly he agreed (mostly to get everyone off his back), and he was assigned to a relatively young woman called bee. he didn’t expect it to accomplish anything and basically spent the first few sessions being an uncooperative shit and turning everything back on her and giving her smartass answers to her questions. it took a long while, but she eventually proved to be Cool and Funny enough for him to start warming up to her - which didn’t mean he was any more cooperative with the therapy side of things, but it did mean he started to use the phone number she gave him to text her about completely unrelated things in the vein of “holy shit bee you’re not gonna believe what miah just did”. she went along with it and their sessions morphed into jerome mostly giving her Gossip or them having casual conversations - but girl knew what she was doing. he gradually started to talk about bruce, jeremiah and elijah, about his relationship, about school, about the circus, and eventually opened up more about certain things that happened. he never quite got to the point of discussing his feelings about the abuse in-depth (though he did end up telling her a fair amount abt how he felt about bruce) but all in all therapy ended up having a positive effect on him, though bee was v talented at letting him think he wasn’t really giving her much info and that every realisation he came to during their sessions was down to him alone and not because he was talking things through with someone

likes hugs/cuddling/hand-holding much more than he will ever let on

never completely stops smoking, but he does tone it down after they all leave high school. he’ll smoke with other people and sometimes when he’s really bored or waiting for someone, but it’s not one of his first methods of passing the time anymore. trying to get him to stop drinking is a lost cause, though.

#t: original #ch: jerome valeska

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