#my daily whine about how much I miss theme songs

[yyxgin]

🌃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 || 𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

☆ han jisung x fem! reader ☆

☆ GENRE: college au, best friends to lovers au, fluff

☆ SUMMARY: There’s only one thing that can help your stressed out mind when you have a week left to finish the most important assignment for your art class of them all, and that is the honey voice of your best friend. What a shame he’s too shy to sing sometimes.

☆ WORDS: 5k 

☆ WARNINGS: swearing and that is it me thinks

You hear the silent melody coming from your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, quiet hums gradually flowing into coherent words as he mindlessly scrolls through social media on his phone, his low singing filling your empty living room as you take your eyes off your phone and watch him. 

He looks casual, just like always. The army-green hoodie looks about two times his size enveloping his body, the hood thrown over his head to hide his messy hair, sweatpants hiding a little bit of his foot as well as if to make him look extra tiny today. The song coming out of his mouth sounds similar, yet it still sounds new to you when you catch him randomly singing during the day on times when he forgets he doesn't want anyone to hear.

"It cannot wait, I'm yours-" his head snaps up to meet your eyes, immediately shutting up and looking back to his phone screen. 

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine, pouting. His voice is good. Too good, for never getting singing lessons and basically not even trying while he sings. 

"'Cause it sounds bad," he mutters, furrowing his brows.

"It doesn't." you firmly say, desperate to make your best friend believe your words in order to hear him sing more often. For some reason, his singing always managed to bring a sense of comfort into your heart. It felt like the sunlight shining at you in the cold days of winter, sweet and soothing for your freezing heart.

"Yeah, right," his cheeks flash pink, rolling his eyes. 

"You hear me singing all the time and I sound like a dying racoon, I really don't understand why you're so shy about it when you sound like angels coming down to earth to bless us all," you giggle, poking his sides.

He laughs softly at your compliment, shaking his head. This was how it usually went. 

He started singing out of the blue, you stopped everything you were doing just to listen to him, then he realised you became too quiet and stopped in the very second. 

"I wish you sang more. I like your voice," you point out, watching him flash an even deeper shade of pink as he shyly giggles at your confession.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I won't," he shakes his head in disapproval. It annoyed you, how he just never seemed to believe your words.

"But why? You never believe me when I tell you you sound good," you pout, furrowing your eyebrows and throwing your fists in the air in a sense of frustration.

"And that, my dear, is called not believing in yourself." he giggles, making you roll your eyes. 

"I don't get it," you sigh, standing up and moving to the kitchen, "anyways, I am on my way to paint the rest of the assignment I have for my art class, so if you don't want to sing me something, at least put some music on," you yell white putting your empty mug into the sink.

As you walk back to the living room with your art supplies you managed to snatch from the desk where you put them before, you hear the familiar sound of your bluetooth speaker turning on, making you sigh. And that's for your daily dose of Han Jisung's singing. You sit cross-legged at the ground, taking your paint brushes into your hand, hearing the song he decided to put on playing from the speaker. You recognise it being the one he was humming to himself just a few minutes ago, smiling.

"What is the theme anyway?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Nature," you roll your eyes, not really interested in painting trees the tiniest bit, but having to do it anyway, because you can’t just paint whatever you want and get away with it in your art class.

"So like, trees and stuff?" he teases you, knowing damn well how much you don't like the particular assignment in the first place.

"Trees, mountains, butterflies…" you ironically smile, blobbing a whole lot of green paint onto your palette, grunting, "and I wanted to be chosen for the showcase this year, but I guess we'll have to wait until the theme is not about rocks and rivers." you scoff.

"Oh please, you'll do great anyway," encourages you Jisung, "you can paint well even if it's just trees and mountains." 

"I'm not Bob Ross, Jisung." you mutter, hating the way the green paint looks on the canvas in the first place.

"Yes you are," he giggles, "you paint just like him." 

"Tells me the one who sounds like Mariah Carey but tries to act like he can't sing," you tease back, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow at your comment.

"I can't do whistle notes yet," he smirks.

The car rides with Jisung were probably your most favorite. It wasn't for the fact that he doesn't drive too fast like most of your friends do, since as he said, he doesn't trust himself to slow down if he strats, but truth be told, that was also one of the reasons. But the main reason is, that you always get to hear him singing along to the radio, even if it's kind of difficult to hear over the loud music and the original singer. That doesn’t matter, though, because even the tiniest sign of him singing around you made you happy. 

He doesn't seem to care as he yells the words to Riptide by Vance Joy on the top of his lungs, sounding like the song belongs to him, parking the car in the almost empty parking lot at Michael's craft store.

"No problem. What even happened, anyway?" he furrows his brows at you, confused on why you suddenly hit him up out of the blue in the evening as you swore on your life you couldn't hang out because you have to finish that disgusting assignment for your art class.

"Thanks." you smile at him as you ubuckle your seat-belt and open the door to his car. 

"I fucked up on the painting and now I need to buy some new canvases," you grunt, rolling your eyes, "and green paint. A whole lot of green paint." 

He snickers a little as he walks by your side, quickly turning around to lock his car and bringing his attention back to you, "I am sure it wasn't even that bad in the first place and you're just over-reacting." 

"Yes it was, Jisung, you didn't see the disaster that painting became. I wanted to paint a bear and it looked like a degenerated pine tree." you blurb out, frustrated, as you take the shopping cart to your hands only for it to be snatched by the hands of your best friend helping you.

"Well, you could always say you wanted to be a little abstract," he grins at you.

"Yeah, sure. Miss Kim would absolutely kill me and I wouldn't get to the showcase this year again. Why am I majoring in art in the first place when I can't even get to the school's art showcase? That prick Minho got in three times already and he said he doesn't even like art in the first place!" you say, gritting your teeth.

"Why is he majoring in art, then?" asks Jisung, confused.

"Because he wanted a degree and he said it was the easiest major to pick," you roll your eyes. 

"Well, I mean that is kind of smart, I should have picked that instead of business-" 

"Jisung, you can't draw." you laugh.

"And? We were all born to express, not to impress," he waves his arms in the air, grinning. You laugh at his expression, facepalming as you reach for three containers of green paint from the counter and throwing it into the cart.

"If this is not enough of green paint, I swear to god I will kick something-" 

"Hey! Peace. Think of the pigeons. Rainbows. Sunshine," he recitates, motioning you to breathe deeply to calm down your nerves, giggling in the process.

"Fuck the pigeons! I tried to paint one yesterday and it turned into a fucking rock in the air!" you throw a fit, making him shush you as a few people turn around to see your distressed state.

"Calm down, woman," he says, putting an arm on your back, gently pushing you to the cashier, "it's just a painting. You'll do great, don't worry. You're just stressing too much." 

You grunt as you see another ruined canvas, throwing the brush onto the ground, muttering a quiet swear as you notice the paint on the floor, quickly taking a tissue and wiping it off.

"What's gotten into you? It's okay," sweetly says Jisung, once again sitting at your sofa and watching over you as you try to paint your assignment again. 

"It looks bad! Just look at it! I have a week left and I already ruined three canvases, at this rate, I won't be able to even finish it, I can only dream of getting to the showcase," you mourn, throwing yourself to the ground and hiding your face in your hands.

"You just have to take it easy, you're pressuring yourself too much-" 

"I've heard that already." you cut him off, growling. 

You lay there for a while, breathing heavily, collecting your thoughts. Once you manage to calm down, you sit up and look at your best friend watching over you on the sofa, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. I didn't mean to snap at you." 

"It's okay." he nods, seeing you taking the brush into your hand again and trying to fix the blob of paint that was supposed to look like a squirrel, much reminding you of your dear best friend sitting next to you. 

You feel a gentle grip on your hand after a few seconds, taking the brush out of it and putting it to the table. You furrow your brows and look at him, confused on why he is suddenly stopping you from your work, the contact of his skin on yours surprising you a little.

"We're done with painting today." he sternly says, stopping you.

"Ji, I have a week left to-" 

"That's a lot of time! Stand up, we're having a karaoke night." he grins at you, pulling you up to your feet, as he takes his phone laying on the sofa into his hands and connects it to the bluetooth speaker.

"I have no time to have a karaoke night Jisung, what even is that-" 

"Pick a song. Any song. We're about to sing our hearts out tonight and my mission won't be considered successful until your neighbours come to complain," he grins, giving the phone into your hand with his spotify app open already. 

You look at him dead serious for a moment before sighing and looking through his embarrassingly long spotify playlist called ‘bops only’. "Fine," you sigh, "but just this once. And if they call the police on us, you're paying the fine for disturbing the silent hours." 

"I didn't say anything about that-" 

"Blah blah blah, I can't hear you!" you giggle, putting on I will survive by Gloria Gaynor on full volume to cut him off, throwing the phone back onto the sofa as you prepare for your singing solo.

You sneak your arms around his neck, dancing and laughing in the process as you loudly scream the lyrics into his face. He smiles at the sight, content with the fact that he managed to cheer you up so quickly, putting his arms on your hips as he jumps up and down, joining you in singing once the song hits the chorus. 

And just this once, as his arms steadily hold your body and you throw a tantrum in your living room, he doesn't even care that you hear him sing as he knows you like to hear his voice. Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why he suggested a karaoke night to cheer you up in the first place anyway.

"What do you mean you're not gonna be here on my birthday?" you pout from the ground, focused on the canvas right in front of you. 

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? But my mum really needs me to come help her with the atic, and you know how she gets when I refuse to come home at least once a month even though I constantly tell her I don't have the time to travel for 45 minutes just so she can see my face once in a while…" sighs Jisung, laying on your sofa so his head is now facing the same way yours does, and that is, your half-empty canvas.

"I know, I know. But does it really have to be on my birthday? You're going to be away for three days, and the showcase is on Friday…" you mumble, "if I get there, of course." you sigh.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. It was currently Monday and your birthday was on Thursday, which meant you had four days to finish your art piece to submit it on the exact day of your birthday to see if your teacher accepts it for the showcase of the following day. And you're not even halfway done with your work! To be exact, you feel like you're gonna fail and to not have your best friend by your side to help you through your stress, you truly feel like you'll go insane.

"I know," you sigh, "it's okay. I guess I'll just… manage, somehow." you scoff.

"You can always celebrate with that friend from your art class, and we'll celebrate together on Saturday, when I come back. What was that kid's name again?" he furrows his brows at you, turning your way to see your focused face.

"You mean Hyunjin? No, thank you. He'd just want me to get drunk and I really don't need that the day before the showcase," you mumble, painting the leaves of the tree carefully, focusing on every single detail. Jisung always adored your talent. Everything you ever drew was a masterpiece in his eyes. He even kept the notes you gave to him in high school once when he was sick and you managed to take notes for him as well when you shared a Chemistry class, sneaking a few doodles on the sides when you got bored of listening to the teacher, "but that will come handy when I don't get in again, so I'll consider it." you roll your eyes.

"You will get in." he reassures you again, finding your eyes.

"I doubt that," you bitterly laugh. 

"Ugh, stop that already," he grunts, focusing on the canvas again, feeling relaxed just at watching you do your magic, but you throw the paintbrush on the table again at that exact moment and run your hands through your hair in frustration.

"What?" 

"It looks like shit. Again." you exclaim. 

His eyes go wide at the sentence, disbelief washing over him. Did you really think that?

"What the fuck? It doesn't! It looks amazing, trust me," he says, reaching his arms to you, taking you by the shoulder from his position on the sofa.

"I am so stressed Jisung, I feel like I'm about to go insane." you whisper, sighing.

You don't have to say more for Jisung to stand up from his position on the sofa only to sit on the ground behind you, sneaking his arms around your middle and bringing you close to him, gently rocking you in your position on the floor. You feel his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he quickly pecks your cheek and settles his head back onto your shoulder.

You hear him softly singing into your ear, the words filling your insides with gold as his voice feels like honey, calming you down from the storm happening inside of you like a brim of light. 

"And I see colors in a different way, you make what doesn't matter fade to grey, life is good and that's the way it should be," he sings softly, a wide smile appearing on your features with every next word.

His voice calms your nerves as you slowly relax in his hold, your bodies gently rocking to the rhythm of the song as it slowly ends and his voice grows quieter. 

He hated singing in front of people. 

But to see you smile, he would go as far as overcoming his biggest fears. Because when you need him, he will always be there.

"Jisung, I have no time for this, I already told you I need to finish the assignment-" you mumble as you sit in his car, his smiling face looking at you from the driver's seat.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I can't have you painting for more than an hour today because I feel like you'll break down if you do, so let's go. And you're already in the car, so there's no escape anyway." he explains, waiting for you to buckle in your seatbelt.

You just sigh and look out the window, biting down on your lip. If he keeps distracting you this much, you'll never finish the assignment.

You hear him softly singing along with the radio, careful not to disturb him in fear of making him stop, smiling to yourself as you let him drive you to an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night. You count the lampposts, the habit you grew to have since you were little, before they disappear and you're on a road shadowed by tall trees, the headlights of Jisung's car being the only thing illuminating the road. 

You recognise you're going up a hill, looking over at him, seeing him focused on the road.

As you reach the top, Jisung stops the car and gets out, you follow him as he waits for you by the door to the passenger’s side. 

As soon as you look around, you're amazed by the sight in front of you. You have a view of the city far, far away in the distance as you see the dell illuminated by the subtle glow of the moon sitting up in the starry sky. You watch the sight with an open mouth, awe washing over you as you just can't keep your eyes off the landscape in front of you.

"Wow," you breathe out.

You feel his hand gripping yours as he leads you to the edge of the hill, sitting at the giant rock there, pulling you down next to him as you watch the nature breathe in front of you. His hand doesn't leave yours as he speaks up after a while.

"You like it?" he asks, quiet enough to not disturb the atmosphere.

"Yeah," you whisper. You see him moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, his head leaning on your shoulder as he enjoys your presence.

"I wanted to show you this before I go, so you have a moment to breathe for a second before you throw yourself into the stress again," he mumbles, gently playing with the fingers of your hand.

"Thank you," you speak, breathing in the chilly air of the forest.

You stay like that for a while, just gazing over the beauty of it all, making you feel like the time stopped for the two of you only as you enjoy the seconds that pass. The full moon watches over the two of you, captivating you as you look at it with a feeling of delight. You hear his gentle voice in your ear again, singing softly and beautifully, sounding magical at the top of the hill, once again filling your ears with melody as your insides tingle. 

"Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, and let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars," he sings, voice tender and sweet, slowing down the tempo of the song on purpose.

"In other words, baby, kiss me," he sings softly, voice fading as his eyes move to your lips, the silence of the hill and the light breeze tickling your skin.

You feel your eyes wandering to his lips, nervously licking yours in the process. You see him hesitantly move closer to you, stopping halfway to see if you pull away, taking his other hand and resting it on your cheek. His breath fans your face as he moves even closer, nudging your nose with his, eyes gazing to yours, your trembling fingers squeezing his hand as if to tell him to go ahead, fluttering your eyelids close.

Once the moment finally comes and his shy lips press to yours, you feel yourself responding immediately, moving with him as the familiar feeling of the sun in your stomach greets you with full force, your other hand going up to rest on his neck. 

When he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, you can't help but smile. His soft giggle fills your ears like music, your lips meeting his in a soft, quick peck in the instance.

"In other words, hold my hand," he continues, softly squeezing your hand resting in his lap, making you look at him, locking your eyes with his as he stares at you, gaze full of stars.

Han Jisung's always been your best friend. But perhaps tonight, you finally understood the fact that life feels sweet as honey anytime he's around you. 

In other words, you love him.

You toss and turn in your bed, tears silently falling down your cheeks on a Wednesday night. Jisung's left this morning and you didn't even finish doing your assignment. You had the whole day for it today without anyone bothering you, but turns out, you managed to hate the painting you did anyway. 

It just didn't look good in your eyes. It looked gross. Horrible. When you compare yourself to the other people in your class, you feel like your art is worthless. It always somehow managed to look bad. And everybody knew. 

You were the only one who wasn’t good enough to get into the annual art showcase in your three years of college. 

Did you even improve at all? 

You turn around in your bed, seeing your phone light up with a new notification, opening it and wiping your tears away in the process so you can see though your blurry eyes. 

'How did the assignment go?' there states, Jisung's name appearing on the message app, your insides automatically calming down a little at the thought of your best friend.

'Don't even ask', you shoot him a reply, sighing deeply to stop the salty tears from falling. 

'It's okay, baby' he replies instantly, your heart racing at the nickname appearing on your screen, bitterly laughing at yourself for acting like a schoolgirl when it comes to Jisung. When did your feelings even grow into something more in the first place? It seemed like it was that way from the start. Perhaps you were just too oblivious to notice.

'It's not. Didn't even finish it. Kicked it when I fucked up again and just gave up.' you type, already friends with the feeling of defeat and failure you've been feeling since the evening.

He doesn't respond for a while, making you think he fell asleep with the phone in his hand again, turning around in your bed to put the phone back onto your bedside table to try to fall asleep on your own as well, when a new message lights up your screen.

You see a voice memo appearing in your messages with Jisung, your heart thumping at the image of hearing his voice this late in the evening, quickly pressing the play button and listening to what he had to say.

"Hi, umm- I've never actually done this before, but I know you're probably feeling like shit right now and I need you to know that you are not a failure, because I know you feel like one right now," you giggle a little at the accuracy, his low voice making you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel before, "anyways, I need you to be kind to yourself tonight. And since I know you like it when I sing, here's a little something…" he mumbles into the phone, making your heart race.

"Here goes nothing," he softly laughs, and clears his throat, beginning to sing, "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you," his voice feels soft through the speaker, your eyes welling up with tears again, but this time, they're of appreciation and pure love for the boy laying in his bed 45 minutes away from you, because you know just how nervous he must have felt to sing into his phone just for you.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?" he finishes, his voice fading away, your insides melting. How did you get so lucky? 

"And now go to sleep. It's your birthday tomorrow, we don’t want you to feel sad on your special day. Good night, baby." he sounds, the nickname bringing another set of butterflies into your stomach. 

You wish you could do as he told you. But at that exact moment, you bring yourself to try again, you make yourself stand up from your bed and move to your living room as you take a new canvas with you, inspiration kicking you with full force, taking tubes of paint and a paintbrush into your hand as you begin to work on your assignment, trying again just one last time.

You stand in front of your painting, watching over it with proud eyes. The chatter of people around you is only a background noise in your ears as you smile brightly at the assignment you finished just the time the clock striked midnight on Wednesday. 

"Yaaah y/n, it looks so good," you hear the voice of Lee Minho call next to you, patting your shoulder.

You grin and turn to look at him, gratitude washing over you upon hearing the compliment. "Thanks." 

"I wondered when you're finally going to be on a showcase, I don't understand why neither of your previous assignments made it," he mutters, shaking his head, "but this looks great. It's original." he nods.

"Thank you, Minho," you only smile wider, the pride in you growing minute by minute, "yours looks great too, by the way. I like the colors." 

"Really? I hate it. I never hated a theme more than this," he huffs, "who the fuck thinks nature is entertaining to paint?" 

"I know, right? I had four mental breakdowns over it," you laugh, now that the suffering is finally over and you can breathe freely.

"Did you use reference for this?" he asks suddenly, pointing to the painting hanging on the middle of the wall.

"No, I did it from memory…" you mumble, sighing.

You watch Minho's eyes shifting somewhere behind you, grinning widely at something that caught his eye, prompting you to look that way only to be left in a state of absolute shock. 

The talking of the people filling the showcase gradually stops as they see Han Jisung holding a plate of a strawberry cheesecake with a single candle stuck to the middle of it, moving slowly not to make the light flicker die down, the grinning face of Hwang Hyunjin following his steps with a bottle on champagne in his hands doing grimaces at you from afar as a honey voice calls through the room.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear y/n," he looks at you, eyes big and full of love, as he finally reaches your figure in the middle of the room,

"Happy birthday to you!" he finishes, your soft giggles cutting through the hall as you move to blow out the candle and gaze onto the face of your best friend.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming in the evening!" you yell, throwing yourself into his arms. It was only three days, but you already missed him too much.

"I escaped," he laughs, his whole body shaking in the process as you pull away after a second, "I'm joking. I couldn't stay with my mother knowing I'm gonna miss your first ever showcase." 

You smile warmly at him, the people around you disappearing in the moment, only his figure standing out to you in the haze as he hesitantly moves over and locks your lips in a quick kiss. 

You ignore the howling of Lee Minho coming from your left and the loud 'Finally!!' from the lips of Hwang Hyunjin to your right as Jisung turns to your painting, smiling widely at the sight.

"It looks so real," he mumbles in awe, noticing the way his insides turn into a puddle of sweet joy as he recognises the night view of the dell he showed you on the night of your first kiss, instantly realising the way you must have painted it after he sent you the voice memo to sing you to sleep on the Wednesday night. 

"You inspired me," you grin brightly. 

"Don't say that." he shyly looks down on his feet.

"But it's true." you prompt.

He smiles lightly, shaking his head before locking your eyes again. 

"I just realised I left your gift at home. Look at me, wishing you happy birthday a day later and not even bringing you a gift to make up for it…" he mutters, stepping closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulder in the process.

"That's okay," you say, and you really mean it. You are the happiest you've ever been right now, feeling accomplished and with him by your side. You don’t need any other gift.

"Well, I have one thing in my mind that can count as a gift, though," he smirks.

"And that is?" 

"I can finally be your boyfriend. I mean, isn't that the best gift you’ve ever gotten?" he grins, prompting you to elbow him lightly in the ribs as you burst into a fit of laughter.

"You're such a dork, I swear to god…"

"But I am your dork, right?" 

You sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. "Yes, Jisung. You are my dork. Only mine."

[milkygcf]

Hi i'd luv 2 req. A bully jungkook x reader e2l fic pls 🥺 5k~ tysm!

//credits go to @jjoon for the gif!//

Pairing | jjk x reader

Genre | e2l, bully!jungkook, college au

Warnings | mild cursing

Summary | ❝ Hi i'd luv 2 req. A bully jungkook x reader e2l fic pls 🥺 5k~ tysm!❞

Word Count | 5.4k

Author’s Note | hi anon! i’m sorry this took so long to write ... this really inspired me to write a full fic! i had to cramp in as much as i could and hopefully it goes to your liking ❤ thank you for your request!  ________________________________________________________________

When you hoped for the best college experience, you didn’t mean to bring Jeon Jeongguk along with you. As far as you knew, he had other plans for a different school - so why did you end up spending a year and a half of college facing the worst each day?

It started when you accidentally spilt his juice all over his study notes when a friend of yours jokingly pushed you. From that very day on, he’s been firing you up almost every day of seeing you within his sight. Making you seethe when he steps into your vision. Despite apologizing and offering to rewrite his notes for him, he still made it his mission to make college incredibly agonizing for you.

For example, all the times he’s made you feel like pure, utter shit. 

Unlike what his looks demonstrated, Jeon Jeongguk was an absolute bully. You have all the evidence to back this up. 

And that so happens to be at this very second as he scribbles all over your essays, vandalizing them with random characters from the games he spends all night playing. “Stop that-!” You cry out, watching your clean work melt into a behemoth of a mess before you. 

“Stop? Your notebook’s boring - I’m just adding more life to it!”

The look on his face symbolizes the devil incarnate himself. Jeongguk was devilishly handsome, except for the fact that he was the bane of your existence. 

Handsome?

God forbid he ever finds out you think of him like that.

“No,” You let out an exasperated huff, “You’re just earning me a bad reputation! Can’t you just fuck off?” Frankly, you’re just wasting precious time and energy, because no matter how many times you urge him to piss off, he wouldn’t budge. He’d keep on being a complete brat.

Nothing was on your side when it came to Jeongguk - not even the gods themselves.

Truly, you deem yourself as the most patient person to ever walk this earth. You say this out of the experience. But when Jeongguk steps into the picture? You want to give him a good kick to the balls because he was simply so aggravating.  

Your friends know well of this yet they look at the situation in another light. A light which leaves you effectively deceived. 

As you stomp towards your local buddies, you could hear the faint “Ah, here we go again,” leaving Seokjin’s lips as they all brace themselves for your routined outburst. It’d be surprising if you didn’t do this on the daily.

“I can’t believe him!” Your voice booms, agonized and worn out as you tumble onto an empty seat, letting yourself sink into the warmth of your arms. Attention attracts itself to you, but you couldn’t bother. Humiliation has nothing on the daily hardships you face - literally - every day. 

“What did he do this time?” Jimin and Seokjin mutter in unison, watching you practically deflate in front of them. Honestly, what didn’t he do? Nowadays, whenever he even breaths your way, you deem it a huge inconvenience. Unfortunate. 

How exactly is this unfortunate? You happened to be best friends with someone who’s very fond of your arch-nemesis, and that is Park Jimin. It’s either because he’s a libra or the heathen hypnotized him into blooming a friendship together. Countless times the beam of smiles tried his best to convince you that Jeon was an angel at heart.

You beg to differ. 

With a distraught face, you look up at both of them. “He scribbled all over my essay - that little twerp is going to ruin me.” Words of truth. It’s not that deep - it isn’t. You offered to rewrite his notes, he was the one who decided to be all salty about the matter. Salty enough to make your life a living hell, that is. 

“Wouldn’t you consider the fact that maybe his intentions aren’t to just be a bitch to you?” Jimin chirps in, wincing.

“You’re kidding. How many times do we have to go through this?”

“As many times as we need to,” Seokjin intervenes, letting out a fatigued sigh. To put it simply, he has way too many other things to be focused on right now besides your incessant whining. He loves you dearly, but having to listen to you ramble on and on about your rivalry with Jeon drains him to the last drop. “Haven’t you thought about clearing things with him? Perhaps it’s all a misunderstanding.”

“Over my dead body! He’s the one who started it, I already did my part of the job.”

If there was one word to describe you, it would be dense. This was on him, even if it bothered you to ends. Seokjin and Jimin knew this very well - they also knew that they were wasting their breaths with you, but it was worth a shot either way. 

And so it was left at that. 

As winter break approaches, you find yourself growing ecstatic as each day passes. Once you finally catch yourself a break, you’d be able to scatter away from the plight that is Jeon Jeongguk. Likewise, the man himself. You’re pretty sure he finds your mere presence a disgrace by the way there’s always a scowl tugging at his lips, or perhaps the devilish tricks he pulls on you until you can no longer take it and scurry off.

Jimin, much to his pleasure, compelled you into signing up to help with the school dance alongside him. Eventually, you caved in, albeit protesting that you’d rather use your free time binging whatever show Netflix recommended you. No one can bypass Jimin’s charms and the way his lips turn into a pout as he pleads to you. 

And, well, perhaps you did need to be more productive.

So in reality, your best bud was doing you a favour. 

How hard could it be anyway? All you had to do was decorate and help plan the catering, maybe throw in a few song suggestions. If possible, even cop yourself a date - you’d hate to weigh down Seokjin and Jimin just because you were looking sulky in a corner with your only friend being a cup of cranberry punch. 

“You’re not going to bail on me last second, are you?” The brunet queries, looking at you cautiously with his eyes twinkling. Despite his teasing and constant pulling to get you to do things with him, you know he’d never force you into something displeasing. 

You give him a look. “Gosh, what do you take me for? I promised you, didn’t I? You just have to make sure you keep your side of the deal.” A grin blooms onto his features. Right - he promised you a meal at your favourite diner for accompanying him. That way, he knew you’d accept for sure. 

The hall is crowded with students, bustling with chatter as they discuss their excitement for the dance. You have to admit, it was an event to look forward to. To catch your breath and enjoy a moment of peace in a place that you can call a second home. And to top it off, it’s with the people you see every day who, just like you, are there to study for a future. 

Understandably, you have no idea who half of the student body was, but it still felt like family. 

Jimin instantly finds himself one of the coordinators and advises them about your presence whilst you fumble behind him rather nervously. “What exactly do we have to do?” You mumble to him, taking a good look around. The place seems way too dull when it’s not enriched with DIY banners and colourful lights adorning every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Our duty for today is decorating. The theme’s pretty sparkly this year.”

“Isn’t it always like that?”

A voice is quick to interrupt your conversation, making you practically dart around to see the source of it. And it’s no surprise when you come face to chest - curse his height - with the very being you’ve grown to dislike over the months. He was here, in the hall, helping. 

Just when you thought you’d be able to hide from Jeongguk, he proves you wrong. Like a predator hunting its prey. 

“Gguk!” Jimin exclaims mirthfully, wrapping an arm around your sworn enemy. You really can’t help but worry for him. Ah, it is what it is. “I didn’t think you’d be joining this year.” 

“You know I’d never miss an opportunity to help around. But,” he pauses, averting his gaze to you with a quirk of an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise you brought Y/N along.”

“I’m sorry?” You gasp rather too dramatically, earning the attention of those around you. Jimin bursts into laughter, shaking his head at your antics. This is betrayal at its finest - laughing at your misery, you might as well drop him this very second.

“Apology accepted.”

That fuels you even more. Your blood boils under the layers of your skin. God, couldn’t he get any less arrogant? “I can’t stand you,” you breathe out, scoffing. “Is there a rule that I can’t give a helping hand by any chance?”

Jimin watches all of this unfurl. If anything’s worth pure entertainment, it was the two of you. “Not if you run around with a stick up your ass,” Jeongguk replies with a measly roll of the eyes, “This won’t be any fun with you here.”

“Alright you two, cut it out.” 

In all honesty, you doubt how fun that'll be. With him around, no one knows about the perils he could throw at you to prove his disdain. Your life could be in danger as you speak. What if you were walking around and he stuck his foot out for you?

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “See you around Park - you should hop over to the sound room later. We could use your help.” 

And that’s another encounter with Jeon Jeongguk for the day, much to your annoyance. You could see the way the brunet turns to look at you with a soft smile on his face, a small, reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Lighten up, it won’t be that bad.”

“My ass.”

“Y/N!” 

---

Truthfully speaking, it isn’t all that bad. You’ve grown to interact more with everyone else - surprisingly. Not only that, but you were given the blissful pleasure to befriend what seems to be God’s favourite specimen, Kim Taehyung.  

If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was God himself.

Amid all these students, there’s Taehyung who you secretly claim as the light of your life. You’d be surprised if someone didn’t know him or of his presence in the hall, he truly stuck out brighter than all the sparkling decor being hung around the walls and on stage.

“Y/N-! Catch!” 

If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve been hit with a small pack of glitters straight to the head. Even worse, they could’ve opened and left you in a glittery mess. Laughter bubbles out of the man’s lips - music to your ears. You adore the way his locks bounce with each move he makes. 

“That was pretty hazardous - I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to hand them over to you more politely next time.”

“I caught them, didn’t I?” You smile, letting the item dangle lightly from the tips of your fingers. Taehyung continues to beam, his pearly whites put all on show. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the man before you. Oh, and not to mention his voice. That golden bundle of harmony. 

“Surprisingly,” Jeongguk butts in, snickering. And here it is again - like a comedic show, ready to make you the laughing stock. “Would’ve been hilarious to see you covered in pink glitters.”

“Ggukkie!”

Ggukie? If it wasn’t for the respect you hold for other people’s comfortableness, you would’ve bent over and hurled. It would’ve been a cute nickname if it wasn’t directed at the fiend. But it’s fine, you suppose - Taehyung has an endearing way of lacing nicknames.

He’s quick to ruffle the latter’s hair, making shy giggles tumble out of Jeongguk’s mouth. You can only stand and watch, squinting rather annoyingly at him. He was such a joy kill. 

“I need your help with the soundbar,” Jeongguk explains nicely. His tone is gentle and he uses his hands to explain whatever was wrong, much unlike how he interacts with you. It’s in these moments you wonder why he treats you so differently when it was a small inconvenience you’d pulled on him months ago. 

“No can do,” the elder tells him, scratching the back of his head. “I have to help Namjoon with the tickets. But I’m sure Y/N can help - didn’t you say you were good with tech?” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

In another life, in the same position you are in now, you would’ve declined and scurried off to avoid him. But, if you think about it, this could be the perfect opportunity to flaunt your knowledge and skill. If he gets to do it, then so can you. 

It’s only fair, no?

You quirk an eyebrow towards the duo. This was your time to shine. “I’m sure he won’t need my help,” you taunt, “Jeonggukie can do everything, can’t he?” 

Silence. He’s like a deer caught in headlights, with the way his eyes widen and his mouth becomes agape. You managed to pull a stunt on him, showing him victory and deeming yourself superior. Kim gives you a peculiar look before offering you a smile. “You’re right - Gguk’s incredibly talented.”

That wasn’t really what you were hoping for. You admit it hurt your pride a little, but there’s no way you were going to put it out on show. Jeongguk can kiss your ass. 

“Uh, whatever. Follow me, I can’t wrap my head around what’s wrong with it.”

You were quite ready to start calling him petty, but as you slowly take in his response, you’re left perplexed. 

Perhaps you’re taking it too far - this is only for a school dance after all. Although you can’t help but stand and stare at him for actually accepting your offer to help. “Hello? Are you going to just stand there? We have other things to do - hurry up.” Curse you Jeon Jeongguk.

“See you later Y/N!”

The chance of copping yourself a hot date to the dance, slowly streaming out of your grasp. 

As you bid your farewell to Taehyung, you let yourself be whisked away by a rather grumpy Jeongguk, who stomps his approach to the sound room. It’s quiet - save for the weight of his rather chunky shoes - and if you may say so yourself, awkward. But nevermind that, you were assigned something to fix. 

He takes you up a flight of stairs - much to your dismay, you weren’t fond of the exercise - and into a tiny, cramped room just on the opposite of the school’s stage. You could see everyone clearly from here - ants scurrying around to get their work done. 

Jeongguk shuffles around behind you - you could feel his build bumping into yours here and there. “Okay, do you know what to do?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said, do you know what to do? Or were you just talking out of your ass?”

God, you can’t stand him. “Can you stop being such a bitch for once? Yes, just give me a few minutes and it’ll be ready.” A huff follows your line of conversation as you squat down to handle the component. He should be grateful you’re sacrificing your sanity to be with him right now. “What exactly is the issue here?” 

There’s silence until your ears prick at the loud sigh that tumbles out of his lips. “Didn’t you hear what I told Tae? The sound keeps cutting.” You hum. 

Your fingers lace around its wires, untangling the unattractive mess they’re in and inspecting whatever could be the problem. Unlike you, Jeon stands as far away as possible, offering you all the space you could need. His eyes watch you carefully, dancing onto every move you make. It’s peaceful, the only sound reverberating through the room being your breaths and the light clinks of the soundbar wires. 

Your fingers start pulling each cable off one by one, setting them aside neatly and letting out a small sigh. Everything was in order, except for the crooked pins inside one of the cables that directly connects to the speaker. You turn to Jeongguk with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you plug these in? You bent the pins.” 

He purses his lips, his hand flying up to scratch the back of his neck. “Guess I was in a hurry - can you fix them?” As he speaks softly, almost shyly, you swear you could see a hint of pink tinting his cheeks.

That’s cute.

“Hand me your credit card.”

“My what?”

“Your credit card - hand it over.” His face displayed pure horror. It’s not like you were going to run off with it - he wanted the soundbar fixed, didn’t he? You extend an arm out towards him, an eyebrow quirked at his hesitation. 

“It’s fine,” an eye roll follows because he genuinely looks like he’s waiting for dinosaurs to resurrect. “I just need it to straighten the pins, yeah? Your card’s going to be back in your wallet before you know it.”

He’s looking at you with worry laced in his features until he’s stuffing his hands in those baggy pants of his and shuffling out his wallet. “You better give it back in one piece.” 

What did he think you were - a heathen? Did he not know just how valuable credit cards were in today’s life? “Whatever,” you huff, fingers diligently wrapping around the piece and instantly starting to work your magic.  

It takes you a few minutes of focus and caution, aligning the component back to its original shape. While you do so, Jeongguk observes cautiously. His eyes fawn over the way you stick your tongue out in concentration or the way you just engulf yourself in your own little world. Jeongguk thinks your hair colour compliments your skin.

You look pretty when you’re not throwing profanities at him. 

It’s the daily entertainment he looks forward to every day. Not a moment goes by that Jeongguk doesn’t think about how to make you boil with fury in a matter of five minutes. Yet despite the delight of it all, he figures it’s about time he gives you a break.  

Maybe a five-minute break - he misses the constant scowl etched onto your features whenever you catch sight of him.

"All done!" You beam, lips stretched wide as your hands perform the last trick. "Put a song on, bunny boy, see if it works."

Jeongguk stutters at the nickname. You, however, didn't realize it rolled down your tongue until it was too late. 

He brushes it off and starts to scrolls through what seemed to be a multitude of playlists on his phone. You eagerly await the melody to boom quietly through the soundbar. However, he seems to be hesitant on what to choose and frankly, he was taking too long.

So you swipe his phone out of his grasp, leaving him clutching his credit card, putting his songs on shuffle. You give yourself the pleasure of coursing through his music taste - it wasn’t that bad. Diverse, to put it simply. 

Kind of like yours. 

“You listen to them too?” There’s an enthusiastic tone to your voice, eyes gleaming over the discography of a group you’ve grown to admire ever so much. They were the good fortune in your life - what was keeping you moving forward. Listening to their music gave you a sense of bliss. 

Jeongguk peeks over your shoulder, his interest piqued as to why you’re so delighted over his music taste. “Hm?” He mumbles to himself, “You follow them?”

“Are you kidding,” you express matter-of-factly, “I don’t just listen to them! They are my heart and soul Jeon. I love them more than taco Tuesday.” 

The last comment sends him hollering, catching you off-guard. You’ve never, in your time spent around him, heard him laugh so heartily before. If you must admit, it sounds melodious. Like the singing of birds in the early morning.

“Taco Tuesday - god, you’re something.”

Heat trickles up your neck to the ends of your ears, leaving you red in front of him.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” A snicker follows. “Well, it’s open for interpretation. Did you go to their last showcase?” You notice the way interest bubbles in the tone of his voice and the way his eyes glimmer with a newfound shine that you can’t quite decipher.

“Hell yeah, I did! It has to be one of their best one yet - they’re hitting it big this time!” 

The room reverberates with joyous laughter, drowning out the low drum of the music playing in the background. It feels rather cumbersome, how one minute you’re at each other’s throats and the other your boisterous laughter mixes. 

Maybe Jeongguk isn’t that bad.   

However, it’s when the laughter dies down that the tension slowly rises. It isn’t thick - nor is it thin, but it’s there. It weighs on your shoulders and watches the inelegance crawl towards you. Jeongguk clears his throat and you find him rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, uh, I think you should be getting back down there.”

You shake your head heartily, your feet shuffling underneath you. “Could’ve sent a thank you my way you know.” The way it tumbles down your tongue makes it seem like you’re joking. His eyes wander onto you and there’s coral painting his skin again - he looks like a child. With the way his eyes go wide and he starts pursing his lips whenever he finds himself in situations as such. 

“Right - yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

That’s where another part of your constant feud ends. 

Would you even call that interaction a feud? Technically, you weren’t exactly at each other’s throats this time, despite all you did was fix up the soundbar. It was rather nice. You think a smile on Jeongguk’s handsome features is ravishing - god forbid he ever finds out of the compliment.   

It’s childish. It’s like throwing buckets of water off a sinking ship - useless. For someone attending college, both of you lack the maturity for it. 

Okay, maybe he’s not the only one taking things out of proportion - you can be quite the bitch sometimes. 

New revelation - for the last term, you’ll just drop it. Just like that. Let it unravel however it wishes. 

Yet, it’s quite hilarious how all this took you was a heartfelt moment with the guy.

--- 

It takes you patience, teamwork and hours upon hours of choosing through various types of decorations and goods for the dance. Now that everything is ready - and just in time, if you may add - the event was to be held early in the evening.

Whilst everyone was simply ecstatic for the event, you were pissing yourself. Why exactly is a mystery - your nerves were slowly bursting one by one and you were growing anxious. You had no reason to. 

Seokjin is currently rambling about how elegant his suit was going to look. It makes you admire how he considers a minimal event as something grand - another quality you can’t help but adore about him. Seokjin always makes himself stand out in the best ways. 

Jimin sits by his side pecking at the loose threads of his jumper, eyeing someone which, according to his line of sight, was about a few meters behind you. At his silence, both you and Seokjin quirk an eyebrow.

“Goodness!” Seokjin squawks, sending a light slap to the youth’s shoulder. “All you have to do is ask him to go with you, you raging homosexual!” 

Ah. 

Jimin has had the fattest crush on one of the philosophy guys. He describes him to have the sexiest brain to ever walk the grounds of earth. Frankly, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Kim Namjoon walked the college halls with people behind him practically foaming at the mouth. He, however, didn’t exactly take notice of this. 

The youth’s gawking at the elder amongst you, giving him that specific look at me, now look at him look. “No way. I’m too fond of the pride harboured within me to let it be crushed by someone so unbelievably hot.” 

“Funny, considering you’re ranked one of the best looking to roam this goddamned building,” you comment, rolling your eyes. “Jimin, I bet you the moment you walk into his vision he will be swooning. He can’t say no to you.”

“You think so?”

“With a juicy ass like yours, no, he wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

You feel something shuffle beside you, which you brush off as Seokjin’s feet - it’s not the first time he’d stretch his legs out beside you, just to annoy you. It’s until Jimin’s doubling over with laughter at the sound of someone’s voice that you finally pay mind to. 

Jeongguk chuckles. “Really? I didn’t take you for an ass person, Y/N.” That’s exactly why your ever so lovely best friend - since high school, may you add - was tearing up. Seokjin tries his best to keep his laughter at bay, knowing well you’ll give them hell after this. 

You’re abashed wholly as red inherits your skin from neck to ears. Jeongguk’s very existence was made to shame you - catch you at the most vulnerable moments and have you burden them for as long as you breathe. 

“Where did you come from?”

“From the cafeteria. I came to ask you something.” 

After this presumptuous interaction, you are confident that he may have hit his head this morning. This was more than peculiar, and frankly, it left you perplexed as ever. “Okay, go ahead, shoot.” Interest piques and you notice the way he hesitates before shooting a quick look towards Jimin who grins ever so evilly. 

“Be my date for tonight.” 

That bastard. 

“What?”

“Hello? Can’t you hear? I told you to be my date for tonight.” He says it so straight-forwardly it almost has you toppling over your seat. His face harbours a look that you can’t quite fathom and it irks you. What was he plotting? 

“There’s definitely a catch to this.” Seokjin and Jimin observe quietly, the elder sending the youth a few questionable glares here and there. It seems as if Jimin was the one behind this all - which, if he was, wouldn’t leave you surprised at all. 

What a libra.

Jeongguk shakes his head - you grow soft at the way his locks bob as he does so. “I promise there’s no catch - I just want a date for the dance. That’s all.” It leaves you with a frown hanging on your lips. All he needed was someone to hang by his side.

“And from all the chicks around you ask me?”

There’s silence then - he doesn’t respond, only purses his lips and fiddles with his fingers. He avoids eye contact. You sigh. “Sure - yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll be your date, Jeon.”

“Score!” 

You watch as both Jimin and your new dance date high five before you. The pits of your stomach continue to bubble with anxiety and soon enough you might even think this might be a bet. 

Jeongguk went from provoking you to asking you to be his date.

Seokjin gives you a rather sceptical look, tapping at your hand lightly. “What was that supposed to be?” He asks you, gaze wandering about the two snickering to themselves. You peek at Jeongguk and he seems to be pretty content. You still can’t comprehend just what’s going on in his head, but you conclude that it’s no good. 

“I don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t pull any shit and ruin a good night.”

---

To say you’re beyond nervous is an understanding. 

The both of you agreed to meet at the school gates, and as you step out of the cab you conveniently managed to catch, the situation dawns on you greatly. What happened to being sworn enemies after an unintentional spill?

If you were to look back at the time you’ve spent planning the occasion, you’d say something changed. He doesn’t make your blood boil as much - he presents you that charming smile more often. Not to mention how soft and kind it’d become in contrast to the many devilish grins and disdainful scowls he’d sent your way before. 

You can’t tell if it’s progress or not. 

The building looks rather magical - students loiter around the main entrance with big grins decorating their faces. Their well-prepared looks shimmer under the dim lights radiating from inside the school. 

“Y/N!” Your body instantly freezes at the sound of his voice. You’ve grown used to it over time, but in this specific condition, it shakes you to the core. “Over here!”

Feet trepidatiously coursing over to him, you let your fingers fiddle with your fit. You look presentable to say the least - perhaps not as extravagant as the other people who’ve probably spent half their paycheck on something to wear. Decent, as you would put it. 

“You better not pull anything on me, Jeon,” 

“Why would I?”

Well, why would he? Makes you debate. The behemoth of worries and what-ifs subsides slowly but surely because Jeongguk sounds so sincere. Not to mention the way he’s looking at you right now - it makes you shrink, but in a positive way. He has the faintest of smiles plastered on his lips. 

You don’t know how to feel whatsoever. 

“Listen,” you tell him softly, looking at the ground as if it was the most interesting piece of art. “If… If this is all a joke or a dumb bet with Jimin, cut it out. You’re acting weird.” As a result, you can almost detect the frown drowning his smile as you speak. 

Jeongguk reaches out to hold your hands. If he hadn’t done that, you’re pretty sure you would’ve ruined your somewhat prized possession. His touch is warm - it sends electricity coursing through your veins and leaves you stunned. Your head’s quick to shoot up at him. 

“I promise that it’s nothing like that. Can’t I take the girl I’ve had this like, huge crush on to a dance?”

If pigs could fly they’d be more believable than this very moment. What was he saying? Is he even sure he’s talking to the right person?

“You’re kidding?” You say almost breathlessly. You’re pretty sure your eyes are wider than what’s physically possible, and your mouth’s hanging open. Nothing could convince you just how true this was. “Shut up - crush? You’ve been nagging me since I fucked your notes up. How could you possibly have a crush on someone you clearly dislike?” 

His facial expression becomes even more unfathomable. Jeongguk shakes his head gently, “I was just teasing! It’s a habit - you’re fun to mess with, much less be around. Was I that bad?” 

Oh? 

This was like entering a whole new universe. Was that a good way to even describe the whirlwind of emotions washing over you right now? Never had you even considered that, because why would Jeon Jeongguk, quite possibly one of the most alluring men to ever walk this earth, find entertainment in you? Much less harbour a liking. 

You punch his shoulder jokingly. 

“God - you bastard! For how long has this been going on?”

There’s a sheepish grin on his face - he’s rubbing the nape of his neck again, it’s endearing. “You remember that time you fixed the soundbar? Yeah, by that time, I was a goner - I think?” His words are all fumbling together. He was growing shy by the way red bloomed onto his cheeks. “Then… Then we kind of vibed during the whole planning thing. Jimin was kind of sceptical, so he uh, he confronted me about it.” 

Ah, so Jimin was part of all this. 

“Uh, I hoped this would’ve gone in a more, uh, romantic way? Maybe while we were dancing. I heard you put some pretty sappy songs in there.”

Seeing this new side of him hit you like that time Seokjin threw your school bag and earned you a nasty bruise on your nose. It’s fresh, better than the usual cocky talk he gives you.

Perhaps by time, it’ll grow on you. 

“When I say you’re really something, I never had in mind this side of you.” You sigh gently, letting a miniature of a smile wash over your lips. This is nice. It’s calming. “Now that I have clarification, you’re not so bad yourself, Jeon.” 

“And if you let me, I can continue to prove that on the dance floor.”

[leihey]

Lovely Tears (One Shot)

Word count: 1569

Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Junhyung (OnlyOneOf), bxb

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Mentioning of suicide, mentioning of bullying, Insults, homophobia

Summary: Hyunjin lays on the floor of his room alone and cries and thinks about what happened in the last time.

Theme Song: Rise Against - Make It Stop (September's Children)

[A/N: Happy Pride Month!

It's a pretty short one shot this time and I'm not really satisfied with it, but I hope you like it anyways~

I'll start with saying thank you to my precious friends who helped me with this. This would be include Lou, who helped me with finding a good ship, Auli who helped me when I had problems with translating the unique person who made again a beautiful cover for me and of course Jojo who helped me a lot with the translations. Then, I'm still not that good at writing in English and if there are still some mistakes, please tell me! And again, I really wanna become better at writing and it would be so great if you could tell me what you think about my one shot and of you have any criticism or something hehe~

Last but not least I'd like to recommend the theme song to you. It's a great song with an important meaning.]

…………………………………..…..……🤍………..……………….…………….……

Shakily he raised his hand and looked at it in the dim moonlight that made it through the window into the room. His breath was heavy, but still not as heavy as his heart. It was only a matter of time until he’d cry again, writhing on the floor, sobbing and calling quietly for help.

“Princes don’t cry.”, he repeated now for the almost hundredth time.

“P-princes don’t cry.” He clung to these words as if they were the salvation he had longed for.

“Princes d-do…” A single, small tear rolled down his cheek. “…don’t cry.”, he let out weakly. Slowly he lowered his hand again, put it on the floor and braced himself against it. His legs laid cramped next to him, slightly suggesting the embryo position. A second tear left his eye. His arms began to shake even more violent and he wouldn’t be able to hold his own weight for long.

“Naww, is this little pussy crying again?”, he scoffed at himself. “You’re such a damn sissy, Hyunjin, honestly. Such a small, unworthy, shitty crybaby.” He spat out each word individually to express his contempt for himself more. The contempt of others, who repeated these sentences mantra-like in front of him day by day. “Why does something like you even exist?” Hyunjin could feel how they pushed him against the wall. “You know what?”, he hissed at himself, putting his hands on his neck, just as they had done so many times before, that the feeling of not having pressure on his lungs was almost foreign to him.

“You’re not worth the fucking air you breathe.” He closed his grip a little more with each word he spoke. The black-haired boy gasped for air, his arms began to shake even more again, but this didn’t make his grip come lose. On the contrary. He clung to his neck with all his might. Hyunjin started to kick his legs severely, trying to fight himself.

“W-where are you?”, he sobbed weakly as he closed his eyes and finally released his grip. He raised his hand again, opened it and looked at his empty palm. “I mi-miss you.”, he breathed faintly. “So, so badly.” Tears filled his eyes again, took his view. “Is the stupid baby screaming after him again?” This time the mockery didn’t come from his mouth, but only from his memory.

“It’s time for you to understand that this bitch was smart enough to make the right choice.” Hyunjin wanted to say something, wanted to scream and fight for him, wanted to make sure they left him alone. But all he could get out of his mouth was a meaningless whine.

They had hit his sore spot. The only place that couldn’t be healed with a bit of disinfectant spray and bandage. And in his memory, the moment was even more unbearable. Having to listen again to how much he had always failed robbed him of his last bit of strength. His tears came over him like a wave and took away his last amount of hope. He tensed, felt his toes shaking and getting numb, then his legs and after that the rest of his body. Hyunjin’s head began to throb in pain. He closed his eyes and saw the horrible memories spinning in front of his eyes, getting louder, then quieter again and disappearing completely after that, leaving nothing but black. His own soft sobs were the only remaining sound in the room as well as in his thoughts.

“Why does it have to hurt so much?”, he gasped, not knowing how far away he still was from the end of this torture. “I-is it me?”, he stuttered, barely understandable. “Am I really so wrong?” He felt empty, exhausted and above all, lost. The 20-year-old had already seen the cruelest abysses, but he had never been this deep. He had always been certain that this was his own fault. That he was never good enough and never would be. But he had never considered that they were right. Those who punish him every day for what and who he was. Hyunjin felt weak. Weaker than usual. Unimportant. Unnecessary. Felt like he was nothing but a mistake.

“Hyunjin!” The older ones’ voice was a little deeper, but also gentler than Hyunjin’s. He remembered his voice too well and the light childish touch that it would’ve never lost. Now he was fully done and broken. A knife could have been slowly and painfully put in his chest and the pain wouldn’t been nearly as intense as the pain the voice he had just heard has caused.

“Junhyung?”, Hyunjin replied incredulously. Junhyung gently put his arm around the smaller one. “Did they hurt you again, my prince?”, whispered the blonde guy. Hyunjin ignored his question and opened his eyes to look once more at his boyfriend’s perfect face. “Junhyung? J-junji? D-darling?” In vain.

“Jinnie, don’t cry!” The kindly voice of Junhyung was clearly heard, but the boy himself was nowhere to be seen. “Darling? Where are you my angel?” Hyunjin repeatedly searched every single inch of the room with his eyes, but unsuccessfully.

he heard a soft sigh, but couldn’t make out where it came from. “My prince, handsome, stop it.”, the older boy begged sadly. “This world has so much to offer. There’s so much for you to see. So much love for you.”

The black-haired guy swallowed hardly. “W-what’s about to happen, angel?” He could feel Junhyung laying his arms around him from behind and kissing his earlobe gently. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Hyunjin.” His voice was still warm and lovingly, but his words hit Hyunjin devastatingly. “But I don’t wanna lie to you either, handsome. And as painful as it is, I unfortunately have to remind you that I am dead.” The words came so easily over his lips that Hyunjin, who has never been able to speak about it properly, froze. “I killed myself. And this happened already a year ago. Hyunjin, my prince…” Junhyung put his hands affectionately around the younger ones. “…I love you.” He tenderly placed his lips on his princes’ cheek. Hyunjin ran his hands slightly over the place where he felt the elder’s lips.

“I love you too.”, he panted wearily.

“I know. And it means so much more to me than you can imagine. But it stings my heart to see you crying out of pain.” It got silent for a short time. “And it’s time for you to continue living your life.” Junhyung fondly put his hands on Hyunjin’s cheek, as he had done to him so often when he was still alive and exhausted from the cruelty of his fellow human beings.

“You are not my angel.”, the black-haired spat out numbly. Junji hesitated. “No.”, he finally admitted. “No, I’m not Junhyung. Your angel, as you use to say. You’re right, I’m not him.” ‘Junyhung’ took away his hand from Hyunjin’s cheek. “I am the memory of him. Your subconscious that advises you to get over him.” All the warmth in ‘Junhyung’s’ voice was gone and nothing but the bitter truth remained.

“It’s too early!”, protested the younger boy, indignant and hurt by himself. “Is it really ‘too early’, Hyunjin? It’s been a year. Even longer. And you haven’t gotten a step further and let them destroy yourself every day.” Hyunjin glared at the floor, well knowing that his inner voice was only telling the truth.

“You never were like that before. You didn’t let yourself be taken down. You were fighting.” The tears in Hyunjin’s eyes were fading.

“I fought for him. For my Junhyung. The real one.”, he mumbled.

“Yes. And now you don’t do it anymore.”, his subconscious stated. The black-haired boy nodded abashedly.

“Because he’s dead. Because I failed miserably. Lost him. It’s too late.” Hyunjin emphasized the words as sharply as if he wanted to lose the fight against himself.

“Hyunjin. Both of us know I’m right. Junhyung is dead. But he loved you. Always. Until his last breath. If he could see you like that, so weak and vulnerable, he would be disappointed. In himself. He would hate himself for putting you in such a state. It’s time to move on with life. Do it for him.”

Hyunjin had nothing to reply to that. The voice, which started with choosing her sentences with such a care, no longer seemed to be cautious. It spoke the words with an uncomfortable hardness and speed.

“I love him.”, whispered Hyunjin. He was no longer able to do more than that. For years he thought that the cruel lies his bullies told about him, hissing in his ear day by day, just because he was different from them, just because he was gay, were harsh. But not even one of these phrases hit him as hard as the truth he had to admit to himself.

Shivering, he got up, went to his closet and took out an oversized sweater.

“Junji’s favourite sweater.”, he mumbled into the warm fabric. He hesitantly went to his bed to drop on it.

The boy pressed his face into the garment that his late boyfriend had worn daily during his lifetime. Sweat, blood and dirt stains had immortalized in the sweater. But above all, memories were woven into the fabric.

Once again tears sprung into Hyunjin’s eyes, accompanied by a croaked “I’m not ready yet.”

[maximows]

Against the Odds - Chapter X

Half of McDonald’s menu,

MASTERLIST (mobile) AO3

Warnings: fluff and adult language

„What if it hurts?” I whispered, staring blankly into the wall. “I mean, I’m putting some stick up my uterus.”

Chris squeezed my hand and wrapped the other around me. “It’s about an inch long, very thin and much more comfortable than taking a pill every day. Also, you took a lot of painkillers and they’ll give you numbing meds, alright?”  

I decided to get an IUD as a new method of birth control, because lately I have been forgetting to take my pills with me and didn’t want an accident to happen. We had once spend almost two weeks in London and because I didn’t have my pills with me, Chris actually had to run to get a condom a few times, then eventually got a small box of them and that was when we noticed how much sex we are having.  

“Can we go to McDonald’s afterwards?” I asked, nuzzling my face against his bicep. “I shouldn’t eat junk food, I don’t want a break out on my face before the wedding…”  

“We’ll get the food and then I’ll make you drink enough water to get it out of your system.” He promised. “But we also have to pick up the rings.”

“Mhm,” I mumbled as I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“With the wedding rings?”

“IUD is much more permanent than pills, I haven’t thought about when I’d want to take it out and, uh, try…” I explained.  

“Put it in and don’t think about kids right now, ok? I’m fine and I’m going to wait for you to be ready and be as comfortable as possible until then. But please don't make wait until I’m 50.”

I sighed and smiled at him. “How are you so perfect, you sick fuck?”  

The doctor came out of her office and invited me in. “I know it sounds weird, but there’s really nothing to worry about. After it’s been put in, you might feel period like cramps for a few hours and it’s done.”

She put on her gloved and shoved me the object. “I know that ‘opening the cervix’ sounds horrible, but it’s not a baby, IUD is very thin and after I give you numbing meds, you won’t even feel it.”

I nodded lightly and sat on the hair. I wore a skirt and Chris' sweater, so it would be comfortable for her to access and so I could smell Chris' scent, which is soothing for me.

She put a cold gel around the area and waited some time before getting to work. “So, is it actually easier to get pregnant after taking out a IUD rather than after pills?” I asked.

“Definitely. Even with hormonal IUDs, they aren’t as invasive as pills. I’ve had patients who got pregnant during their first cycle after IUD.” She answered, already starting to do something around my crotch, but I figured she was just preparing me.

“Oh, okay. So, if I wanted to keep it for like a year and then take out, then even the hormones shouldn’t affect my ability to get pregnant?”

“Not at all, it doesn’t work the same way pills do. Technically, you could get pregnant right after taking it out. With pills, even if you forget one, it shouldn’t be a problem. You provide your body with such a big dose of hormones that it takes time for it to wear off completely,” she explained. “You might feel a little uncomfortable right now.

I felt something, like a pulling sensation, which I couldn’t really describe. I figured she was preparing me for the procedure. “Aaaand... it’s done.”

I opened my eyes and saw that she was actually taking her gloves off. “Is it, really?”  

She smiled and nodded. “Stay like this for a few moments. The numbing meds I’ve given you might make it a bit hard for you to walk now, so I’d suggest you wait a few more minutes. Also, it would be great if your partner could help you walk.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t leave my side anyway, so that won’t be a problem.”  

Soon she told me I was ok to go and let Chris in. He looked at me with a concerned face. Even though he kept calming me down earlier, he was probably more nervous than I was. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know it was happening, I’m alright.” I smiled and sat up on the chair in order to get up. Chris wrapped his arm tightly around my waist and tried to put all of my weight on him, but it felt like I was able to walk normally, so I wouldn’t let him.  

We walked slowly to our car and Chris opened the door for me. “I should’ve got a ‘brave patient’ badge’.” I said as Chris started the car.  

“I’ll buy you half of the McDonald’s menu for being a brave patient.” Chris smiled.

“Only a half of it?”

“I would buy you the whole restaurant, but I’m a hundred percent sure that in a month you would complain about not fitting into your wedding dress and blame it on me.” He laughed.

When we arrived at the jeweller’s, Chris hopped out of the car and went there to get our wedding bands. They had already been altered, so I didn’t have to go with him. I scrolled through the songs on my phone and played something. When I put my phone back, I looked ahead through the windscreen and saw a photographer taking photos in the distance. I sighed, putting my sunglasses on. The last time we were caught by photographers was the night before Chris’ birthday and that started a shit storm of people against both me and Stella. People were doing everything to find out if there’s any evidence of Chris cheating on her with me. It became so awful, that Chris had to stop having his daily checks of Twitter, because stuff about us was all over it. I actually asked Hannah to release a statement a few days after it all blew up, because I was so sick of the messages and e-mails.

“I have been asked by my client, Emilia Dawson, to release the following statement:  

I have never been overly concerned about details of my private life coming out, because I do like to share some of it with my fans and followers. Unfortunately, now I am forced to share some of the details as for the last few days I have been one of the main topics of conversation on social media platforms and media outlets and both my loved ones and I are tired of it.  

I met my partner in February 2014 at a party thrown by him for some of our fellow Marvel actors. I had only been a part of that cast for a few months and only knew a couple of fellow Brits there. We spent the majority of the next day together as well as the next few weeks, when we were able to take some time off from our commitments.

I am releasing this statement to deny some of the accusations that have apparently been made against me and spread by the media, without being fact checked.

Shortly after meeting my partner, I have been made aware of a break up he went through two months prior to our first meeting, which directly meant that he was a single man. There was also no way anyone had been living in my partner's house in February 2014.

If the rumours that are being spread have a an actual source, other than a very creative mind of a gossip site ‘journalist', I would like it to also release a statement citing reasons for why they would come up with lies like that and spread them.

As I am one hundred percent sure that all of this information is completely false, I would like to say that from this day onwards, every news outlet that shares any of this nonsense, will be sued. If (or when) I win the case, the money will be divided between animal shelters.”

Chris didn’t like the statement or me getting involved in this case at all. But to be honest, he didn’t have much to say – all of the articles portrayed me as a homewrecker and skipped over the fact that it takes two people to have an alleged affair. Although there were some people who wanted to ‘cancel’ him because of this, the majority only looked at my supposed behaviour and called me various names because of it.  

The statement and ‘suit threat’ worked – gossip sites stopped the articles and the only people that couldn’t let this go were some of Twitter users who seemed to just love drama. Chris had messaged Stella, asking to get involved and at least deny the cheating rumours, as ‘we all knew this isn’t true’, but she wouldn’t do that. He said that she was probably just petty, because he didn’t propose to her in the 5 years they dated on and off. More so, he never even suggested they move in together. And it only took him less than two years to propose to me. He always said that it was because it felt like Stella was a bit distant and she wasn’t treating their relationship seriously, so they were both wasting their time until a one day came and he decided that he’s had enough. In my opinion, she was just trying to play hard to get and it went a bit too far.

“I called you,” I heard Chris say as he entered the car. “Don’t tell me you were thinking about that thing again.”

“Maybe,” I murmured, looking down at my phone to discover 3 missed phone calls from Chris. “What did you want?”

“They had a few boxes to choose from and I didn’t know which one you’d like.” He explained showing me the dark green one he picked. “I thought this one would match our theme the most.”

I raised my eyebrow. “We have a theme?”

“We’re getting married in Norway, of course we have a theme.” He laughed. “So, is this one alright?”

“Perfect,” I smiled. “I think our relationship is having a great impact on your taste.”

Chris grinned and started the car. “I know it for sure.” He leaned in to kiss me. His lips captured my lower lip and I moaned lightly as his teeth bit on it lightly.  

“Don’t do that,” I whined. “ We’re supposed to last 4 more weeks without sex.” Chris ignored me and deepened the kiss, his hand travelling to my face to hold me closer.  

“That was your stupid idea,” He murmured against my lips. “The only reason I agreed to this is because you made it into a bet and I’m always willing to participate in a bet I’m sure I’m going to win.”

“We’ve been through one week of sex embargo, we can do 4 more.” I said, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him away gently.  

Chris leaned back on the driver’s seat and sighed. “We’re not even married yet and you’re denying the love of your life sex already.” He said jokingly. I knew he was kidding, because he was as eager to see the outcome of this bet as I was.  

I came up with this when one time were hanging out with our friends in our garden and Scott said that in the nearly two and a half years of our relationship  we’ve had as much sex as a regular couple would have during a lifetime. Somehow that has led to us coming up with the idea of not having sex for 5 weeks before the wedding, which is also the same time we waited until our first time.  

It went on and on for some time, until we arrived at the drive though at McDonald’s and I got busy reading the menu. “Baby, give me a maximum amount of items I can get or I’ll go crazy.”

“Ok, you can get 4 things and that’s including a drink and something sweet,” he said.

I sighed and chose chips, some double burger (because he didn’t specify the size) a cookie and a Coke. Chris quickly drove back home, so I could eat my junk there. Dodger greeted us happily and jumped around us, asking for some loving.  

We all laid down on the couch, in front of the TV. I had my comfort food on my lap and placed my feet on Chris'.  

“So have you decided on our honeymoon destinations?” I asked after stuffing my mouth with chips. “I know mine.” We decided to have a 4-week honeymoon and go to four places and spend a week in each one. Both of us were supposed to choose two places. “I bet it’s someplace cold.”

“Keep up the attitude and it will get colder.” I snapped. “We're going to Iceland and New Zealand.”

“Oh, that’s a jetlag nightmare,” Chris sighed. “I chose Italy and France.”

“That’s so cliché, hubby.”

For the next two weeks we were so busy with wedding preparations that we didn’t even have time for sex, so the bet turned out to be useless. Chris spent one week away in Atlanta, doing additional shoots for Gifted, while Claire and I took care of the finishing touches to the ceremony. We were supposed to fly in 2 days before, to see the preparations and have our bachelorette and bachelor's parties there. Although we invited around 50 people, not all of them were able to attend and the final number was about 40 guests. We rented a few cabins for them in a resort near the spot we were getting married in. Ours was a bit sedated just to make sure we had a bit of privacy for our wedding night.  

I have to say, I was starting to get a little bit nervous and everyone said it was because I haven’t seen the venue or anything, but that wasn’t it. I was nervous because I was getting married to the most eligible bachelor in Hollywood. The purest man of them all. The man who files in early for me, because he knows I’m not feeling well. The man who decides he’ll wait for me to be ready for children, even though he has already waited a long time. He’s changed so much for me and I wanted to repay him.

I knew he wouldn’t even dare to mention it, but I decided to change my name to Emily Evans. I was torn between this and Emily Dawson-Evans, but I figured that if we’re already causing such a stir in the media, we might as well start the Evans clan.

Chris joined me at the airport for our trip to Bergen. He was a little bit tanned from filming, with a new haircut and a groomed beard (although it doesn’t require much grooming). The producers were very lucky that it was a look he wanted to go with for the wedding.  

“Hello, my intended,” He grinned as his arms slipped around my waist to give me a welcome kiss. “How have you been doing this past week?”

He gave me a loving kiss on the lips and then pressed his lips against my forehead. “We’re one plane trip away from being married.”

“It’s a bloody long trip though,” I chuckled. “We’re leaving LA at 1PM and will be in Paris at 9AM European time, then 5 hours at the airport and another 2 hour flight. We’re gonna need to nap a lot.”

“Napping is my second favourite thing to do with you.” He joked.  

Even though we were never fans of this solution, we decided to rent a private jet in order to make the trip as comfortable for Dodger, as we could. We realised that we were spending so much money on the wedding then we might as well treat ourselves and have a nice flight alone to Norway.  

Although Dodger was quite used to travelling by now, he still required some attention during the take off, but was fine once we were allowed to unfasten our seatbelts. As soon as we could, we went to the bed. Dodger laid down next to me, while Chris was behind me squeezing me into his body. He pressed his face into my neck, inhaling my scent. “I can’t believe they’re going to take you away from me right before the wedding.”

“It’s so you can get shitfaced and run away while you still can.” I joked. “And so the girls can ask me about our sex life.”

“Which has been non-existent for the past month?” Chris inquired. “Just tell them that you can never walk normally after we have sex.”

“Why would I lie?” I laughed and my fiancé responded by biting me on the shoulder. “Let's sleep while we can.”

The noise of the engines actually helped us fall asleep, which meant we would avoid a massive jetlag in Europe. The stewardess woke us up before the landing, so we could fasten our seatbelts again. “Have I told you that I might be taking on a new movie and they’re asking me to grow out my hair and a real beard?”  

“You have a real beard already,” I said, imagining him with longer hair and instantly getting excited. “And I love that idea, you should say yes.”  

“Oh, that’s just a stubble.” He mumbled, scratching his hand against his facial hair. “I’m surprised you let me have a beard for the wedding.”

I turned from the window to frown at him. “The only thing I’m ever going to forbid is that stupid idea you had for a white suit for the wedding, honestly. I thought Lisa raised you better.”  

We arrived at the village and were guided to our cabin. All of them were wooden and so simple yet unique. I knew Chris loved them too and was excited about the idea of getting married here even if he didn’t want to admit.  

Before we could settle in there, we heard more cars arrive. Our guests were arriving from different parts of the world.  

The first ones to arrive after us were our closest families. We separated to help them put their luggage in their houses. I spent some time with my mum first and then with my dad.

While they were settling in, Chris and I met up to check out the venue for the first time. Chris came out from his family’s cabin. I waited for him as he walked towards me. He was wearing a plaid shirt, dark jeans and sunglasses. “That is one handsome boy I’m marrying,” I grinned and put my hands in my pockets. “Can’t wait until he has a wedding band on his finger, so other girls know he’s mine.”

He looked around and shrugged. “What girls? I haven’t seen any other girls in almost 3 years, it’s like they disappeared...”

“Oh, you always know what to say, don’t you?” I grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  

“Yeah, I’m like that,” he nodded. “Now let’s see that wedding venue.” Dodger followed us closely and run around the field, sniffing everything.

I took Chris' hand and we marched up the hill. I saw a tree on the edge of the hill, which was decorated with delicate flowers. Its branches were low enough to make it look like some kind of an arch. It was surrounded with dark wooden chairs with flower stalks on them. “Oh God, Chris,” I gasped when I took it all in. “This is so beautiful, so simple... Can we just get married right here, right now?”

“I told you I wanted to elope as soon as you said yes.” he sighed and pulled me toward the tree. I took a closer look at the flowers and stalks and just the whole thing that really looked good altogether. “But I’m really glad we came here to do this.”

I noticed candle stands and flowerbeds waiting to be filled tomorrow. Claire joined us and showed some details. “I know you wanted the ceremony to start at 6pm, but I’d suggest you move it to 6:39, because the sunset will give us a perfect lightning.”

We both agreed. She moved us to the actual venue, which was a bigger cabin with only one, big room inside. All the tables were set already, the walls decorated with lights, plants and more flowers. It was so simple, yet thought through. The roof was completely covered with light that haven’t been lit yet. I was speechless.  

Unfortunately, we weren’t able to enjoy the moment for too long. Our party squad had arrived and they wanted to start our bachelor’s and bachelorette’s right away. We managed to put those off until the rest of our guests arrived.

When we went back to our bedroom, I noticed that our baggage had already been brought in. My dress was hidden in the wardrobe, while Chris' suit was out. Dodger was walking around behind us, sniffing every corner of the room. “Why is it not unlucky for a bride to see her groom's suit?” I wondered, touching the rich fabric of the Gucci suit. The team came in one day and took Chris' measurements to make him the well-tailored suit in front of me. It was black – I was rooting for dark blue, because Chris looks amazing in it, but they decided against it.  

“I have no idea, but it’s probably because men are helpless without women and need their opinions on everything,” he wrapped his arms around my waist and rest his head on my shoulder. “We’re getting married in 30 hours.”  

“Yeah, and they’re trying to separate us for the majority of the time we have left as an engaged couple.”

“We have to get though this,” he cheered. “If we got through 5 weeks of no sex, then we can get through this.”

I sighed, looking out the window and seeing Amy come closer to our house. “I still can’t believe we actually did that.”

Soon enough, there were two crowds of people in our cabin, waiting for us to separate. Neither of us really wanted that. We were a little tired and wanted to continue our nap. “If you don’t do this, we’re going to cancel the whole wedding, tell everyone you’re both crack addicts and can’t make your own decisions.” Sophie said with her arms crossed on her chest, keeping her threatening gaze on us.  

“Whoa, that’s rough.” Adam commented. “We just want to get him shitfaced, not ruin his life.”

Chris was still holding me tightly against his body. We honestly didn’t want to go. He was probably the only reason I was still quite calm, even though I was FUCKING GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW.  

“Guys, how about you give us 30 minutes, huh? We haven’t seen each other in a week and honestly fell asleep the same moment we entered the plane. Give us half an hour and we’re ready to go, alright?” Chris asked. They all agreed to give us some more time, so we laid down on the bed to get some more rest together. Dodger seemed to realise that we needed to be close to each other right now and laid next to Chris’ legs.

“So, if there something you’d like to tell me before we get married?” I asked.

Chris glanced at me curiously, probably surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

I giggled. “Like, if you ever killed anyone and was too scared to admit it.”

He was visibly relieved and probably thought I was going to accuse him of infidelity or something. “No, nothing like that. I think you should know by now that I’m not like that.”

I turned to lay on my side and look at him. “I know, baby,” I smiled and pressed a kiss against his bicep. “That’s why I’m marrying you. Also, because of your big dick.”

Chris burst out laughing. “Yeah, I mean, good dick is important, right,” he admitted. “So, is there anything you’d like to tell me before I tie myself up to you forever?”

I sat up next to him and snuck my hand under his shirt to scratch he hair on his chest. “I’m changing my name to Emilia Evans,” I smiled. Chris also pulled himself up to face me. “I don’t know if I’m going to use it professionally yet, but I’m definitely changing it legally.”

“Oh my God,” he lit up and wrapped his arms around me. “But you said that you weren’t so sure about this.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought about it and figured that I’m not too attached to my last name and if it’s important to you, I want to do this.” I explained.  

“I can’t believe this,” Chris sighed. I smiled at his excitement and put my hands on each side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. Chris licked my bottom lip playfully and tackled me down to lay under him. When I was right under him, he pulled away to look at me. “I’m still not entirely convinced it's real life, baby”

“It is, Evans,” I sighed. “It only gets better from here...”

I heard a loud knock on the bedroom door and we knew that our 30 minutes had come to an end. We were soon violently torn away from each other and brought to different cabins for the festivities prepared for us. Amy, Marie and Sophie were the ones who had me for the evening. Scarlett was supposed to join too, but she couldn’t fly in so early with her daughter.

Chris was kidnapped by Adam, Seth, Sam and Tom, who wouldn’t tell him or me where they were going, but I knew that Sebastian, Anthony and Hemsworth were supposed to join them soon.  The girls took me to their cabin, which was meant to be our party spot for the evening.

They were kind enough you hang balloons spelling “Fun is over” above a table full of food and colourful drinks. I noticed that they also prepared some games (obviously). “Emily, this is your last night as a single woman. Sit down and let us entertain you,” They sat me down and took a photo of me holding a drink and sitting under the balloons. “You can post it on Instagram when you decide to let the people know about your wedding.” Amy grinned.

“You can drink all you want, but for every glass of alcohol, we're making you drink a glass of water, so you’re not completely hangover tomorrow.” Mary said, handing me my first mojito of the night. “That’s us being responsible.”

They started off by saying how beautiful they think everything looked and were impressed by how much can be done without even visiting the site before the actual wedding. They all talked about how they want to get married too.  

“I think it’s weird that I never really thought of getting married before I met Chris. Like, I thought of having a fairy tale wedding when I had that crush on Steven in second grade, but I never thought I’d get married before the age of 24.” I took a sip of my drink through a metal straw.  

“Yeah. To be honest, out of 4 of us, I always thought that you'd be the last one to get married,” Amy agreed. “Not that you wouldn’t find a man or anything, I just though you were too independent for this.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Oh, he doesn’t affect my independence in any way. I was worried about that at first, before we talked about our future together, children and stuff, but now it’s all sorted out.” I explained. “I actually got an IUD last month, so he realises that having children isn’t only one missed pill away now, it’s one medical procedure away. He was fine with it.”  

“I’m glad then,” Amy smiled. “You’re strong, but him being 11 years older and stuff, I was afraid he’d maybe try to force you or something. Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes when they ask him about having children in the future during interviews, he sounds a bit desperate.”  

I laughed. “Yeah, he does. He really loves children, so I’m not surprised. I just got used to it.”  

“Does he have a breeding kink?” Sophie asked out of nowhere. I nearly choked on my drink and Mary froze with a mouth full of Cheetos. “What? It’s very common.”

“Sophie, that’s surely the most private thing you have asked any of us, ever.” Mary laughed.

“She told us about the time they tried anal!” Sophie yelled.

“Two times.” I corrected. “And I don’t think he has it or at least he’s ever done anything that would resemble it, but that would be kind of hot.”  

“Em, you should know, every smutty game we're going to play was her idea.” Mary sighed. “I’m only in charge of your answers for the newlyweds game.”

“And I’m charge of asking about how big his penis is.” Amy grinned. “You only ever said that it’s big, but that could mean so many things...”

“18 centimetres,” I answered quickly. “By the way, I really hope this isn’t our last night to do immature stuff.”

Mary shook her head. “Of course not, there’s at least 3 more bachelorette parties ahead of us,” she reminded. “And also, what the fuck!? He's 18 centimetres? How do you walk? Harry is 15 and I can barely... wow.”

“Ok, I think we've already established that Chris isn't only well endowed, but also skilled, so it’s not the matter of his length.” Sophie said.  

“Yeah, he’s... do you remember when I spent that night with ??? and I told you that there must be something wrong with me, because I felt nothing, and I literally mean nothing? Like, he was going down on me and I had to take every movement and sound I was making. I was so afraid of our first time with Chris, because it was not only us having sex for the first time, but also me having my first time at all. And it was just incredible, because I didn’t have to fake anything! I was moaning so much that I was afraid he’d think I’m faking.”

“I remember. And I told you that there’s nothing wrong with you, he was just bad at sex. Chris is generous on a daily basis, so he’s also generous in bed.” Mary shrugged, taking another drink.

“What’s the most times he has made you come during one session?” Amy asked.

I sighed. “Well, if he’s well rested and hasn’t been to the gym that day then I cum twice for his one time. If he goes down on me then it, you know, depends on how long he’s willing to do that... or when I start asking him to stop.”

“You have to ask him to stop!?”  

“Yeah, I get oversensitive sometimes.”

Mary sat back on the sofa, looking like she just found out that Santa Claus isn’t real. “You know, I was never jealous about your acting career, because we know that even if you earn more than decent money and have a month off, then it means you worked 18 hours a day for the last two. But for the love of God, you are less than 24 hours away from marrying a man who eats you out until you actually beg him to stop. I’m starting to get jealous.”  

“He has bad qualities too, you know,” I sighed. “He’s very indecisive and, to be honest, he was the one with commitment issues. We had a few months last year, right after we moved in together and before we got engaged when we barely talked, because he felt like we would get tired of each other too soon. Even though he was the one who suggested we moved in together.”  

They ran our of things to ask about our sex life, finally. Although, it was such a random conversation that I actually enjoyed it. They gave me some presents, actually showered me with them. “We have only just realised that half of them is sex accessories, sorry,” Amy shrugged, handing me another box. “Chris will probably enjoy them as much as you will, though.”

After my fourth drink and fourth glass of water, I was a little bit drunk already. “Do you think we will last?” I asked, laying down on the sofa, playing with the flowers in my flower crown.  

“I think Chris is glued to you like my father's nose to his TV.” Sophie said. “If you called him right now, he would be here in a second.”  

“There’s nothing you could ask him that he would say no to. Unless it’s a threesome, I don’t think he would want to share you.” Amy agreed.

“Yeah, but I mean... do you think we will be just another couple that divorces after 5 years? That’s probably what everyone thinks.”

“Who cares? You’re marrying Chris Evans, one of the hottest men on Earth, Captain America, with a big dick attached to him and a great personality, despite being a Gemini!” Sophie explained.  

“A big dick attached to him!” Amy burst into laughter. “That is the best thing ever!”

We stayed up until 2 am, when I decided that I was tired enough to fall asleep without bigger problems. They made me sleep in one of their rooms, so I wouldn’t run back and sleep with Chris.  

The moment I was alone, I texted Chris, asking if he was awake. He called right away. “Hi baby,” he said in a low voice.  

“Wait, you were asleep?” I asked. “You finished your party earlier than we did?”

“Baby, I’m 35,” he whined. “If I want to be alright for a whole day of preparations, a wedding, reception and the whole night of lovemaking, I gotta get some quality sleep.”  

I laughed. “Sure. I just called to check if you’re alright and not in Vegas by now.”  

“Nah, we had a few drinks and talked. Also, I’m ashamed to admit that we did play a few drinking games.”  

“Well, I forgive you. You don’t know any better.” I sighed into the pillow. “Are you nervous?”

“Like hell.” He admitted. “I can't believe this is finally happening. I can't believe it's already been a year since we got engaged.”

I remembered the day we drove to see Loch Ness and he just decided to drop on one knee. I can’t believe it’s been so long since that day. “I’m really glad you almost killed me at that airport.”

“Oh, that’s just exaggerating.”

We talked some more, but mostly just stayed silent, listening to each other's breaths. About an hour in, we decided we had to go to sleep. “I’ll see you at the altar, right?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I can’t wait.” I turned to lay on to my back and stared at the ceiling. “Don’t be late, please.”

“Wouldn't dare, I’m counting seconds until I can finally see you, love.”

----

@daybreak96 @coffeebooksandfandom @smilexcaptainx @betinalunardi @rollinsuh @lily2089 @stella2445 @hy-pocrite @l0rd-disick @beholdoritou @klaussstilinski @achishisha @givenchymercury @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @henry-cavill-gossip-girl @rock-titties @bombsandsparkles @marvel-fan23 @cap-just-said-language @blackaestheticislife @justsomemarvelspam @nerdchester17 @shyofaspark @cssrogersse @crispyearthquakezombie @ultragalaxy @bit-of-a-timelord @kingofallthingsz @morguleth @calicokitkat @areelphony @gemgemswift @donut-crazs @dontchawishyouknewhowtosalsa @kandomeresbitch @deafeningpsychicpandahands @severely-theoretic @chmedic @patzammit @winterssoliderss @metalarmlover @saturnki @coolkimchijoy16 @sammyjammy92 @coolkimchijoy16 @peruvian-bae  @avngersx

[awake-and-strange]

This obituary by Janis Ian about Anne McCaffrey is very A Passion for Friends:

There've been so many mentions of Anne McCaffrey in the post below, I thought to post this homage I wrote for Locus Magazine when Annie died. I miss her, a lot. I kept a few of the most precious books she gave me, but last time I opened one I burst into tears... I feel fortunate to have loved someone so wonderful, to have been loved in return, and to miss her this much. From Locus Magazine: THE MASTERHARPER IS GONE "I have a shIelf of comfort books, which I read when the world closes in on me or something untoward happens." —Anne McCaffrey I miss her fiercely, more than I have any right to miss her. I remind myself of this whenever I run into her at the library and am stricken with tears. She was not kin, was not connected to me by family ties, not even a distant cousin. Not even Jewish. I have no right to miss her this much. And once in a while, when I chide myself for my silly sentimentality, the sudden lightning that pierces my heart gives way to a duller, deeper pain. One I can live with, perhaps. Like today, waking to a terrible cold, with headache and foggy brain I reach for solace. Put on my red flannel comfort shirt, add my favorite PJ bottoms, then a pair of  fleece-lined slippers. Make my favorite tea, cover myself with an old patchwork quilt, and reach blindly for a book on my “comfort shelf.” Of course. I can’t escape her. Hours later, still miserable, I finish "All the Weyrs of Pern"  for the umpteenth time, and scold myself for the tears that fall – first, because she is gone, and second, because I never really succeeded in telling her just how much she meant to me. I’d never heard of her when I stumbled across for "The Ship Who Sang" at my local library. I wrote to her, saying that it had moved me profoundly, wondering how a prose writer could have such a clear understanding of a musician’s soul. Being one myself, I said, a musician that is, and would like to send a copy of my last record in gratitude. She responded with a laugh that she had never heard of me but oh my, her children had, and could we trade books for recordings? And so, we began. I raced through everything she sent – such generosity, so much that it took two large boxes to ship it all. She, in turn, told me that while she appreciated the beauty of my “Jesse” and the clarity of “At 17”, she was writing her current novel to the beat of my one disco hit, “Fly Too High.” I laughed aloud because it made an artist’s sense to me – dragons flew, and Anne flew with them, regardless of the beat. It was the third or fourth email that she began with the salutation “Dear Petal,”.  Petal. Me? I responded that of all the things I’d been called, no one had ever dreamed to name me “Petal”. She answered briskly that obviously, they’d never seen me bloom. From that day forward, I was her Petal, and she my Orchid. We corresponded ferociously, both all-or-nothing no-holds-barred types, Aries to the hilt. Weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Dropped out at times when one of us was “on tour”, came back to it as we could. The time passed. Her beloved agent died. My parents passed away. She got a scathing review; I sent a few of my own. She was stuck on a chapter, I was stuck on a verse. We got unstuck, stuck again, and through it all we talked, comforting one another as only a “good hot cuppa” can. She picked me up herself in Dublin, leaning on a cane, nervous to meet in the flesh until I ran into her arms and smothered her with hugs. She drove between the hedgerows with complete abandon, a total disregard for ruts or speed limits, while I clutched the seat and wondered who’d get the bigger headline if we crashed. Annie, I decided, for she was truly a two-column, bold print kind of gal. By then, she was always “Annie” to me, or “Annie Mac”. My larger than life friend, who consorted daily with dragons and starlight, her own luster never dimming  beside them. Once, after she showed me the rock cliffs of the Guiness Estate and explained that Benden Hold looked just like that, she asked if I would write a theme for it. For the movie? I said. “Yes”, she said, “A theme. Because if Menolly came to life, it would be with your voice.” I say this not to brag, but to indicate the trust between us – such trust that when I got home, with no film in sight, I began sketching out some notes for “Lessa’s Song”. I wanted it to be haunting, the way her words haunted me. I wanted it to be sweeping, like the thrust of dragon wings. I wanted it to be everything I could bring to her, a gift for someone whose words took me out of my world and into hers. As she said herself, “That’s what writing is all about, after all, making others see what you have put down on the page and believing that it does, or could, exist and you want to go there.” I hope someday to finish that melody. I hope it’s good enough for a MasterHarper to sing. I hope she regarded me worthy of the title. Because that’s what she was for so many of us – the MasterHarper, singing in prose, songs that reminded us of where we’d been, and what we could become. She came and stayed with us in Nashville, bringing a broken shoulder and trusting me to care for her. We visited Andre Norton, Annie insisting I not just drive but sit with them and listen to “a bit of gossip”. These two women—one writing at a time when pseudonyms were necessary for a woman to get published, the other cracking the New York Times bestseller list with, of all things, a science fiction book, and by a female at that!—talked of publishers, rumors, scandals old and new, while I sat as silent as an unopened book, wishing I’d thought to bring a tape recorder. At first, as her health declined, she bore it cheerfully. “I’m bionic now, Petal, complete with metal knees!” she declared. “Better than ever, and no pain.” She kept to her writing schedule, doing what she could to help her body retain its youth. Swam every day, bragged about her granddaughter’s accomplishments at school – “First prize, don’tcha know!” and commiserated over our various surgeries. We sound like a couple of old Yiddishe mamas, comparing whose surgery was worse! I laughed, and she laughed along with me. Neither of us reckoned on the psychic toll. “Old age is not for the faint of heart,” she quoted, as her energy began to leech away. How is it we artists always forget just how hard it is to write? how much work it is? How can we ignore the vast psychic drain that accompanies every act of creation? We both knew it from her Pern books, when going between enervated even the hardiest of dragon riders. But somehow, we never expected it in “real” life. It’s only when we lose that effervescence, through age, through illness, through sheer attrition, that we realize how necessary it is to our work. How fundamental to our beings. “I can’t write.” She confessed the shameful secret to me not once, but dozens of times, as if repetition would prove it a lie. At first, playing the friend, I tried to reassure her. Then don’t! Take some time off, Annie. Restore your body, and the brain will follow. Talent doesn’t just disappear, you know – it lies in wait. But she knew better. “I'm still not writing.  I think I know how Andre Norton is feeling, too, because I suspect that she's finding it very difficult to write, as the wellspring and flexibility that did us so much service is drying up in our old age. And no false flattery. AT 76 I AM old, and she's in her nineties.   It takes a lot of energy to write, as much as it takes you to keep on adding flavor to your song presentation. Sorry to blah at you but you're one of the few people who does understand the matter when an artist questions their output.” I responded in kind. "No worries talking to me about not writing... I sure as hell know the amount of energy it consumes. Every time you sit down to write, it's a performance. Only you don't have the luxury of props - no lights, sound, other actors to step behind when the inevitable fatigue hits. Heck, Annie, I'm feeling it more and more now, and you've got a quarter century on me.  I notice it mid-show; two hours used to be a piece of cake. Now I feel myself flagging at 45 minutes, and I really look forward to that 20 minute intermission, if only so I can have some water and sit for a few minutes. "Same with writing, for me. Used to be able to sit and write for 6 hours at a stretch. Now I'm good for two if I'm lucky. Part of it's my back, but most of it is - I fear - just that I'm older. It sucks." And she wrote back. “Must write. There are IRS problems. You wouldn’t believe. Mouths to feed, people depending on. Advances already spent and gone. Must write.” And so, she wrote, but for a while there was no joy in it. Still, I loved what she wrote, and told her so. I was proud of our friendship, not because she was so damned famous, but because she was so damned good. She even used my name in a book – Ladyholder Janissian in Skies of Pern – and roared with laughter when I admitted I’d been so wrapped up in the story that I hadn’t even noticed. But she knew – as artists always do – that while her ability to plot continued apace, the actual writing of it was becoming an endurance contest she couldn’t hope to win. “Turn more of it over to Todd,” I argued. Her son had a real knack for a sentence, but it was hard for Annie to let go. Of course. What artist can? “His words may not sing the way yours do – yet. He doesn’t have your lyrical grace – yet. But he will, Annie, you’ve just got to let him breathe!” I said it and said it and said it, to no avail. Then came a day when, 25 years younger and an ocean away, I finally lost patience and angrily berated her. “Damnit Annie, quit complaining and just stop! By God, you have created a mountain of work, an incredible legacy that will endure and be read by zillions of people long after both of us are gone – so quit whining about what you cannot do and start looking at what you have done. It’s time, Anne. Take this unbearable weight off your shoulders and stop!” I sent the email off and waited for her response, fearing I’d gone too far. A day. Then another. Finally, sure I’d lost a friend, I called to ask just how angry she was with me. Oh, no, not at all, she’s “in hospital.” She took a fall. She’d write soon. And she did, quoting me and saying “I knew you, of all people, would make sense.” A sweeter absolution I’ve never had. We continued our friendship, bitching about our bodies, menopause, the inevitable “drying up” of everything that comes with the feminine mystique. You cannot imagine the luxury, for me, to have a compatriot a quarter-century older. As an artist, I admired her work. But as a woman, I was relieved to have someone relentlessly honest about what was to come in my own life. We traded constantly. I sent her Lhasa de Sela, Sara Bettens. She sent stories about her animals, and the garden. One spring she changed my salutation to “Dear Crocus Petal – there are eight coming up now!” We planned  to visit Prague together in September ’01, but then came 9/11, and I chickened out. To be brutally honest, I was afraid to fly. Annie gently took me to task, then went off with someone else instead. I will regret that for the rest of my life. She went into the hospital for the last time while I was touring the UK – just a ferry boat and an ocean of commitments away. Knowing how out of touch she’d feel, how fretful she’d be, I tried to call every day. We fell into a pattern – I’d wait until I was in the van, then phone her up and tell an off color joke, a bawdy story, a bit of kindly gossip. Sometimes about people we knew in common, Harlan perhaps, or Scott Card, whose work she admired. Sometimes just a silly series of puns I’d found on line. Whatever it was, I wanted to make her laugh, because I loved to hear her laugh. She died while I was on vacation, just days after the tour’s end. I’d brought a copy of Dragonsinger with me because on vacation, I always brought a few “comfort re-reads.” I’d fallen asleep over it, waking to an email from Gigi. Please keep it quiet until I can reach everyone, she asked. My older brother Alec is still in flight, and we don’t want him seeing it in the paper before I can reach him. I called with sleep still in my eyes and heard the hum of people behind Gigi’s answering voice. It was fast, it was painless, it was everything Annie had wanted. No lingering. A “good death” for her. But not for me. It’s hard to open my computer knowing there will be no “Dear Petal.” It’s hard, after knowing such a warm and giving shelter, to go without. Sometimes I run across a sentence that sings to me, and jot it down to show her. And sometimes, when she leaps out at me from the cover of a book, I remember she is gone, and it hits me like lightning, fast and lethal and completely unexpected. It stops my breath, until I remind myself that she is gone, but I am still here. When the lightning hits, I comfort myself with this. The beauty of Anne’s writing is that she makes it all seem, not just possible, but normal. For men to go dragonback. For women to become ships. For young, unwanted girls to become MasterHarpers. For brains to pair with brawns, and sing opera under alien skies. And for an unlikely friendship to bloom, a pairing no one could have imagined, between a petal on earth, and an orchid in flight.

[kumkaniudaku]

Micah’s Battle

A/N: Here’s something I promised a while ago and now it feels right. It was inspired by that picture (that I won’t post) of Chadwick and the cute little girl walking around what I assume was LA. Also, the photoed child is what I imagine Micah to look like.

Warnings: None

“And...voila!” Chadwick exclaimed, standing from his position on the floor and stepping back to look at his creation. “Look, baby. I think I did a damn good job.”

Turning your body, you stopped your task for a moment to look over at him and then down to pile of screws near the constructed baby crib. “It does look good but, I think you’re missing something.”

His eyes followed yours before offering a cheeky grin, “Those are just extras.”

“Extras my ass. If my baby falls out of that crib, I’m leaving you.”

“You wouldn’t leave me, baby.”

Your grunt in response made him laugh, the sound booming in the half finished baby room. At just over seven months pregnant, the race to finish Noah’s nursery was on. Soon, your ability and desire to move would diminish leaving Chadwick to finish on his own. While you trusted your husband, you weren’t sure of his interior designing skills.

While Chadwick attempted to figure out where he went wrong, you continued to place pictures on the newly painted wall. 

Noah’s room was themed to honor the African continent, featuring framed photos of animals associated with the continent on the wall behind his crib. The individual letters of his name hung on the creme colored wall above his changing area, each one painted in a different animal pattern. Chadwick’s personal touch, a plush rug in the shape of the continent, sat in the middle of the room. After today, the only job left would be to bring in the chosen furniture and stock the room with all of his newborn items.

You worked in relative silence alongside your husband, both of you occasionally humming to the songs playing from his iPhone. A familiar set of footsteps excitedly shuffled down the hallway until they stopped in the bedroom’s doorway.

“Hey, Boop,” you cooed, smiling at her. “What’s going on, pretty girl?”

“Nothing!” She happily skipped into the room, stopping at your stomach to listen for movement before hugging your legs. “Daddy, can we play now?”

“In a minute, Princess. Daddy’s busy.” With his back turned, he missed the disappointed frown on his daughter’s face.

Looking between his focused expression and her sad eyes, you stepped in. “Mikey, why don’t you go and wait in the kitchen for me. We’ll bake some cookies and make hot cocoa. That sound fun, Diva?”

“Yes ma’am.” Though she agreed, the thought of baking with you wasn’t nearly as exciting as play wrestling with her Dad. She quietly shuffled out of the room, head down and shoulders slumped. Waiting until she was out of earshot, you turned to Chadwick.

“Aaron.”

“Yes, baby?” His tone was still disinterested, matching his body language as his back remained turned to you.

“You hurt her feelings.”

“Whose feelings?”

“Mikey’s.”

Lifting his head, he stopped tinkering with the baby crib and turned on his butt to face you. “What did I do?”

“As much as she loves me, baking cookies isn’t what she came in here to ask about. Your daughter misses you.”

“But I’ve been here the whole time? I haven’t left in months.”

“Baby,” placing the picture in your hand on the floor, you waddled to him and extended your hands to help him stand. When he was on his feet, you cupped his face on both sides. “She needs your attention. You’re her best friend. When’s the last time you two spent time together?”

“I mean, I picked her up from school the other day.”

“To take her to the dentist,” you laughed. “That’s not quality bonding.”

“But, baby-”

“Take a break for a day. Remind her that she’s still your little girl. Show her that the new baby won’t take away from that.” You watched his head drop in shame at the realization that he’d been unintentionally neglecting his first born. Kissing his forehead, you lifted his chin so that he was level with you. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah but, I should’ve been paying attention. My Princess probably thinks I don’t care about her.”

“Impossible,” you encouraged. “I tell her all the time how much you love her. “Just...give her some attention. Boop’s gonna love any time spent with Daddy.”

“Can I join y’all for the cookies?”

Giggling, you pecked his bottom lip before breaking the embrace. “Nuh uh. Fix my son’s crib, Bob the Builder. And use the instructions this time!”

                                   _______________ 

When the crib was finished to your liking, Chadwick began focusing on getting back into Micah’s good graces. Calls were made, reservations were confirmed and schedules were cleared to accommodate his Princess for the entire day. Chadwick was up before the sun, clanging pans in the kitchen in an attempt to make Micah’s favorite breakfast. You helped as much as he would allow, relaying the chocolate chip pancake recipe when he would get off track and setting the table for her arrival.

“Can I come with you guys today, husband?” You asked, sneaking a mini pancake into your mouth. He frowned at your antics, popping your hand when you reached for another and replacing the treat with an apple.

“No, wife. Today is for daddy and daughter bonding.”

“Oh, so, now I can’t bond? Y’all just kicked ole CoCo out the family?”

“Just for a couple hours, baby. Daddy will be back to give you some special attention later on.” He smiled while you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. My and my baby boy are gonna have a good time. Ain’t that right, Noah,” you rubbed your belly, hoping for some movement. “We gon’ take naps and eat all kinds of food!”

“You’re trying to turn my boy against me already.” With your help, he balanced the platter of pancakes on his arm to carry it to the kitchen table. He smiled at the display, satisfied with the way it looked. Now, the hard part of the day was upon him. “It’s time to go wake up Sleeping Beauty.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoffed. “Resist the urge to knock her out. Be better than me.”

Micah was tough to get to sleep and even tougher to wake up. You battled daily with her, fighting through the whining and pouting just to get her out of the bed and into the bathroom to begin the day. While Chadwick was the more understanding parent, it did little to alter Micah’s morning moods.

Quietly pushing her bedroom door open, he smiled at his little girl. Her sleeping position was almost identical to his usual: an arm and leg draped over her stuffed Black Panther toy and her mouth open while she lightly snored.

Chadwick kept his footsteps quiet before sitting on the bed beside her.

“Hey, baby girl,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “It’s time to wake up.”

She groaned in response, attempting to turn her back to him and remain asleep. “Daddyyyyy!”

“Oh, not you don’t!” He exclaimed, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap. His animated kisses all over her face and neck finally did the trick, making her open her eyes and lay her head against his chest. “Daddy has a big day planned for you, Boop. You wanna have some fun with me?”

“Yeah! Are we going to the park?”

“Better! We’re going to go the zoo to see your favorite animal.”

“A giraffe!”

Her excitement made him smile. “That’s right, twin! We’re going to see some giraffes. But first, Mama helped me make you breakfast so, we need to go eat before the food gets cold. Is that okay with you?”

Without hesitation, she nodded and wiggled in his lap. Taking her restless movements as a positive response, Chadwick threw her on his shoulders, making sure she was secure before jogging to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a lively affair as Chadwick sought Micah’s approval for the day’s itinerary. In matching outfits that you picked the night before, the tandem hopped into Chadwick’s Tesla to take on the day.

The zoo was the first stop on the list. Micah gaped at the animals and information around her, asking the zookeeper questions whenever she could. Chadwick thought she would explode from excitement during the giraffe feeding, gaining the attention of everyone around her as she squealed from the experience.

“Daddy, can I have one?” She asked wide-eyed when they were back in the car and headed to their next location.

“Uh, maybe we can talk to Mama about a puppy first.”

He knew you would say no but, if he could put off the conversation until the end of the day, she would hopefully forget.

The next stop was a trip to a nearby nail salon to get the Princess the royal treatment. She was greeted by name by the staff and given a tiara as a gift upon entering.

“Welcome, Princess Micah,” the receptionist greeted. “Are you ready for your appointment?”

Looking up at Chadwick for confirmation, he sensed apprehension in her body language.

“Go ahead, twin. She’s gonna take you to get your nails and toes painted like your mom’s. You like that, right?”

“Can you come with me, Daddy? Please?” Her eyes pleaded with him, making it hard for him to decline her offer.

In a matter of minutes, his feet and ankles were submerged in a basin filled with warm water, choosing a pedicure for himself while Micah chose her nail color. Her face scrunched as she looked between shades of blue, making her resemble you.

“You look just like your Mama when you do that, Boop,” he laughed.

“Mommy says that your nails should match the season. What’s the color for February season?”

The nail tech aww’d at her statement, “Would you like to try pink, Princess? For Valentine’s Day?”

Taking a moment to think, she accepted the suggestion. Her face lit up in awe as she watched the technician work magic on her hands and feet. She’d only been allowed to have her nails when you had the time to sit and do it for her, making this a totally new occurence. Now, with the help of her father, she felt like a grown up.

“So, Miss Micah, what do you want to be when you grow up,” the technician asked.

“I wanna be a doctor and a soccer player!”

“Sounds like you’ll be making a lot of money. You ready to retire, Dad?”

“I can’t retire as long her and her mother keep up this designer shoe habit.”

When the process was finally over, Micah marveled at the pink polish and silver glitter adorning her hands and feet. So much so that she all but demanded that her father send a picture of the creation to you before they could continue their journey.

With Micah’s excitement at an all time high, Chadwick wanted to get in her last surprise before she came crashing down. Another shriek of excitement filled the backseat once the sign of her favorite pizza parlour came into view. As a whole, the family had been following Chadwick’s vegan lifestyle, keeping the growing child away from her favorite meal.

Still having enough energy to talk, Micah filled her dad in on all the first grade drama at school. She remained tight lipped about a possible “boyfriend” but shared all of the details she could remember about her recent field trip to a wildlife center and the new words she was learning to spell.

“Well, when your brother gets here, you’ll be ready to teach him everything you know, right? He’s gonna need your help.”

At the mention of her sibling, her mood took a noticeable turn. “Daddy, I don’t want a brother anymore.”

“Why not, Boop? You were so excited.”

“Because, when he comes, you won’t like me anymore.”

Chadwick’s heart broke at her explanation. His worst fear was coming to fruition. Sliding into the booth beside her, he quickly picked her up and sat her in his lap to face him.

“Listen to me, twin. Me and your Mama will love you forever. It doesn’t matter if we have ten more babies after this, you are still our baby girl.”

“But you don’t play with me anymore. You’re always doing baby stuff with Mama.”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he apologized, hugging her close. “I promise, I to play with you more often. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to ever hurt your feelings. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Unconvinced, Chadwick tickled her sides. “I don’t believe you. Let me see that pretty smile!” Giggling and twisting in his arms to free herself from the comedic attack, she revealed a missing tooth in her bottom row. “Who’s my twin?”

“I am!”

“Who’s always gonna be my big girl?”

“Me!”

“Alriiiight,” holding out his hand, he signaled for Micah’s hand to collide with his before pulling her into another hug.

                                 _______________

It only took the 20 minute drive back home for the energetic five year old to succumb to the events of the day. Chadwick stole glances at her sleeping frame every so often, silently thanking God for blessing him with his baby girl.

Posted in the living room with an assortment of snacks, you couldn’t help but swoon as he carried her past you and into her bedroom to sleep the rest of the day off. When he returned, he flopped down in the space beside you to rest his head in the little bit of lap you had left.

“Did you have a good time,” you asked, playing with a stray grey hair tangled in his coils. “You look worn out.”

“I am, baby. I don’t know how you do it,” He rubbed at his temples as he tilted his head to look up at you. “But we had a good time. She knows that we’re not trying to replace her now.”

“Did she really think that? My poor baby! I’m gonna go give her kisses.” You started to get up when Chadwick pulled you back down with a chuckle.

“Calm down. I told her how much we love her and that she’ll always be our baby. Everything is good now.” He waited for your worried facial expression to change before lifting your shirt and placing a gentle kiss on your stomach. “How’s the love of my life and my son?”

“I’m swollen and irritable but, watch this!” Grabbing your phone, you pressed play and held the speaker close to your stomach. “Put your hand on the top on my belly.”

“I ain't no joke, I use to let the mic smoke. Now I slam it when I'm done and make sure it's broke. When I'm gone I wrote this song 'cause I won't let nobody press up and mess up the scene I set.”

The first verse of Rakim’s “I Ain’t No Joke” muffled against your swollen stomach as you waited for action. Soon, a strong kick from the inside rocked Chadwick’s hand to his surprise. The more the song played, the more Noah made his presence known.

“My boy is a Rakim fan,” Chadwick laughed looking from you to your stomach. “What you know about Rakim, AJ?”

“His mama is keeping him cultured!”

“And I love her for that. C’mere, girl.” Sitting up, he gave you a few quick pecks to show his appreciation. When the room was silent, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch while you closed your eyes, enjoying the quiet intimacy. “Hey, baby, who is Dominic?”

“Hmm,” you answered a little too quickly, clamping your eyes shut to avoid his glare.

“If you can ‘huh’, you can hear. Who is Dominic? Mikey won’t say anything so, I expect my wife to tell me.”

“Oh, spare me! He’s just a little boy in her class that has a crush on her. It’s no big deal.”

Chadwick shot you an incredulous look from his position in your lap. “When can I meet him?”

“I’m not allowing you to shake down a six year old.”

“That’s okay, CoCo, I’ll get to him one day.” turning on his side to face you, he began talking to your stomach. “You got an assignment when you get out here, Little Aaron. Protect big sis at all costs. No boys without the last name Green or Boseman allowed!”

TAGS: @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving @inxan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right @brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901 @maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee @halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku @lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess @unholyxcumbucket @airis-paris14 @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @cozyshack2 @zxddy-panther @queentearra @skysynclair19 @retro-melanin @mermaidchansons @misspooh @melanisticroyalty @babygirlofwakanda @wakanda-4evr @sarahboseman @karensraisns @blackmissmarvel @wakandankings @kaykay4454fan @ororowrites @awkwardlyabstract @mixedmelanin @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @sunflowerpsalms @panthergoddessbast @justanotherloveaffair @jaeee-http @iliketowrite1996 @blackpantherismyish @thompettiedatheaux @msincognito67 @reignsxjackson

[thebarsondaily]

Christmas Carols

for @tribalvipe

Christmas Carols Author:  amagicalshipper (aka meg0613) Rated: G Summary: A collection of Christmas themed drabbles for Tribalvipe part of The Barson Daily Secret Santa on Tumblr.

You Better Not Pout (Santa Claus is Coming to Town)

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.” Rafael muttered as they made their way through the holiday shopping crowd of Toys R Us in Times Square two weeks before Christmas. 

“Because I saved your ass with the last case and you said you owe me.” Liv responded with a smirk as she sipped her peppermint mocha a turned her attention back to the Lego sets. “Lego City or Star Wars?” 

“Star Wars, always Star Wars.” He answered her before continuing, “I meant dinner, drinks, a movie, maybe even taking Noah for an afternoon. I am fairly certain I could file extortion charges on you for this.”

Liv turned back to him and rolled her eyes, “Well Counselor next time you will have to be more specific. Now, if you will stop whining we can probably get done faster and I will let you take me to lunch and and then a movie.”

“Wait, I’m Christmas shopping and taking you to lunch and a movie? Which one of us here is the lawyer?’ He faintly protested. 

Liv dropped the Lego set into the shopping cart, moved a little closer and playfully placed her hand on his chest, “I learned from the best.” 

Rafael smiled at her flirting and placed his hand over hers before she could move it, “Is that so?” He asked stepping closer enjoying the sight of her face flushing slightly. Then he saw her eyes twinkle slightly and he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“Yep, Jack McCoy taught me everything I know.” She replied as she turned back to the shopping cart and began to make her way down the Hot Wheel aisles. She cast a glance back over her shoulder where he was giving her his best pouty face, she laughed and said, “Come on Rafa, you better not pout Santa is watching.”

Silent Night Rafael tore off the notes he had been scribbling and threw it on the floor running his hands through his hair in frustration. He was working on his summation for court tomorrow. The defense counsel had done his best to discredit the victim and despite Olivia and her team’s efforts they had not found a reliable witness. He sighed as Olivia crossed his mind, they had bickered that afternoon in his office, and truthfully he had taken his frustrations out on her. She of course had called him on it which at the time he did not appreciate.

“I should go.” She told him letting him know that he had pushed too far and she was taking the high road this time, “Are you still coming over tonight? Noah wants to practice his songs for the holiday program again.” 

“I can’t write my summation with all that going on.” He said tuning his attention back to his desk to avoid the guilt that he was feeling. 

“Fine.” Was all she said before he heard his office door slam shut. 

Now in his own apartment all he could hear was deafening silence. He honestly could not remember the last time he had spent the night at his apartment alone. Sometimes they would all come over there on the weekend for a change of pace, but it had been months since he had been there alone. Had it always been this quiet? He missed the sounds of his life with Liv and Noah. The sounds of Liv getting dinner together, and Noah crashing his cars together or telling an elaborate story with his action figures. He missed hearing the songs Noah had been singing for weeks in preparation for his program at school. All that he heard around him now was what he was missing. 

As he quietly closed the front door to her apartment he could hear Noah was just beginning to sing Silent Night. Rafael walked quietly to the living room joining Noah’s song softly in Spanish. 

“Rafa!” No exclaimed “Momma said you had to work.” 

Rafael picked the boy up and hugged him tightly, “I needed a less silent night.” He caught Olivia’s eye and saw her smile as he mouthed a silent apology.

All I Want for Christmas is You 

Olivia blinked slowly as she stared at the man in front of her, trying to take in the words that he had just said wondering if she had heard him correctly. They had been spending even more time together over the last few months, especially since his suspension and everything else last spring. She would be lying if she tried to deny there had been a shift in their relationship. They were closer, they touched more, even the names they called each other had changed. His voice broke through her thoughts. 

“Livy, please say something.” He half whispered.

His voice was so tender and vulnerable as he waited for her response. His eyes shimmered with sincerity but also held the fear of rejection. In a million years this was never how she had pictured something like this happening, In her apartment on Christmas Eve surrounded by half assembled toys, wrapping paper, and stocking stuffers.

“Say it again.” She said crossing to the living room to where he had been assembling Noah’s Hot Wheels track. 

“Ask me what I want for Christmas again.” He requested pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. 

“What do you want for Christmas Rafa?” She asked her voice shaking slightly. 

“You, I want you.’ He told her his voice not shaking at all. 

“Do you mean for tonight?” she asked, already knowing it wasn’t what he meant.

“I mean for as long as you will have me, you and Noah both.” He explained. 

“Then you better plan to be here for a long time.” She told him her voice no longer shaking before pressing her lips against his.

Silver and Gold

Olivia laughed at the sound of another silver bell ringing, Rafael smiled and pulled her close for another kiss and they slowly swayed on the dance floor. “We should have just covered the entire room with Mistletoe.” She joked. 

‘Hey, the bells were your idea, remember?” He teased. “Perfect for a Christmas wedding you said.” 

“Yes, but I forgot just how juvenile my team can be.” She said with casting a glance in their direction where Carisi was happily ringing his again. 

This time Rafael pulled her closer for a kiss that would more than satisfy any on lookers, but perhaps leave his bride wanting more. 

‘Rafa, there are other people here.” She lightly admonished as she tried to catch her breath. 

He grinned at her as he took her left hand into his, “See these gold bands, than means they can watch us kiss all night.” 

Liv grinned back at him and whispered, “Well, I don’t plan on letting them watch all night.” Before she repaid his kiss with one of her own.

What Are You Doing New Years Eve?

Liv stared down at her phone for what seemed to be the hundredth time. She told herself she was being silly. He was her best friend why shouldn’t she call him? She hasn’t spoken to him since Christmas Eve, they had texted a few times but she missed his voice. Honestly after several days off she was missing adult companionship. Not to mention tomorrow was New Years Eve. That was the part she was holding her back, calling Rafael Barba to ask him if he wanted to spend New Years Eve with her and Noah. He no doubt had much more enticing offers. 

“You should at least call him, see if it comes up.” She finally said out loud to herself.

“Hey Livy.” He answered the phone as if he had been waiting for her. She felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter at the sound of the nickname he had taken to calling her lately. 

“Hi, how are you? I didn’t need anything just wanted to check in with you. You doing all right?” She rambled nervously.

“I’m good enjoying some time off and catching up of some new case law I’ve wanted to review. What about you? You and Noah enjoying yourselves?”

“Yes, we’ve played cars, been to the movie, and baked more cookies than I can count.” She told him.

“Sounds fun, you guys want some company?” He asked 

“Well, yeah, um…” Liv stammered

“Livy? What’s up you seem uptight?”

“No, I just..Well.., I wondered if maybe if you didn’t already have plans if you would want to spend New Years Eve with Noah and me. I mean if you already have plans I completely understand…I just thought I would ….” She rambled again until he cut her off.

“I would love to spend New Years Eve with you guys. I thought about asking but I didn’t want to overstep.” He assured her.

Liv breathed a sigh of relief, “I guess we could both use to say what we want a little more.” She said before realizing how it might sound.

“Sounds, like that’s a good New Years resolution for us both .” Rafael replied. “Maybe we should start at midnight tomorrow.”

“Not waste any of the new year?” Liv asked with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“I don’t plan on it Liv. I’ll see you and Noah tomorrow.” He promised her and she felt the butterflies fluttering as she heard him hang up the phone.

[mostleemorethansmut]

That was twenty-eight years ago

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-x7GcwT-Tk

[A/N: Well, if you want a spoiler for this story's plot, go ahead and listen to the song. If you don't want spoilers, still listen to the song, just don't note the lyrics. Anyway, this one came to me when I was watching the Fran Bow stream where he describes going to a dance at a catholic school. The framing device of where they met came initially from a ShAmy fanfic I was meaning to write, but then... GTLive happened. I don't think there's much more to add. Also, Matthew describes his first kiss on one of the Higher or Lower streams, but I'm going to say he's lying]

Matt was fed up with his life. Not in a bad way. He wasn't so fed up that he wanted to go jump off the roof of a dorm building[extremely unsubtle Life is Strange reference], but he was fed up. No, fed up wasn't the right word. Bored. Yes, he was bored. He was bored with his life.

Sure, he'd just finished the eighth season of Game Lab, and on his 40th birthday he'd happily handed down the Game Lab torch to his protege, Quinn.(Actually, they'd be splitting the next season to help the viewers get used to her) The team had just added the tenth show to the main channel and officially were releasing daily. Film Theory moved to posting every other day, and, though they hadn't announced it yet, Matt and Steph were hoping to have a kid soon.

He was bored because every day was the same. It'd gone from running around constantly trying to catch up with life, but soon it'd gotten routine. A literal routine. Get up, have food, research til lunch, get exercise, record script, livestream, more research with dinner, translate evidence into script, go to bed. Sometimes they stayed up late together because they wanted to work ahead for traveling, but he never had to record while away anymore. He almost missed recording in a foreign closet now. He even missed recording in a closet, ever since they started paying for a professional recording studio. Their getaways felt routine now, too.

He wanted to break from the norm.

*

Matt jumped up and down in the backseat. It was so exciting. "Mom, are we there yet?" he asked.

Mrs. Patrick laughed from the front. "We won't be there for several more hours," she called back. "But we are almost to New York."

"Don't you have a game-boy back there?" his father asked. "Two of them in fact?"

Matt sighed and fell back into the seat. It was true, he had the games back with him, but could you blame him for being excited? It was his first time out of Ohio. He had never gotten to the national science fair before. He sighed and reached back to his Pokemon red. After a few failed attempts at finding Missingno, he set it down. There wasn't anything left to do. Wait, he hadn't beaten the game using only the first Pokemon he'd captured. He'd try doing that.

*

The word "ahead" didn't even begin to describe the two theorists. In fact, they were so far beyond their work load, Matt almost wished for the days when they'd pull all-nighters trying to write a new episode.

Matt sighed. He pulled up the N-Switch and decided to go for a retro night with another run-through the remastered Subnautica. Stephanie took the seat across the room from him and pulled open the newspaper. Matt stared at her for a few seconds, remembering the days when she'd cuddle up on his lap, no matter what he was doing. Then he focused on the game again.

Matt was zooming through the game, and was almost ready to build a base when Stephanie interrupted his thought process. "Hey honey," she called. "Listen to this:

"I'm a middle aged man who is waiting for life to stop running by him. Yet all attempts of kindling a new lustful flame have failed. And I want another chance at the past. So, probably hopelessly, I put out this ad. I call upon a woman; a girl when I met her. I met her at a national science fair in New York. We were young, but it was there that we kissed. It's unlikely that she lives in Los Angeles, but I'm willing to try to put out a call.

Sincerely,

Pokemon."

"Do they still have letters like that?" asked Matt, absentmindedly. He knew the answer very well. He was the one who put the letter in there.

"Apparently," responded Stephanie.

*

"Time to get up," called Mrs. Cordoto. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

Stephanie refused, wrapping herself up in the blankets. "I don't wanna," she responded.

"You don't?" her mother called. "You've been looking forward to this science fair for the past months. You wouldn't stop bothering us. You're seriously telling me you don't wanna go."

"I wanna sleep," Steph playfully whined. "I'm still tired from last night."

"Now what did we tell you about going to bed late. If you're going to got to bed late, you're gonna have to live with the consequences."

Stephanie understood her mother. She was already getting up and trying to stay awake while warming up the shower. They'd traveled to her cousin's house last night and the whole of the day was spent partying. She was still pretty pumped for today's performance. She wanted to show everyone her science project.

*

Matt frowned as his wife walked back into the house. "Where did you go?" he asked, giving up on the pages he was looking through.

"I went to mail a letter," she responded.

"What for?" he asked.

"Oh, you know," she dodged, "stuff."

"Steph, what's up."

Stephanie avoided eye contact by looking to the ceiling. "I was just... contacting a friend." MatPat gave a dubious look, but she continued. "I've been wanting to make a decision now for a while, but before I did, I wanted an old friend's advice."

"And you couldn't call her."

"Some things just have to be written down," she replied, directing her gaze to the computer, trying to absorb herself in that day's work.

"Okay then," Matt agreed, dropping the conversation.

*

Matthew crawled through the sea of early students. It seemed that everyone except him knew to show up early. They'd arrived when the letter had told them to, but the room seemed to be filled with overachievers. Matthew finally saw two open spots. He decided to choose the spot at the end of the table.

Matt set out his experiment. He'd chosen something video-game-themed. It was, "How much damage would Pikachu's thunderbolt do?" 'TotPat' helped compare size and facts that he could collect from the video game. From what he found with the size of pokemon and how much damage was dealt, relatively.

This was all decent, but, after finding a power strip, he pulled out his final product. There were two buttons that he'd rigged up to show Pikichu's weaker and stronger attacks. The second one was able to kill a person, so he just rigged a pretty shocking button and told everyone to imagine it 20 times worse.

Matthew had just set out a sign to check with your medical details before touching the buttons; when a girl set down her project next to him.

*

It was Matt's turn to read the newspaper tonight. Stephanie had claimed the television a while back to play Silent Hill 2.

Matthew scanned the paper. "Say Steph, do you know where that article from last night is?"

She raised an eye at him. "I didn't know you were so into the personal column all of a sudden. It's on page 8C, if memory serves correctly."

He flipped through the paper. "Hey, it seems someone answered."

"Oh?" asked Stephanie, clearly uninterested. "what did they say."

"Dear Pokemon,

I'm surprised to hear from you. I almost didn't even remember when I first heard the story. Now I remember. I am a now middle aged woman who would love to try to re-kindle her lustful flame again. How about we meet. Kennedy, two days from now. Same place we hid all those years ago.

See you then,

Doom."

*

Stephanie set out her cardboard display. It was a pretty cool project she had in mind. She had done a research project into the natural resources on Mars and weather or not it would be feasible to have a base there.

She had gotten the idea from the video game Doom and had used a lot of comparisons to the game world and how accurate it was. She went through and showed how the levels were mapped, how big they would be in real life, and what technology it would take to get there.

She looked over at the boy next to her. He was slightly taller than her with glasses and a strange hair-do. He was pretty cute. "Hey," she called, "my name's Stephanie." Steph held out her hand nervously. "What's yours?"

The kid took her hand. "Matthew," he introduced, "What's your project about?"

"Well, um," Steph stuttered. She was always embarrassed to tell people that her project was based on a video game. "It's about building a base on Mars." She gestured at the tri-fold.

Matt examined the board. "Oh my gosh, this is all about Doom. That's cool. I haven't gotten to play it because I only own a console. Have you played it?"

Stephanie was surprised at the kid's response. "Um, yeah. Lots of fun. I really enjoyed it." She looked at the boy's presentation. "Say, you like Pokemon?"

"Yeah," he responded, turning his attention back to her. "Do you?"

"Don't have have a Game Boy."

"I have an extra one. You wanna play some?"

*

Matthew put on his jacket. It was a bit chilly outside today. Stephanie had to run to the store, so now was the perfect time. He got in the car and drove to Kennedy Elementary School. The building was buzzing with activity. It was a science fair, after all.

Matt took a deep breath. Was he seriously going through with this? Cheating on his wife for a girl he barely remembered? Deciding that there was no time like the present, he got out of the car and headed inside.

He wandered through the dozens of science fair projects. After roaming through the sea of children and mediocre projects, he finally found the back door. He stepped out and glanced back and forth. Then he saw someone there. The woman had shown up.

*

Matt and Stephanie were sitting right next to each other. They'd snuck out of the science fair and escaped out a door in the back. "I don't get it," little Stephanie swore. "Why are all of my grass types unable to even harm your one fire?"

"Stephanie, that's the whole point of Pokemon. An extreme game of rock, paper, scissors." Matt grinned and patted the top of her head. "Video games can be hard sometimes."

Steph glared at him and sent out a water type. Matt gulped and tried to escape. Stephanie grinned as the tide suddenly shifted in her favor. She still lost, but it became fun by the end.

They were laughing and discussing their last match when someone said something over the loud speaker. "Sounds like they're about to announce the winners," Matthew said. He stood up and they shook up.

"This was a lot of fun," Stephanie thanked, "thanks Matt." The little girl leaned in and gave the little boy a kiss on the lips. Then she skipped off inside.

Matthew stood there, stunned at what had just happened.

*

The couple's reunion was a bit awkward at first. Stephanie stared at Matt and vice versa. "I remember now," she figured. "I can't believe I never figured it out."

"Me neither," laughed Matt. They both burst into a giggling fit. "C'mere," directed Matt, pulling her into hug. They happily snuggled together.

Stephanie chuckled as they separated. "I guess everything worked out in the end."

"Almost," Matt joked, "we have yet to re-kindle that lustful flame."

"Well that's pretty easy to do," she smiled.

Matt nodded, then his expression changed to panic. "Wait, you don't mean here?"

[moonandstarsabove]

ch.1 - it’s the 4th of july!

ao3, the walking dead, darylxoc, multi-chapter

this story contains:

multicultural POC lgbt+ characters awareness of mental illness realistic family dynamics slow build romance important and valid platonic relationships mythology themes

the cast consists of:

Kat Graham Amandla Stenberg Jaden Smith Lana Parrilla Idris Elba

oOo

Everything inside Diana screamed at her to run. They had to run, there was no other way they would survive. They had to escape. The others were behind them, and they were relentless, fueled by the endless hunger that characterized them. She could hear them; their throaty screeches and feet thumping the ground like war drums.

They were slow, whereas she and her family were not, but they also never tired or ran out of breath, and that gave them the advantage.

Diana was falling behind. Her parents, brother, and sister were only backs in the distance, disappearing behind thick trees with every stride.

No matter how fast she ran or how much her legs pumped to propel her forward, the distance didn't diminish – she was running in place as if waist deep in quicksand.

She opened her mouth to call out to them and water poured in, origin unknown, torrents rushing into her mouth and nose, down her throat, and sloshing heavily in her lungs.

She was drowning.

The pressure in her chest became unbearable like she was about to burst open like an overripe fruit. Panic held her heart in a beastly grip and she felt like death. Surely that had to be how death felt like.

Her eyes rolled backward as tears of fear swelled in them, and then the tears were indistinguishable from the water drowning her. Oxygen deprived, Diana clawed weakly at her throat, desperate for relief, and felt her short fingernails tear through the skin and flesh, reaching the rings of her trachea.

This was impossible, she should be feeling pain.

Nothing made any sense.

How and why was this happening? Who was chasing them? Why were they running?

Before she could form another thought, she was tackled from behind, her legs finally giving under her, and she slipped into the sweet bliss of oblivion.

oOo

Diana woke up with a gasp and took hungry gulps of air, her hands shot to her throat, yanking at the collar of her shirt to loosen it; it felt more restraining than it ever should have.

Once she regained her breath and reassured herself of her surroundings and safety, she stared at the top of the tent with cinnamon brown eyes wide open. She was safe, she was safe.

"Merda, that was fucking scary,” she whispered, trembling and feeling weightless as she rode down the adrenaline high from the nightmare. It wasn’t uncommon for one to dream of their worst fears; drowning being one of Diana’s.

She wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand and kicked herself out of her sleeping bag, appreciating the air against her flushed skin.

Sleepy mumblings to her right had her turning to face Alice, her younger sister; she found the girl glaring at her. The early morning sunlight filtering through the cloth walls of the tent made the teen's half-closed hazel-green eyes shine like gems.

"Da fuck you on ‘bout s’early in d’mornin’?" she asked in a nearly unintelligible mumble, thick eyebrows furrowed profusely; an expression familiar to her face. "Imma fight you and your mom."

"My mom’s your mom, smartass." Diana grinned, but her smile turned grim. "I- uh, had a weird-ass dream, wanna hear about it?"

Maybe talking about it would make it better. Maybe Alice would laugh about it and call her a ‘fucking idiot’ like she usually did and leave her feeling pretty silly for being scared about something so stupid. - Diana rubbed over her throat, feeling the skin intact, but the pulse still unsettled. - It would be preferable to the lingering physical and mental discomfort the dream had left in her.

To her disappointment, Alice groaned and aggressively turned herself around and away from Diana.

"Come ooon, I always listen to you when you tell me about yours," Diana whined, hoping it didn't sound desperate and shook her sister's shoulder. In response, she got a kick to the shin, softened to a thump by the sleeping bag, and the familiar flip of Alice's middle finger over the girl’s shoulder.

“Lemme sleep! I was dreamin’ ‘bout Lance and you ruin’d it!”

Fine, whatever; nightmares were just dreams, and dreams were not real, no matter how realistic they felt. She was sure she’d forget about it soon, as it was with dreams. By the end of the day, she would know no more of water-filled lungs nor blood-slickened hands.

Diana swatted Alice's finger away and turned to her other side, to her and Alice’s little brother, the youngest of the three but also the tallest: an astounding 6ft of lean and sinewy teenage boy.

Unlike Alice's curly afro, Felix had taken to style his hair in locs, which he usually bound at the crown of his head; they were loose now, spilling around his head like a spiky halo.

He was curled into a tight ball inside his bag. The movement behind his eyelids told her he was already awake so she teasingly pulled on one of his locs to bring his attention to her and in retribution received a nondescript punch to the stomach, which she scoffed and smirked at.

"Ay, what is up with you two and violence? I’m like a punching bag over here."

"It’s ‘cause you’re so annoying. Don't touch the hair," Felix mumbled before curling up tighter into himself and continuing to pretend to sleep, "and shut up," he added and covered his head until only his nose was visible.

Diana shook her head at his antics, far too used to it to feel insulted.

She leaned over him on her elbow and whispered to where his covered ear would be, "Happy birthday, you big grumpy wumpy baby."

He shuffled inside his sleeping bag in response, shoving her away. A muffled reply of ‘piss off’ soon followed.

oOo

It was an understatement to say Diana was disappointed with the day’s begin.

Rummaging around in her bag for any device that showed the time (her smartphone had run out of juice two weeks ago), she found a wristwatch she never got around to wear and widened her eyes at the pointers showing 5:30-ish.

Okay, she’d been used to waking up around this time for school, but she was on vacation now, and she’d missed out on perfectly good sleeping time because of a pointless nightmare that was nothing more than vague recollections. She called bullshit.

She tried going back to sleep, she really did... But the damned sunlight always painted her eyelids red, no matter where she turned and how she positioned herself. And then there were the birds singing their chipper morning songs, waking up the entire forest.

She needed perfect darkness and silence to fall asleep, and it just wasn’t happening. She envied her siblings, who had fallen back asleep so quickly, undisturbed by anything around them.

When she completely gave up, the wristwatch read 6:55, and she thought that was a good time as any to finally get up.

Quietly, as to not wake Alice and Felix back up, Diana traded her sleeping shirt and shorts for the clothes from the day before – a tank top under a red plaid shirt and knee-length jean shorts, which showcased the stubs of her leg hair slowly growing back, luckily almost unnoticed against her brown skin. She tamed the waves of her dark hair into a messy ponytail and grimaced at the wet baby hairs at the back of her neck; the aftermath of humid summer weather and an agitated night in an enclosed tent.

She stepped into her running shoes and zipped open the tent-flap. The air that rushed in was less stale in comparison and Diana inhaled deeply before sighing, loving the dry earthy scent.

She let the flap open so her siblings could also profit from it, put her hands on her hips, and turned her face up to the tree canopy with closed eyes.

A refreshing breeze rustled the foliage above, Diana heard birdcalls and summer insects starting their daily buzz from all directions. The air smelled of dirt and leaves and yesterday’s fire, the embers of which had glowed deep into the night.

She might miss having Wi-Fi and general modern commodities, but this closeness to nature was something she'd never experienced before and it was...new, and good, very good. If not a little tiring, especially when you've been at it for fourteen long days.

She took another deep breath and got to her morning routine. Their toilet paper was long gone, so they had a little plastic bag with usable leaves as substitute pinned down with a rock next to their ‘toilet tree’ – her dad had to teach them the difference between which greens were good to go and which would cause them to wiggle in their seat for days.

The water they had was strictly for drinking and cooking, so she wiped her hands and face with a secret reserve of wet wipes she kept for herself in her messenger bag; so she was a bit selfish, fight her.

Diana sat down at the fire pit of the isolated little camping site and brought out of her bag a book titled "The Passage", which she had bought at the airport on the day they’d arrived; her first purchase on American soil.

She had initially been attracted to the iridescent beauty of the cover, but now, sitting on the carved sitting log and rapturously reading her way through the final hundred pages, she found it was actually quite good; not that she had very high standards regarding books, to begin with.

The whole purpose of the trip had been to come visit Aunt Cátia and her family, who lived in Atlanta, Georgia.

Cátia was her mother's little sister and Diana’s Godmother. She'd gone to live in the States five years prior, about the same time Diana and her siblings had joined their parents in Switzerland.

They'd only seen each other through Skype since, when at all until Cátia had finally had enough of it and had bought her sister and her family plane tickets to come see her. The only problem had been with the other person that had also been invited.

Diana was startled out of her thoughts and her reading when she heard loud, very loud yawning and turned in her seat to see her dad stepping out of his and mom's tent. The golden morning light reflected on his dark skin, giving him a glowing sheen.

He walked to her wordlessly, offered her a nod, which she returned, and pretended to punch her on the side.

Diana ‘oofed’ playfully and grinned up at him as he absentmindedly hugged her to his side and scratched her under the chin, calling her a ‘good girl’.

She pushed him away with a laugh.

"Morning," she added, putting away her book and feeling a bit victorious that she'd been up sooner than her early bird of a father, even if it had been unwanted.

"‘Good mornings’ are for the morning," Samuel responded – his usual response, every morning without fail – and squeezed her shoulder to tone down on her smugness.

She laughed and wiggled away and patted the space next to her on the sitting log.

"Come, sit with me and wait for breakfast," she joked and did nothing to hide her grin.

Samuel crossed his arms, making his biceps swell, and raised an amused eyebrow, with the contrast of his hazel-green eyes staring down at her. "Oh, you’re waiting for breakfast? Get off your damn ass, you're gonna help me. I always gotta fucking do everything in this family, none o’ you lift a finger to do a single damn thing. Dad’s always there to cook and clean and drive you places." The cussing was so familiar to his way of speech that it went unnoticed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Pai is the best and we are the worst children in the whole wide world.”

A warning look from him had her up on her feet and doing as instructed. She knew she could play around with her dad, he was like a child himself sometimes, but she didn't want to accidentally trigger one of his notorious bad moods. Whenever that happened, the most ridiculous of arguments would break out between him and his three children, stubborn clashing against bullheaded, and it always ended with one or both parties’ day ruined.

So, bantering back and forth, they lit the fire in the fire pit and prepared scrambled eggs with chopped up sausages for breakfast. How they had managed to have fresh eggs this long was a mystery to her, one she didn’t dare question.

Diana was walking back from their rented jeep with their breakfast refreshments, when Irene stepped out of her tent, still bleary eyed and yawning behind her hand, but already dressed for the day in a get-up similar to Diana's. This camping thing had certainly changed her mother’s sleeping habits, since the woman usually slept in underpants and nothing else, as she didn’t like the restricting feeling of pajamas. It often made for uncomfortable sightings back home since Sam shared those habits.

Diana approached the shorter woman from behind and hugged her while planting a sloppy kiss on her freckled cheek.

Irene smiled and turned in her daughter's arms to return the affection. Then she took the half-full bottle of orange juice Diana had gotten from the cooler and they both went to sit at the fire pit.

Irene took her designated spot next to Sam and proceeded to kiss her husband thoroughly, despite just having had slept in the same tent.

Diana averted her eyes and cleared her throat. "For real, at the breakfast table?" She was glad her parents got along so well, but sometimes she had to put up with some indecencies no child should ever witness from their parents; they were very open about their affections.

Irene swatted her hand in dismissal, "Yeah, you'll see if you won't do the same when you find o amor da tua vida.”

"Ugh, but I won’t be like you and not at the table," Diana mumbled and scratched at a mosquito bite on her calf. She couldn’t imagine herself being gooey heart-eyes over someone like her parents were, it didn’t fit her.

"Shut the hell up and eat your damn food," Samuel said and thrust a plastic plate and fork at her, the smell of the meat making her salivate. She took the food gladly and scooped a forkful into her awaiting mouth.

“I miss my breakfast cereal,” she commented to herself, chewing half-heartedly.

Irene chatted loudly about old gossip Diana didn't care to listen to – she’d already heard it all the day before -, and Sam listened silently along while eating.

Diana took a swig of juice straight from the bottle and just observed them.

She always thought of her mom and dad as a perfect balance of each other, not only their hot-cool personality but their appearance as well.

Irene was short and petite, of Colombian and Brazilian descent, with dark brown eyes and shoulder length dark hair. A woman her age, well into her forties, would be expected to have some amounts of wrinkles, but by the miracles of her Latina skin, which was oily to boost – a trait which all three of her children had inherited, yay –, Irene's wrinkles only manifested around her eyes when she smiled.

Samuel was of Cape Verdean descent. He was admittedly not very tall, scraping 5’8”, slightly shorter than Diana, with broad shoulders and beefy arms. His black and gray coiled curls were always cropped close to the scalp, his hazel-green eyes were constantly stuck in an intimidating glare that was basically his trademark, which accentuated the crease between his brows and the crow’s feet around his eyes.

Diana shoved the last bite into her mouth just as her mother asked her if the kids were still asleep. With puffed cheeks, Diana could only nod. She made a noise of realization in the back of her throat and gestured by her head with her hands, attempting to reference Felix by miming his hair.

"For Christ's sake, mija, swallow your food and then talk. I swear to God, you only have the body of a twenty-one-year-old, your brain still hasn't caught up." Irene shook her head and rolled her eyes when Diana smiled like it had been a compliment. She had always been childish, there would be no changing that, she took after her dad in that sense.

Diana made a show of thoroughly chewing her food, swallowed it and dramatically took a swig of juice. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and addressed her parents again, "What I meant was, you got Felix's present?"

"Nah, your mother made us look through all kinds of shit for hours, jumping from store to store until my back almost broke and we didn't fucking buy him anything," Samuel remarked sarcastically.

“Then you shouldn’t’ve jumped,” Diana cracked, to which Samuel began to reply with an amused half-smile growing on his lips but just huffed and shook his head in defeat.

Diana had been there when they’d gone shopping on the day they left her Godmother’s, to stock up on food and other necessities for their camping trip, but she didn't know if they bought him anything then or if they wanted to wait until they were back home to get him a birthday present.

Sam returned from the jeep, carrying baseball gear in his hands that Diana knew for sure would be a success with her brother, and he handed the items to her for a closer look.

There was a set of three baseballs, a sturdy leather glove, and a dull metallic bat with a purple bow wrapped around the handle.

Diana nodded in approval; yeah, Felix would go crazy over it. Baseball wasn't very popular in Switzerland, so you could rarely find good gear, if at all, and the boy had wanted to try the sport for ages.

It was a pity that their trip's sole purpose had been family time only – which had partially not gone according to plan –, and not sightseeing or other activities.

Next time.

Right then, chatter like bickering and movement from her and the kids’ tent caught her attention and in a feat of rushed panic, Diana threw the objects at her dad, relieved when he caught them before something fell into the grill or pan over the fire.

Alice stepped out of the tent and greeted them with the mockery of a formal bow, "Good morning mother, father, and less importantly, sister. I present to you, the birthday boy."

For whatever reason, she began singing ‘We Are the Champions’ in a pitch too low for her angelic voice while making dramatic hand motions towards the tent.

Felix jumped out with a big flourish and waved and blew kisses at his surroundings, as if there were a huge crowd awaiting him, then dropped to his knees while victoriously pumping his fists in the air in exaggerated slow motion.

Alice sang a few more lines and stopped while Felix continued celebrating, clearly enjoying his moment and no longer grumpy. The older girl walked up behind him, slapped him upside the head and called him a bobo. Same old, same old with those two.

Felix, in high spirits, ignored her and started doing his ‘Estrondo’ moves, a ridiculous ‘dance’ invented and performed by the main characters of a Portuguese amateur short film by the same name, that Felix thought to be the peak of Portuguese comedy.

His knees were bent in a half crouch, arms as if he was hugging the air under him and he moved them to and from his body while dancing around in semicircles. All in all, it was the goofiest thing ever, and Irene and Sam hated it, because ‘it made him look half-witted’.

That had never stopped him.

When he was done and straightened himself up, mom and dad skipped the reprimand and enveloped him in a tight hug. He was almost tall enough that his chin hit Samuel's forehead; it was a comical sight, to be honest.

Seeing her sister to the side, Diana opened her arms in invitation, but Alice just sneered and shoved her arms aside while sitting on the same log but as far away from her sister as she physically could.

Diana beamed at her and patted her cheek, which almost got her her hand gnawed off; Alice did not like to be touched, and affection – verbal or physical – unless she initiated it, made her very uncomfortable.

After being released, Felix sat down on the free space between his two elder sisters and both teens accepted breakfast from their dad.

"Can't wait to see what you got me," Felix said around a mouthful of meat and egg.

“What makes you think we got you anything?”

“‘Cause you’re not terrible parents and you love your son very much and want him to be happy?”

“Nice.” Alice offered her fist for Felix to bump.

“You keep playing that card and I’ll start using it against you,” retorted Irene, “Won’t you vacuum the living room because you’re not a terrible son and love your mother very much and want to see her happy? Huh, like that?”

“Ho-ho, nice.” Alice bumped her fist against Irene’s outstretched one.

“Pick up your jaw and finish eating, and then we’ll talk presents, papito.”

When the birthday boy all but inhaled the last remnant of food on his plate, Sam gave him the things he’d hidden behind his seat.

The fifteen-year-old boy went bananas over it if his excited swearing was any indication. And just because it was his birthday, the only punishment he got for his foul mouth was a smack upside the head, administered by yours truly on behalf of Sam, the hypocrite.

While Felix was showing off his present to a jealous-but-trying-not-to-show-it Alice, a blast sounded in the distance, making everyone freeze and turn like a dog that spotted a squirrel. It reverberated throughout the forest, making nearby resting birds take immediate flight and screech hellishly.

More loud bursts followed, and everyone started to crank up on the worry until Alice reminded, "It's the 4th of July, bro. Today, the whole country celebrates with you."