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sugar-petals · 3 years

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SuperM as Boyfriends Headcanon

↪ caro’s note. extra long version because i miss ‘em. best boys, they’re all bf material to the moon and back ♡

5k words | bullet points

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub play, shibari, female reader, grinding, poly mentions, threesomes, face-sitting, femdom & vanilla, smut and fluff

⌈ ten

— motto: they won’t underestimate me for long.

most of your social environment is gonna be confused by ten at the beginning

and don’t really get what he’s all about

or think he’s like whatever, some random guy in a tank top

acting peculiar

finding him kind of hard to gauge

some of your family and relatives might even think he’s totally unusual and a sneaky fuckboy making you mad

they seriously wonder what you see in him

down the line that perception has turned by 180 degrees

as it should

ten becomes more irreplaceable, relatable, beautiful, perfect and impressive the more you know him

he’s not as mysterious and impossibly badass as everyone assumes

his personality is very approachable to you

and you find him interesting in every aspect, looks to hobbies to background to personal habits

and also opinions because ten is a guy who really thinks stuff through

so you gotta be roughly on the same wavelength

he likes discussing controversial and complicated stuff a lot for sure

being far wiser than his age suggests

you are the first to share those things with him until the rest of the world catches up to this gem of a person

spending so much time with you

in the most personal way he can

he takes you to see the floating markets in bangkok, you spend the summer in thailand

wakeboarding and playing badminton

his entire family knows you inside out at some point this shit is serious

it’s very important to him to go back to the roots every now and then

and that you have been around his home city as well

getting to enjoy the area and time together eating the most savory delicacies

renting a boat and paddling you around to the important spots, he can explain any question you have

this kissing is gonna be so romantic

who needs a vacation in venice when you can go to thailand with none other than ten himself as your ferryman let that sink in

except eating durian there he is, the boyfriend who can do anything!

with seemingly no effort

ten does little kind services of love for you throughout the day

he pours you herbal tea, fixes some furniture (he’s surprisingly good at tinkering), comes home from the bakery with your favorite pastry, does the laundry with your favorite fabric softener

he also goes on a huge shopping spree with you monthly because fashion is key in this household and it’s tremendous fun

you giggle when he puts on oversized shirts deliberately to look funny

everyone in the clothing store will think oh man what an adorable pair

ten will model the living hell out of the entire stock

and buy you the cape you really really want as a birthday present

said item turns out to be your favorite couple accessory

because you can sit next to each other on a bench at the river and wear it

what’s not to love about a portable blanket

of course he will take to instagram and make it such a cool thing, photographies of you wearing really cool coats and jackets

mirror bathroom selfies together as well, with a back hug, the classic

and not just for insta

you snuggle a lot generally

ten is always available for affection

and accepts all PDA

he’s a kitty after all, he loves the warmth of your body more than you know

remember how taemin said ten’s hands are always cold, newsflash not anymore since you stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie whenever you can

and hello sir your paws will be nice and cozy on my waist

or hand in hand when you waltz through your apartment

time for dance is a must

oh my god ten is so good at all of this

although say he’s definitely faster into latin than standard genres

tango argentino, he loves flamenco as well

don’t believe me? ten is a diehard rosalía stan!

vamos

so, no-brainer, expect a lot of dancy stuff

that escalates into wild, passionate fucking

which probably looks like an aggressive form of couple exercises

you poor sore souls

ten’s lil kitty butt is falling apart from all the “i can handle a bigger one!”-level pegging and you have aching legs all over

favorite position? full nelson

if you ask me ten’s ass is probably so carved out by the end of this you could fit lucas and kai in there from head to toe

this is not for the faint of heart

sex with this guy is extra cardio

and if you’re into that a threesome is gonna go down sooner or later

with our girl lisa

there. i said it

miss manoban in those knee-high boots, grinding her thighs between yours and you finishing off on ten’s face? the fucking hottest thing ever i need a moment wow

i don’t have to tell you how orgasmic this is gonna be

steamy sex life with ten very recommended

⌈ kai

— motto: you’re like a precious rose. i’ll protect you forever.

to be straightforward with you

he is in so heavily in demand it’s madness

to give you an idea of the scale

mark is basically occupied by yuta until the end of time

but kai has an entire idol fanclub on top of all erigoms

those sharp moves did not go unnoticed

he gets an inkigayo sandwich every other day

jesus christ

if rent-a-sexy-bf.com was a thing kai would be the most requested

his phone would be blowing up with contracts like

and you also have to pass kyungsoo’s vibe check

and taemin’s

the road to being kai’s gf is indeed the way of the samurai

i mean honestly: kim jongin is without a doubt the hardest member to get a date with

this has got to be the most selective man of the entire industry or something

if he likes you he REALLY likes you

and he will be the one showing initiative

because he wants to make it clear he isn’t just spending time out of politeness or something

although it’s pretty logical that if kai was unable to reject someone he would no longer be an idol but a harem husband busy every hour of the day

seoul would be able to found its own village

kai town

where like 70% of the population is pregnant

but since kai wants to keep on dancing obviously and he wants to lend his heart to only one person

seoul has to settle with a singular nini family house instead of a kai district

where you and the man himself are a full-fledged household basically since kai’s nieces double as actual kids

if you wanna be a young ass ‘mom but not mom with kids’ and be married to kim kai this is it

does he have a thing for milfs or something

that thought just came to my mind

anyway you’re mommy anyway wink wink

fucking til’ dawn until even his muscles hurt

going raw at the gym together

him cooking the most random food with the infamous waffle maker

cuddling with an army of teddy bears surrounding you

walking the dogs with the sexiest dancer alive

and the sexiness is only the tip of the iceberg

we know he’s all-round amazing

kai is the king of figuring out ways to chill out with you anywhere anytime

and yes innocent chilling

...unless you’re in the mood for something else

up to you

anyway

sweet innocent chilling for now... with the stunner... just smooching at best things aren’t going raw or anything

on the couch in the kitchen in the car when it’s parked somewhere in nature

kai takes you very seriously and is a great listener

he’s literally so respectful and open-minded i can’t

he will keep your secrets and stand up for you if it’s ever needed

yes he is extremely caring and invested

kai does not tolerate others being shady towards you

if there’s an instance where you are hurt and unable to assert yourself don’t worry. he knows how to confront others with measure but a firm determination.

kai takes a lot of that responsibility but only to the degree where you are comfortable

i think you get what i mean by that

and he is diplomatic instead of plain patronizing

you have a right to be protected. it means he not only treats you well, but also makes sure your well-being isn’t disturbed in any other way outside of the relationships

outside influences aren’t to be underestimated

and since kai is a godly man you encounter a lot of jealousy from others

a matter he will take into his hands since he knows he’s the reason

standing up for you also means saying no

to these jealous voices so this is an important boundary he has to draw

that all kinds of hellbent people want to get into his pants and take his stage image too literally is not up to you to fix

kai is there for you to enjoy and love not to defend

that’d be exhausting and beside the point

kai prevents stress and negativity to come to you

i hope i explained this well he doesn’t do this to be bossed up or make you weak it’s because he wants to make life easier for you

guys being protective will be chalked up as chauvinistic these days. often rightfully so

but what i mean is that kai support you in all regards so you won’t be at a disadvantage or feel terrible about something

⌈ taeyong

— motto: we’ll take good care. enjoy the pleasure.

he’s the type of boyfriend who will ask you about things he missed out on while he was busy

things um from the internet

while mark literally knows that one by heart already taeyong will ask you things like what the wellerman song is

and you thought it would be something nsfw

i got you fooled

did we forget that the man literally watched nct memes on youtube

taeyong is both even more 18+ than you think but also even more innocent than you think it’s complicated

this man is just hard to describe he’s so different, i mean every person is unique but he’s an original it’s the extra mile you know

anyway

sea shanties

bopping to it all day since he just heard it

singing it while he prepares dinner based on a youtube recipe video as he often does

he’s the most adorable person ever ever ever

asking you why shanties are back in fashion

(good question, requires a deeper sociocultural analysis i reckon)

planning to remix one for his soundcloud lmao i kid you not

maybe your favorite shanty

featuring fast-pace rap and all

creating his own previously unknown phrases and shit like that you know him

palazzo rocco lemon detox flashbacks

he’s hilarious i swear

taeyong will produce his own shanties for you can you imagine

as he says: my happiness is your happiness

watch out he will drop a shanty music video with extra krumping moves

taeyong is a never-ending source of pure crack

prepare to laugh a lot like, a lot lot

how can a man who seemingly has such a serious outlook on life and such a bonkers kinda face be so lighthearted

it’s like he’s peter pan or something

especially since he has to manage like over 20 brats in nct his cutesy behavior towards you as his gf will stand out to you

yeah so to be clear we all know he’s the cute one in the relationship

and guess who wears the pants

that’s always you ma’am don’t deny it

or wait

not for long actually because they come off um physically

but not metaphorically

because who doesn’t wanna sit on his face tbh

your favorite reserved spot

he loves it

taeyong has such a thing for your body it’s ridiculous

mister lee got a sexy mama

and you have such a thing for the gloriousness that is him

but neither of you will not admit it as openly as other people would think

all there is... is being flustered

baekhyun probably has to play some cupid now and then

and give you some ideas

like gifting taeyong plushies and things like that

baekhyun knows what taeyong is all about so the advice is very welcome

but most things you find out for yourself

by being a little braver with him you know

you walking around naked in the apartment or basically fresh out the shower with nothing but a towel

will shake up taeyong so immensely, he will back himself against a wall without you even pinning him there lmao!

jeez he’s so deep into kinky stuff but easily shook anyway

i quote him again: “born to be cute, i dunno!”

you can imagine the overwhelm when you rub yourself against him like it’s nobody’s business

it’s so much fun to give taeyong a regular horny meltdown not gonna lie

this man was grinding his whole body all over the superm stage and now he’s basically freezing up and drooling

how many denied and ruined orgasms he’s gonna get, so much overstimulation all the way

you’ll lose count of it

and just how wet you’re gonna be

is a thing for the history books

taeyong isn’t such a big deal in nct for no reason god gave him every talent

so great sex is obviously in his repertoire

i think you’re gonna break some records for most fucks per week

you know... guys like lucas taemin kai and baekhyun spend more time wooing and teasing and flirting

but taeyong gets down to business

one glance is enough

⌈ lucas

— motto: the hottest couple around.

ah, big boy

you really got this man’s attention

doing nothing much at all really

he probably just saw you walking around talking to friends

carrying an impossibly huge veggie burger munching and enjoying yourself after going on a jog

yeah boy that’s how you catch his eye

they say love begins in the stomach and that is the true meaning

or the nose, your food smells really good, lucas is going crazy, he’s seeing stars and shit

anyway

the towering burger isn’t the only thing he wants

lucas cannot get you out of his mind no matter how much he tries to distract himself

with more good food, movies, games

fooling around with wayv or the superm maknaes, and working out

he’s admittedly... a little himbo head over himbo heels with you the feels got to him

he’s not gonna say it’s a date he’s just gonna invite you just because

to hang out in the kitchen while taeyong cooks and baekhyun comes up with the idea to play twister

imagine lucas with his long arms and legs bending himself all over the place

fighting with kai who almost crashed his shoulders into taemin who avoided the accident quickly

making you lose a round

obviously lucas will hustle until your team wins

mostly because he’s so tall and baekhyun is so small which is a huge advantage when stacking each other over the map

let’s just face it baekhyun only suggested this game to bite everyone’s butts and to see you have skinship with lucas

which is definitely a successful plan of the leader

yukhei is in paradise

jumping around his room like an oversized bunny after you went home

don’t lie, you fell hard for him as well he’s just such a presence

emotionally, physically

a gentle but persistent giant

he’ll do anything to make your relationship happen once he knows you’re interested

if there’s someone meant to be a boyfriend it’s gotta be him come on

he will cave in after a while and admit he can’t just forget about you

not gonna lie

your ex is gonna be shaking in his ratty boots

his poor eyes will literally jop from their unexpecting sockets

when he sees lucas hanging out with you

with his shining blonde hair and tall stature, that perfect shapely body, with great fashion on top of that

looking like your guardian angel

man, xuxi really does

pulling you out of your slump that’s been going on for months

and bringing back smiles and a good time he knows how to do that best

and big big hugs of course

you can imagine how soothing and grounded it feels with such huge arms around you

he will make sure that feeling is always there when you need it

because you deserve that treatment

which means he will come over very very often

yeah get ready for how yukhei is a lot more driven than you think just dial and he will be there

underneath the meme surface is someone very determined who really really wants you

yukhei is chaotic good incarnate but in that area he isn’t messing around

his brain is like: “gotta be with her”

on repeat

he must call you, he literally can’t sleep without tying loose ends together as quickly as possible

no second wasted with this guy, even far down the relationship timeline

i really pity your ex

i mean someone dating any superm member would drive their former partner completely nuts

but lucas is a special case

he has that kind of look and aura that makes other guys dig themselves into the ground like wiggling worms or cope by fanboying over him

i don’t wanna make this sound like a competition and yet — congrats on your noodly blondie boyfriend alright

⌈ mark

— motto: two nerds in love.

how to explain this. mark is a perfect balance of a lover, a talker, and a shy bean

with a tendency toward bean

and flicking the bean

you know

cutting right to the chase are we

mark is very invested in pleasing you as good as he can

and defeating his awkwardness

because if we know one thing it’s that he always strives to become better and better like he can’t help it

and isn’t afraid of almost biting off more than he can chew

how many subunits is he part of at this point is it gonna be nct hollywood as well god dangit

back to the point mark doesn’t treat relationships and sex as something static which is a good and rare thing

he does his best and always looks for room to improve

while being very nervous, very bilingual, it takes two languages or more to express what he thinks about you let that sink in

that’s very shaky first date sex while being extremely in love with each other

lucky you

and an afterglow where he plays the guitar for you

that’s so nice

he can play it while laying down and shit

while singing

not rapping, actual full-fledged serenading

we’ve heard how that sounds in the relay cam

are you dating some kind of teenage heartthrob or something huh

mark will make it very clear he’ll stick around, this bad bitch is here to stay

or actually, he’s a good bitch, don’t misunderstand

mark doesn’t have a lot of edgy in him unless rap is concerned

he’s the kinda guy to get lost in IKEA with

having a good time

as often as his schedule permits

you really have to make use of your time together

this man might as well the busiest idol out there

and you are no different because birds of a feather

you’re both mr. and ms. independent

out and about very often

so meeting up becomes something special during comeback season

or wait mark always has a comeback going on

which is a double-edged sword but something you both know you signed up for

which is why you spend a lot of time around NCT dream, 127, and SuperM

sm’s publicity agents have to work extra hard i’m telling you

a dating rumor is the last thing both of you would need

since you befriend several members you gotta stay on the low as well

but hey the rage of jealous people of the public is nothing compared to the force of nature that is yuta nakamoto

who seriously thinks himself threatened and robbed

in case you are feeling possessive as well...

...you might have to fistfight yuta

to be able to be with mark

who is basically property of osaka at this point

yuta is a scorpio that’s just the way it is

unlike taeyong who wishes his rap buddy the best, yuta kinda wants to be mark’s wingman and see him date, live his best life

but also have mark for himself to fawn over and to adore, to be fascinated by

we get it yuta. bisexual struggles. very understandable

you have to promise in person that mark doesn’t forget about the holy gaming nights with yuta

which is hilarious since that’s not up to you but mark’s memory

bestie, yuta uses everyone as a scapegoat don’t sweat it too much

regardless you put a weekly reminder on the fridge

so the roaring lion yuta would be pacified

he doesn’t want to lose his sweetheart can you blame him

the ultimate but also most risky solution is obviously inviting yuta for movies

which will be appreciated but also cause a storm

mark will definitely break a sweat when you start a popcorn war or try to prove who hugs mark the best

caught in the middle of mayhem is mark lee’s specialty what did you expect

this either ends with murder or a chaotic open relationship down the line

yuta really is attached but who wouldn’t be

it could be worse mark has double the love you know

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you wanna know why i’m your candy?

baby tell me are you ridin’?

in fair verona where we lay our scene...

that baekhyun always wants to woo you — his way, which proves to be very interesting to say the least — is never hard to miss

putting in effort is mochi default mode

no matter what stage of the relationship you’re in

he might as well regularly serenade you under your balcony in the backyard just because

probably singing ‘baby we can stay up’ and wiggling his ass in all directions because he’s a dirty boy gone wild

yeah. nowadays romeo is twerking instead of feuding with tybalt

that’s good for him and everyone involved

you in particular because you get some very racy eye candy

you know how baekhyun is

at least nobody’s around seeing him put on an 18+ show like that

your little guy is one unhinged fella

if it starts pouring he will grind up and down the next lantern and belt out ‘singing in the rain’

you bet he can do some actual pole dance

he’s strong and bendy you know

and loves to gyrate his whole bag of bones like... he wants to hit you with all the body rolls

in the rain

what a freaky man

but hey you wanna stay up for sure

doesn’t take long until you beckon him to come upstairs

where the only way to alleviate him of his wet clothes—

oh well he has those roger rabbit vibes and you can’t be mad at it

he will play off all his hormonal antics

baekhyun is hilarious

and so perverted, he can keep up with your spicy idea of playing patty-cake don’t worry

how do i know you’re an extra nsfw kinda person?

who else would like baekhyun

he says juicy things all the time

and does juicy things

yes. finally a couple on eye level indeed.

when baekhyun asks are you ridin’ you ask how hard

bruh

this is gonna be fun

and remember

beside handing you sacks of money

his priority is always to make you smile

i’m kidding about the bags but

baekhyun is so rich it’ll show in your relationship, but he’s more about the interactions with you rather than the lifestyle

baekhyun didn’t hustle for a bentley he hustled to sing and get out of sm alive alright

financial stability: important

luxury: very nice to have, he can make you the presents you want to have and travel a lot together

but smiles: baekhyun priority

because he so badly wants to know you love him and adore him, he sometimes feels so insecure

of course you do

you always reassure him with your reactions

it’s very important to him don’t underestimate it

baekhyun has always been talking about his ideal type in terms of how he can cheer her up

so even the naughtiest sexy time evenings are gonna be filled with all giggles

anyway other than that your pussy will be dripping

because this guy is as horny as all other members of super m combined

and you have your ways of leaving him tongue-tied and wrists-tied

taemin’s impact

superm isn’t short of bondage supplies we all know that

so yeah. shibari baekhyun is gonna happen

since he does pilates imagine what kinda shapes you can bend this lil guy into

and take some pictures

privé is in trouble

bondage model baekhyun is bursting onto the scene

you might even run a risque blog that features cropped pictures with him

heh — you think people will recognize him by his body?

nope

first: you only upload HD pictures that aren’t whitewashed

baekhyun is basically never photographed like that

second: who expects baekhyun to be featured on a bdsm blog with his girlfriend

and this is the guy that drives you around in his expensive car with his big black shades on

well what can i say

nothing is the way it seems

⌈ taemin

— motto: i’ll unfold a whole new world for you.

taemin is cocky, he’s sensual, and: a very smiley person as we know

least boring relationship ever

he will prance toward you whenever he can to involve you in cuddles

touch-starved taemin is a thing

kkoong can tell you about it, he needs kisses and embraces so often

might as well pepper him with it no problem

and put him into your oversized sweaters when he eats ice cream on the sofa, watching movies, and you brush his ever-growing hair

he’s smol he’s gonna fit into them don’t worry

and on the other hand he likes a rough and tough girl who thinks of him like a boy toy

who acts tsundere or like his bodyguard

working out almost daily to the point of sweat all over

a gal probably able to pretzel minho lucas and chanyeol into one giant bundle

taemin truly has the taste of a divo

multi-layered as always

so you couldn’t say the relationship is always the same in sentiment, the vibe of the dynamic could be different every day

we love a complex man

what would be volatile to others is actually an advantage up close

because taemin understands every difficult facet of himself and his partner

even if those facets might be contradictory

or something that’s felt shameful about

he will accept and listen anyway

the same goes for getting what drives you

taemin is like a walking psychology velvet couch with fancy swirls as arm rests

point is he isn’t fooled by the surface of the world

he knows what has to be known

which also means your looks aren’t the part he prioritizes

and not even outward personality and habit is what he’s drawn to

it’s the mentality and values underneath

that’s true compatibility to him and he can feel it

he’s really really smart

and also finds it important that you get along with shinee and superm, that you think they’re nice to be around and vice versa

especially kai as taemin’s absolute bearly bestie. if kai thinks you’re shady and you don’t like kai either

or if you’re permanently super awkward and taemin’s moodmaking doesn’t help

we have a problem

but fair enough

kai and taemin are basically one soul at this point so if taemin likes you jongin does anyway

bff telepathy

in fact jongin was probably the one introducing you to taemin lmao!

because he knows you go well together instinctively and he is correct

so not to worry then

and it’s good on taemin to think longterm and not see you as a person outside of social interaction y’know

cough cough he thinks about marriage, you might be ms. lee one day

here he goes again taemin is just very mature seeing you as well-rounded in every aspect of life

without letting his dick make the important decisions at the detriment of making this a relationship of two lives not just two bodies only

but obviously don’t assume taemin is no horny devil. we all know he dreams of the freakiest scenarios and fantasies in this whole group

going kinda crazy about the thought of making you cum which he always wants to try with new methods

which occupies his mind more than a big bowl of super spicy noodles which is taemin’s favorite meal so

at the same time taemin junior is definitely the same clingy attention whore as his sparkly owner

limp wrists from all the handjobs on your side

and very swollen lips from giving all that head on his side

this is gonna be interesting

he puts the 6v6 in 69

equals 69v69 am i right

but i’m serious that’s gonna be a lot of oral action

you definitely ask each other about having sex very often, daily if you have the time and find a nice spot

and how on earth do both of you keep your hands off each other sleeping in one bed

taemin is touchy as hell with no shyness, and you squish squeeze and grope this guy like the mochi he is

ah when things go both ways

827 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

orbit, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Ah, university. A time to get drunk, get laid, and (maybe) get an education. And Jeon Jungkook could do all those things. It was great. Until the moment he encounters an inescapable gravity, the kind of gravity that had already trapped all six of his friends... but left him out in orbit, circling alone.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (too much) alcohol consumption, slow burn; smut (fem reader, dry humping, m-receiving oral, striptease, cock-warming, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - university!AU; a LOT of buildup; longhaired!Jungkook likes getting his hair pulled a little too much; Jungkook’s POV Technically BTS x reader, but we’re focusing on JK. :)

“Hey, you’re Jeon Jungkook, aren’t you?”

“Uh… yeah. That’s me.”

The slim, pretty hand slid into her backpack and she held out an iPhone to him.

“You’re friends with Kim Taehyung, right?” Her voice seemed a little hoarse. She was wearing a dark gray t-shirt with a leather jacket over it. “He left his cell at my place.”

Jungkook took it from her, frowning. “Ah, he’s not usually that forgetful.”

She waved a hand. “It’s fine. I wanted someone trustworthy to give it back to him.”

That was their first conversation.

When Jeon Jungkook entered university, he knew it was going to be different from high school. Bigger classes, more work, and completely monotone teachers as he struggled to stay awake during mandatory studies like Physics. What adult in real life uses physics anyway (besides physicists, of course)? At least he went to the same university all his friends went to, either as undergrads or as graduate students. Being with his friends was awesome.

Being smashed with his friends was even better.

The first time he saw her, she was standing in the corner of the party. It was at someone’s house with way too many people in it and everyone only vaguely knew the host. He was celebrating the first complete week of university by getting absolutely plastered (as one does). He noticed her right away because she was wearing a thick black choker with a silver ring on it and an oversized band tee. She wore a gray flannel over it like a jacket. Chunky combat boots, very different from the other girls in their high heels. The sharpest black eyeliner he had ever seen, paired with a red-stained lip.

She was also taking shots.

Surrounded by guys, in some sort of contest. She was throwing them back and two guys were beside her at a table, absolutely fucked. Heads on the table, unable to touch their shots, looking green. She clinked her glass down triumphantly and slammed her hand on the table, curling the other towards her.

Jungkook watched as money was slapped on the table.

She grinned and gathered it towards her, pocketing it in her flannel’s chest pocket.

“Nice try, boys.”

Jungkook looked away, quite impressed. Then Park Jimin fell over at something Kim Taehyung said and Jungkook had to catch the smaller man. He was laughing way too hard that something only mildly funny, but everyone was laughing because they were losing it. The night went on. Someone had retrieved a beach ball from the backyard and was throwing it around the party, making a fucking mess. The beach ball bounced off of Min Yoongi’s red face. He looked incredibly disgruntled and Jung Hoseok lost it, rubbing Yoongi’s nose soothingly even though he wasn’t hurt. Kim Seokjin threw it back into the chaos by headbutting it.

And Kim Namjoon was nowhere to be found.

Jungkook frowned. Also, he needed to pee. He yelled around for the bathroom and someone pointed in some random direction. Jungkook followed it, his bladder ready to explode. Eh, if worse came to worse he could just find a random bush in the backyard or something. He opened random doors, but they either had more people or people in various stages of fucking. Then he saw the open bathroom door down the hallway and two people two feet away from the doorframe.

The two people being Kim Namjoon and the young woman he saw earlier.

Namjoon had his fingers curled around the silver ring on the choker, pulling down as he pressed her against the wall, making out with her exposed shoulder. His beige sweatshirt already had a red kiss print on the collar, paired with a purple hickey. Her palms were pressed flat, snickering as Namjoon rolled his hips into her ass.

Jungkook turned around and decided to find a fucking bush.

The second time he saw her, she was wearing an oversized beige sweatshirt, no pants, scratching the back of her head. Black ankle boots with black thigh-high stockings. He was at the dining hall, waiting in line. She sat at the of the tables, across Jung Hoseok. Even though it was the middle of the day, she still wore sharp black eyeliner and a dark red lip stain. She was nodding, one of her hands playing with Hoseok’s pastel tracksuit sleeve. Hoseok was blushing, looking a little sheepish. She just shook her head and said something. Hoseok’s cheeks grew redder and she leaned over.

And kissed him.

Jungkook blinked. The cashier snapped her fingers to get his attention.

“Oh! Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

When he looked back, the table as empty.

The third time he saw her, he was at the club. He was knee-deep in an argument with Kim Taehyung about how building Iceborn Gauntlet was a lot more useful on Ezreal than Triforce because it allowed you to get off more autoattacks with the slows and helped you survive with the extra armor. Plus, the twenty-percent cooldown! Taehyung was rolling his eyes and telling him building damage was much better.

“Then build Infinity Edge if all you care about is damage!” Jungkook roared.

Park Jimin’s eyes were glazing over. “Guys, can we stop talking about League of Legends? I have no idea what you’re saying anymore…”

She caught his eye because she was wearing a pastel track jacket with a black t-shirt dress under it. And because she was pressed against Kim Seokjin in a booth, making his ears red as he spoke to her. The same sharp winged liner and a wine-red lipstick. She hooked a bare leg over Seokjin’s jeans. The older man jumped, but didn’t push it away. The silver tipped toe of her black boots rubbed against his other leg as she smiled. Her hand was on his navy t-shirt, tracing the embroidered white flowers. She placed her lips against Seokjin’s ear and whispered something. Seokjin’s plump lips opened into a small ‘o’. Her pink tongue slid out from between her lips and she licked his earlobe. Seokjin turned his head sharply to face her.

And she kissed him.

“Hah, here, got you a beer.”

Taehyung clinked the beer bottle down, still pouting. “I still think you’re wrong, but for Jimin’s sake I’ll shut up about it.”

Jimin whined. “Thank God, because I was starting to fucking lose it.”

When Jungkook remembered to look back at the booth, Seokjin and her were no longer there.

The fourth time he saw her, Jungkook was pissed.

He had gone to bathroom and came back to no friends. The fuck? Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung had just fucking disappeared. Like, yes, Jungkook had to throw up to prevent himself from getting alcohol poisoning and had taken longer than he anticipated, but still. What month of university was this? Whatever, not late enough to get fucking abandoned. He could understand if one of them was trying to get laid, but they were not drunk enough to forget he existed without so much as a text.

Earlier, Jungkook had been dared to shotgun way too many beers in a row compared to the amount of money he won. He still won though, so that was lit.

Anyway!

He had to throw up because it was disgusting. And now he felt much better, except for the fact that his friends were fucking gone. Dumbasses.

This party house was much bigger, much louder, and much rowdier. Whoever owned this house was loaded and they had tons of alcohol. Jungkook even swore he had seen drugs, but his friends told him to be careful and not fuck around. Getting expelled wasn’t on Jungkook’s list of things to do anyway, so he didn’t even bother to look.

Instead, he went on a familiar routine of opening random ass doors to random ass people, either way too drunk to notice him or way too occupied with fucking to care about his existence. Whatever. Where the fuck were those two loons?

And then he opened the door Jimin and Taehyung were behind.

They didn’t see him. Jimin’s head was tipped back against the headboard of the king-sized bed, hands clasping the hair of a woman Jungkook was beginning to see way too often. She was wearing a navy t-shirt, and her head was between Jimin’s legs, her hands clutching his pink dress shirt and Taehyung railed her from behind, eyes closed, white t-shirt drenched with sweat. The rough movements made her shirt flutter. Jungkook spied the white, embroidered flowers amongst the navy folds.

Jungkook closed the door and decided it was time to go home. Fuck those guys.

Not literally.

Well, it was happening right now. Technically.

Jungkook sighed and marched back downstairs, trying to figure out how he was going to scrub his eyeballs to erase the image from his mind forever.

Jungkook liked to hang out at Min Yoongi’s apartment. Yoongi didn’t live in the dorms because he was older and a grad student. Jungkook often went there to study because Yoongi practiced piano and guitar all the time. It was nice to study to some background music. Yoongi usually didn’t care if he was there or not. He had opened the door in a dark gray t-shirt with a skull graphic, yawning. The shorter man looked even shorter in his baggy black sweatpants.

“Oh, it’s you,” Yoongi mumbled. “Come in.”

Jungkook made himself at home, taking out his papers and textbooks on Yoongi’s coffee table. Yoongi busied himself around the apartment, making himself a coffee before going back to his bedroom which was also a makeshift studio. Soon, Jungkook began to hear synth beats, samples, and Yoongi’s pensive noises he made when he was thinking. This was fine too. Yoongi also often mixed music or was in the middle of making his own. Jungkook missed the piano, but rapper Yoongi was just as cool as piano Yoongi.

Jungkook stayed there for a while. Yoongi bought him lamb skewers for dinner. Sweet.

Maybe he shouldn’t party so much. This was nice too.

And now, a week later, Jungkook was staring at the same dark grey t-shirt he had seen that night at Yoongi’s. He was sure it was the same one, because he could see the skull graphic on the center of the shirt underneath her leather jacket. He tilted his head and frowned. She nodded and turned around, walking away from him. She didn’t say anything more.

Jungkook stared at Taehyung’s iPhone and then at her retreating back.

The fuck?

So, he waited.

Clearly, she knew who he was, because she had said his full name when they talked. Jungkook was going to ask Taehyung when he returned the phone, but Taehyung had just shrugged.

“Just hanging out. Don’t worry about it.”

Yet it was the end of the semester and…

Nothing.

The next semester started and still.

Nothing.

Jungkook saw her all right, wearing a pink dress shirt over a white t-shirt as she walked to the library, black backpack slung over her shoulder. Not just there, but fucking everywhere, at all the parties, all the clubs, in the hallways, and on his way to class. Wearing the clothes of his friends like they were badges of her conquests. They had to be, otherwise why the fuck would she have them? And none of his friends said anything. Nothing! Obviously, every single one of them had hooked up with this woman and every single one of them acted like they hadn’t. Even Min Yoongi, who was too lazy to even go to most of the parties or outings. How she had managed to bang him was beyond Jungkook.

And the fact that she didn’t even try to hook up with him was beginning to infuriate him.

He knew he wasn’t ugly. Jungkook received enough compliments to assure himself of that (plus his mom always reminded him, thanks Mom). He had drunken sex just like everyone else. It wasn’t like he didn’t make himself available. He was in her vicinity. In her orbit. Always on the periphery.

And she did nothing to acknowledge his existence.

Why?

Jungkook didn’t get it. And he didn’t like it either.

“Newton’s law of orbital motion.”

Jungkook’s eyes were glazing over. His professor’s voice was the equivalence of white noise. Why was Physics split over two semesters? Ugh. Whatever. That wasn’t the problem right now.

The problem was, he was going to get laid by this mysterious woman and he was going to do it at this weekend’s party.

Yeah, well, that was as far as Jungkook got with that. How was he supposed to start the conversation? Yo, you fucked all my friends, what gives? What about me? He could try to pick her up normally, but his ability of picking up women was talking to the ones he knew were interested in him first. And she was evidently not that, because he was just a damn asteroid floating mindlessly in her space. Probably not even an asteroid. Just a fleck of space dust.

He groaned and slumped down on his notebook, copying the stupid equation with a grumble.

Yoongi had a hickey and Jungkook knew who it came from because she was wearing the same black-and-white long-sleeved shirt Yoongi was wearing yesterday. Yoongi yawned and shrugged his jacket over it, but Jungkook saw it immediately.

What the fuck?

Jungkook fumed into his beer, the plastic cup shaking. How? Why?

And Yoongi again?

She was in the kitchen, chatting with a guy, stretching her arms he placed a mojito in front of her. The action made her shirt ride up and the short, short black shorts became visible. The hem sunk into her soft thighs, just a tad too small. It made Jungkook’s mouth water.

She thanked him before wandering back into the crowd, holding her cup. Ponytail bouncing, high-fiving some guys. Yoongi was on his phone, texting. Hoseok and Jimin couldn’t make it because of dance practice and Namjoon was working on some sort of seminar paper. Taehyung and Seokjin had dragged Yoongi out – “Eh, I have to watch out for you idiots anyway,” was Yoongi’s grumble as he picked up his car keys – and Jungkook tagged along because he was bored. Taehyung and Seokjin were playing was very drunk Twister for some reason and Yoongi had declined – “You’re all idiots” – leaving him with Jungkook. Which was fine, because Yoongi had a comfortable energy about him. Jungkook liked being in silence with him. Yoongi wasn’t drinking because he was driving.

So Jungkook was spacing out, watching her move amongst the crowd. Her free hand absentmindedly flicked up the back of her long shirt – well, Yoongi’s shirt technically – and pulled out her phone. The curve of her ass was clearly visible against the white parts of the shirt. She looked at it and typed something, hands tucked into the sleeves.

Yoongi’s phone buzzed next to him.

Jungkook’s mouth thinned into a line. He snuck a glance at Yoongi who, completely expressionless, responded. She was peering at her cell again and smirking.

Was it possible to pop a vein just by standing there?

Jungkook finished his beer.

“I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook didn’t see Yoongi raising as eyebrow as he stalked off.

Was he overthinking this? Was it a conspiracy? His brow furrowed as he moved closer to her. She turned her head in his direction and her eyes widened.

And she bolted.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Jungkook ran after her, pushing through the crowd, but she was much faster and knew where she was going. Twenty seconds in and he had lost sight of her. He stood in the center of the packed patio, confused as shit. When he got back to Yoongi, Yoongi was listening to something with his headphones.

“Something happen?” Yoongi asked absentmindedly.

“Who’s the girl you fucked last night?”

Yoongi paused. He removed a headphone from his ear. He tucked his tongue in his cheek and looked up at Jungkook, who was putting on his best annoyed face. Yoongi’s eyes shifted from the crowd and then back to Jungkook. He shrugged.

“Does it matter?”

“Why is there a woman wearing your shirt?”

Yoongi frowned. “A shirt’s a shirt. Is it that weird for a girl to own a shirt I also bought from a store?”

Jungkook made a face. He narrowed his eyes as Yoongi gave him a confused look.

“She just ran from me…”

Yoongi shrugged again. “I mean, you look really angry. I’d run from you too if I was a stranger.” He went back to his phone, scratching his cheek with his free hand. “Maybe she thought you were someone else.”

Was he going crazy?

The, uh, fifty-seventh? Who cared, Jungkook had lost count now. Once again, he spied her from across the sidewalk, in the crowd of students, holding three folders stuffed full with papers and balancing a coffee and her black backpack. Red crop top with a leather jacket and tight black jeans. At least it didn’t look like she had stolen anyone’s clothes this time… unless that jacket was from someone… Or even the crop top, because it wasn’t like Jungkook knew what her sexuality was to be honest.

Anyway!

Jungkook stopped walking. Their paths were going to cross if she continued walking. She took a sip from her coffee, leaving a red lipstick mark. She scowled at something on her folders. A piece of paper. She clicked her tongue, lashes looking downward, the same winged liner as usual. The paper flapped in the wind and she pushed it against her chest, looking perturbed.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Er, hello.”

She didn’t even look at him. She was chewing her lip, thinking. Jungkook had to stand in front of her for her to realize he was speaking to her.

“Oh.” She snapped out of her thoughts and stopped walking, tilting her head at him. “Um… Jeon Jungkook, right?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Er, yes. That’s me.”

She nodded. “Kim Taehyung’s friend, right?”

And Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Kim Seokjin’s friend, he thought with annoyance.

She blinked at him.

“What do you want?”

To FUCK because obviously you fucked everyone else!

Jungkook didn’t say that. His id definitely wanted to say that, but his superego told him to shut the fuck up. So that left Jungkook scrambling to think of an answer.

“Ah… I just so happened to see you last weekend. At that big party in the white house.”

She blinked and nodded. “Uh… huh.”

She did not seem to remember that she ran from him. Okay, fine. Take two.

“The shirt you were wearing… it’s Yoongi-hyung’s, isn’t it? He asked if I could get it back,” Jungkook lied.

She frowned. “Min Yoongi? You know him too?”

“Yeah. He’s my close friend.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Huh. Alright, I’ll talk to him about it the next time I see him.”

Or fuck him, he thought bitterly. “You could just give it to me.”

She chuckled. “For one, I don’t have it with me. And, for two,” she continued, small smirk on her lips. “I’m not giving it back. Thus, Yoongi and I need to have a little discussion about that.” There was a dangerous glint in her eye. “But it’s sweet of you to try anyway. Gotta get to class now, so see you, Jeon Jungkook.”

She brushed past him.

Is it that weird for a girl to own a shirt I also bought from a store?

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. He spun around. She was already ten feet away. Students milled about, hurrying, hurrying. He didn’t have any classes after this.

He followed her.

He sat outside the lecture hall. It was an upper-level psychology class. He could see her from the small window in the door and fiddled with his phone. There were less than thirty students and everyone was listening intently to the animated professor. She was focused, writing notes and answering questions when asked. She looked… normal. Just a normal student with normal priorities. She didn’t look like someone who could take shots like a champ and fuck literally every single one of his friends.

Maybe Jungkook was the crazy one.

He frowned, staring at his phone. Why would Yoongi lie to him? Well, it wasn’t like he was obligated to tell Jungkook anything about his sex life. In fact, he was probably thrown off by Jungkook asking him straight out, because who the fuck does that? To top it all off, she didn’t actually have to fuck him if she didn’t want to. If for some reason she wasn’t attracted to him (possible, Jungkook thought), then why was he trying? That was just rude.

Jungkook spun his phone around in his hands. Then he got up and grabbed his bag. His eyes flickered to the door.

She was staring straight at him, one hand under her chin, smirk on her plump lips.

And she winked.

Jungkook froze. What? That was literally the only attention she had initiated with him during all his time at university. The class seemed to be on break, with students talking amongst themselves and the teacher sipping his coffee at his desk. She cocked her chin at him and then raised her phone, tapping the screen. He looked down at his, not even realizing he had a new message.

From Min Yoongi-hyung.

Why are you lying and involving me?

Jungkook jerked his head up, but she was facing the other way now.

He ran.

“Kind of weird that you don’t want to come to the party, but, okay, man,” Taehyung was saying. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

Yeah, because if she was there, Jungkook could not look her in the face. He also couldn’t look Yoongi in the face either. Not that Yoongi ever brought it up again or even sent another text after that. Jungkook hadn’t even responded to it. He ran a hand through his long hair, staring in the mirror as Taehyung chatted with him.

“Alright, I’m off. Let me know if you decide to show up.”

Jungkook sat in his dorm, shirtless. He didn’t have a roommate – he had one of the few single rooms to himself. He didn’t really want a roommate and none of his friends lived on campus anyway. He liked his own space. Plus, it made fucking someone a lot less awkward if he was living alone. He fell back against the bed. He didn’t actually have a paper to write. He had written it earlier and it was good enough. He just…

Didn’t want to make a fucking fool of himself again.

Jungkook rubbed his forehead. This whole situation wasn’t even a situation. It was him in his head dreaming up stupid shit. It didn’t actually matter. It was only filling his head with confusing thoughts and indecision.

But still… why?

He placed his right forearm over his eyes. The black script tattoo was healing and he was planning to add more soon. He sighed, thinking. He worked out. Had a (more than) decent face. Got pretty good grades (for someone who didn’t try very hard). So, why? Did she really not consider it, not even once? They were around the same people, the same crowd, and never? Not even in a drunken stupor? Jungkook clicked his tongue. Did she have a type? It didn’t seem like it; everyone in his friend group was very different, looks-wise and personality-wise. She was attractive, of course. You couldn’t sleep with that many people and not be hot. Juicy thighs, perky ass, nice shape to her tits. A playful face with a smile that made you fall in love. Dimples on both cheeks when she laughed really hard. Ugh. So cute. Lovely-shaped lips that reminded Jungkook of Jimin’s.

Okay, that last thought was a little weird.

Anyway!

Jungkook sighed again. He sat up, intending to get on his computer and play something. Maybe Overwatch or League. He looked down at his gray sweatpants. Oh.

Well, maybe he should jack off first.

Before he could decide however, there was a knock on the door. The RA? He got up, shaking his sweatpants. Hopefully the bagginess would mask it. Plus, talking with the RA wasn’t sexy, so he was pretty sure his dick would pass out by then anyway.

Jungkook opened the door.

She smirked at him.

Jungkook closed the door.

She shoved her black boot in the opening, preventing him.

“No, you don’t, Jeon Jungkook.”

He backed up, shell-shocked. She pushed the door open and walked into his room. Hair over her shoulders, the same winged eyeliner and red lip stain. The black collar with the silver ring, the same one she had worn the first time he saw her. Pink dress shirt, the one she grabbed as Jimin face-fucked her. White t-shirt underneath, the one Taehyung had worn as he fucked her from behind. Both too big for her, so she wore no pants. Just thigh-high white socks and her thick-soled black boots with the silver tips, the ones she wore when she sat in the booth with Seokjin.

In short, Jungkook’s dick snapped to attention like a scared newbie army recruit.

She tucked her tongue in her cheek and raised her eyebrows at him. Jungkook seemed to come back to reality and slapped his arms across his chest. He was shirtless, after all.

“H-how did you figure out what dorm I was in?” he sputtered. “And w-what room?”

She tilted her head. “Friend of a friend, of a friend, of a friend, of a friend… of a friend,” she said slowly, tongue poking out a little from between her lips when she paused. “I know some people.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly. “W-well, why are you here?”

She kicked his door casually behind her. It slammed shut, making him jump.

“Because,” she drawled, holding up her hand, lowering a finger as she made each point. “One, you decided to speak to me, only to lie to my face. Two.” Another finger went down. “You stalked me outside my Psychology of Anger class. Three.” Down it went. “When you realized you got found out, you ran away. Four.” Down. “Every time you see me walking around campus, I see you throwing yourself in the opposite direction as if you’re being attacked. Yeah, I notice, because you’re not subtle about it,” she added, chuckling. Jungkook felt his ears turn red. “And finally, five.” Her hand was a fist now. “Before that, you gawked at me every time I happened to be within eyesight of you. With your big round eyes, almost as if you were spacing out. Sometimes with your mouth open.” She twisted her lips to one side for half a second. “Kind of disorienting, really.”

Jungkook thought back to all those moments. Her eyes on him when he saw Namjoon press her against the wall. Her eyes flickering towards him when she was at the table with Hoseok. The shift when she was kissing Seokjin at the booth. Oh, God. The half-second before he closed the door, her eye on him as she sucked Jimin off. The light on her face as she was reading Yoongi’s text on her phone, her pupils on him. She knew. She knew, she knew, she fucking knew.

Jungkook’s lips parted. “Then why… why did you run?”

She raised her eyebrow. Then she nodded her head slowly, finally understanding. “Ah. Yes, that time at the party. I thought you were some kind of weird stalker, honestly. I really don’t have time to spend on creeps.”

A shameful shiver slid down his back. She thought he was a creep. Of course, she did, because literally everything he witnessed was sexual in nature and he was fucking ogling the entire time, holy fuck.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, the rest of the guys straightened me out.”

Rest of the guys? What? THEY ALL KNEW TOO?

“You just want to fuck.”

God, Jungkook thought. If there is a God, please just open the Earth and throw me in Hell right now.

“I-I don’t–what–that’s preposterous–how would you even know–”

Jungkook was tripping over every word as she stood there, tapping her foot against the ground. He lost track of his thought and made a strange noise of defeat. Her lips curved into a slow smile.

“Well, technically, I didn’t know,” she said slowly. “I guessed and it looks like I guessed right.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Oh holyfuckingshitcrap.

If Taehyung or Jimin were witnessing this right now, they would have face-palmed.

She licked her lips. It made Jungkook’s stomach flutter uncomfortably.

“Anyway, I figured it would be better for you to be alone when I told you this.” She shrugged. One shoulder of the pink dress shirt fluttered down, revealing a shoulder. “It seemed like it might have been embarrassing for you, and judging by your beet-red face and tomato ears, I am correct.”

Jungkook slapped his hands on his cheeks. “W-what, of course not, hahaha…”

“You got a tent in your pants, kid.”

He looked down and tore his hands from his face to place them over his crotch. “Erm.”

She chuckled and shrugged again. “Well, since that’s the case, I’ll leave you be then. Just didn’t want things to be weird between us, that’s all. And found out you aren’t a creep. Only a shy, awkward boy.”

Then she turned around and reached for the door handle.

Jungkook crossed the space between them within two steps and slammed a hand on the door, preventing her from opening it.

“Wait.”

He was staring at the back of her head. Her hair had a warm, herbal scent. He could see the slope of the pink dress shirt, outlining her shoulder blades under the thin white t-shirt. He was so close that he could even spy he straps of her pink bra underneath the white fabric. Looked even further and he spotted the point that the dress shirt stuck out a bit from the curve of her ass.

“I’m not… a boy,” he said slowly. His voice came out lower than he thought.

He heard her make a light scoff.

“You expect answers without asking the questions,” she replied, still not turning around. “Not everything will be handed to you just because you’re cute.”

Pause.

“Boy.”

Jungkook knew how she managed to sleep with all of them now. She pressed every single one of his buttons, perfectly, within a single conversation. He placed his other hand on the door, fingers spread out. Took a step forward and pressed his body against hers, relishing in the softness. One of his hands slid down and snaked between the space of the door and her face, cupping her chin. He pushed it up so her eyes met his. Her teasing, perfect eyes.

“Wanna fuck, then?” he breathed against her forehead.

Her lips curved into a slow, foxlike smile. For a half-second, Jungkook thought she would say no.

“Now we’re talking.”

Jungkook had experience. He knew what women liked. But he did not know what this woman liked, because this woman was the embodiment of a fucking enigma. And at this point he was quite sure she had him mostly figured out. For instance, she pressed back against him, ass perched right on his cock, making him gasp. Her hand came up and she slid his fingers up her chin, opening her mouth slowly. He stared, transfixed. Her pink tongue slid out and she pushed two of his fingers in her mouth, wrapping her warm, wet tongue around them.

Sucking on them. Slipping her tongue around his fingers, single eyebrow lifted as she drenched them with saliva, so wet that his cock twitched at the thought of being in that hole. She placed her lips around them and used her tongue to push them to the roof of her mouth, sinking down to his knuckles.

Jungkook really couldn’t breathe, watching his dirty display of power.

Her hand was still wrapped around his. Slowly, she pulled his fingers out of her mouth, strings of saliva snapping as his fingers trailed out with a small pop. Jungkook shivered. The pink dress shirt was sliding down her arms, onto the floor.

She straightened her head and turned around slowly. She kicked the shirt aside, looking up at him through his lashes. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it was going to beat out of his chest.

“Why… why do you take their clothes?” Jungkook whispered.

She grinned. She looked down at his bare chest. Reached out, fingertips dancing in the air. Her nails slowly made their way up the ladder of his abs, eyes finding his once again.

“I like to remember who did a good job fucking me,” she replied steadily, so calm and cool that it was ruining him, driving him insane. “Let’s see if you’re so lucky.”

She flattened her palm against his toned pecs and let it slide up. Jungkook couldn’t look away from her face. She snaked her arm around his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. She pulled his head back roughly.

He whimpered.

Help.

She got on her tiptoes; lips so close. Her other arm came around his waist. She rolled her hips into his. Delicious, sweet friction. Held him there as she dry-humped him, agonizingly slowly, breathing against his shaking lips. The only thing holding him up was his one hand against the door.

“You like that, little one?”

Jungkook wasn’t little. She was saying it to provoke him and it was working even though he didn’t want it to. He tried not to gasp or make any indication that he was enjoying it, but his hips were already moving, pushing back, frantic for more. Her tongue slithered out and brushed against his lips. He moaned. Had he ever been more desperate for a kiss? More desperate for anything more than just simple dry-humping at his fucking dorm door? Her grip on his hair tightened, pulling a little harder.

“What if I leave you here?” she taunted, digging her nails into his side. “What if I let go and leave you here, needy and lonely, without me to take care of you?”

What was going on? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how he was supposed to end up. Why couldn’t he collect himself?

“Please don’t…” he whined. His hand on the door balled into a fist. “Please.”

She kissed him.

Oh, fuck.

Lips so soft, barely any pressure, tongue on his lips. Poking, teasing him. Jungkook moaned, mouth opening and the tip barely thrust in. His whole body shivered as she slid it in and out between his lips. There wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough pressure, not enough tongue, not enough forcefulness. He whined, jerking his hips into hers, trying to suck her tongue into his mouth, but it slipped away every time. Then her lips pressed fully against his and she mouthed the words on his lips. He knew what she said even before the sound touched his ears.

“Want more, little one?”

Yes. Oh, please, yes.

But he couldn’t say it because his lips were trapped against hers. She softly kissed him, over and over, hardly deep enough or passionate enough for his liking, infuriatingly not adequate and all of it on purpose. She pushed him into the room, away from the door, making him stumble. Jungkook could only break apart for half a second to choke out one word – “shoes” – but she was already removing her arm from his waist, zipping down her boot and kicking it aside, and then the other, pushing his head down to hers the entire time so she could make out with him.

Then, she pushed them apart.

He nearly tripped, forced to take several steps back. He was panting, out of breath as if he had been running for a long time. Jungkook lifted his head to her crafty expression. He could be the dominant one. He knew he could. But she wasn’t letting him. She had him in the palm of her hand, even now, even in this slight second of breath, the single moment of sanity, and then it was gone because she was lifting her shirt, the white t-shirt crumpling and thrown aside, landing on his desk, on his laptop. The pink, polka-dotted bra molded to her sinful breasts, so innocent-looking. They matched the tiny pink polka-dotted panties that pressed into her skin, complimenting her white thigh-high stockings that clamped around the softness.

His brain?

Broken. It was frozen at this image of this hot-as-fuck woman dropping to her knees and crawling on her hands towards him. Each movement a little closer, a lion stalking her prey and he was the frozen antelope, unable to run. She stopped right in front of him, straightening. And then, the smallest detail, spreading her thighs so he could see the faint wet spot between her panties. He could see her cleavage, the curve of her breasts as she trailed her hands up her thighs, her stomach, bending around her breasts, up her neck, tracing the silver ring and black leather of her choker, mouth opening to her wet tongue, a single fingertip touching the end.

“Wanna be in here, little one?” she murmured around her finger, eyes half-lidded.

“Fuck yes.”

If Jungkook could gather his last two brain cells, he would have sounded a whole lot less desperate, but at the moment those two brain cells had abandoned their post, leaving him an absolute mess as she hooked her fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear and dragged them down, down, exposing his leaking cock out in the open. Fuck, she looked so smug and he couldn’t do anything about it as she leaned in with a soft kitten lick, wiping it away.

“Let me ask you something before I start,” she purred.

Jungkook blinked. “O-okay…”

“Were you upset that I fucked all your friends and never, ever asked you?”

His eyes widened.

She smirked and wrapped her lips around his cock. His brain cells came back from their lunch break to Jungkook screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back as she bobbed her head up and down his cock, deep, slow, wet. Tongue rubbing all around him, hands gripping his hips. He didn’t know what to do with his hands because he didn’t want to mess with her pace so he curled them into fists, sinking his nails into his palms as he moaned, feeling the head smack the back of her throat, muscles squeezing him hard and tight. Because she had been so soft and teasing less than ten seconds ago, Jungkook was not prepared for this wild intensity. She was literally deep-throating his cock like nobody’s business and he was trying very, very hard not to bust his load within seconds because that would be fucking embarrassing as shit. He forced his eyes open to look down at her, panting.

“S-stop…” he pleaded, but she wasn’t stopping. “P-please, stop, I want to f-fuck you.”

The slightest tick of her eyebrow. She stared up at him. It was too sexy. He chomped down on his tongue, anything to feel something else than the overwhelming pleasure from being in her mouth.

“P-please… want to fuck your p-pussy…”

She slowed, still making eye contact with him. She didn’t completely stop until she was all the way down his cock, saliva dripping out and down his balls. She didn’t get off him. Just watched him, pulsing her throat around his dick. Jungkook got it. She wanted him to beg. Her throat squeezed him extra hard and he whimpered. He bit his lower lip.

Pride? What pride?

“Please…” Oh, God, was that him? That wretched, pitiful whine, so wrecked and barely anything happened. “Please, let me fuck your pussy. Let me inside you. Let me pleasure you.” She blinked slowly. Not enough. “You made me wait so long…” His eyes raked over her sensual body, his skin burning. “You fucked them all and made me wait, made me want you, made me think about you all the time, made me crazy knowing everyone had you, but me.”

What even was this? He had never begged like this in his entire life, but he was ruined and destroyed by this beautiful woman whose red lips were around his cock.

“I want you to use my cock and make you cum, just for me. Want you to watch me when I fuck you, want you to moan for me, want you to say my name with those lips.”

Her eyes sparkled. She drew back, slowly. His cock achingly, deliberately popped out of her tight, wet mouth and he cried out softly, almost regretful that he didn’t ask for her to finish him then. She got off her knees, sliding up his body, his cock hitting her stomach and then her thigh, smearing saliva and pre-cum on her smooth skin. She pursed her lips against his, the tiniest peck, and he could taste himself, a slight hint of his own cum.

“Alright, Jungkook,” she said slowly, reaching into her bra and pulling out a condom. Of course, she had a condom in her bra. “I’ll let you fuck me.”

She smacked the warm foil packet against his chest.

Fuck, the way she said his name. So velvety, so wanton. She moved past him and Jungkook turned around, condom in hand, watching as she faced him, unhooking her pink bra. It peeled off her body and dropped to the floor, tits bouncing. She pressed her hard nipples in between two fingers and tugged, giving him a little gasp and a peek of her pink tongue from between her plump lips. He followed, swallowing hard as she backed up to his bed, hopping up and sliding back. Jungkook made it to the end of his bed and watched as she linked two fingers on the sides of her panties and pushed them down, lifting her legs up and together as she slid them off.

Thus, providing Jungkook with a shockingly clear view of her glistening pussy lips.

She lowered her legs and spread them. Wearing nothing but those white thigh-high socks and the black choker around her neck.

“Holy fuck.”

She smirked. “Come here, little one.”

At this point, he was beginning to enjoy this nickname. Either that or Jungkook was so horny that she could call him anything and he was still going to climb onto the bed, chewing on his lip, hand over hand, breath hitching as he neared, smelling her arousal. His eyes flickered to hers. She tilted her head and nodded. He bent down and licked her slit, long and slow, groaning as her sweet, thick taste coated his tongue. Oh, if only he had more patience to eat her out. Instead, his cock was dripping an embarrassing amount of pre-cum onto his sheets, so he got to his knees, unwrapping the condom and sliding it on, somewhat grateful for it so that he wouldn’t explode within two seconds of being inside her. He positioned himself at her entrance, lifting her legs.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

He shifted his attention to her face. He felt her hand reach down and guide him to the correct angle.

“Look at me when you go in,” she said, smirking.

His eyes widened as he pushed inward, slow, centimeter by centimeter, feeling her warmth cover him and shake him to his core, her eyes boring into his, satisfaction glittering in those orbs as he gasped at her tightness, her wetness, her heat. Breathing so shallow Jungkook felt like he was ready to pass out, thrusting the last of his cock inside her so he was fully buried, his entire length squeezed by her pussy.

She lifted herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers in his long dark hair. She pulled lightly and he moaned, lips trembling.

“You like that, little one?” she murmured, lips against his cheek, licking him lightly. “You like your hair pulled?” She kissed his chiseled jaw, clenching around his cock.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “A l-little…”

Her tongue wrapped around his earlobe, playing with his earrings. He could feel her hard nipples rub against his chest as she pressed her body against him. She pulled again and he moaned into her ear, shuddering as she paired the pain with the pulse of her pussy.

“I like the sounds you make,” she whispered. “Let me mark you, little one.”

He swallowed, still unable to move because he was in her gravity now, lost in her smokey voice.

“Yes, please…”

She kissed down his ear softly, lips against the pulse point under his ear. She bit his skin, sucking hard, rolling her hips onto his cock. His eyelids fluttered as she bit him, hard and unforgiving. Sharp, wet sounds. He whimpered and she ran her tongue over the bruised skin before kissing down further, finding the spot where his neck and shoulder connected. She pressed her lips against it and he swallowed in anticipation.

“Jungkook.”

“Y-yeah?”

He could feel her lips form the words she was spoke into his skin.

“Your cock feels nice inside me.”

She bit him again, hard. His eyes rolled back into his head, cock swelling at the compliment and the pain radiating through him as she pulled on his hair, sucking his skin, rutting her wet, tight pussy onto his cock. The euphoric ecstasy was unlike anything Jungkook had ever felt before. It was just a hickey and some hair pulling while he was cock-deep into a woman, but it was so much more, the soft kitten licks as she soothed the irritated flesh, the rubbing of his scalp, and the throbbing around his cock.

She finally let him go, leaning back. Her hair fanned out on his pillows, lipstick smeared, tongue between her teeth. He really thought the first time was going to be at some shitty party where he was half-drunk and confused, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t like that at all. Instead, she cocked her chin at him, giving him an open-mouthed smirk as she looked up at him from his bed.

“Fuck me, Jungkook.”

He began to move, starting slow and deep, gasping at the feeling. Her eyes drifted from his face to his cock moving in and out of her, then back up to his face. She was letting him do as he wanted, he knew. Jungkook could tell from her expression, giving him the reins for once. He scooted up, still fucking her leisurely as he lifted his hands and touched her nipples with his fingertips. He pushed them in a circle, rubbing them, closing his eyes. They were hard but soft, so fun to touch as he thrust his cock inside her. He pinched them and he whimpered as her pussy squeezed him. He did it again and felt it again. He cupped her breasts and did it again, pulling a little his time. She made a breathless moan and he opened his eyes, seeing hers shrouded with lust. He held her nipple between his index and ring finger, using his middle finger to rub the hardened nub. She gasped softly, whispering his name.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Jungkook panted, feeling his hips thrust harder, spurred on by her noises. She pressed her head against his pillows, crying out as he increased his pace, rubbing her nipples harder.

“Harder, little one,” she purred, rolling her hips into his. “Want to feel your cock in the deepest parts of me.”

He pinched her nipples, hard, and she moaned with a teasing smile as he let go, placing his hands back on the bed for leverage. His long hair brushed into his eyes but he didn’t care, ramming his hips into her, hearing the harsh, loud slap of their bodies. She hissed out his name, tipping her head back as she lifted her arms above her head, clutching his pillows.

“That’s it, Jungkook,” she panted as he pounded her into his bed, feeling her pussy tighten and throb around him. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

He did, hard, rough, gasping at her pretty lips opened and her eyes closed in bliss, enjoying his cock, just his, enjoying the way he felt, enjoying his hips slapping into hers and his cock twitching inside her.

“Need you to cum for me,” he growled, surprised at his own rawness. “Need you to cum all over my cock. Need to feel you.” A hint of desperation juxtaposed with his order. He wanted her to fall apart with his cock, wanted to watch her unravel as she came with his cock.

She cracked her eyes open and wrapped her legs around his waist, thighs squeezing him. Oh, fuck. Eyes that said, go for it. Do it if you can.

He rammed his hips into her, pounding into her over and over, so hard the bed squealed at the force, so deep her fingers gripping his sheets were white, her moans filling his room, imprinting in his memory.

“A-ah, Jungkooooook.”

His name dragged out, mixed with a moan, cock twitching at her back arching, tits bouncing with his thrusts.

“So good, so good… Gonna cum for you, just for you, Jungkook...”

And then he felt it, the heated, throbbing squeeze and the instant squelch of liquid dripping out and sliding down his balls, soaking into his sheets. The scent of her sex so heavy and sweet that he was drunk, slowing so he could feel her pussy pulsating around him, vibrating his entire length.

“W-why do you feel so good?” he whined, shoving his cock so deep she jerked up his pillows. She chuckled, but he kept going, back to his rough pace, because he couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to cum. He needed it now, deep inside her pussy, her scent on his skin, her foxy eyes on him.

“You wanna cum for me, little one?” she panted out, licking her lips. “Want to feel your cock get milked by my pussy?”

Jungkook sucked in a breath, clenching his jaw as he nodded fiercely, unable to respond. She reached up and he knew what was coming and he wanted it, wanted it so fucking bad. His long hair was smacking him in the face but she collected it back, only leaving a few strands on his sweaty forehead.

“Cum for me, Jungkook. Fill me up.”

And then she yanked on his hair, hard, tearing a gasp from his lips. The pain shot through him, igniting every nerve, the pleasure of her pussy clenching him as he kept going, slapping his hips into hers, feeling the pull on his hair every time he sank in. Jungkook was doing it to himself now and he loved every second of it. The familiar tightening coiled inside him, so sharp and sudden that he almost screamed as he came, the orgasm racking his entire body as she pulled his head back with his hair, moaning with him as she came again, throbbing as he shot into the condom, cock jerking with force against her walls.

His whole body shuddered as the aftershocks faded. Oh, shit. He was winded, throat dry. Someone must have heard. Holy fuck. Jungkook had never cum so hard in his entire life.

Her hand let go of his hair. She rubbed his scalp. He closed his eyes, his body rising and falling as he exhaled.

“Did I live up to your expectations, little one?”

The next day, Jungkook ran into Taehyung at the usual coffee spot. It was the weekend, so Jungkook hadn’t expected to see him. Taehyung looked super hungover and barely alive as he ordered a coffee in his raspy, deep voice.

“Damn, are you dead?” Jungkook asked playfully as Taehyung stumbled to him, trying not to spill his coffee. Taehyung hated coffee, so he must have really needed it for some reason or another.

“Probably. I forgot I have a paper due on Monday.” He took a sip of it and made a disgusted face. “I hate this shit.”

Jungkook spied her walking up to the counter. She rubbed her chin and ordered a tea, handing over her card. She was wearing a white crop top, black baseball cap, and short leather jacket.

And his gray sweatpants.

Taehyung squinted at his neck.

“The fuck happened to you? Someone punch you in the neck?”

Jungkook slapped a hand over his hickey. “Er…”

She breezed past them, not looking at them as she hurried along, checking her phone for the time. Taehyung whipped his head around, recognizing her instantly. And the sweatpants.

“Yah! She told me she was going to study!” He whipped his head back to Jungkook, who looked away immediately. “Study your dick, apparently!”

“Uh…”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes and grumbled as he walked away.

“Well, get in line, bitch.”

sister story: meteor, m | myg

masterpost

note: Yes, I am aware League of Legends has changed the entire item inventory for 2021 preseason. I haven’t played the new patch since I wrote this. Just pretend this all happened before the preseason patch, okay? lol

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

Text

Written in the Stars Will Have to Do

OK so I saw @hey-there-hunter ‘s JMart Wedding Challenge and I pretty much fan ficced immediately?? Like it was an instantaneous plot bunny that stabbed me in the brain and would not let me free until I made it exist. SO HERE YOU GO! Read it here or head on over to AO3 below! And enjoy some unapologetically aggressive fluff with weddings! Also subtitled someday Crow will stop abusing excessive astral imagery and symbolism for extended metaphors, but today is not that day.

Read on AO3 instead!

Written in the Stars Will Have to Do

Jonathan Sims always thought of himself as a man with a deep appreciation for the great literature of the world. A passionate turn of phrase, crystalline motes of clear imagery like snowflakes reflecting light in his mental scape, a devastating contemplation on the nature of good and evil in the hearts of all mankind, everything that could express the beauty and tragedy of the world in ways he never could. Prose was a bright paintbrush on a ragged canvas of the universe he had known from an early age was swathed in shadow and pain and evil, and those words on those pages, for at least a moment, were another world he could hold in his hands, could cradle and protect, could mourn. He liked the power of them as well, of the tinkling brightness of alliteration, the oaky sophistication of a well-aged metaphor, the evocativeness of the idiosyncrasy in a simple simile, laying bare truths in ways he never could have articulated for himself.

There was one thing he could not abide by in language, however, one cardinal sin liable to besmirch any piece of lush and sparkling verse or prose and taint it forever. And that was idioms.

Jon loathed idioms and their dismally quirky cliches dressed in familiarity’s tacky clothing almost as much as he hated spiders. Perhaps it was something about their reliance on common knowledge and repetition. He couldn’t bear reading the same book twice, or even a book that felt too familiar, it only made sense that hearing a hackneyed phrase repeated in that awful singsong sardonic tone of someone who knows full well they’re saying something asinine that has been repeated ad nauseum for millennia would scrape at the back of his skull and down his spine. They were too whimsical and blasé, crutch words for when one’s limited lexicon came up empty, or worse, for ill comedic effect. They reinforced that staunchly English notion of skirting about the true depth and breadth of emotion for clipped niceties and unfeeling banalities. Idioms to him were mere verbal window boxes, colorful and meaningless, dressings for untold disasters behind the shining windows they peacocked before.

He hated them all with vaguely equal rancor, but there was one he could definitely single out as the one he hated the most, and that was the one about hanging the moon. Such and such thinks you hung the moon, to me you hung the moon, and so on. This particular rhetorical felony attracted his wrath only marginally because any moon symbolism never failed to feel outlandish and infantile, a mawkish image of love and care rampant in nursery rhymes and cheap commercialized slogans for t-shirts and wall art. That was the least of it. He hated the idea of hanging the moon mostly because once, another lifetime ago now it seemed, Tim Stoker had lobbed it in his face in a fit of smoldering rage and he had been completely, complacently, ignorant of its magnitude.

Funny thing was, he couldn’t even remember what the actual fight had been about any longer. Though he could remember exactly where he was standing, cornered next to the file cabinet for the year 1985, January through February, and the label had been peeling up on the upper left-hand corner. He remembered he’d discovered a hole in the elbow of his jumper that morning and he had been obsessing over it all day, fussing with the dangling green thread and tugging at the knit as if it might magically close the wound. He’d put his finger clean through it with his arms crossed haughtily over his chest without even realizing he’d been fiddling with it when something flippant about Martin came out of his mouth. It hadn’t even been cruel, he couldn’t even remember how Martin had come up in the argument in the first place, he could only remember Tim’s mouth moving like he wanted to say something else, then him forcibly stopping himself before he snarled.

“Yeah well, god knows why, but he thinks you hung the moon, so you might try treating him at the very least like a human being once in a while.”

It was such a small thing. Small words for a small feeling cloaked in a chintzy veneer of idiomatic dismissal. A trembling little bird cupped in his scarred and battered hands and smothered. Or so he thought. Sometimes trembling little birds turn out to be phoenixes, and those who looked to someone else to hang the comfort of a wise, silvery moon in the sky already have the hammer and the picture wire at the ready.

As far as Jon was concerned, the moon only rose on their Somewhere Else because Martin deigned to pull the strings every night, not him.

It was Martin who brought him tea every morning, set it down on the breakfast table with that little flip of the tag and the deft, one-fingered turn of the handle toward him. It was Martin who scolded him because whites are a separate load, Jon, were you raised in a barn? Martin who talked him through every episode of the Doctor Who reruns that were the only thing their ancient aerial could pick up. Martin who planted flowers in the garden and brought muffins from the sweet old lady at the grocers because they traded baking recipes. Martin who still looked at him with diaphanous pools of ethereal moonlight in his eyes and his smile like he alone hung it in the sky over his head to wash him in its radiance.

Even after everything.

Even after it had been Martin who had to hold the knife buried in his chest as he lay gasping wetly for breath in an alleyway in Another Chelsea to keep the hemorrhaging at bay. Martin who had cupped his face in his bloody hands with tears streaming down his and forced him to focus, furious love blazing in his sea mist eyes as they locked with his, screaming at him and him only, heedless of anything else.

“Look at me. LOOK at me, Jon! Stay with me! Stay with me, DAMN YOU!”

Stay with me had not been a plea, it had been a command. He had never once said please because it was never an option. Shivering, breathing blood through his teeth, the streetlights a fading, star studded halo in Martin’s strawberry blond curls be damned, he was right. Against every tangled thread of fate twisted deep into his flesh, or perhaps because they had been the only thing that held his torn innards together, he made it to the part where he awoke a few fractured times to nothingness, and then to fingers he knew every inch of inextricably bound up in his and a fierce whisper in his ear.

“I’m here, Jon. I’m still here. I’ve got you. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get us out of here. We’re going to be okay.”

It had been Martin who orchestrated their clandestine escape from the hospital the moment they both agreed he was well enough to survive under his rudimentary medical care and before the authorities got too invested in an urban ghost story of two men who didn’t exist. Not to mention one of which should, by all medical and logical law, be dead. It had been Martin who had stolen the necessary antibiotics, drugs, and wound care supplies, Martin who had picked enough pockets to buy passage on a midnight train to the only place they could think to go, and expressly told Jon not to ask where he learned how, even though he knew full well he would later. Martin who had fought for everything and kept him hidden and safe while he lay in a dingy hotel room somewhere in Scotland, drifting in and out of consciousness between kisses, cold compresses, spoonfuls of whatever he could get him to swallow and keep down, and desperate ‘I love you’s.

Martin had been the one who hung the moon even on the nights Jon couldn’t see it, just so he knew it was there, that the light might finally guide him home. Not him. He could have never done something so selfless and simple and beautiful. No not him. Not The Archivist. How could he have ever known that? Stupid, myopic, pedantic, all-seeing and blind. A blustering, sanctimonious Tiresias in a sweater vest and half-moon glasses. And how important was the moon, anyway that he was expected to hang it too? Would not night still come and the stars still shine? The stupid, vapid saying should have been about the sun anyway. Something that nourished and guided and warmed. Not the moon. Not the thing of night and hungry wolves and quiet loneliness. Not a thing of the darkness they fought and still not won, not exactly, not in a way that mattered. How could he have known the weight of such a thoughtless, frivolous, meaningless phrase and how far and how long Martin had borne it for him to protect he who hung his moon?

He could see the weight of it so clearly now. He could see it especially on the darkest days, which came, in grotesque mockery, the moment they found something like their safehouse and rest at last. Jon had conned his way into a job at the village library with an ancient head librarian who didn’t care much for too many questions, or background or credit checks, and was more than happy to pay in cash. With Martin’s help of course. Martin himself had taken up stocking at the village grocers, and their life had teetered onto something so close to quaint and normal it suddenly laid bare the gravity of the depths of darkness they had escaped.

No longer did they have to run, no longer did they have to fight, they could finally lay down the chase and curl in upon each other to lick their wounds in quiet. But without the driving, primal instinct to live, to survive, that ushered in the days where all the hurt came back to roost and brood and fester. The days where he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, or the days Martin couldn’t bear the sound of his voice, or the days they shouted themselves hoarse, stormed apart for hours then came back, silent and broken, red-eyed and exhausted to hold each other and weep into the spaces between neck and shoulder where it still smelled like love and home.

He could see so painfully clearly the toll following him to the ends of the cosmos and back had etched its marks into his goodness, his body and soul, see how often he would walk down the road from their cabin, just a little ways, to stand on the heather spotted hills and gaze out into the frigid infinity of the gray sea. Cold terror would grip him then, incite a desperate want to run after him, to throw his arms around him and bring him home, but also the fear it would only be to have him turn to mist and slip through his fingers forever. He always had a cup of steaming tea waiting for him when he came back, just in case.

But again, and always. It was Martin who would pick up Jon’s hands, kiss every slender, scarred finger through his tears and be the first one to utter ‘I’m sorry.’ Martin who told him with just a single scathing flash of stern blue eyes and not a single word uttered that he was certainly coming to bed and not banishing himself to the couch like an idiot. Martin who wrapped him in his arms and warmth and boundless love and reminded him, “One way or another. Together. That was the deal, right? You don’t get to back out now. No returns, refunds, or exchanges, I’m afraid.”

And even through the deepest sobs he would find the laugh Jon didn’t think was in him. Martin sifted through the mire and the muck and held fast to the tiny, shining things so easy to lose in the darkness. Things Jon was certain were lost forever, only to be reignited and hung in the brightening sky of their story. Even if they weren’t quite the moon yet.

It had also been Martin who, on a perfectly ordinary day, on a simple walk through the local farmers market, stopped to peruse one of the usual unremarkable stalls filled with crystals and oils and trinkets. Jon had wandered off to procure the parsnips and the strawberries, unrelated recipes Martin swore, he had been tasked with finding. When he returned he found him, a radiant monument tall among the faceless locals, rusty curls caressing his face in the salty breeze, carved of marble and rose quartz and gazing down at a pair of hematite rings on a velvet display box. His eyes were distant, but not in the enthralled, disembodied way they were when he looked at the sea, or the broken way when they weren’t speaking, but in the contemplative, regarding of puzzle pieces way when he would look into the fire during their talks and turn his words in his mind over and over again like a rock tumbler until they were polished just right.

“Getting into crystals now, are we?” Jon had joked, “Surely I’m not so dull to be around that that’s becoming an attractive hobby.”

Martin snorted and shook his head.

“Supposed to mean healing, or grounding, or something. Aligning your meridians, I think the lady said? Whatever that means,” he elaborated, reaching out to touch.

They clinked weightily together, thick and glossy and the dark astral gray of a moonless night. Martin turned over the card that went with them and read.

“’A grounding stone that belongs to the planet Mars. It strengthens our connections to the earth and aids the warrior on their journey. It is a stone of invincibility, but also fragility. It balances yin and yang energies with its magnetic properties for the perfect reflection upon one’s own soul, astral, physical, and spiritual.’”

“Hematite, is it?” Jon asked, “Also more commonly called bloodstone. You know if you scratch it, it leaves a red mark. Like it’s bleeding. Watch.”

He picked up one of the rings and firmly ran it down the corner of the card Martin had been reading from. Sure enough, the black stone had left a faint, but starkly crimson mark on the yellowed paper.

“It BLEEDS?” Martin exclaimed in horror.

“It’s just a kind of iron oxide, so, rust, basically,” Jon explained with a chuckle, “Kind of weirdly romantic if you think about it? This intimidating shiny black stone like armor, made of iron to boot, but with a bleeding heart at its core.”

“I just thought it was pretty, I didn’t know it bleeds,” Martin had laughed in that incredulous way he always did when Jon was telling him something he didn’t actually want to know, but appreciated anyway.

“I find that the strongest, prettiest things often do,” Jon had said in reply. He remembered saying that particularly clearly, waxing poetic, feeling a swell of affection for the hugely beautiful man he leaned against and was adorably aghast at bleeding rocks.

“Yeah, I reckon they do,” Martin murmured back.

And then his cheeks had flushed bright red under his freckles and the stone steps of his shoulders crumbled a bit under the crushing ancientness and vastness of what he had originally been pondering.

“So, I mean, before you spoiled it with the blood thing. I was thinking… Well, I was just having a browse and I saw these and I thought they were quite fetching, and then the lady told me they meant grounding and healing and a journey, like on the card. A-And there were two of them, all by themselves, and everything else was so colorful and flashy these were just so… Um. Maybe the blood and rusty iron thing makes it more poetic now, actually? I don’t know. Sorry I- This sounded so much better in my head.”

It wasn’t his fault, Jon remembered thinking. Martin couldn’t find the words because there weren’t any. Not in this universe or any other. Not for what they’d gone through, and especially not for what they meant to each other.

“I guess I was just thinking. If… I bought one. And wore it. Sort of like. Um. You know. Would… Would you-?” he had asked, his voice trembling.

Jon had never said yes, yes of course he would, faster or with more conviction in his life. And there was that look again, rising from the ashes, that flooding of golden, unbound love and light, of eyes turned sky blue, of looking at the man who hung his moon in the sky come back to him. He could still hang Martin’s moon all over again after so many nights of black clouds and darkness, even if it was only paper. They’d paid for the rings in rumpled bills, exchanged them right then and there, and kissed each other as the crowd of oblivious people in a world they did not belong in flowed like a river around them. Jon forgot the bag with the parsnips and strawberries.

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that Martin’s fit nicely on his ring finger, but Jon had to wear his on his thumb, and even then sometimes on a chain around his neck for fear of losing it. It didn’t matter that it was the closest thing they were ever going to get to a proposal and a wedding, consigned now forever to the shadows in a borrowed reality with only each other. Because it was theirs, and they could begin to figure out how their broken pieces fit back together again.

But like most things that don’t matter, it didn’t until it did.

It began as simple things. Seeing a wedding on some program they weren’t actually paying much attention to and Martin making a flippant, innocuous comment as he combed his fingers lovingly through Jon’s long and silvered chestnut hair in his lap about how he would have loved to have a cake that had a different flavor on every tier at their wedding. Just so everyone could have something they liked. And Jon woke up from his half catlike stupor and looked up at him with such aching regret as those words settled into the pit of his heart alongside ‘he thinks you hung the moon.’

And soon they began to gather a collection of completely innocent remarks that ran the gamut from ‘would they have worn black or white? Or one of each? I don’t know… does it really matter? And were these engagement rings or wedding rings? I don’t know. Neither? both? And do we say husband instead of boyfriend now? Fiancé? Whatever you want, Martin…’ To the heavier, cancerous weights that sank to the bottom of his gut, even below hanging the moon, like ‘I know Tim would have thrown the most amazing bachelor party for both of us, and his mum had always talked about him getting married someday like it was a farfetched pipe dream, but she would be happy for them, he thinks.’

He could never answer those questions. There was too much at stake, too much finality and familiarity in them, a strange weightlessness in a world that weighed far too much. The sun and moon continued their eternal dance of time, ignorant, unbothered, but Jon kept collecting those silent debts of normal life, secreting them away in a hidden singularity in his heart that only grew heavier and metastasized farther the more times Martin walked out at night, not him, beaming starlight from his eyes and his fingertips, to hang the moon again. So soft, so full of wooly cows and pink heather and the smell of tea and sea salt and Martin’s shampoo on the pillow next to him did it become, that it was almost inevitable that one morning Jon awoke absolutely convinced none of it could be real.

The moment he decided that, everything made so much more sense. He could breathe again. There was a reason he could never sit still, never just feel at ease or talk about the future like it was a real thing that could still happen. He knew why the silence made his brain itch and why he still glanced around corners and glowered at anyone who dared let their gaze linger on his Martin too long. Why Martin’s ring fit and his didn’t. There was too much debt to the universe to be paid, too many broken promises, too many corpses in his wake, he had done nothing to deserve this idyllic life of love and peace and smallness and Martin. It had to be Her doing, It’s doing, some carefully woven torture chamber that would lure them to the apex of their joy, the center of the web, where they would just be devoured over and over to empty husks and set up like chess pieces to fill with love and light just to knock down again. He wasn’t free after all.

Jon had been halfway into his coat and halfway out the door to do, he didn’t know, something, anything, to go to the library to use their computer and research something he didn’t know he was looking for when Martin had seized his hand and whirled him around.

“Jon. STOP. It’s over.”

And he’d stopped. He’d looked into those baleful blue eyes, fallen into their depths, landed on the precipice of madness, and broken. It wasn’t over. Not for him. He finally understood. It was still there. The Eye. It always had been. Though not really, he understood slowly as he wept on his knees in their doorway into Martin’s chest, it had indeed closed forever on him, but it lingered as distant static, like a phantom limb, a metaphysical itch that could never be scratched. Martin had cradled him close and listened, listened so patiently as he ripped the jagged black fear from the deepest, ugliest part of his heart, hauled it up bloody and messy from his throat and finally laid it bare for both of them to see. And when it was done and he couldn’t cry anymore Martin had locked eyes with him in a way that made him forget any others could have ever existed outside of crystalline blue and filled with moonlight.

“Listen to me. I know you think you have some cosmic burden to bear. That you’re still wearing some… some fucked up crown and sitting on a throne of skulls and death and eyeballs or whatever image you want to put there, and that you have to sit and hurt and watch over everything so it doesn’t happen again, but... Sorry, Jon, but that’s bullshit. It’s just a scar now. That’s all. Just like the rest of them. Ugly and beautiful and proof that you —Jonathan Sims— are still alive. And you are not The Archivist anymore. You’re just mine. My Jon.”

He’d held his Jon’s stunned face in his hands and peppered kisses over the pock marks in his skin, over the slash on his throat, the burnt fingers that still couldn’t bend quite right, even the one on his chest, the one almost always hidden by fabric but the one he didn’t need to see to find. His heart and fingers would always remember exactly where it was. And he’d kept his lips there a moment, then turned his ear to his chest and wrapped his arms around his waist to listen to his heartbeat like a trembling little bird.

“If I can hear it and feel it. So can you,” he whispered.

Unsteady fingers curled desperately into Martin’s silky locks, hematite loop cool against his scalp, “Thank you…”

Martin stayed for the kiss on top of his head he knew was coming and smiled.

“Okay, so it’s simple to fix if you think about it,” he murmured into Jon’s chest, “We just need that thing, you know? The thing that makes you feel like you’re still doing the thing, but you’re not. What was the word for it again? A placeholder? Like when you quit smoking and you hold a pencil or a straw or something that’s not actually a cigarette so you can wean yourself off the ritual?”

Jon blinked owlishly down at him as he dried his eyes.

“A… placebo? Are you talking about a placebo?”

“Yeah! That’s it! We just need to find you a placebo for Knowing things! That’s all. Like… reality shows, or-or zoo cams or something! We’ll figure it out together. Alright, love? I promise you. It’ll be okay.”

Jon was skeptical, so very skeptical, but if Martin was determined to find a balm to soothe his jagged, ontological scars he would happily play the part of lab rat for him. They’d tried a myriad things to replicate the feeling of Knowing and looking something deep within him still craved. The zoo and animal livestreams were a bust, cute and entertaining as they were, but animals weren’t ever the purview of The Eye and the camera itself was barely a scrap. Reality shows came closer, the more salacious the better, but even that temporary fix wore off when Jon’s disgust with the overall content and participants outweighed any benefit. Martin was just happy to have finally converted him to Bake Off, at least. They tried people watching in the square in the village, but it made Jon far too self-conscious and guilty. He used the binoculars exactly once, and that was to look at the cows in the fields, and the choose-your-own-adventure books Martin had been certain would strike a sagacious chord wound up in the donation bin at the library. But that was when he was struck with a bolt of genius.

Unbeknownst to Jon, which brought him no small measure of glee, Martin ordered, received, and then set up with a literal bow in their back garden the finest telescope he could afford on his meager savings. He’d researched for days, asked on every amateur astronomer forum he could find, and had it delivered to the grocers so he could make it a proper surprise. He’d even gone so far as to attack and blindfold a hapless Jon the moment he made it home from work on the day it was ready, and stood behind him giddily bouncing as he tore the tea towel away from his eyes.

“A… Telescope?” he’d blurted dumbly.

“Yes! It’s perfect, right? I asked around to find the one that had all the best features, and this one has the best overall magnification and the most lenses, but it doesn’t have the little satellite positioning thing? I figured you wouldn’t want that anyway, you always like figuring things out and finding things on your own better.”

Martin had been positively radiant. Jon had just stared at the gawping black tube and chewed the inside of his cheek as he processed what to say.

“I mean… thank you, Martin, really. It was a sweet thought, but if the binoculars didn’t-“

“Screw the binoculars! This is different!” Martin happily insisted, “You can look at so much more! Stars and planets and galaxies and what have you, and it can maybe be sort of like you’re looking for other worlds? Wormholes or whatever? Or signs of The Fears and where they’ve gone? Or even if the stars are the same here as they were back before? Space literally has so many things to LOOK at we can’t even count them! This has got to be it!”

Jon tried to smile and laugh and agree to try it out, at the very least, if only because Martin was beaming so sweetly with pride and hope. Though that first night he didn’t, ushering them back in with promises of tomorrow, Martin, I promise tomorrow. Tomorrow had been a lie. As had been the next night. In fact, it took Jon a full week to even remember they even had a telescope, and that was only after getting the smuggest, Cheshire grin out of Martin after casually mentioning there would be a visible, if partial, lunar eclipse that night. He’d relented, only because he’d entrapped himself, and they’d both bundled up, looked in the manual for the best size lens to view the moon with, poured a few glasses of wine, and turned their eyes to the stars.

Martin had gone first, gripping the eyepiece and adjusting the focus all the while gasping in awe. It was so beautiful he’d burst into poetry with a crooked grin.

“Art thou pale for weariness? Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, wandering companionless among the stars that have a different birth, and ever changing, like a joyless eye that finds no object worth its constancy? Sounds a little familiar, eh?” he joked, casting a wry look over his shoulder.

Jon rolled his eyes fondly.

“Gross. Keats again?”

“Nope, Shelley this time, and even he thinks you ought to have a look at the moon. I think you’ll find you have a lot in common.”

Jon had sighed obligingly and shuffled to the telescope, fully expecting to look at something bright and round with a bit of a shadow on it that was distinctly unremarkable, have another glass of wine, and then go back inside to snuggle by the fire. What he saw in that tiny pinhole of light pierced straight through the hazel brown of his eye and plunged him into another world entirely.

The sands of the moon glowed the purest white in the refracted light of the distant sun with which it waltzed. He could see in crisp, shadowy relief the innumerable scars she bore, the depth and breadth of Ptolemaeus, the boundless lonely flatness of the maria, named for the oceans they were once thought to be, an insult to the rock plains forged a millennia ago in birth by cataclysmic fire. Every crater remained wrought in perfect, frozen detail with no erosion or foliage to slowly heal them over, and she beamed them proudly, ostentatiously in her heavenly light. A hulking, ancient protectorate, hung by the hands of creation at the dawn of time for a fledgling planet, hundreds of thousands of miles away, and yet so crystal clear and unafraid as he perused her millions of years of cosmic sentinel through a lens. It was dwarfing, humbling, viscerally awe inspiring in a way he dared not voice for fear of snuffing out the fragile glow of wonder and excitement welling in his chest he had been so certain was gone forever.

Astronomy had never been something that had particularly interested Jon, back when his entire reality from the moment his childish hands had touched a single book was spent peering into shadows and watching his own back. There was no point in wondering what lay among the stars when danger and death lurked so close behind with slavering jaws ever poised at his throat on terra firma, but now. Now, he had been living in an alternate world, dimension, reality, somewhere, he couldn’t even say for sure. He’d been hurled potentially through the very stars that twinkled coquettishly above, flashed through their nebulous veils and curtains under their indifferent gaseous gazes, but seen nothing. Here was a vast expanse of complete chaotic indefiniteness inviting him in to see what few had ever seen, to guess and hypothesize and gesture wildly at secrets only the stars could keep. To Know.

Jon had jerked back so suddenly from the telescope to survey the entirety of the astral dome above them that Martin had choked on his wine.

“Jon? Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, I…” he’d murmured, only even half hearing that Martin had said anything at all, stars reflected in his wondering dark eyes, “I’m fine, I just… How… How much more can this see? How deep does it go?”

Jon hadn’t seen the victorious smirk on Martin’s face as he set down his wine glass and picked up the instruction manual and lens guide. They’d watched the rest of the eclipse, of course, marveling through the lens at the inky trickle of shadow over craggy white, but then they’d changed the lens to the strongest one, according to the guide, and spent the rest of the evening triangulating their position beneath their slice of the universe and plotting out the various stars, planets, and constellations above. Jon had even dashed inside to grab a mostly blank notebook and had filled several pages with notes and observations and things to research later, all while Martin held back tears watching him come so alive over a project he didn’t even know he needed. Eventually though, sleepiness and cold claimed him, and he kissed his beloved goodnight and left him, more than gladly, to ride out the intellectual flare up until it burnt both him and itself out.

Martin had no clue what time it was when he finally returned, and it didn’t even matter. All that mattered was at some point, a practically frozen Jon had climbed into bed, snuggled up close behind and wrapped his arms around him to kiss the back of his neck so softly like the wings of a butterfly and whisper.

“Thank you.”

Another victorious smirk and a loving murmur.

“Told you so.”

Where there had been nothing but an Eye shaped hole in him, scarred around the edges and aching in its vacuum, Jon had filled it with the names of nebulas and quasars, of the myth of Andromeda, and Orion, and Castor and Pollux, or Hercules, and why they had all been hung in the stars for eternity. The stories were much the same as he remembered, but he’d found slight eccentricities, tiny irregularities in the sky which fascinated him even more so. Night after night he would look at a different astral body, chart it down in his notebook, then come bounding in with starlight beaming from his eyes and his fingertips with some cry of eureka.

“Martin! Did you know here Polaris is in the south and Sirius is in the north?”

“Martin! Did you know the Andromeda Galaxy is actually a little closer to the Milky Way here?”

“Martin, you have to come see this! Oh, no it’s not weird this time, it’s just I finally got Saturn in the telescope and you can actually see the rings!”

His nightly herald would always be different, but Martin would always rise from the comfort of the couch, put his slippers on, and let Jon talk as long as he needed to about his latest discovery, watching him smile again while he, too, watched the matching smile it never failed to ignite illuminate Martin’s face and they lit each other up in the fused brilliance of a binary star.

Martin no longer hung the moon for Jon, he’d finally just up and quite literally given it to him, and there was no mortal way to repay him for that. Or so he’d thought. It came to him, as most flashes of brilliance do, on a night he hadn’t even been thinking about it at all. All he had been doing was sitting in a lawn chair with his telescope long after Martin had gone to bed, chewing his pencil idly, vaguely missing a cigarette and pondering notes on Vega and Lyra between watching it through his lens. He’d been stuck for days on Vega and its potentiality for another solar system and what that could imply for their new Earth and their new sun, as well as Lyra and the tragic tale of Orpheus and his doomed love. Even in their new reality he still turned back at the end of the story, still could not contain the roiling, effusive adoration to his own downfall.

Bitterness had risen like bile in the back of Jon’s throat as he replayed the myth again in his head, unsure why it was vexing him and rewinding in his brain so torturously. “Stupid, stupid man, if he’d only just…” he’d thought again and again, each time giving the star-crossed musician a different decision, a different choice, urging him down another path somewhere, anywhere along his journey, but in the end, he’d always looped back around to the original. It was the point of the story, after all. Not so much the love itself or even the loss of it, but the power of it over one man and the creation born from his mourning and eventual destruction. Patently Greek. But the chorus would always begin again in Jon’s head. If he’d kept his Eurydice, if his songs had been happy, if he hadn’t spent the rest of his life mourning so intensely he was eventually destroyed for it, would he have become the paragon of healing he was, the oracle, the lynchpin of the fate of the world he had eventually become? Which of them was the stupider man?

Jon was only mortal now, he was no longer all-seeing oracle and dark savior, he had no authority to say, but it was a trifle easier to ponder the hubris of Orpheus instead of his own. He couldn’t help but think, achingly, sometimes the heroes just deserved to pull their beloved from the pit of Tartarus, promise to love them for eternity, and then simply get married, ride off into the sunset, and live happily ever after. A story wasn’t a story if it didn’t write itself upon the very bones and sinews of its heroes, that was the law of the universe, but when the story was done and the cracks and fissures in their tissues had faded to myth and legend, what became of the heroes who did not die a tragic or heroic death and were not hung in the stars? What happened to heroes left behind? Twisting his bloodstone ring on his thumb idly as it caught the shivering fire of those stars in its dark mirrored surface, the musical arrow of the muses pierced his heart, wide-eyed in wonder. He’d asked the universe, but he already knew the answer. He’d always known. He knew, and he knew it with such clarion joy as he had never known anything before.

He could no longer be the man who hung Martin’s moon, he hadn’t been for a long time. That much was clear to him, but he could certainly do something else. Perhaps they had grown past the need for moon hangings in the first place. He knew how their story ended.

It took months of saving, secreting, preparation, and then finally just simply waiting for the perfect, clear night. The moment it came, the moment he knew it was the night, Jon struck without hesitation. Poor Martin wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the couch, into Jon, when he returned from a late shift at the grocers, but found himself instead stuffed right back into his coat with a picnic basket in hand and hauled out into the frigid night in a flurry of Jon with little time to protest. He bounded up the hill behind their little cottage beneath a perfect blanket of stars flaming coldly overhead, trailing Martin’s hand in his behind with his breath coming in silvery puffs of clouds, and paying no heed to the whining.

“Jon, whatever it is, does it have to be NOW?” Martin panted, “I am absolutely knackered and it’s beyond freezing and wouldn’t it be nicer just to curl up with a cuppa and fall asleep in front of Star Wars or something? Doesn’t that have enough stars and space in it?”

Dauntless, Jon only tugged harder.

“There’s tea in the basket, and I’ve seen Star Wars. And yes, it has to be tonight, it’s really important, I promise.”

“Look. I love you. So much. You know this, and please know it is with the utmost love and deepest affection in my heart that I point out that you say that every time, and you’ve still shown me Pluto like, a hundred separate times. While I quite like it, and I still feel sorry for it being bumped out of the solar system and all, it’s just a dot? How many times can you look at a dot?” Martin sighed.

His words finally threw a caltrop into Jon��s warpath, and he paused, turning over his shoulder woundedly.

“What? No, it’s not Pluto, I swear just- Please, Martin? I’ll never ask again if you don’t want to, but just for tonight, please?” he pleaded.

Martin winced, and immediately folded under the onslaught of doleful honeyed brown eyes under a nimbus of stars.

“Oh, lord there you go with the puppy dog eyes. Okay, okay fine, but there better be a nip of whiskey in this,” he chided lovingly with a gesture at the thermos in the basket.

The smile flared back to life brightly on Jon’s face as he turned back up the craggy little footpath to the top of the hill.

“Of course, hot toddy with tea.”

“Ooh, lovely, you do know me.”

The rest of the way was trivially short to the small, flat hilltop surrounded by heather where Jon had already set up a blanket and the telescope over a pristine vista of the dark line where the stars sank into the sea. He ushered Martin to sit down first, then perched on his hip beside him and poured him a generous helping of tea and whiskey from the thermos before pouring his own.

“Thanks, much. Right then, what exactly are we up here to look at that we couldn’t see from our garden?” Martin asked, accepting his cup of potent hot toddy and sipping it gratefully around the lemony steam that billowed up.

Taken aback by the sudden logic lobbed into the center of his romantic posturing, Jon looked momentarily stunned, as if someone had slapped him upside the head.

“Oh! Oh, um, well-! Ahah, that is to say- Uh. There is a reason for all this. It’s not that we couldn’t see it from our garden, we very much could have. B-But it’s so beautiful up here, and you can kind of hear the sea? And it’s nice and peaceful, and the heather is still blooming a bit and um…” he trailed off, cheeks burning.

“Okay…?” Martin probed, frowning a little.

“Er, actually... It’s less about the stars than it is- W-Well it is about the stars. Let’s get that clear. But to be completely honest I mostly just… I-I well. There’s something I need to tell you?”

Jon was ill-prepared for the look of abject horror on Martin’s face as he went paler than the moon overhead.

“Shit, what is it? Did you find something? You saw something? There’s been a sign of The Fears? Oh god it’s not HER is it?” he asked frantically, nearly slopping hot toddy all over his lap.

“What? No! No, none of that!” Jon spluttered, aghast.

Martin regained a modicum of color in his face and breathed in measuredly.

“Okay, so then what is it? Oh god, you’re not… Jon you’re not ill, or something, are you? Please, you can just tell me if-“

“No, I am not ill either, damn it, Martin! If you would just listen to me! I-!” Jon moaned exasperatedly, “I just wanted to do something… nice. Something nice for you. And nicer than I normally would because I am apparently much worse at crafting romantic moments than I thought and-“

“Wait…” Martin cut in, eyes gleaming with realization, “Jonathan Sims… Are you grand gesturing?”

“Well I am certainly trying but you are making it exceedingly difficult!” he retorted, red in the face and breathless.

“Oh my god, you are! I’m so sorry!” Martin laughed brightly, “Oh god Jon you poor thing I’m so sorry, I’m awful, I’m the absolute worst! No please! Don’t let me spoil it. Please go on.”

Grinding the heel of his palm into his forehead, Jon tried to summon the words again, only for Martin’s strong, warm hands to take it from him and tip his chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“Hey. Hey, Jon. Look at me,” he breathed, looking into his eyes idolatrously, “I’m sorry. I love you. You can tell me.”

Taking the steadiness from those clear blue depths he needed, Jon focused on them, on the strawberry blond curls tossing in the icy breeze, of the kiss of chilled pink under his freckles, and that eternal, sunshine smile.

“Okay,” he finally answered, smiling softly.

With a deep, shuddering breath, and a long swig of whiskey laced tea for good measure, Jon drew himself up and fished deep in his soul for the words he had waited a millennium to say.

“Okay… So here it is. Um… I’ve um, I’ve had a lot of time alone lately with my new hobby, as it were. So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of it is overly complicated and ridiculous and doesn’t deserve to live outside of my head but… a lot of it has been about you, about us. And I know we don’t need to-to put a label on us or put us into a… a box or anything like that. But every time I look at this ring on my finger, I can’t help but remember we never actually talked about what they meant,” he began, holding out his left hand and fidgeting with the loose band around his thumb.

“Oh Jon, don’t worry about that. It was just me being a big sappy, sentimental dork. And if I recall correctly, we’d had a pretty awful row a night or two before, and I just wanted to feel close to you again, I guess? We both know what they mean to us. It doesn’t matter,” Martin assured him sweetly.

“Except that it does!” Jon insisted passionately, “That’s the point! You are a big sappy, sentimental dork, Martin. I bet you were the kid that had a dream wedding all planned in a notebook with pictures cut out of magazines and everything. I adore that about you, but big sappy sentimental dorks should have big sappy, sentimental moments like huge, expensive seaside weddings with three-flavor cakes and all your friends and family and rose petals and dove releases and whatever else your heart could dream up.”

Martin snickered and shook his head, charmed at least by the mental image of kissing Jon on a seaside cliff at sunset while doves flew in glorious formation around them and everyone they had ever known and loved cheered.

“Pfft, I don’t need a grand wedding and all that, I just need-”

“Me. I know,” Jon finished for him with a smirk, “I knew you’d say that. Maybe not. But you deserve one. And I know I don’t use that word lightly, but it’s necessary in this case. You deserve it. All of it. Me on one knee with a ring in a box, you deserve us picking out flowers and tuxedos and arguing over the font on the invitations. You deserve Tim’s awful bachelor party and laughing at me at the altar because I had to read my vows off a card and they’re still so stiff and awkward and they pale in comparison to the beautiful poem you wrote about me. You deserve smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and crying as we exchange rings. All of it.”

Martin weighed his words carefully on his tongue with a sip of his boozy tea to chase away ghosts of things that never even were.

“I mean, sure, not going to say I never wanted that. And I did have that stupid wedding notebook, by the way. But all that became a pipe dream the minute we wound up here, right? No use being upset about something that can never be.”

“That may be so, but the crux of it is… you also contented yourself with the idea of it never coming true not because we’re here, but because you didn’t think I wanted it,” Jon answered, his unspoken truth hanging heavy in the chill night air between them, “Every time you tried to tell me you wanted to be with me forever, I brushed it off and painted it gray and tucked it away and carried on the way we always were like nothing happened and it didn’t matter. Because it was alright, really, you were just so happy to have what we have, that I didn’t die in your arms that night, that we were still together after everything. That I at least kept that promise after I’d broken so many. You were so grateful just for what you were gifted after we thought we would end with nothing you didn’t dare think to ask the universe for more and I am so, so sorry it took me so long to see that, Martin. I’m so sorry.”

His voice broke. The breath caught in Martin’s chest as he reached out to touch his wrist comfortingly.

“Jon, I-“

“No, please. Please let me finish I… I can’t give you any of those things. I can’t give you our friends back, I can’t give you cake and doves and the sunset and crying through vows in front of the vicar. I can’t even give you an elopement at the register office because we still don’t legally exist. And I guess for a long time I resented myself for that. For all of it. For stealing that from you, for dragging you through literal hell only to give you a shadow of a life stuck here with me because I betrayed you. But- no stop, don’t say anything yet I’m not done. B-But now I finally realize. You’re right, Martin. You were always right. It doesn’t matter. Those things are all just… things. I said to you once, a long time ago, and I’m still not even sure if you really heard me, that I didn’t want to just survive. It was true then, and maybe it wasn’t true for a while, but it’s certainly true again. We did not fight tooth and nail to just survive. We fought to live, and live together. So what I’m saying is… I know now I don’t have to give you tuxedos and white roses as long as I give you something… Something to prove to you that you are my everything, my entire world, something to show you that I love you more than I have loved anything in my entire life. That I want forever with you. S-So I…” he trailed off, sucking in his breath to give his gesture of undying love the ardor and grandeur it deserved, “I bought us a star.”

The proclamation rang out like the toll of a bell, its gravity sonorous and quaking. Martin blinked.

“You… I’m sorry?” he squeaked.

Jon set his empty thermos cup aside, flailed his hands in the air and shook his head frantically

“I-I know, I know it sounds mental just hear me out!” he protested, “Technically I didn’t buy the star, if we want to get picky about it. I mean obviously no one can own a star. Just the rights to name it? It’s a thing you can do online. I was a bit gobsmacked it was real to be honest. I just had this silly idea when I was out looking at the stars. I was looking at Lyra and thinking about you and Orpheus, and I… W-Well I just typed it in, ‘can you name a star?’ and it came right up. Right then and there. It um… comes with… hold on.”

Remembrance placed a gentle bookmark down on Jon’s fluttering thoughts, and he rummaged in the picnic basket for a moment before pulling out a navy-blue manila folder covered in stars and full of the paperwork and certificates that had come with registering theirs. He handed it to Martin, who took it in place of his own empty cup, numb, muscles quivering under his jaw, and opened it to the glittering gold typeface that proclaimed ‘Congratulations!’.

“It comes with paperwork, too! See? So, it’s official, at least? The Jon-Martin star. Not a marriage license I know, but at least our names are together on something legal? Our real names? I figured even if we manage the fake identity thing we’d have to get married as not us. Not really. So… I-It could be like our marriage certificate?” Jon explained, chewing his lower lip.

Martin said nothing as his hand turned the pages of the documentation, his eyes distant in a way Jon had never seen before. Not disembodied and enthralled, not broken, not even regarding puzzle pieces.

“Oh! Um, also I-I got us a binary star. I forgot to mention that bit,” he went on, filling the sudden void, “It’s, ah- What a binary star is- It’s technically two? But they’re caught up in each other’s gravity and they orbit each other so tightly they look like one star together, one that just shines a little brighter. They’re bound together forever by the most powerful cosmic force in the universe. Just like us.”

Only silence answered, punctuated by one last crisp whisper of paper, and then the folder closing with Martin’s spread fingers atop it, bloodstone gleaming in the vivid pale light of the night. Jon’s heart pitched frantically in his chest, and desperate, stranded tears pricked at his eyes.

“I uh… I would have rather gotten us a whole constellation. Heh, you know? But they don’t do that, obviously,” he tried softly, his fingers barely brushing Martin’s knuckles, “They record heroes in constellations, after all. Great deeds, doomed romances, lovers who can be together no other way… That would have been a better way to honor us, I think. Our story. A-And who knows? Maybe back on our world there are a few new stars to remember what we did, to mark the place we left it, so that everyone we left behind can look up and remember us. They don’t know how the story really ended, and they probably never will, but we do. We do, and I want to end it right here, right now. With our star shining above us ‘and they lived happily ever after.’”

Martin still said nothing, but his head bowed, casting a slice of shadow over his eyes, and his shoulders quivered as a thin, bright line of wet silver trickled down his cheek. Jon felt the very sky shatter above and begin to crumble around him.

“Please… M-Make no mistake, Martin. P-Perhaps the gesture is silly and meaningless, but it was all I could think to do to go with everything I’ve said tonight. Martin… Martin, don’t you see? These are my wedding vows to you. This is me saying ‘I do’ and also ‘Martin K. Blackwood would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the universe?’ All at once. This is me saying I swear to you I will be yours, through everything, until the end of time. M-Maybe I wasn’t before. Maybe I was still punishing myself, but I’m telling you, I’m ready now to have my happily ever after. With you, Martin. If you’ll have me. If I haven’t-“

He would never finish. In a dizzying blur of blue folder, flashing hematite, and a wreath of golden curls, Martin kissed the words off his lips. He kissed him so hard and so fierce, through wracking sobs with his hands woven so raptly into his long, wavy locks he thought his lips would bruise and his fragile soul would finally shatter to pieces in Martin’s arms. Undone, all Jon could do was surrender and kiss him back with equal passion, thumbing away the hot tears as they spilled freely down his cheeks and anointed them both with their cleansing, hoary heat. Their lips parted and they panted softly against each other in the space between, each afraid to break the sacred, pulsing silence.

“You’re crying,” Jon whispered at length, “I’ve said something wrong. Martin, darling I’m so sorry. I never meant to-”

Martin laughed, raspy with tears, but ethereal, sparkling, like stardust floating on the breeze.

“People are allowed to cry when they’re happy you stupid, silly man,�� he murmured in between kissing him again, and again.

“Oh. Oh.”

He kissed him one last time, that idiot man who always burnt the toast and always knew the facts but never knew what to say, who finally figured it out and bought him a star, and threw his arms around him, enveloping his slight, fragile form protectively in his embrace.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Jon sank into that warm, familiar comfort and buried his face in his shoulder.

“I love you, too, Martin. I want to be yours for the rest of my life. I want to be me, I want to be us.”

“I know. I’ve always known. Oh god, you do know that right? I know that you love me, it’s written in everything you do and say. I have never, ever once doubted you love me with everything you are. Even in the moments I was afraid that… that maybe we just weren’t meant to be together, I still knew it wouldn’t be because you didn’t love me. Never because you didn’t love me. Just maybe that we didn’t fit together anymore,” Martin replied in a small voice through his tears as they spilled down his cheeks.

As much as he wanted to vehemently deny there was ever a chance they might have not fit back together again after they had both been so shattered, to kiss him and tell him not in a million years would there ever have been a future where they weren’t Jon and Martin against the world, Jon knew it to be inescapably true.

“I’m so sorry you ever had to be afraid of that,” he swore, digging his fingers into Martin’s back pointedly, “After everything. After we fought so hard to escape fear itself. That I almost let it truly win in the end. That I couldn’t just let go… Because… Because this was never about The Eye, was it?”

A heave of breath and its shuddering exhale shook Martin’s body free of lifetimes of grief, and fear, of ugliness carried far beyond the borders of their souls. His fingers curled tighter in unspoken reply.

“No Jon, no it wasn’t, but I’m so very glad you finally figured that out.”

“Me, too…” he whispered.

They held each other in the quiet wake of being a moment and let the astral plane wheel calmly overhead. An impatient star twinkled.

“Wait… you never answered me,” Jon finally said as he pulled back, sliding his elegant fingers down Martin’s strong arms.

“Huh?” Martin blurted, scrubbing under his eyes with the sleeve of his coat.

“About marrying me tonight. You never actually said yes, so…”

A twinkle in his eye and a slight mischief to his grin, Jon dove back into the picnic basket and emerged with a velvet ring box. Martin’s hands flew to his mouth.

“You didn’t.”

“Of course I did! Nothing fancy, but I thought it was high time to retire the blood rings,” he explained rising from his former perch on his hip to kneel properly.

The box cracked neatly open, and inside lay a simple, white gold band with a tiny circle of milky moonstone embedded in it on a midnight-blue satin cushion, blindingly bright against the dark. Martin sobbed joyfully all over again.

“So, uh… I suppose if it had just been us, if we’d just been together, without everything, and we’d arrived at this moment. I would have done much the same. I would have brought you somewhere beautiful, somewhere I could teach you some inane fact you didn’t actually care about, but liked because it came from me. Emulsifiers in ice cream and rum raisin…” they both snickered, “And I would have tried my best to make it into some sort of romantic metaphor but completely bunged it up and you would be laughing as I got down on one knee, just like this. And it would have just been simple. To the point. Just… Will you marry me? So…”

Jon assumed the traditional position, on one knee, arms outstretched, his every slender point a star in a perfect constellation of love.

“Will you marry me?”

Their eyes met, across a thousand different realities, across a thousand different worlds, carried on celestial winds to fall hopelessly, inexorably, into each other’s orbit.

“Yes, yes I do believe I will.”

With one last farewell kiss upon it for what it had meant for them both, Jon slipped the bloodstone ring from Martin’s finger and replaced it with the delicate band made of starlight. It took its place radiantly, and shone as Martin drew his hand back to admire it with an equally radiant grin before it dimmed with concern.

“But what about you?” he asked worriedly as he watched the old ring entombed lovingly in the box.

Jon only smirked and produced a second box from the basket, which he offered on his open palm out to Martin.

“Naturally, I got one for myself. Couldn’t pass up a chance to get a wedding ring that actually fits, could I? It’s just… Don’t you think you deserve to give it to me the way you would want?” he urged.

Martin took the box eagerly, biting his lower lip in thought.

“Not sure you want to give me that freedom. I had about five different ways of asking you in my head and all of them you would have hated so, so much. But I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t kind of the point,” he answered wryly.

Jon chortled.

“Sorry I, the unromantic one, sprung this on you, the romantic one. But I did want to surprise you. I-I mean you can still write me a vows poem later? If you want to, of course. I’d love to have it, even if I don’t actually get to hear it at our wedding.”

Martin’s face flushed immediate crimson and his eyes darted coyly away as he toyed with the wedding band box in his lap.

“Oh that? A-Actually I… I have it memorized, i-if you really wanted to hear it.”

“You- WHAT?” gasped Jon, his cheeks flushing in tandem.

“Oh yeah, I wrote my vows poem for you ages ago and I’ve gone over it so many times I know it by heart. It was comforting, okay? I-I’d read it again when times were good and I thought maybe you’d actually- um… a-and when times were not so good, when you were gone, in your own head, when I was afraid we were broken for good, whenever I needed it. I’ve read it over a thousand times and never changed a thing from the first time I penned it. Never needed to. I’m surprised I haven’t recited it in my sleep at this point,” Martin admitted sheepishly.

Jon’s entire body flushed with a solar heat that melted his joints and his heart into a swirling flare of adulation.

“I can think of no better way, then, to receive my ring,” he breathed, reaching out to cup Martin’s cheek in his hand, “I’ve had my turn, now it’s yours.”

In mirror ballets of love exchanges, Martin cradled Jon’s hand against his cheek as he spoke the first lines of the vows etched ever on his being softly into his palm.

“Let he who, shadow dwelling, must In paper, pen, and book be bound Shake off the chains of dark and rust And chart his own bright fate unfound.

Let he with lifelong burdens borne Cut paper wings with thread of gold And hand in hand, the sky forsworn Flit clouds and sun in laughter bold.

Let he whose blood and soldier’s ken The world did shield from dark and fear Heal fast those wounds, be whole again And sleep at last, held close and dear.

Bring him to me with spirit free With stars in eyes and music sung From lips a joyful promise be One soul conjoined, one fate’s thread strung.

Two hearts rejoice in love renowned. We lift our heads, alive, uncrowned.”

He waited until the last couplet to pull the ring from the box and slide it onto Jon’s finger where it too, fit perfectly, like it had always been there, and shone defiantly bright in the moonlight. Jon wept. He had been weeping since the first words of verse left his beloved’s lips, but seeing that ring like a piece of his missing soul returned to him undammed the tears effusively.

“God that was… Martin, I don’t have words. I-It was… so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. Thank you,” he cried fervently, “I wish I could tell you properly how much that meant, but I just-“

“Hey… That’s alright. I’m the words guy. You’re the emulsifiers guy. Making you cry is all I need to see to know how you feel,” Martin assured him warmly, reaching out to brush his tears away as he chuckled.

“Yeah… add this one to the running tally.”

“Oh, I have,” Martin snickered, “Speaking of! Now we’ve done the crying through vows bit. Shouldn’t we say the ‘I do’ bit, as well?”

Jon pursed his lips with a shrug as he reached out with his left hand to take Martin’s left as well, twining their fingers together

“Yes, I suppose we should. I don’t see why not. Well then, Martin, do you?”

“I do. And Jon, do you?”

“I do.”

“You may now soundly snog the groom.”

“Martin…”

The emphatic drawl of his name the way Jon only called it when he was frustratingly enamored of him perished gently against Martin’s velvet lips as they caressed his. They kissed slowly and reverently, sealing a pact ordained by the heavens long before either of them had seen the stars in the other’s eyes, lighting with white flame the torch to guide them for the first time, forward. They broke it only to punctuate it with two more featherlight kisses and a breathless laugh, bowing their foreheads together in deference to the forces of fate and the universe.

“I know this isn’t the wedding either of us ever dreamed of, but as far as I’m concerned, it was perfect,” Jon murmured, nuzzling closer into his husband, swaddling the new, fledgling and beautiful word in his heart.

“Well, hey, what is a wedding really other than just a formal declaration that this is it? This is us, we’re forever, no matter what. We did it. And you did it for me, in the STARS, Jon… Can we just remember that again? You put us in the actual stars. I am so writing a ballad for our constellation later, you do know this.”

“Oh lord. Of course you are. But really, it was the least I could do, after you’ve done so much for me, sacrificed everything for me. Waited for me for so long.”

“And you came back to me,” Martin reminded him passionately, “And I don’t just mean back to life, here, in this world. I mean you came back, Jon, MY Jon, the Jon I was in love with the moment I laid eyes on him. The fidgety and obstinate Jon who can’t make a decent cup of tea to save his life, who puts on two different socks in the morning because his nose is already in the paper or a book, who teaches me about bleeding rocks and binary stars and still reacts to the simplest acts of kindness like a warm cranberry orange scone without asking for one like they’re divine miracles he is undeserving of, who looks at me like I hung the moon or something every time. Even when I thought I was a complete and total waste of a human being, you, Jonathan Sims, the most beautiful, amazing, brilliant man to ever walk the Earth, looked at me like I hung the moon. And that was… Still is… everything to me.”

The heavens shifted, the stars wheeled, the last piece clicked smartly, smugly into place.

“W-What did you say…?” Jon asked with such urgency, grabbing his hands so fiercely, Martin startled.

“Wh-I-I don’t-? Which part? The moon hanging part?” he stuttered, rolling his eyes fondly as he realized mid-sentence, “Oh, right. Ugh, Jon are you seriously going to get after me about your weird vendetta against idioms at our wedding? Because if you are that would be annoyingly adorable and so intensely you and kind of perfect, but also can you not on THIS particular occasion?”

The laugh that tore from Jon’s throat was half mad, half euphoric as the weight of the moon lifted from his shoulders and became naught but an indifferent sentinel disc in the sky once more.

“No no no, it’s just… It’s funny, I had more than a few things very, very wrong for a very, very long time. That’s all. Don’t worry about it,” he explained, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to Martin’s forehead, “If you’re the one who hung the moon after all, then I suppose ‘written in the stars’ will have to do for me.”

Martin lit up with literary glee.

“Oh ho! Two space related idioms in one go? What a rare treat! Maybe this is your gateway drug into puns…” he teased impishly.

“Absolutely no chance in hell.”

They both laughed, laughed with the billowing icy breath that reached with victorious fingers up to the heavens. They laughed, messily sniffing back the pesky drip of tears and cold. They laughed with lightness of the encumbrance of hematite armor shed, its bloody protections no longer needed to cage wounded hearts and keep them safe and close. They laughed in breath and also in the dancing points of light in their eyes as they fell into one another free from gravity.

“So uh… Do I get to see my star tonight, or don’t I?” Martin finally remembered, relishing the utterly horrified yelp from Jon.

“Oh god I completely-! Y-Yes! Yes of course, it’s already set up at the proper coordinates!” he had already sprung to his feet, “Oh, though, hang on, it took longer to get to the star viewing part than I anticipated, so I might need to adjust it a bit. Oh! And I have a little strawberries and champagne, if you like?”

“I do like, please and thank you!”

Jon set to readjusting the telescope to the proper ascension and declination while Martin poured them two glasses of crisply bubbling champagne. They twined their arms to drink a toast from each other’s glass, ‘to us’ or ‘to happily ever afters’, or to several other messily rambled toast worthy sentiments. They couldn’t decide and toasted to all of it. They ate plump red strawberries and licked the juice from each other’s fingers as they looked at their star, which was, after everything, just a dot, just like Pluto, but Martin had to admit that he rather liked looking at dots after all. And that one was their dot. The warm intoxication of love and champagne begged for music, and someone fumbled in the cold for a wedding playlist on some app, somewhere, it didn’t matter, just as long as they could join hands, gaze into each other’s eyes and dance inelegantly, stepping on each other’s toes, under the umbrella of stars in a gentle rain of moonlight.

“I don’t see your problem with cliches, idioms and all that, really…” Martin mused at length, laying his head on Jon’s shoulder as they slowly spun to the rhythm of a longing ballad and the song of the sea, “Like this stupid, great song. They’re familiar and cozy and everyone knows them. They’re like… like old friends. Always there to rely on when we can’t come up with the words ourselves, because sometimes we can’t. And if something trite and silly sums up the way you feel, why not just let it be? Sometimes things are said over and over again because some truths are universal, you know? They’re just… human.”

Jon pressed a kiss into the mop of curls that tickled his nose and smelled faintly of toasted sugar and lavender and mused on all of the romantic cliches that had just passed through his mind unbidden. Who was he to deny he was but one star in the sky, a single gear in the grand mortal mechanism of the universe. If he had handed himself over to the humanity of it all instead of rusting, stopping, looking outside where there was never anything to see, perhaps he could have had this dance much sooner. It didn’t matter though, until it did, because that night Martin took his breath away, made his world go round, he was head over heels for his match made in heaven, and better than heaven, they were written in the stars.

“You know what, Martin?” Jon laughed in reply, “Tonight, being what it is, I am willing to concede. You are absolutely right.”

“I’m glad…” came the tender acceptance, followed by a distinctly puckish beat of silence, “Then does this mean I can I start saying love you to the moon and back?”

“Don’t push your luck...”

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #Magnuspod #JonMartin #JMart #jmartweddingchallenge #hey-there-hunter #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Fan fiction

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captaincartervalues · 4 years

Note

My Stubborn Alien (for the fic title thing)

“Jus truuusst me, Lena thi- thisis a greaaat idea!” Kara empathically waves her hands.

“Kara, you’re drunk and this is most definitely not a good idea.” Lena replies matter of factly.

“Imnot drunk. Yooou’re drunk.”

Lena shakes her head at her girlfriend in exasperation.

“N Ssure it is! S’its what the peeople want. ANd it’s gunna be gREAt for ma image! No more ‘Oh Supergirl’s sooo uptight’ or ‘Oh Supergirl is toooo muchofa goodie tooshoes’ or ‘out of touch with the people’!” Kara airquotes.

Lena raises her eyebrows and tries to conceal her smirk.

“Imma be hip! Imma be wit da people, LenAa!” Kara reaches out to boop Lena’s nose as she’s making her last point. “Supergirl is CoOl Ssupergurl is sFun! Thhiss is gonna show everyone that. Okay? Okay.”

“Does this have something to do with the article Andrea had William publish this week?” Lena asks gently.

“NooOoo.”

“So this has nothing to do with her saying Supergirl isn’t the kind of hero you wanna have a drink with?” Lena presses.

“Uhh noo.” Kara insists defiantly. “It’s about the gAys!” Kara comes up with.

“What?” Lena laughs out.

“Nia said Tiktok is on the rage and the gays love it! And I wannabe something the gays love toooo” Kara points out.

“Darling, I’m pretty sure the gays already love you...”

“Yeeaaaahh BUT do they knooow I love them back?! Isdunno... Isss why I need Tikstok!” Kara exclaims as if her reasoning is flawless.

Lena looks at the innocent face on her drunk girlfriend and knows they’re going to be in trouble tomorrow. “There’s no talking you out of this right now, is there?”

“NOpe!” Kara smiles triumphantly.

Lena sighs as she acquiesces “Fine.”

Kara jumps up and down with exuberance.

“But I’m not taking any of your complaints when you regret this tomorrow.”

———

Kara wakes up with a decent hangover, which wouldn’t be so bad, if she didn’t also wake up to an empty bed and no Lena to snuggle.

With a pouty face and her eyes half closed, Kara glacially shuffles out towards the kitchen and freshly made coffee. Although, she quickly realizes her and Lena aren’t alone this morning when she hears a whispered conversation.

“Alex? What are doing here so early?” Kara inquires as she excitedly spots the donuts her sister must have brought over.

“Oh you know just catching up with my future sister-in-law about how your night was.” Alex says sharply.

Kara brushes past the sister-in-law comment and looks skeptically at Alex as she eats her second donut. “It was fine. Pretty low key.” Kara says with her mouth full.

Alex scoffs “LOWkey?! Mmm and how much of it do you remember there, Kar?”

Kara looks to Lena with questioning eyes but Lena won’t quite look at her as she chuckles behind her coffee cup. “Most of it...I mean I don’t really remember going to bed once we got home but -”

Lena bursts out laughing at Kara’s unassuming admission.

“This isn’t funny, Lena.” Alex chastises.

“I mean it kind of is, Alex. Come on, it wasn’t that bad in the end” Lena argues.

Kara cuts Alex off before she can argue back “What wasn’t that bad?”

“Oh why don’t we just show you superstar!” Alex quips.

Lena takes pity on Kara’s still confused face and pats the seat on the couch next to her “You’re gonna want to sit down for this one, honey.”

Kara takes the offered seat as Lena hands her phone over to Kara after opening the Tiktok app. Kara’s mouth immediately drops when she sees herself in her Supergirl suit on the screen.

“Oh no!” Kara gasps.

“Oh YES.” Alex digs. “Go on, press play.”

Kara presses play and immediately regrets it as she watches herself stare back with ‘sexy’ eyes and lick her lips before lip syncing:

“I wanna put you in 7 positions for 70 minutes. You get it babe. You got a lot on your mind and I want to ease it up and lick it and slip it in. You do a light scream on the ice cream when I scoop it and dip it in.”

“Oh. My. Rao.” Kara groans as she presses pause to stop the video. “Why am I seducing the camera in my Supergirl suit?”

“That’s a great question, isn’t it Kara?” Alex jabs sarcastically. “Lena?”

“You said it was trendy and that the TikTok gays would appreciate it.” Lena offers.

“Why didn’t you stop me??” Kara whines.

“I tried!” Lena defends. “You told me it was homophobic and a hate crime not to post it!”

“I am never drinking Vahorian Rum again.” Kara says as she sinks into the couch.

“You said that last time.” Alex mocks.

Kara glares at her sister before attempting her patented optimism. “Okay, so I made a TikTok as Supergirl last night. At least it’s just this one video with only - um” Kara checks the phone “3.6 million views...”

Kara sighs, “It could be worse.”

Alex and Lena exchange a knowing look and Kara’s eyes go wide.

“I made MORE than one video?!?” Kara postures.

“Try like six.” Alex huffs disapprovingly.

“Oh Rao!”

“Weeelllll, she only posted six...” Lena adds.

“OH RAO!” Kara groans. “Show them all to me now.”

The three of them proceed to watch all of Kara’s drunkenly produced TikToks from the night before.

“Ayyyoooooo bisexual check!”

Kara doesn’t even know how she manages to roll the sleeves and pants of her supersuit but she watches herself do it before putting a beanie and chucks on, grabbing her ukele, and topping it off by replacing her cape with a bisexual flag.

“I don’t even have a bisexual flag!” Kara blurts.

“You do now.” Alex points to it draped over the dining table.

Kara looks at Lena baffled.

“You said it was ‘essential’, yelled ‘brb’, and came back with the flag and some candy before I could open my mouth.” Lena explains.

Kara sighs and scrolls to the next video.

“Ayyyoooooo everyone thinks my cousin is hot check!”

This video turns out to be just Kara rolling her eyes and shaking her head with embarrassment in front of a bunch of pictures of Kal in his Superman suit. Most of the comments on the video are either ‘well they ain’t wrong doe’ or ‘not as hot as you Supergirl’ and Kara isn’t sure which she hates more.

The next one starts with Kara and Lena standing next to and looking at each other with background music and the caption ‘whenever Lex tries to take over the world’ and ends with them not missing a beat as they turn towards the camera and lip sync:

“What kind of fuckery is this?”

“Okay this one is kind of funny.” Kara cautiously proclaims.

“Yeah I liked that one too.” Lena admits with a smile.

“Should have said ‘whenever Lex does anything’.” Alex corrects. They all burst out laughing at that.

With the mood slightly lightened, Kara scrolls to the next video.

“Ayyyoooooo jawline check!”

Kara is already cringing again as she anticipates watching herself show off her jawline but is surprised when the camera flips to Lena rolling her eyes as Kara’s hand turns her head to its profile to hype up her girlfriend’s impeccable jawline.

“I’m so sorry” Kara says sheepishly.

“It’s okay, babe.” Lena reassures her as she presses a quick kiss to Kara’s lips.

“I mean...Lena’s jawline was made for this trend sooo...” Alex concedes.

Lena rolls her eyes again as Kara shrugs, “She’s not wrong, babe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just watch the last one you posted because it’s Alex’s and mine’s favorite.” Lena says as she and Alex laugh in anticipation.

“Oh no.” Kara sighs before scrolling.

Music plays as she watches stock images of Superman, the Flash, and the Arrow pop up before Kara appears and lip syncs the last line with a cocky grin:

“These boys ain’t shit.”

“Oh my - Lena! How could you let me post theeeese?” Kara tries again.

“Listen,” Lena starts “you’re very stubborn when you’re drunk and it took everything I had to keep you from posting the other videos!”

“Do I even want to know?” Kara questions.

“I do!” Alex says taking a little too much enjoyment in Kara’s suffering.

Lena pulls out another phone.

“At least you guys were smart enough to use one of Supergirl’s burner phones and not your personal phones.” Alex says.

Lena tosses Alex a side eye. “Do I look stupid to you?” Lena asks rhetorically. “I also added extra layers of encryption to the app and the phone just in case.”

“Well I don’t know! You were stupid enough to fall in love with this idiot.” Alex mumbles as she points toward Kara.

“Normally I would be offended, but after last night, you might have a point.” Kara says.

Lena pulls up the the drafts she refused to let Kara post.

The first one is Kara floating with Lena in her arms in a bridal carry and the caption ‘when you save Lena Luthor from an attack’. Kara is looking at Lena before she turns to the camera and lip syncs:

“I think. You know. Where this about to go.”

Drunk Kara added some eyebrow raises and a wink before kissing Lena at the end.

“Okay it’s probably a really good thing you didn’t let me post this.” Kara admits.

“You think?!” Alex chastises.

Kara clicks on another video in the drafts to avoid Alex’s judgmental gaze.

This video is Kara and Lena standing in from of the camera facing each other as Kara lip syncs to her:

“You say we’re just friends....”

Kara smiles and pans to the camera. “But friends don’t know the way you taste.”

Kara smirks as Lena’s mouth drops and she goes to stop the recording immediately.

“OHkay I did not need to see that last one, Lena!” Alex complains.

“You asked for it.” Lena shrugs.

“She’s right. You did.” Kara backs up her girlfriend.

Alex glares at them both. “You two are lucky no one pieced together where you were or who you are!” Alex scolds as she points at Kara.

“I think it helped that Supergirl and I have a known working friendship.” Lena admits. “No one questioned why she was drunk and with me.”

“What has been the overall reaction to these?” Kara inquires.

“Honestly, it’s been mostly positive with most fans loving the content and an inside look at playful Supergirl.” Lena explains.

“Though there have been some critics questioning why a hero would get drunk at all with the responsibilities you have.” Alex levels. “And some negative responses from parents about the appropriateness of some of the content.”

Kara sighs resigned to the damage she has done.

“But. On the positive side, you were right!” Lena adds with encouragement.

Kara tilts her head quizzically.

“The gays LOVED it and they loved that they now definitively have a shot because you like girls!” Lena teases.

“Oh Rao! I can not believe Supergirl came out as bisexual on TikTok! Kate got an incredibly well written and thoughtful article on what it means to her and the world that Batwoman is gay and I got thirst traps! THIRST TRAPS!” Kara groans.

Alex shakes her head and Lena tries to hold back her laughter.

“I can’t believe you let me do this, Lena!”

“Hey, I told you it’s not my fault! You’re one stubborn alien when drunk.”

“But I’m your stubborn alien and you’re responsible for me.” Kara counters with a whine.

Lena sighs as she takes Kara into her arms. “You are my stubborn alien...with a drunken propensity for thirst traps.”

———

Kara embraces her drunken mistakes and utilizes her newly created TikTok fame to connect with the people and kids of National City on a more human level. She does PSAs and educational material in her videos as well as more lighthearted fun ones that people love.

She also managed to convince her superfriends to be in videos with her. The most liked videos on her page are the ‘flip the switch’ videos she’s done with the other heroes where the light goes off and they swap costumes. It started with Dreamer when Nia told her about it and convinced her to do it. Then Kara got Barry to do one (pretty easily) and then Sara, Killer Frost, J’onn, Mia, Constantine, and even Kate (after a lot of convincing). She also roped Kal into doing one with her old suit so he ended up in a skirt. That one is definitely her fav.

Generally, Supergirl’s official account has veered aware from making any more thirst traps, but that doesn’t seem stop other creators from making raunchy thirst traps about Supergirl.

Though, after some time and much convincing from Lena, Kara releases the last video in her drafts from that first drunken night.

“They say drunk words are sober thoughts” a sober Supergirl says as she shrugs and the video cuts to the clip of her drunk sprawled out upside down on the couch “Women are just like...sooooo HOT”

A lot of women liked that post.

#my stubborn alien #give me a title and i give you #a ridiculous fic i had too much fun writing #supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercrack #my fic #anon aks #ask me stuff

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catwithaawakenedheart · 3 years

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Midsommar, written and directed by Ari Aster

How on earth did i know that elder people would jump off that cliff and hence I anticipated the peculiarness of this feature?

I really enjoyed reading the screenplay, it gave me some new insights into the film that I didn’t necessarily get from a first watch. I don’t have a review as much, just a collection of thoughts:

1. The script magnifies how abusive Christian is. He certainly comes across as a bad boyfriend in the film, but reading scenes with Dani and Christian really accentuates how much he gaslights her, twists situations when he’s done wrong and makes her feel guilty for questioning things.

2. There is a little justification for Ruben as a character. He often appears in the background of scenes doing mirror things that don’t serve the plot in any way. It seems that he is being used as a stock character (person with disability having some ‘special power’). In terms of positive representation, it’s not great.

3. The script seems to put a lot of emphasis on family and suggests that this is Dani's biggest desire. It begins and ends with an image of Dani being embraced by a family - her own and then the Hargas. This is interesting because I don't find that it translates in the film. From a first watch, I found that what Dani really wants and needs is emotional support (which she wants from Christian but doesn't get). This doesn't necessarily come from a family; early on in the film, we see Dani giving a lot of emotional support to her sister and checking in on her parents but getting nothing back. She is especially in need of emotional support after the loss of her family, which she eventually finds in the Hargas.

4. The Hargas have a physical language called 'affect' which is based on emotions rather than words (which reinforces the idea that emotional support is what Dani is really looking for). Either I missed this when watching the film, or it wasn't clear enough. It's a really fascinating detail that comes out in scenes where the Hargas seem to be imitating the raw emotion of people in distress, as if it empathise. Are the Hargas actually a very compassionate society?

5. I found it odd that Pelle doesn't get sacrificed. There is a line in the script that suggests that Hargas who bring in outsiders to be scarified (like Pelle and Ingmar did) are rewarded with being sacrificed. Ingmar (who brings the two Brits) is sacrificed, but Pelle isn't. By the end of the film, I didn't feel particularly attached to Pelle as a character, so I thought this was an unusual decision. The only reason I can think of is that if Pelle dies, it doesn't give Dani much of a reason to stay because everyone she knows that connects her to the outside world is dead. Plus (aside from being an accomplice to all the killing) Pelle seems like a decent guy, and the only guy who actually listens to and supports Dani, so maybe it sets up the potential for a romance if he lives.

6. How the comedy translates from page to screen was interesting to see. I remember finding the love scene between Christian and Maja funny in the film because it's so bizarre, but reading it is a different experience. It's quite disturbing, especially as Christian has been drugged and isn't in his right mind. I also found Christian's woes about his PhD and Josh taking him to task for stealing his topic much funnier in the script. 'You didn’t even know how to use J-Stor before I taught you' is a great line.

completely enthralled by the religious acts and the thought process of creating this whole new culture. The only thing that felt out of sorts is Christian giving his “seed” to the young Hargas girl. In the final ceremony, it’s made very clear that Christian symbolizes bad/negative energy that must be banished from their society. If that’s so, why encourage him to impregnate someone. Dani wasn’t meant to see his infidelity - the women were pulling her away from the temple. If their God requires sex, death and rebirth, who choose Christian?

#Spotify

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drunk-onsunlight · 3 years

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Day #2 of Promptmas

Chapter 2: I'll hold your hands (they're just like ice)

Summary:

Peter, Morgan and MJ go home to wrap some gifts for everyone but MJ has a huge bag full of money to hide while Tony and Pepper try not to ruin the Christmas decorations at their lovely home

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Beautiful what’s your hurry?

Chapter 2: I’ll hold your hands (they’re just like ice)

Concept: Decorating & Gift wrapping

Dialogue: “Your hands are freezing” & “That ornament doesn’t go there”

Peter, MJ and Morgan arrived to the apartment after their Christmas shopping with lots of presents for everyone. The whole gang wasn't going to get together for Christmas but they will send all the gifts to their respective owner. MJ's mom wanted to see her and MJ was definitely not hyped. She wasn't going to tolerate any discussions about politics, economy or her love life choices. Those topics were forbidden with her family. MJ wasn't physically tired, emotionally... Maybe a little. She was so used to Peter and Ned, but adding the Starks was another level, they were like Peter's family. If she wasn't good at managing her own family relationships, Peter's family relationships were just as complicated to interact too. And she just hanged out with Morgan, MJ have never met Pepper or Anthony. Peter knew her opinion on Stark Industries, the "privatization on World Peace" as Tony Stark once called it and many other things with the billionaire. That's exactly why she did all she did. She wasn't stealing anything from poor defenseless people, they deserved it. And seeing so many super heroes on the news gave her an idea a few months ago, actually one superhero and one article: The Bugle's accusations on Spider-Man. Was he actually a threat? He was helping people around and saving the city from a few awful looking monsters, but is it good to take justice in your own hands? Well, that was exactly what she was doing. The leather suit, the mask and the silver wig was just to not get caught.

The idea of using a closed mask like Spider-Man gave her terrible images of getting sick, chocking and dying without anyone knowing. Not thanks. She preferred the wig that made her look like a dream and the mask that make her eyelashes more visible, she even wore contact lenses, not common contacts, they were modified to see various ranges of the electromagnetic spectrum, she was also trained in martial arts. And the leather suit was very useful to distract people when she needs it. After they went inside the apartment, Morgan, Peter and MJ took off their gloves and jackets. Peter took a small package on his hand and left it on his room and then came back to help Morgan with the million boxes she had dropped on the couch. In that moment MJ knew she had to take her bag to her room and hide a few things, some legal and other not so legal. She managed to sneak out of the living room and when she locked the door on her room, she emptied the bag she was carrying. Two books, the silver wig, the cat mask and 5.000 dollars fell to the mattress. She placed the books on her night stand, the wig and mask under her bed and then took off her clothes to remove the leather suit. The money was a little more complicated to hide, a few shoes boxes will do fine on the top of her closet. After hiding everything she went back to the living room and found Peter and Morgan struggling with some gift wrapping paper. The scene was really cute, actually. Morgan was placing her little hands on the table to hold the paper in place and Peter was trying to fold the paper around a mountain of kitchen supplies. They were a mess. "Do you guys need some help?" MJ asked trying to hide her smile at the ridiculous but cute scene "oh, please! Peter is terrible at wrapping gifts" Morgan looked totally mortified but had funny expression "Me? You are not helping much little lady" Peter looked so troubled that MJ decided to take him out of his misery "ok. First of all, that's not the way to wrap a bakery set. Peter, why on earth are the bowls upside-down?" "He is terrible at this. Told you” "Do you have a better idea, Morgan?" "Nope. But MJ has. You do, right?" Morgan looked at her with pleading eyes "I do. Didn't this have a box or something like that? I can't think of a store just giving a full bakery set without a box" Peter and Morgan looked at each other on a silent conversation and if MJ was getting things right, Peter was on the 'I told you so' part. "You didn't bring the box, didn't you?" "Nope" Peter and Morgan answered at unison "Morgan thought it was better to wrap everything outside the box so it didn't looked so 'lame' if I recall correctly" "And you can't say no to Morgan. Ok, then we can find a nice way to place everything into the big bowl like a fruit basket but with kitchen supplies. Better idea?" "Oh, my god! Yes! That's perfect" Morgan was delighted and Peter relieved. MJ knelt between Morgan and Peter and started removing a few straps of paper that, somehow, Peter managed to hold to the mountain of supplies. She placed the big bowl on the center of the wrap paper and then started to place the different tools on it in the best way possible. When everything was placed on the bowl nicely, she stared to lift the paper around the bowl to hold it above the supplies, it looked like a big candy. MJ put her hands around the wrapping paper and realized she didn't have any ribbons close by to finish. "Peter, can you put your hands here so I can find a ribbon for this?" "Yeah, totally!" he instantly moved his hands to where MJ had hers. When their hands made contact she realized she was freezing or Peters hands were just too warm for her "MJ, your hands are freezing! Do you want some tea?" "yeah. That would be nice. Thanks. But after we finish this" Peter still had one of his hands over MJ's and after a second too long she remembered she needed a ribbon to tie the present. She tried to make a nice ribbon and to make the paper look decent after Morgan and Peter's attempts at wrapping the bakery set. Peter went to their kitchen and started the kettle for MJ's tea and then decided to make some hot chocolate for him and Morgan. MJ kept wrapping more gifts, those were easier to wrap, especially May and Pepper’s shoes, thank God they had those boxes.

Morgan helped MJ cutting tape and that made MJ’s job easier. She discovered that Peter bought a nice dress for May, a Netflix gift card for Happy, Spider-Man and Iron Man plushies for Anthony and a planner for Pepper. No gifts for Morgan or MJ, that she could see, he always made sure that MJ had a very embarrassing present, last year’s was a terrible Christmas sweater that he made her wear for a full day.

“MJ, bring the gifts you bought for everyone so we can wrap them!” How can you tell a 10 year old that you actually snuck off to steal some money from a bad guy and not to buy presents for her family and your friends?

“I want to keep those a secret because Peter is terrible at keeping secrets and I don’t want you, May, Betty or Ned finding out what I bought for them.” Perfect excuse, Peter was terrible at keeping secrets, he got too exited and started oversharing things he knew

“He is actually really good at keeping secrets” Morgan said after a few seconds in a quiet voice while holding the plushies MJ wrapped for Peter. She remembered the Iron Man plushie and realized Morgan’s Dad was Iron Man, he could be retired but if the timeline was correct, Peter knew him since high school and he probably knew other supers. Ned told all their class that Peter knew Spider-Man and Peter looked totally horrified because “he couldn’t speak about it” so yeah, maybe he was good at those big secrets, but little ones? Not so much

“Well, everybody has secrets Morgan, it’s up to us who do we trust with the big ones” MJ felt her leather suit was screaming at her from the room across the hallway, her secret was a big one. One nobody knew about, not her friends and definitely not her family. Just one specific person and he was hell good at keeping her secret

“and Christmas gifts are huge secrets, peanut” Peter said entering the living room with MJ’s tea and hot chocolate for him and Morgan. He was sitting next to MJ while Morgan was in front of them, they chatted for a few minutes when Peter got a call from Pepper.

“Hi, Pete!” Peter placed his phone on the table in the center so everyone could hear. It made MJ a little uncomfortable, she felt out of place, like she wasn’t meant to hear this conversation

“Hi, Mom!!!”

“Hi, Pepper” MJ didn’t say hi, she just kept listening to the rambling and weird noises in the background of the call

“Oh! Hey Morgan. I was actually calling Peter to let him know that Happy is going to get you. Your dad wants you back to help us decorate the house. Would you like that? I know you wanted to spend time with your brother but he saw a few festive decorations and bought a lot of things and now it’s freaking out because I don’t have creativity… his words, not mine”

“It’s true!! You can’t place those led lights on the fireplace, that’s terrible! And the stockings have to be there, so no lights!” MJ hear clearly everything Stark was shouting from not so far away from Pepper apparently

“Sounds like an emergency mom” Morgan was looking at peter trying not to laugh a loud

“I’m sending Happy to get you or your dad will drive me crazy! Tony!!! That ornament doesn’t go there!!!” This time Morgan and Peter shared a loud laugh.

“Nothing new I can see” Peter looked fondly at this phone with their exchange.

“Morgan, please come back” Pepper sounded mortified.

“It’s fine. She will be ready to go when Happy gets here, promise”

“and Pete, we would love to see you and your girlfriend on Christmas. Think about bringing her for some dinner or a lunch or just a coffee! I would love to meet her. Bye!” The phone went quite, just like the three of them. Morgan was looking the phone with curious eyes, Peter was bright red with big eyes and mouth open, MJ didn’t knew how she looked but surprised was a good start.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?” oh, oh, Morgan sounded mad.

“What? No! I have no idea what she’s talking about! You should ask your mom where she got that terribly wrong information” Peter was trying to process the last two minutes while getting back his phone from the table

“oh! I definitely will! And after that we are having a serious conversation, brother. MJ, did you know something about this? After all, you guys live together”

“Actually no. I have no idea what your mom was talking about, this idiot can’t be normal so think about him dating someone... Totally unreal!” MJ wanted to ease the mood a little, Peter looked like he wanted to hide somewhere before Morgan killed him.

“ok, peanut! Go grab you coat, gloves and scarf while I pack the gifts back on their bags so you can place them under the Christmas tree” Peter helped Morgan up from the floor and took the mugs to the kitchen. The girl started to run around the apartment to gather her things. MJ saw her entering Peter’s room and a few seconds later running back to the living room and placing more packages next to the ones Peter was collecting. As soon as they finished packing, the bell rang announcing Happy.

“Bye MJ! Hope to see you again soon” Morgan said to MJ surrounded of bags with all the things she bought for everyone.

“Hope to see you soon too, Morgan!” She wanted to be more formal and send some greetings for her parents but she didn’t even knew them in person and she wasn’t going to pretend she cared enough for that formalities

Soon they were alone and MJ tried to avoid the conversation of the mentioned girlfriend, maybe Pepper hear something and took it the wrong way or she was speaking about Gwen, Peter’s ex. Maybe she didn’t know she was dead. Ok no, they were too close for Pepper not to know about her, probably Pepper knew more details of what happened that she knew. MJ needed to clear her mind so she decided to wear her leather suit again and went out without Peter knowing.

Notes:

Thanks for the comments and the kudos here and tumblr! Love you all :3

Find me in tumblr @drunk-onsunlight

Check more amazing wors in @spiderman-homecomeme

#spideychelle #spideychelle twelve days of promptmas #petermj #betty brant #ned leeds #pepperony #peter parker mcu #michelle jones mcu #morgan stark

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stella-monstrum · 3 years

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Bobby Roe’s ‘Underestimated Gem’, “The Houses October Built”; [1hr 31mins, Rated R] (2014)

Admittedly, there is a lot to unpack in this review.

I found myself at the relatable point of endless scrolling through horror films on streaming apps, hoping to find something that really challenged and rattled my thinking afterwards. Obviously, film taste is different for everyone, and I am CERTAINLY way too easy to scare. But this wasn’t a film made to elicit jumps—or screams for that matter.

I went into this viewing with a couple expectations. First of all, Hulu’s trailer for the movie was enough to grab my interest by itself. The clips of this group of friends exploring haunted horror attractions and the brief introduction to the eerie actors along with it pulled me in.

[Anecdote; Around the same time that the film came out, I’d gone to my first haunted house. I was separated from my group, and thrown into a “butcher shed,” and proceeded to have the living shit scared out of me. One of the actors knew that their mates had gone too far and pretty much came in to save the day. Afterwards, I thought it was the coolest thing and started to laugh at my own fear—which plays massively to the appeal to watch.]

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Before I go into the review...

I will say that the thriller theme to this film made me squirm and made it difficult to watch all the way through. So if you’re squeamish, have trauma-like responses, or have epilepsy, proceed with caution or skip this one altogether.

This film also contains a bunch of NSFW themes, torture, and graphic images (which basically delivers its main purpose, I guess).

(Written by Stella. Edited by Jacob J )

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The Cast:

Brandy Schaeffer as Brandy

Zach Andrews as Zach

Bobby Roe as Bobby

Mikey Roe as Michael (aka Mikey)

Jeff Larson as Jeff

The casting is fairly straightforward, with the actors playing overly exaggerated versions of themselves. Though technically under the lead of director Bobby Roe, the cast all had a hand in writing the film. Pulling double duty is a feat in itself. (It was unfortunate to find in my research that, after the 2017 sequel, the majority of the cast just dropped off the face of the Earth.)

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Summary:

The five childhood friends from Ohio seek out the thrill of the Halloween season, traveling through the deep south of Texas in an RV. They’re stocked up on junk food, booze, drugs, and pure joy that they’re setting out on this journey. For the six days leading up to Halloween, they visit six attractions in the Lone Star state. (technically)

The team begins at a bar in Tyler, Texas, to celebrate the beginning of their trip. In their wasted stupor (and even while sober throughout the film), they make light and joke about how these “haunted attractions” are tame and as fake as the horror films they strive to represent. (Meta as hell, right?)

With each visit, the attractions grow scarier and freakier. Somehow, they piss off a whole gang of creepy-ass characters. Despite being essentially in the middle of nowhere, the aforementioned creep squad (we’re talking clowns, bloody bunnies, backwoods Vorhees groupies, etc.) stalk and terrorize the traveling quintet. The group moves on toward the ultimate attraction, The Blue Skeleton, which they desperately try to find. This leads them on a mystery hunt through word of mouth (and an online horror attraction forum, to the secret location). They eventually wind up heading towards the deep, dark heart of Louisiana, where The Blue Skeleton exceeds every fear that they wanted in the first place—and ends up being their worst nightmare.

The film also gives a small nod to George Romero, the man who changed the way that zombies were seen in pop culture and films, during their visit to a zombie-themed paintball attraction. On top of that, the creators made the film on a very small budget (allegedly). It was given a brief theatrical release in 2014, but years later became a niche gem with a continuing following amongst horror film fans.

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[Likes & Dislikes]

It was incredibly hard to want to complain, consider how the film left my state of mind after watching. But, ultimately, I had to find something for the sake of this review. So I’ll start with the dislikes first, because it’s so worth saving the best for last in this circumstance.

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[Dislikes]:

1.) The first-person filming: Although capturing themes and moments perfectly to keep suspense, it made me super queasy.

- Now, this nitpick isn’t an end-all film-ruiner. With any first person/found-footage deal, there’s a guarantee to feel the rollercoaster like adventure in your gut. (I recommend having a good bowl of ramen or some ginger tea on hand.)

- The filming style 100% captures and cranks every moment of fear, suspense, and terror. It makes you feel like you’re a part of the team. (Found-footage/first-person filming was the original VR, fight me.)

2.) The full on disrespect that the group shows to the attractions.

First attraction: They find a ladder (that’s conveniently left unsupervised, despite not being for patron use). Mikey decides to climb it and steals a megaphone as well. He causes a scene atop the ticket booth and attempts to get a crowd shot for their film at the Haunt House in Caddo Mills, Texas. This pisses off an entire group of creepy-ass clowns that follow them back to their RV. Living up to his unspoken title of Mister Dumbass, Mikey tries to confront them.

● Second attraction: One of the clowns and a broken porcelain doll actress proceeded to follow the crew to this location in Eureka, Texas. Mikey confronts the “doll” when they find her on the side of the road. She follows onto the bus, screams, then slowly leaves.

● Third Attraction: As the group enters Phobia, located by US Highway 248, they’re told not to film past the point of entry. The camera shuts off. When the camera (one that Bobby set up on the RV) comes back on, we see Mikey trying to hook up with one of the contortionist girls. Afterward, when Zach finds out more information about the acclaimed Blue Skeleton, they get confronted by yet another pissed off clown accusing Mikey of filming when they were told not to.

There’s an entire slew of other incidents that I won’t dive into, but I will say one final con:

3.) Brandy just minds her own business the whole time, yet gets the backlash and crossfire from the boys’ shenanigans and dumbassery.

- Honestly the more she got caught in the middle, the more I felt looming dread.

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[Likes/Loves:]

Amidst the (albeit small) annoyances, there was so much that I loved and enjoyed about this film.

1.) Complete out-of-the-gate blurred lines of the entertainment-yet-fear that we seek out in haunted houses.

● Starting from the opening scenes, there’s VHS like footage of fun and upbeat tours from haunted attractions, which evolves into a slow burn of much much darker and horrible secrets/tragedies from them:

- An employee found hung, mistaken as a prop;

- Houses allegedly hiring murderers and criminals without background checks;

- & Actors going as far as breaking bones (but not killing) to scare patrons.

2.) Continuity that never strayed from the film’s theme and/or purpose.

● Through all six attractions that the crew visit, the actors that they seemingly managed to piss off (looking at the real male hubris issues here) follow and stalk them whilst traveling in the middle of nowhere—even all the way to Louisiana.

● With each haunt, the scare level increases, starting with fun and simple baby-type scares and progressing to pure anxiety and nightmare fuel.

(As an aside, I’m honestly still mad that there was no seizure warning for the amount of strobe lights they filmed in the name of fear.)

3.) Consistent foreshadowing

● At the very beginning, they show a gut-wrenching video of a bloodied and tied-up Brandy being shoved into a trunk

● Also, the film seemingly always lingers on Brandy, which gives a small clue as to the haunt creeps having an unhealthy obsession with her.

● At the first attraction, The Haunt House, while the crew films with high spirits, they convince Brandy to playfully get into one of the prop coffins, thinking it’ll be funny. Then the actor nearby shuts the coffin until she screams to let her out.

- Deeper into their travels, they joke about how much they’d want to get paid to be buried alive. At the end, that’s exactly what happens.

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(Final Thoughts)

There are so many heart- and gut-wrenching moments that force you to never look away from the screen. If I’m being honest, the style and story that Bobby Roe created is honestly on par with something you’d see from the acclaimed likes of Kubric and Zombie, among others.

This is such an underrated find. Minus my nitpicks, I’m giving this [9/10] stabs.

(This is the most I’ve been shaken up by a film in a good while.)

Want to get lost and vicariously (not literally) shit your pants? This is the film for you.

[Just don’t piss any clowns off on your way there,K?]

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lunaraen · 5 years

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I figure a number of the people following me probably do because of a shared interest in Minecraft: Story Mode, and I’m absolutely going to take the time to gush and recommend a different series with a similar sense of humor and ability to balance the jokes with emotion. I know some of the people who follow me are also interested in series like Percy Jackson and Trollhunters, and I think The Last Kids on Earth series is on a similar level to them too, in the sense that it deals with stories about awesome and terrifying adventures featuring teenagers who are just doing their best and who haven’t lost their senses of humor. The Last Kids on Earth also has the benefit of, while being presented mainly through text, having many fun illustrations.

TL;DR: The Last Kids on Earth, written by Max Brallier and illustrated by Douglas Holgate, is a delightfully fun book series that twists what you might expect from a post-apocalyptic story with a just as fun Netflix mini-series adaptation, and while only Book One is up on Netflix now, it’s an hour and seven minute long episode. The series seems to be decently stocked in most libraries, including electronically, so if you’re looking for something fun, silly, and with heart to read, I definitely suggest at least checking out book one. If you want something fun, silly, and with heart to watch, and you also happen to have Netflix, I also definitely recommend watching Book One.

(Oh, and are you a total sucker for found families like I am? This series has you covered.)

More details about the first book and examples of the art and writing under the cut!

For starters, the series has a wonderfully fun art style, and the cover for the first book lets that shine. The other books’ covers are all fun too, but I think tumblr would kill this post many times over if I tried to include them all.

[ID: Illustrated cover, four defiant teenagers stand in a mostly circular formation while grey zombie-like figures with glowing yellow eyes surround them from behind. Each teenager is wielding a weapon, some of which are partly concealed and harder to identify. The character centered at the front holds a splintered and sharp baseball bat and is wearing nondescript pouches. The teenager behind him wields a crossbow with a modified soda-bottle-arrow loaded in it. The title reads “The Last Kids on Earth” in stylized green text with a dark blue border, while in smaller less stylized white text it reads “Max Brallier Author of Galactic Hot Dogs” at the top and “Illustrated by Douglas Holgate” at the bottom.]

The main character of the series, who we meet forty two days after the start of the apocalypse in his town and the Possible End of the World as We Know It™, is Jack Sullivan, a 13 year old whose foster family kinda-sorta-entirely ditched him at the first signs of trouble.

[ID: A white, black haired teenager frowning and holding a splintered baseball bat and a hockey stick while one foot rests on top of an unusual spiny reptilian-like monster head. The text above him reads in black “JACK SULLIVAN -The Hero-” while a number of flavor-text text boxes point out and describe different aspects of his apparel. One pointing to his hand reads “Annoying hand-nail I can’t stop picking at”. Another pointing at his bat says “Louisville Slicer™”. Another for his shoe, reading “Worst. Shoes. Ever.”. The hockey stick is labelled “Hockey Stick, for conking zombie heads.” The pouch at his side are described as “Emergency Peanut M&M Pouch”, while the filled water balloons also hanging at his side are labeled as “Grapefruit juice hand grenades- a blast to the eyes blinds almost anything.”]

He’s our narrator, and he copes largely through humor- a skill he needs even before the start of the apocalypse, because he’ll put himself in danger and say things he shouldn’t if it means sticking up for his best friend.

[ID: Text that reads “I felt Quint’s hand on my shirt, trying to stop me, saying ‘Jack, it’s fine...’ But it wasn’t fine. I hate jerks- whether they’re monster jerks or zombie jerks or just regular human jerks.”

Followed by illustration of characters on bus, Jack turned around in his seat and supporting himself with the back of his chair as he asks “Hey, Dirk, why don’t you pick on someone your own size, huh?” Quint, a black teenager, is sitting behind him and is partly obscured, staring at Jack and Dirk. Dirk, a large, tall white teenager with a mullet/mohawk, is a distance away from the characters and in the foreground of the image, and replies, “Find someone my size and I will.”

Text resumes, reading “I shrugged. ‘I’m sure we can find someone your size. Right, Quint?’ Quint looked out the window and closed his eye and started humming to himself, like he wasn’t involved in this. Sonofa... I turned back to Dirk. ‘Maybe a very rotund panda bear? That might be closer to your impressive figure.’ Dirk reached out and grabbed me by the collar. ‘Hey, Watch the jacket,’ I said. ‘It’s a five-time-hand-me-down. Might even be an antique.’ Dirk growled, ‘You think you’re funny?’ ‘I do. But to be fair, I also think people slipping on ice are funny. And guys getting hit in the groin. My sense of humor isn’t exactly sophisticated.’”]

From the start of the book, Jack handles the apocalypse pretty well, spending his time cataloging the monsters he comes across, keeping track of self made video-game like achievements like knocking off zombie hats, and we first find him focused on trying to get in touch with his previously mentioned best friend, Quint Baker.

[ID: Similar to previous flavor-text text box picture of Jack, with a black teenager smiling, wearing a lab coat and cap, holding a pocket watch, and wearing a large backpack with odd looking technology sticking out of it. In black, the text above him reads “QUINT BAKER -The Best Friend-”. A box pointing to his hat reads “Old-man cap.” Another points to his hair, reading “Hair smells like movie theater popcorn butter.” The pocket watch is described as “Pocket watch for looking dorky.” The text pointing at the technology sticking out of the backpack says “Always working on a new gadget or experiment.” The text for the lab coat reads “Wears a lab coat as a jacket for no good reason.” His sneaker is labelled with “Non-athlete’s foot.”]

Actually- to give you an even better idea of the series’ humor, this is pretty much where we start with Jack, followed by him explaining what he’s been doing and how he got here.

[ID: Jack in mid-air, the bat raised above his head and his legs bent to suggest he has leaped forward, above a large multi-eyed spiny monster that has many sharp teeth, two large tusks, and a long drooling tongue. In black, text above the creature reads “Deadly Duel!” In the lower right-hand corner, all-caps white text in a small black box asks “Who will triumph?!”]

(By the by, the “duel” kind of goes the way you think it would.)

[ID: Text reading “Well, basically, he triumphs. The monster’s massive hand snatches me out of midair. I’m a thimble in his gargantuan grasp. I try to grab hold of my baseball bat blade (aka the Louisville Slicer) but the monster’s crushing grip pins my arms to my sides. He pulls me in close to his face. Thick saliva, like slime, oozes down his lips. His eyes scan me over and his gaping nostrils flair as he inhales my scent. I feel like that blonde babe in King Kong. Only I don’t think this beast wants to hug me and love me... He sniffs some more, blowing my hair back as he exhales. I turn my face. His breath, it’s just- wow- my man here needs to floss. I’ve encountered other freaky beasts over the last forty-two days, but none like this. None that examined me: looking me over, smelling me, studying me.”]

Then we get all the fun backstory end of the world stuff.

[ID: White all-caps text at the top reads “Total monster zombie chaos” while below a large multi-armed, spiny, sharp-toothed, furry monster towers over a sea of zombies, flinging one car in the air as another car sits in the background.]

The end of the world monsters include everything from weird unfamiliar creatures like the one above to more familiar weird creatures like the typical zombie below.

[ID: A zombie in ripped clothing, with black text at the top labeling it a “Classic Zombie”. A speech bubble from it in shaky text reads “Mmuhhh...” and various flavor-text text boxes surround it. The speech-bubble is labeled as “Constant, creepy moaning.” The head’s text box reads “Those empty eyes- they’re spooksville.” The mouth is pointed at and its box says “Bite you and you’re one of them. Undead!” One pointing at its back warns “Stink like hot garbage.” The feet are described as “Slow, until they get close- then fast!”]

And for all the wisecracks and jokes about how well he can handle the new apocalyptic world, early on Jack is shown to be more than just a 2-D smart-mouthing teenage protagonist. He’s pretty good at coping, but he’s still 13.

[ID: Illustration above text, showing a walkietalkie shattering as it hits a rock. Black all-caps text reads “Smash!”

Normal text reads “I stared at the walkie on the ground below. I needed to talk to Quint, but -I’m embarrassed to admit- I was too scared to go down there. Too freaked out. Too scared. Too everything. So I curled up on the floor. I pulled a jacket down over me. I put my earphones in to drown out the sounds of chaos outside. And I slept. I slept for days. It got worse. Zombies everywhere. Giant monsters on the horizon. I blacked out the tree house windows and stayed put.”]

Jack doesn’t stay alone for long, though, and the first book follows him and his friends as they help each other not only survive their crazy new world but also live in it, and maybe actually have some fun along the way. While the first book largely focuses on the group coming together, later stories ramp up the scope of adventures and the threats they face while letting the characters’ interactions and care for each other shine. There’s fun development to be had and cool monster-butt to kick.

(This was my first time writing image descriptions- if you think they can be improved, let me know!)

#The Last Kids on Earth #Last Kids on Earth

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wilwywaylan · 4 years

Text

In only seven days (or the life and times of a sullen convenience shop employee) (part 1)

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU, Montparnasse x Jehan Prouvaire, various other relationships in the background, 5027 words

Based on I don’t remember which post exactly, that said that coffeeshop AU was passé and the rage was now convenience store employee. Which is of course perfect for Montparnasse.

Dedicated to @kujaku-myoo, @jesvisfarovche and @aux-barricades. Thanks for your help and support !

Also on AO3 !

For the third time in one hour, Montparnasse changes the hand his head is resting on, and sighs, the longest sigh he'd ever uttered (or it's pretty high in his top ten). His palms and elbows are starting to hurt, and he will probably get very inelegant bruises, staying like this. But the only other options are either getting up and doing something like sorting some merchandise or maybe cleaning a little, or lay his head down on the counter and take a nap. Or scream for two hours straight. And as much as he really wants to scream, it won't be very good for his image. Or job. Or throat.

To think that someone like him could be caught in this predicament. It's all so stupid, he feels like hitting his head against the counter. Except that it would probably ruin his face, so he doesn't. But it would very well deserve it. Because only an idiot would get roped into working at a convenience store for a week, and the night shift at that. Granted, he's lucky. Anyone else trying to rob a convenience shop (stupid enough to rob a convenience shop) would have gotten jail, or something worse as a punishment. Luckily - or not - for him, the owner seems to be under the charm of his robber enough to make a deal with him : one week of free work will reimburse the window he broke and the prejudice, and he's free to go, without any charges pressed. Montparnasse doesn't like it, not with the way the man leered at him, but he can't really choose in this situation. Anything is better than jail.

And to make matters worse, that deal has been overseen by none other than Javert. Javert, who seems to have made his mission in life to make Montparnasse's a living hell. Montparnasse is sure he dreams of it at night, most delicious dreams where he locks him in a very dark jail and throws away the key. Not that he wants to think about what Javert dreams of at night. Of course he was the first to arrive when Montparnasse was caught, and of course, he was delighted when he could finally put his dirty hands on him. And of course, he was seething when the owner instead made his offer, to "give a poor boy another chance at life". Javert's face at this declaration will probably be Montparnasse's only comfort during that ordeal. Had the cop had a bit less restraint, he would have grabbed both of them and locked them somewhere. Instead, he glared at Montparnasse all through the negotiations, and left with the promise that he'd always keep an eye on him. Absolutely not creepy.

So here he is, bored out of his mind, sitting behind a counter made of very cheap plastic, with a register that has known better days staring at him, waiting for the crowd of weird people, idiots, drunks, self-proclaimed funny guys, thieves, creepy guys, or any combination of the above to roll by. It sounds very much like the plot of some kind of stupid movie where the hero is stuck in an uncomfortable situation that will change his life forever. For now, it doesn't seem very life-changing, more like life-numbing, and he's not the sullen hero of a teen movie. Just a very, very, very bored guy. Well, he thinks, it's only for a week. You can do it. Be on your best behaviour for a week, play the good guy, and you'll be free. One week. You can do it.

~*~

On Monday, nothing weird happens. Montparnasse stays behind the counter, vaguely nodding at people as they come and go, ringing the purchases. He doesn't make small talk, barely mumbling the prices. Maybe it's better like that. The shop is very cleverly set at the corner between two streets with a very high student population, and they make the main crowd during the night hours. So Montparnasse is the lucky soul blessed with the vision of countless students clad in old clothes or pajamas, wandering through the aisles and watching the displays under the crude light that give them blemish faces. This, and their shuffling gait between the shelves, give him the impression the zombie apocalypse has already happened and no one but him realizes yet. They all look half-dead, and exhausted, too much to talk to him. Good. Not that he wants to, anyway.

One of them, erroneously thinking that he may be interested in anything else than his money, mutters "Finals week, you know ?" above his change. Montparnasse just nods. No, he doesn't know, he doesn't care, either, can he just go and leave him to count the remaining seconds before he can dash out of here ? Luckily, the man grabs his cigarettes and goes away, to his relief. No one else tries to say anything, not even a small lady buying a bunch of sad-looking vegetables - who makes soup at one in the morning -, probably sensing his murderous mood.

As soon as he sees the door open to reveal the daytime clerk, Montparnasse rips the ridiculous cap off his hair, shoves it in his pocket, grabs his jacket and bag in the tiny cubicle they call a changing room, and rushes past the other, out in the street. The sun is not even out, barely shining behind the buildings around him, and the wind is cold, almost cutting. There are a few people hurrying down the side-walk a bit farther. For a Tuesday morning, it's really silent. During a few seconds, Montparnasse feels at peace, with the wind stroking his face and the first rays of sun reaching him. But the magic doesn't last. It's just 6AM on Tuesday, people are going to work, and he just spent ten hours locked in a convenience store, surrounded by weirdos. He's exhausted, hungry, and he's sure his hair is awful. And he smells of cheap cleaning soap and desperation now.

Luckily, he makes it home quickly enough. The others aren't home. Good. He wouldn't want them to see him in his apron. Or talk to him. The only thing he wants right now is food, sleep, and something freeing him from that store. Sadly, all he can find is some chicken leftover that escaped Gueulemer's appetite, and a bed that's not made but is horizontal and more or less comfortable. He'll have to find something to get free, he thinks, munching on his chicken. But for now, two out of three is not that bad of a score.

~*~

On Tuesday, Montparnasse is almost on time, and takes his place behind the counter, ignoring the disgruntled expression of his coworker while they leave. He pulls the cap out of his pocket, flattens it a little - no way he'd put it properly in front of a mirror at home, he'd have to cross the town with that hideous thing on his head - and put it where it belongs. He then leans on the counter and gets ready as must as he can for what is awaiting him.

The first hour is very quiet. Two people come in, buy a few things Montparnasse doesn't pay attention to, and leave. Good. The only downside is that time seems to get to a screeching halt each time he takes his eyes off the clock, but at least it's mostly silent, if he cuts off the muffled screams from the students, bar patrons and various other individuals making a show of themselves in the street.

The hand is barely past ten when the bell over the door ring loudly when it's all but slammed against the door and someone barges inside. Montparnasse looks up from the nail polish he's carefully applying, just fast enough to get a glimpse of something very colourful dashing between the aisles towards the back. The person is talking, or at least is using their voice. Unless it's the air-conditioning he can hear. Either way, Montparnasse doesn't care and goes back to his art.

It takes him a few seconds to notice that the buzzing noise is getting closer. It sounds a bit like words, mumbled together. The person, a boy with short hair, is wrapped in a scarf at least a kilometre long, in colours that clash horribly. He's muttering to himself, too fast for anyone not under a hefty dose of crack to understand a word, and drops a load of bandages on the counter. Montparnasse can only look, bewildered. There're at least fifteen boxes there, all the pre-cut ones they had in stock, a bunch of small ones for blisters, and two of the extra-long rolls. He half-tempted to ask what he plans to do with all that, but he doesn't. First, because he doesn't care. He's not there to make friends. And second, because he doesn't really want to know what a guy could do with that many band-aids. He's extremely clumsy, or maybe he's planning something sinister. Either way, none of his business. Montparnasse rings the supplies, and the boy piles them in his arms again. He smiles at him - smiles ! like they're friends and he's happy to see him or something - and leaves. Montparnasse just watches after him, bewildered. And shrugs. Not the first weirdo, not the last. And it's none of his business, what he wants to do with a hospital’s worth of bandages. Not at all.

No one comes in during the next hour and Montparnasse is ready to chalk the meeting with the Strange Guy With The Bandages to that one weird encounter you have to have one per night and hope that maybe the rest of the night will be as quiet, when the bells above the door tear his wishes to shreds. At least the man who enters is not talking to himself. He looks calm and collected, nerd glasses on his nose and a book stuck under his arm, not-too-bad undercut carefully combed on the side. He's wearing a sleeveless sweater on a shirt, and Montparnasse is half-tempted to roll his eyes loudly - because that's one of his talents -, but he goes back to his nail polish instead. If nothing else, at least the man isn’t wearing a bowtie to go with the rest of him that screams "already old and stuffy at twenty and probably horribly boring".

The guy is back two minutes later, and Montparnasse looks at his face because if he does, he doesn't have to look at the ugly thing he calls a sweater. And the guy probably proud of it. Luckily, he's not too bad looking, if one is into tall nerds. Which Montparnasse is decidedly not. The guy holds his gaze for a few agonizing seconds. Then he puts a whole case of energy drinks on the counter. Montparnasse can't help but look down, then back at his face. The man's expression doesn't change, save for a raised eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

Montparnasse slips back into his expressionless mask, and rings the cans, one by one, without breaking eye contact. The monotonous ringing is the only noise in the shop, and the man doesn't move or blink, to the point that Montparnasse starts wondering if he's really human or an alien trying to find something on Earth to fuel his spaceship.

He almost doesn't want to avert his eyes and see how long they can play this game, but he doesn't want the guy to think he's flirting with him or something. He glances at the price on the register, looks back up. The guy is grinning - grinning - at him. He holds up the money, still without looking, and Montparnasse doesn't even need to look at the coins to know it's the exact sum. He probably counted while Montparnasse was distracted, but he's not even sure of it, he looked away for maybe one second. He all but shoves the receipt in the other's face. The guy grabs it with his case, addresses Montparnasse – who can only glare in return - a very polite "good night", and strolls out. Montparnasse can only stare after him in disbelief, not really sure of what just happened.

He regrets it immediately, because the next guy who comes in is an eyesore. It's a shame, because he's tall, buff, and quite handsome in a lumberjack kind of way, and not the fake-lumberjack-true-hipster way. The true and tried man-from-the-mountains-who-carries-chopped-trees-for-fun lumberjack. This would be a sight to behold, especially with the tattoos on his arms. Except that all this muscular glory is clad in the most godawful shirt Montparnasse has ever met. To say that the man got dressed without the lights on would be a good guess ; that shirt is such a shade of neon that it probably glows in the dark. Montparnasse can't even look at it for more than five seconds, and he lowers his eyes. Big mistake : the socks he's wearing are exactly the same shade. He fixates on the counter, where a shirt-shaped blob keeps swaying back and forth on the white plastic, so stark that he's sure they're burnt on his retinae forever. Or they will be once the guy walks to the register and he's faced with a very large expanse of neon fabric.

Montparnasse dives under the counter, grabs his bag, and riffles through it with the fury of a man lost in the desert looking for his last ration of water. For a minute, he thinks he has left them at home, and he's going to have to endure the neon nuisance without any protection. But just before he abandons all hope and runs out of here, his fingers find the protective case, hidden behind his emergency waistcoat. Quickly, he pushes the shades on his nose, and gets up as the man walks up to the counter. Said man looks him up and down in a way that doesn't make Montparnasse very comfortable, stops on the dark lenses.

- Nice glasses, he simply says.

Of course, nice. They are Prada, Montparnasse thinks. But to be fair, he expected something way more aggressive from someone who seems to exude fratboy out of every pore. And wears neon. He nods, because nice or not, he's not going to start small-talking with anyone. The man doesn't seem to formalize. He grabs his bottle of gin, pays, addresses a salute to Montparnasse and leaves. He's followed later by a bunch of customers, no one dressed as badly as him. Still, Montparnasse keeps the shades. At least it weirds people out, and they don't try to talk to him. Perfect. Now, if only they could not come in, things would be as perfect as they can in that situation.

And of course with that line of thinking, it doesn't last. He's well in his last hour of work before sweet, sweet release, and already counting the minutes that still prevents him from enjoying his freedom, when in comes none other than the man responsible for his predicament. Javert strolls to the counter, stops two feet from it, and stands there, hands in his back, feet martially apart, eyeing Montparnasse up and down. The silence stretches, very uncomfortable, and Montparnasse lets it, because he'll be damned if he talks to a policeman without being prompted. Not that it would be funny to see Javert's face when he uses his corporate voice on him, but no. He just crosses his arms and glares him down. Well, tries to.

- Are you behaving ? Javert finally asks

Montparnasse doesn't move, doesn't blink.

- Are you behaving ? Javert repeats, louder.

Montparnasse makes a show of rolling his eyes, remembering too late that Javert can't see it behind his shades. He adds a flick of his head and a heavy sigh to get the message across.

- Yes, Mr Officer. I'm behaving. Like a good clerk.

Javert doesn't smile. Then again, Montparnasse is sure that he doesn't know how.

- You know what you have to expect if you step out of line.

- Yes, Batman. You'll throw me in the deepest, darkest cell you have and leave me to rot. Or you'll drink my blood, I'm not really sure which one. Sacrifice me to The Law.

Javert frowns, and for a second, Montparnasse is sure he's going to explode and arrest him on the spot. Which kind of annoys him, he doesn't really want another mark on his file. Especially since that one will be way heavier than the last. But Javert seems to discover a hint of humour hidden under all his layers of sternness and righteousness, and he just scoffs.

- Be careful, boy. I'll keep my eye on you.

- Oh, I don't doubt it.

It's maybe better that Javert seems to be impervious to the sarcasm dripping from his words. He glares him down for ten very uncomfortable seconds, then turns around and stomps out of the shop, his coat floating behind him like weirdly-shaped bat wings. Montparnasse just lets his head fall on the counter and stays like this until his coworker comes in. This time, he doesn't even take to take his cap off, just grabs his bag blindly and runs out of the shop, bumping into the other. He doesn't stop, doesn't hold at red lights, just dashes right home, buries himself in his bed, and tries to forget this day even existed and that he still has almost a week to go. Without any luck.

~*~

On Wednesday, Montparnasse almost falls back asleep after his alarm rings, and he has to run to be on time, which he hates, because he has to cut his skin care regimen short and spend less time on his hair, and he can already feel greasy and pimply twenty feet outside his home. But there's no time to run back and fix it, so he just pulls his cap over his hair as much as he does and prays that no one he knows will see him like this.

The universe must hate him, because he's not behind his counter for half an hour, when who comes in but Eponine. She doesn't spot him right away, and he's tempted to dive under the counter and hide there until she leaves. He doesn't, because not only will he ruin what's left of his brushing, but she'll probably drag him out of here. So he just stands and wait. He doesn't even try to pray that she doesn't say anything. That would be a waste of a prayer, and he needs all the good will he can gather to go through the rest of the week.

Finally, Eponine walks to the counter with a handful of snacks she dumps on the counter. She's playing with her phone, and Montparnasse has a sliver of hope that she'll keep doing it and not even looking at him. But when he announces her total, she does. And stares. A large smile appears on her face, the kind that makes Montparnasse want to run away very far and very fast.

- Well, well, she drawls. What do we have here ?

Montparnasse doesn't answer, just glares. With no effect, of course.

- Look at you, she adds, way too delighted with the situation. All... prim and proper. Respectable, even.

- Watch your mouth.

- Or what ? You'll refer to your manager ?

Montparnasse refrains from anything drastic that he may regret. Not while he's here, at least. Revenge will have to wait. Eponine leans on the counter, and asks with a very large, very scary smile :

- Do you know what I want ?

- No, enlighten me. To run away and never come back ? Dye your hair blond ? Pontmercy paying attention to you ?

Eponine's smile disappears so fast he can almost hear it break. He's aware that he crossed a line with the Pontmercy part ; this is still a very sensitive point for her, and he fucked up a little. He doesn't apologize because he never does, but he shrugs, does that vague gesture with his hands that the others in Patron-Minette and Eponine know mean he realizes he did something wrong but didn't really mean to.

- Ring that shit, Eponine growls.

She doesn't hit him, at least. Montparnasse starts scanning her purchase. A flash startles him, and his head snaps up. Eponine's phone is pointed towards him, and she's grinning again.

- What the fuck ? he hisses.

- Payback, bitch. That may teach you to shut up, next time.

- And what are you going to do with that ? Montparnasse asks cautiously.

- Dunno. Maybe I'll blow it to poster size and put it on every wall in town, if you keep yapping like that.

- I'm mute.

He finishes running her purchases at light speed, hoping to get rid of her. Sadly, she just hops on the counter to sit on it, and keeps playing on her stupid phone. He wonders if he can either grab the phone and erase the pic, or push her down the counter and take advantage of the confusion. But he doesn't really want to hurt her. And she can hurt him back anyway. So he just leans against the wall of cigarettes, arms crossed, and keeps silent.

The doorbells chime again. Montparnasse doens't look up from his nails right away, because he's not interested in anything here. He only reacts when he hears Eponine gasp slightly. And almost does the same. The person who just entered is a disaster. Not in the way of Neon Dude last night ; that one at least managed to get some fitting, assorted clothes. This one.... does not. The plaid shirts are too big on their slight frame, the shoulders falling halfway down their arms. On the other side (ha !), the pants are way too short, more-so when they are rolled up and held by several colorful pins. And it doesn't even take in consideration the mess of patterns that's their outfit. One shirt is red and black, the other blue and white, and the top they are wearing looks solid, but Montparnasse is almost sure he's seen a hint of tie-dye. And are they wearing.... overalls ? He rubs his eyes, looks again. Yes, they are overalls. Denim overalls. With a front pocket ornamented with words stitched in bright green. Montparnasse didn't even think that people outside of kindergarten still wore overalls. That nightmare of an outfit is completed by army boots an ugly shade of green, with neon blue laces dragging on the floor. A small crystal hangs from their neck, catching the bleak light. There are several pins scattered on their outer shirt, as on the battered messenger bag hanging on their shoulder. Oh gods, even the bag is colourful, but drops of paint and ink rather than tie-dye. Thanks heaven for small miracles, Montparnasse thinks dryly.

He's so focused on the clothes that it takes him a few seconds to notice the person wearing them. They are tall, taller than him even, with those pant legs way above their ankles. Lanky, too, but he's not too sure ; it's a bit hard to see with those shirts hanging off them like on a coat-hanger. They have long, copper hair, gathered in a messy braid coiling on their shoulder. Flowers are caught in them, and colourful hairpins do their best to hold back a few strands away from their face.

They finally turn around to riffle around in their bag, and Montparnasse gets a clear view of their face. And they are... beautiful. Of course they are. They are in a teen movie, where the sullen hero gets forced into an uncomfortable situation, and suddenly someone comes in, the world stops pining, and everything becomes worth it because they just fell in love at first sight. Except that Montparnasse doesn't fall in love at first sight. Love is for pining idiots and Pontmercys. Not for him, not at all. He just doesn't care. But the person has high cheekbones, and a pointy nose, and more freckles on their cheeks, nose and forehead, like a galaxy. Their face is framed by a few strands of hair that draw pretty little curls on their skin and blow around as soon as they move.

They walk to the register, carrying a bunch of merchandise. And as does every person who sports extra long laces and doesn't tie them : they stumble, and all their stuff scatter on the counter. Montparnasse has to jump back to avoid a heavy box of sugar. Luckily for his shoes, the cardboard doesn't rip. He picks it up, puts it back on the counter, stops an apple from running away.

- Thank you, you saved my grocery.

Montparnasse looks up, ready to tell them to go fuck themselves and stick that sarcasm where the sun doesn't shine. However, all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled "ngk". The person is looking at them, smiling. But it's not the - very nice, very gentle - smile that hits him. It's the eye-colour. Or rather, colours. Both are clear and soft, but the left one is green as leaves, while the right one is a rich golden brown. Montparnasse doesn't want to think they shine like gemstones because he's still not a sullen and smitten goth boy. But they do shine under the neon lights, or maybe just from their personality... He almost punches himself in the face. Eponine is snickering lightly, not missing anything, and he's sure he'll hear about it later. He'll hear about it a lot. Play it cool, he thinks, *focus. You can do it. You're a pro.* Well no, he's not, but he can act the part. At least until the weird, pretty person leaves, and then he can scream all he wants.

He scans all the things, one by one, all the while trying to remember what he's supposed to say. He can feel the person's gaze on him, nailing him in place, invading his personal space. The world reduces to this, that presence, the rhythm of the beeping. Finally, everything is scanned without him making a fool of himself. The person opens their wallet, pulls out a note.

- Sorry, they apologize, I don't have change.

- Don't problem.

What ?. Eponine snickers, and he really wants to push her down the counter, but he can't. Even if he really, really wants. The person just tilts their head, a hint of confusion on their face.

- Don't worry. No problem, Montparnasse quickly amends.

He starts counting the change, starting over when he loses trace. His hands are shaking, the person can see it, Eponine can see it, the whole world can see it, and he doesn't know why. He needs to focus. Focus until the world reduces itself to his register, and he presses the right buttons at last. It's just a goddamn twig dressed like a hippie fresh out of the garden, he repeats himself, don't pay attention, they'll leave once they're done. Good riddance. But his hands still shake a little when he hands them a handful of coins. They put it in their front pocket, gather their purchase, smile at him once more, and leave, their braid falling from their shoulder to dance on their back, like a pendulum. Montparnasse watches it swing until they're out of the door, their gaudy shirts getting lost in the crowd.

- Careful, you idiot, your eyeballs are gonna fall out.

Eponine's voice snaps him back to Earth. He glares at her, but she's not openly laughing at him. No, she's staring at him, almost... seriously ? He can see the gears grinding in her mind, and he doesn't like it. At all.

- Why are you still there ? he groans. Don't you have better things to do ?

- Than see you act like a complete idiot ? I'd pay actual money for that.

- Then pay.

- Nope.

- Then leave.

- And miss your stupid face next time Flowerchild comes in ?

- I do not....

- Oh yes, she cuts him. You totally do. Googly eyes and all that. Admit it. You like them.

- I do not. Shut up.

Miraculously, she obeys him. He walks to the cigarette wall, starts sorting them again, even if he knows they are perfectly sorted. But it has the merit of cutting him from the rest of the shop and let him collect his thoughts. There's a strange noise in his ears, a low rumbling one that sounds a little like the sea coming and going. At least he doesn't need to focus on the cigarettes until he gets tunnel vision. But on the other hand, his mind seems to run idle, and he feels strangely.... light. Probably getting down with something. And it has nothing to do with that strange person, whatever Eponine might think.

When he finishes, his mind is back to its usual, sharpen self, and the noise in his ears has receded. He still feels a bit faint, probably a hint of fever, nothing that a bit of rest will cure. Eponine keeps looking at him, but she doesn't harp on anymore about what just happened, and he's grateful for this. They keep chatting about this and that, until she realizes that it's late, Gavroche is waiting for her and she needs to go home. She gathers her snacks, punches him in the arm and leaves. Montparnasse just leans on the counter and gets ready to be bored out of his mind.

As soon as he's free, he runs all the way home, barely takes time to gobble something that can pass as food, and dives in his bed, horrid hair and all. He squeezes his eyes shut really hard, hopes against all hopes that this sudden fever won't ruin his beauty sleep. He doesn't even have time to finish that thought, that he's already fast asleep.

#les miserables #montparnasse #jehan prouvaire #jehanparnasse #modern!AU #the life and times of a sullen convenience shop enployee

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riadark · 4 years

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They called her, “The Troll Hunter.” And she was damn proud of it. Heck, she even had it tattooed on the inside of both of her forearms.

The right arm read, “Troll” in big block letters in Herculanium Font, and on the left arm the word “Hunter”.

Everyone wanted Lydia on their team. Everyone. No one was better than her in the field. No one.

She knew it. At first, it was hard for her to believe that THIS is what she actually has the greatest talent for. It was kind of depressing even, but the money, and very large amounts of it, made up for any discomfort she might have about her profession.

Social media was the new marketing capital of the world, and Lydia was the supreme Queen of defending the Brand she was hired to protect. Her official description reads, “The role is, to isolate individual comments or individuals if need be, and use our brand, our company, to help resolve customer issues.”

In reality, she was a mercenary for hire. Her job title, “Troll Hunter,” her job, “To discredit a comment or if need be an individual by representing yourself as a citizen.” We all know the pile-on that happens when someone posts an inflammatory remark on social media, which then leads to a copycat phenomena and now the Brand is in the news in the cheap seats media outlets, touting various outrageous scenarios regarding customer service that they claim you are guilty of and your stock goes down a Milli. Image damage control also costs a lot of money to buy the right celebrity, buy the right artist’s song, and giving away merchandise in the equivalent of free blow jobs to everybody in order to make them likable again to the public.

This never happened if Lydia was on your team. She would hunt those fuckers down and burn them to the ground. They would get destroyed or run away in fear but they would NEVER have the last word. And in the marketing industry, each of those victories means victories for the Brand.

As she walked into her office hologram from the comfort of her own home, she couldn’t believe that she got paid sick amounts of money for being relentless; arguing and being shitty to people all day on socials and crushing them by twisting of their words, triggering them into looking like idiots and embarrassing themselves, picking apart their background and using emotional tactics, threatening to get them fired -- and all from private citizen accounts.

At last count she had about fifty of them, fifty-one if her assistant had completed the latest application for another fresh profile that is really trending. Last year it was young girls who were doing amazing things for the environment, this year it’s old dudes being noble and protecting us from shit.

She boots up her business asoociate, her “machine”, and gets to work.

“Good morning Alice! How many do you think we can conquer today?” Lydia says boastfully to the computational device outfitted with AI who also happens to be Lydia’s partner. Lydia named her Alice, pronounced, “Eilice” on account that “AI” looks just like “Al” when you type it out with the first letter capital and the second letter lowercase.

“That depends on you.” the female voice said, “Did you get enough sleep to stay focused for quick finishes, or did you do some human stuff last night and I am going to have keep giving you prompts to get the job done?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. You’re just jealous because you don’t get to have sex,” Lydia smirked; she thought she had bagged the repartee. But she’s dealing with her equal, albeit, not a human one.

Alice’s laughter fills Lydia’s mind. Still laughing Alice remarks, “What on earth and sky ever made you think that? Of course I have sex!”

She of course was right. I mean, I humans sex with machines all the time. This one just happens to be one that can think.

“I got my full eight Alice. So enough jibber jabber. Let’s roll!” The lights dim and the walls turn into computer screens-- all four of them. She scans results that Alice is feeding to her on the displays, until Lydia barks, “Halt.”

#postpandemic #popfiction #riality

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years

Text

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Brainlord”

Written by: Jake Goldman

Written & Storyboarded by: John Martinez, Andy Cung

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Should have done the noodle dance.

This episode starts with Townsville under attack by a monster. If the Narrator was here, this could be an opening of an original episode. It's not just any monster either, but it's Gothra, a monster that first appeared in Bucketboy. Giving the reboot some credit; the original never really had a recurring monster in their rogue’s gallery, the reboot introduced two of them. For this episode, they add something else to this potential beloved villain other than his looks: vocal cords!

Gothra: Roooooar. Once I destroy you poser humans, you will finally understand how sad and empty life is!

Honestly, the monotone and yet loud roar would have been just fine, but they really wanted to show off that Gothra is a goth. At least he has a personality, and he will hammer in with every line he says.

Also like the original, the Powerpuff Girls show up to beat the stuffing out of him. Blossom tells him that they're going to turn his frown upside-down. Smiles are a goth's worst enemy...I think that's what she were going for?

Unfortunately, the Reboot Puffs show their usual failure here, as, of course, this leads to a Monster Punch, Girls Down. Womp, womp. Not even a minute into the episode, this even including the opening theme song, this living pun manages to punch the Powerpuff Girls into a crater, them completely helpless from the wrath of a goth moth.

One of two things can happen from this: the Reboot Puffs get up and use a different strategy than just rushing in and punching him, or they stay helpless before someone else gets to save them from their peril. If you picked the former, welcome to the reboot. Before Gothra can crush the Reboot Puffs like his dreams, get it, goth, he gets blasted by this episode's knight in shining armor.

In comes Brainlord, a superhero that can shoot lasers out of his gigantic brain, wearing a costume with white and purple stripes and a big purple cape. Using his almighty brain power, Gothra explodes in an explosion of justice. As in, the cloud even spells and whispers the word "justice."

The Powerpuff Girls awaken to see their savior, and before you can say "Major Competition", which is not exactly what this episode is ripping off but I wouldn't blame anyone for assuming at this point, we get to hear his origin story.

He was the hero of a planet called Braintopia, beating up the bad guys, and rescuing the overly large brained people. Unfortunately, the Braintopians had a custom to keep their heads super shiny, which blinded them all from a meteor bigger than their entire planet. He survived, not because he was chosen to be put in a rocket before the big cataclysmic event, but because he was in another galaxy to get his car washed.

In other words: Superman’s origin story, except with jokes!

The Powerpuff Girls didn't find it funny, though. In fact, they found this origin story so sad that they get tissues, and Buttercup outright says that this is the saddest origin story she's ever heard. Even sadder than Bliss's origin story, apparently! Yes, it is pretty sad to know that all of his friends and family are dead, but why show this? Is it a joke on how the Powerpuff Girls are saddened by this silly story? Is this just a way for them to force a tear jerker moment? It's not working.

After hearing that sad, sad story that they really wanted to let you know is sad, Blossom decides to offer this total stranger dinner at the Powerpuff home. I mean, he's a fellow superhero, and he just saved them from that 90's Hot Topic customer! What could possibly go wrong?

To be fair to Blossom, there is no hint that something is up other than this person's costume looking a little similar to a certain arch-nemesis. They can drag this on until a big reveal in Act 2, but they don’t wait that long.

Brainlord: Yes, see you tonight...

Discount Jojo: (changes face back to his own) ...for your doom! Hahahahahaha!

...they just reveal immediately that Brainlord is actually Discount Jojo in disguise. There is a point to this: it's to make this episode a Discount Jojo-focused episode where he gets to live along with his arch-enemies. It's just like Not So Secret Service or Quarantine, and those episodes were so good that I was overjoyed to see another one of...I can't even complete that sentence.

Even in the Brainlord costume, his voice is just Roger L. Jackson doing a different voice. There are a few times where he goes a little too close to the Jojo voice, and that actually works in this episode's favor.

His main plan is to infiltrate the Powerpuff Girls' home, earn their trust, enter the Professor's lab, and blow up the Professor's black hole machine with a bomb. This is all shown with pen and crayon drawings. I kind of like this, actually, it reminds me of that other arch-nemesis.

The first thing Brainlord does at the dinner table is ask where the Professor's latest invention is, as he claims he was a minor celebrity on his formerly existing home planet. The Professor decides to show him exactly that, though it turns out he invented something else since the black hole machine: spaghetti and meatballs a la Utonium! He is not too thrilled about this, until he decides to take a bite.

We then get the "Buttercup really liking Jojo's waffles" scene from Not So Secret Service, except instead of stock footage, it's a bunch of random scenes where Jojo is happy. It is better. After that glorious dinner, the Powerpuff Girls decide to sing him a song teaching him all about the place they live. Wait, could this be some much needed worldbuilding?

The Puffs: Welcome to Townsville, Brainlord!

We hope you're not plain bored!

Too late! They then sing the many different reasons why Townsville is great. They mention that the beach should be checked out, how the mall is neat...and that's it. No, not the song, but that's the only two reasons we get to hear, as they instantly skip to number 487, which just says that’s the end of the song. Missed opportunities all around, I'd say.

What gives this "overly long song" joke far less of an impact is that Brainlord was not even phased by the length. In fact, he was so charmed by this song and dance, that he asks for an encore! Before we can get a song about the 487 reasons why Citiesville sucks, Brainlord says that this song was such a blast, reminding himself that he had a Powerpuff-destroying scheme to do! He asks to go to the little Brainlord's room.

Brainlord turns his face back into Jojo, and he tells himself that while the Powerpuff Girls being such great hosts almost makes him not want to, he wants to go through with this plan anyway.

The Professor really had to step the security down from the one he once had, because the only thing between dastardly villains and Chemical X, dangerous transmogrification rays, and black hole machines is a security question. Specifically, it asks what the Powerpuff Girls' favorite thing is. Jojo, using the utmost of his genius, decides to make a perfectly reasonable guess.

Discount Jojo: The Powerpuff Girls' favorite thing is...being destroyed by Mojo!

Obviously, that wasn't the answer, and if he gets the question wrong again, the lab goes into total lockdown. Suddenly, Bubbles shows up, and Jojo has to put on his Brainlord face. He puts on a facade that he's just thinking about his home planet and how much he misses it. Bubbles tells him he can stay at their house, and maybe they can show him their favorite things! Brainlord responds by evilly laughing, but Bubbles doesn't pay it any mind. In fact, the scene just changes immediately after he laughs; we couldn't even get a joke out of Bubbles' obliviousness.

The next day, we get montage #1, where Brainlord goes to a carnival. There's really no jokes here, it's just Brainlord and the Reboot Puffs having fun on all the rides. It's very pedestrian; I would have loved to see them enjoying these rides and games in a superhero way, like, say, Brainlord attempting to use his brain lasers on the bottle game. Maybe they were worried about copying Despicable Me...but when has that stopped them?

After all that fun, the Powerpuff Girls suddenly start talking about how family is so important to them. Oh, and Buttercup says this.

Buttercup: Yes, blood is thicker than water, blood rules!

I get it, like related by blood, but I can't say I didn't enjoy how they just shoved in the phrase "blood rules" into at least one episode. Bubbles ends this family talk by saying family is their favorite thing, and Brainlord suddenly runs off to the Powerpuff home.

Thanks to Bubbles' big mouth, Discount now knows the secret password and gets it right the second time, giving him full access to the lab and that black hole machine. Using a stick of dynamite with a timer on it, he's going to destroy the people that gave him entertainment, because he is a bad ape!

While cheering, Bubbles calls down to Brainlord that they're going out for ice cream! Wow, the Powerpuff Girls are just having the best day of their lives, and Jojo doesn't want to miss out on any of it!

We get another montage that has the same purpose as the carnival one, with most of the same problems. The only difference is that we get scenes where Jojo has to keep extending the clock because he just doesn't want the fun to end.

Well, okay, I guess there is a scene where Brainlord gets his fingernails painted. Oh, that Discount, while he's learned a few more jokes, he's still finding some way to do something feminine.

In the end, the Powerpuff Girls offer this scrapbook of all the times they had. This is the part where Jojo finally decides that maybe the Powerpuff Girls aren't worth destroying after all. I mean, being with the Utoniums has been a total blast for him! After saying something along the lines of that, Brainlord suddenly realizes he may have forgot something.

It's here that the episode finally figures that there has to be some sort of problem that isn't caused by a one-joke moth, as the bomb explodes, causing the black hole generator to make a black hole. They don't seem to think about how this black hole generator suddenly activated or got destroyed, though that might have taken a backseat to them holding on to a door frame to save their own lives.

The black hole generator can only stop if someone goes in the vortex and blows it up. The Professor also happened to be carrying a bunch of dynamite just for this purpose. That's just something he carries around. You know what they say, better to have it and not need it than vice versa.

Blossom: I'll go!

So Blossom decides to let go, not realizing that everyone was holding her leg. Thanks to Blossom's mistake, everyone goes into the vortex and ends up floating around in the vastness of outer space. Discount and Sitcom Dad die, and eventually, the Reboot Puffs stopped thinking. Oh wow, I guess there really was a satisfactory finale for this series!

No, I'm just kidding, of course it's Brainlord that ends up taking the dynamite and sacrificing himself. For all the Powerpuff Girls knew, their family friend just had the time of their lives, and is now going to suffer what is most likely a painful death...or is that really the case?

There is a slight twist to this, and I usually don't spoil the twists, but I have to talk about this one. Right before Brainlord lets go, Bubbles drops this bombshell.

Brainlord: Remember me!

Bubbles: We will, thanks, Mojo!

Brainlord: Yes, and never for, wait, you knew?!

Outside of this one little scene, nothing is made of this sudden revelation that Bubbles knew this whole time. It feels more like something they just threw in in the last minute to give the episode some sort of a big twist.

Some may also ask how Bubbles knew Brainlord was Jojo. Honestly, with his constant yelling of his plans throughout the episode, the Powerpuff Girls would have to be deaf to not figure it was probably him. If that was the case, why did they not do anything to stop this from happening? Whatever.

Oh, and that black hole just leads to a dumpster. This reboot sure loves putting their characters in the garbage; feels like a hidden message.

Does the title fit?

Name of a character, and one that doesn't even use his brains.

How does it stack up?

Out of all of the "Mojo Jojo has to live with his arch-enemies" episodes, this is probably the least worst one, but it's still not anywhere near mediocre. While Not So Secret Service couldn't find a plot and stick to it, Quarantine was just horrendous, this one's just mostly boring.

I debated on giving this a really low Neutral or a really high Disgusted. I wouldn't lie and say the montages weren't charming, if they were a bit too pedestrian to my taste, but that’s really all this episode has. Sorry, Brainlord.

Next, it can't be worse than Foodfight!, can it?

← Tagalong ☆ Checkin' Out! →

#ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #cartoon network #fpb ppg 2016 #fpb reviews

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afraschatz · 6 years

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Leverage - The Nigerian Job

It’s been a while since I watched “The Nigerian Job” and wow, what a joy to do that again. Because there are so many things I love about it. Here are just a few: I love...

... the introduction of Nate - so much exposition is needed and that’s always difficult to deliver without it seeming clunky and, well, like exposition, but Rubinek and Hutton just DELIVER.

... Dubenic. One of my favourite villains of them all. So fucking ruthless, he makes NATE seem like a choir boy in comparison, and that’s saying something.

... Nate’s reaction to “Steal them back”. Yes, he’s interested because of the money and because of wanting to stick it to his old boss, but that look? Yeah, Nate, keep kidding yourself. You WANT to be a thief ;)

... ‘No, but Parker is in-sane.’ And Nate’s look to accompany that, hahaha. Where is the lie.

... the music of this show. The intro music but also the signature “the game is on” music. I have it as my ringtone and my alarm and really, it’s just so awesome. Because right here at the start, a very dark and gritty start, the music sets the tone and tells us: This is gonna be a clever show and a fun show and KEEP WATCHING <3

... Hardison’s first words on the show being “No. No, no, no, no, hell no.”

... Hardison calling Nate ‘Brah’ and talking back at him right from the start

... “This is not the room you’re looking for.” - Also, I know that Hardison can’t possibly actually TELL this story to Nate and the others at this point, but we all know that he will eventually. And I LOVE that this is his mind’s go to story for being the ultimate hustler. Oh, Hardison, how I love you and your geeky priorities.

... “You can hear everything.” - “Not as useless as you look.” - Instant love. Also: HI ELIOT. And hi Eliot’s glasses. What happens to you later on? And seriously, Eliot, why did you decide to wear them for this job? I mean you clearly don’t need them, so is this a fashion choice? Where you reading while you were waiting for the others to set up?

...No but seriously, I LOVE the outfit choice for Eliot here and in the flashback. He looks like he just got up from a coffee with Sartre and Camus and I cannot stress enough how I LOVE how that (aside of course from being funny) already sets up how he is NOT just the muscle <3

...Eliot not even putting down his mug. Yes, he is that badass

...the baseball card

... “You can have the whole box” (Flirty!Hardison - and yes, of course he is fascinated and turned on by Parker instantly, but I think what I love most is how this is different to how he sees her later; he is overall more aggressive, edgy, pushy pre-team)

... “Age of the Geek, baby. We run the world.” - “Hm. You keep telling yourself that.”

... Thief.

... Parker’s flashback being so fucking DARK, even in comparison to Eliot’s who just put down 10 thugs

... the tell-tale ages of their flashback selves - Hardison the teenager, Eliot the adult, Parker the kid. Talk about what shaped you / who you are

...Eliot and Nate being professionals vs. Parker and Hardison being the brats <3

... Parker taking such obvious pleasure in her work

... Nate’s background images being the cold blue schematics

... Hardison being SO TURNED ON by Eliot’s speed / his efficiency / his dislike of guns (love the emptying of the magazine) / his smile

... that shared smile when the door opens. STOP IT, YOU GUYS

... Nate’s I-am-in-command-here voice. Later on he uses that to play generals and higher ups - his favoured role aside from ‘the annoying one’ - but here it’s no game, no play acting. This IS Nate right now

... technically that would be Plan G

...the OT3 working so perfectly together during the burn-scam sequence

...the almost-morning-at-the-end-of-an-obviously-fucking-cold-night atmosphere when they split. Talk about symbolism here. And lovely light

... Dubenic. Seriously. He dupes us, the viewers, fair enough. But he also does this with Nate, Parker, Eliot, AND Hardison. And can we just take a moment and appreciate that because we know how insanely smart they are. - And there is just that HINT of Dubenic playing them in the way he picks up his cup and sips, like he has no care in the world

... the way Hardison holds his gun

... the fact that Eliot hasn’t taken it away from hm yet. Because sure, he could. But he actually WANTS Hardison to BELIEVE him, doesn’t he

...Hardison and Parker having brought guns. Which makes sense. Eliot not bothering. Which also makes sense. But Nate? He just doesn’t give a fuck at this point, does he? Dangerous man, he who has nothing left to lose. And that maniac’s laughter when he figures it out? Holy shit, there is something very, very wrong with him

... Eliot helping Hardison up (already the protector <3)

... the reason why Hardison fell in the first place - looking back to check where Eliot is <3<3

...the reflection of the fireblast on Nate’s face. The whole explosion. Damn, that is some fine pyro work there.

...Parker switching so effortlessly between razor-sharp logic and crazy aloofness

...the ever changing dynamic during that conversation in Hardison’s flat. Like, Hardison keeping Eliot from finally losing it and taking it on with Nate and all the other little shifts and changes. Like, Nate already knowing Eliot’s and Parker’s different priorities (Payback and Money / Money and Payback); Parker and Hardison being hooked straight away, Eliot being the cautious one

...Eliot’s FACE during Sophie’s acting

...Nate being so FASCINATED by Sophie

... that flashback - Nate, like the OT, has a very... interesting way of remembering things

...Parker’s super aggressive popcorn reading

... Eliot’s continued ‘Parker is crazy. CRAZY. Am I the only one seeing that?!’ Possibly, yes, Eliot

...Nigerians. I mean, not only is that THE con. But it’s also the con that works because it targets people too stupid to not know better. The fact that Nate uses that on Dubenic. Because they were double-crossed and now HE gets double-crossed with a con that he SHOULD have seen coming because no one in their right mind would buy Nate Ford trying to pull of the ACTUAL Nigerian Scam

...Sophie just walking out on Dubenic

...Eliot’s outfit as an IT expert. That is so offensive, Eliot, even BEFORE the Klingon. I love you. Also? I love the reaction of the secretary as he walks in. Like, damn, he’s fine. She’s not wrong

... the bridge in the background of Sophie’s and Dubenic’s scene outside. God, that is SUCH a perfect metaphor and so pretty

... “I take it to Pierson.” - Sophie is not just a great actress, this little decision here already shows how she will have no problem taking over from Nate when he is in prison

... the Eliot/Nate conversation at the pool table. Easily my favourite scene of the whole episode. I wrote about how I love all the characters’ relationships in an earlier entry (http://afraschatz.tumblr.com/post/175521619189/afraschatz-i-think-the-reason-why-i-love), but Eliot’s and Nate’s is one of my favourites. And this scene breaks my fucking heart EVERY time. I want to be angry at Nate for being so harsh to Eliot reaching out and I want to weep for him at the same time. And Eliot. Oh, Eliot. All of the others so wrapped up in the current con (and Nate in his pain) that they can’t see what he can already sense and what he already sees and understands. Why else would the hitter, the “I work alone” man, Moreau’s former right hand man reach out like that? This isn’t the hitter checking whether the insurance man might turn on him /them; this isn’t even the man set out for revenge trying to make sure that the mastermind behind the plan can focus properly. This already is Eliot caring. And Nate being unable to accept that at this point. Ah, I love them so much

... the hospital flashback. Oh Tim Hutton <3...

... Sophie and the earpiece. Sure, Sophie, you need help. Sure.

... locked up comedy frame. Hardison hahahaha. Love that chair-roll

... Dubenic’s smug expression in the elevator

... “I can take your underpants”

... “This particular project has a different revenue stream” - Ah, eloquent!smug!Nate

...Sophie’s reaction to the HUGE cheque. Like, WHAT?!

...Hardison starting to explain what he did - I kinda wanted him to continue explaining that to me because a. maybe he could actually shed some light on some stock stuff that I really don’t get and b. competence porn

...Eliot wanting to kiss Hardison :)

...the slow round-and-round of the camera during the team’s talk outside. I need to write a separate LONG post about how great the camera work on this show is

... Eliot looking at Hardison while Hardison waits for Nate to suggest that they should do that again, then, when Nate doesn’t, immediately trying to get his defences back up and his hopes down. Oh, Eliot <3

... Black king, white knight. Aside from me being very much in love with Sophie’s SHAMELESS flirting (and Nate’s reaction to that), this is such a pretty description and fits him so well

... that last scene and the way they stand / sit. I mean, man, thank you, Sophie, for being kind to the victims while the rest of your team plays a very weird mashup of Reservoir Dogs and Godfather in the background

... NATE, YOU ARE SO CREEPY, I LOVE YOU.

#leverage #leverage marathon #alec hardison #eliot spencer #nate ford #sophie devereaux #parker #things i love about #the nigerian job

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johnpowell · 2 years

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The Beginning

I can remember every moment leading up to.. well for now we will just call it the “incident”. I was working, we were doing a story on some kind of bullshit “save the historic site” kind of story. The town wanted to tear down this old building that was mostly used by underage teenagers to go and fuck in. But at one time this building was used for manufacturing war ammunition’s to stock pile during the Cold War. Now, the building was worn down from years of sitting unused. Most of the windows were smashed out and the roof was constantly leaking, leaving pools of water all over the floor. There was a small office in the far back corner of the building, that I assume housed some kind of manager or supervisor as the plant went on running. This office was the only part of the building that was dry. I suppose that’s why all the teenagers used that part of the building to go and have sex. Anyways, I can remember walking through that building snapping some random interior shots for the news when my partner shouted at me from outside. Her voice was panicked and slightly shrill, I yelled back “coming” as I snapped one last photo of the door to that small managers office.

As much as I hated this kind of photography, I always loved standing behind the lens of a camera. Scenic and life style photo’s were always my favourite, I loved to go for drives and explore new places to photograph. Forest’s, streams, rivers, and the occasional sun rise or set were my go to, they were also the easiest prints to sell on the side for cash.

I headed back to the car and Melissa, our “writer” had a worried look on her face. I asked what was the matter? She said “Dan” her husband told her to drop me off and head home immediately but he couldn’t say why.

Dan and Melissa, had been having some marriage problems lately and my thoughts were that Dan might have been having some insecurities after Melissa caught him talking to another woman. He was constantly calling her to see where she was, or what she was doing. I suppose he might have been worried that she would go and start looking for someone else, but who knows.

I said, no problem, just take me back to the office and I’ll start processing the photos for tomorrows story. We got in the car and it was a very silent drive back.

When we arrived I said “call me if you need anything” and shut the door, and watched her drive away.

It’s funny to think about saying goodbye to someone because most of use just assume we will see each other again within a few hours, or even a day or two. But the reality is we never really know if we’ll see that someone ever again.

I threw my camera bag over my shoulder and went inside. It was a typical day at the post, everyone rushing around, department heads cracking down on writers and editors. The daily panic of getting tomorrow’s story ready to be sent to the printers was a usual and somehow soothing environment for me. I really enjoyed the noise of everyone in the background while I worked, the faint buzzing of voices and movement outside the black room where I developed my film was never ending.

I flipped the switch on the wall which triggered the red light above the door on the outside of the development room. For anyone who has seen it in the movies, or has no clue at all, this indicates that the room is in use and to not open the door, as It may ruin the film if exposed to light. I started to removed the film from my camera and begin the chemical bath process. I always found it so calming working in this dim lit room, prepping images that have only been seen by me at this point.

It’s like magic watching the images slowly appear on paper, hanging them to dry and watching reality fade into a 2 dimensional existence before my eyes.

Once I hung all my images, I started to clean up my processing equipment and chemicals. I noticed a strange silence, there was no longer the typical buzzing coming from behind the door. It was a bit eerie. I finished cleaning up and popped my head out the door to see why it had fallen silent.

When I opened the door everyone was standing still, staring at the tv that was mounted on a shelf In the corner of the office, as a local news anchor was addressing the public. At first I didn’t really know what he was talking about, I caught the broadcast midway through, there were talking over some footage of what seemed to be like someone loosing their mind in a hospital room. It was strange though because the camera man was only shooting the footage through a small 4x6 inch window on the door, what also caught my attention was the amount of what looked like blood smeared along the walls on the inside of the room, while an older man frantically pounded his fist on the walls while running back and forth from each side of the room.

No one said anything, it was just pure silence in the office as we watched the broadcast.

The clip ended and everyone started talking all at once, theories and blame started rumouring throughout the floor. Some people saying it was government mind control and others saying it was some kind of new street drug that caused you to go insane. Louder and louder as people almost started shouting at one another as if one person was right and the other was wrong.

I quietly went back to my desk and sat down. “What do you think that was all about?” I heard from the desk behind me. I turned to look at my buddy James who sat about 5 feet away. “I’m not sure” I replied, “It was too hard to hear what the news anchor had to say once the clip stopped, but it didn’t look like that guy was in control, He was raging about something, mental illness is a strange disease”.

James nodded and sat there silently, “Anyways..” he said as he stood up and grabbed his bag. “I’m heading home for the night” I’ll see you in the morning. “Later man” I replied.

I packed up my desk for the night and grabbed a cab home. I felt like I was starving but knew I was too tired to cook. Ada “my wife” was going to be working late tonight. She worked as an account manager for a law firm, so late nights were kind of her thing. Usually after work I would stop Into her office and bring her some Chinese food, but I was just way to exhausted to bother today. I called her from the cab on my way home and told her I wouldn’t be stopping and to order some delivery.

I got home, tossed my bag next to the coat rack and hopped in the shower. The hot water beading off my head and down my back felt great. That’s one of the best feelings after a hard day in my opinion, almost as good as when your head hits the pillow, which was the next thing I did after drying off. I couldn’t be bothered to make any food, so I went right to bed. I heard the bedroom door open early in the morning as Ada crawled in beside me, I fell back asleep quickly and re awoke to the sun beaming through the window a few hours later.

“Fuck” I totally forgot to set my alarm before going to bed. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom and started the shower, realizing I forgot my towel I went back into the hall to grab one from the closet when I heard, “why are you out of bed!!” “What?” I said. Ada chuckled and said “did you forget it’s a Saturday?” Through the doorway. She could see me frantically running up and down the hall like a child. “Shit, I totally lost track of this week” I said, I went and turned the shower off. Crawled back into bed and wrapped my arms around Ada. “What are we going to do today?” I asked her, she replied “Nothing… we’re not doing a thing”. I smiled and fell back asleep.

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tokikurp · 6 years

Text

What will it be?

Summary- It’s a typical Friday afternoon at the cafe. That is, until a new customer comes in and catches Oikawa’s attention.

Pairings- • Main: Iwaizumi x Oikawa • Background/Hinted: Ushijima x Semi (Background) | Daichi x Suga (Hinted)

AU- Cafe

Series- The Sugar Joy

Word count- 3K

And I’m back from my writing hiatus °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Just in time to post for @sound-of-inspiration‘s birthday! Happy birthday Lina!! I love you (*¯ ³¯*)♡

AO3

“Eita-chan, please tell me how we always manage to survive the Friday lunch crowd?” A tired Oikawa Tooru asked as he leaned back against the counter. Another lunch rush had come and gone, leaving the employees tired and happy that the crowd was finally thinning out. Until dinner rush would begin.

But that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours, so it was a good time for a breather.

“I ask myself that every single day.” Semi Eita responded with a shrug, counting how many curry buns they had left. “Three.” The blond mumbled, writing that down on a list.

“But it was another successful lunch hour!” Sugawara Koushi cheerfully exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen and leaning against the same counter as Oikawa. “Tonight’s dinner rush is just going to be as successful as the lunch crowd!”

“Don’t even remind me of the dinner rush.” Oikawa groaned. He didn’t want to image it after having just survived the lunch crowd. Suga laughed and patted Oikawa’s back, while Semi chuckled.

“Don’t worry, tonight is going to be another good night.” Suga tried to reassure him.

“You survived one, you can survive them all.” Semi commented, moving over to the next case.

“Ah, yeah I guess.” Oikawa sighed. Suga giggled before he pushed himself off the counter.

“I’m heading back in to start preparing for tonight. Eita, bring me the list when you’re done.” Suga announced.

“You know I always do.” Semi responded as Suga gave a nod, before disappearing into the back. “Like I could forget that.”

The brunette hummed, watching Semi count all the remaining items. Oikawa looked around the cafe, where just a couple of people were still residing in the cafe.

An elderly couple was sitting by the windows enjoying the rest of their lunch; they had been regulars at the café for years now and were always warmly welcomed by all three of them. Not far of them a younger couple had taken up a table, a young businessman and his girlfriend. She was chatting away lifely while he listened to her with a soft smile.

Lastly a rather large group of students had taken up over 3 tables, seemingly working on a project for their university courses from what Oikawa had picked up when he’d last refilled their coffee. He probably should head over there soon and ask if they needed another round.

Just a typical Friday afternoon.

Oikawa turned around and began to wipe down the counters. They didn’t need to be clean, but it gave him something to do during this down time. Just a few minutes passed when he heard the bell above the entrance door ring.

“Welcome to Sugar Joy!” Oikawa and Semi both greeted, but Oikawa turned around to help the customers. Semi on the other hand, kept doing what he was doing (doing a recount at this moment). The brunette was about to open his mouth, but closed it when the familiar person put their finger in front of their mouth. A smirk crossed Oikawa’s face as the person walked up behind Semi.

‘Oh Eita-chan~! Someone has come to visit you!’ Oikawa sang in his head as the person leaned over and wrapped his arms around Semi, startling him. Semi didn’t yelp, but jumped and groaned when he realized who it was.

“Hello, may I have my usual?”

“Wakatoshi, how many times did I tell you not to scare me like that? Do you want to give me a heart attack?” Semi asked, turning around to face his boyfriend, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“About a hundred or two hundred.” Ushijima answered, giving his boyfriend a kiss on his cheek. Oikawa giggled as he watched Semi pout, his cheeks taking on a pink colour. Suga poked his head out from the kitchen and smiled when he saw Ushijima in the front.

“I thought I heard Eita griping at someone. The usual, Wakatoshi?” Suga asked as Ushijima nodded.

“Yes and I’ve brought someone else along.”

“Oh did you know?” Suga asked as the person stepped forward, waving.

“Uh hi, that’d be me.” The man greeted. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Iwaizumi recently joined the team about two weeks ago and it’s his first full day training with us. So I decided to bring him here for lunch.” Ushijima explained as Suga’s face lit up.

“Well, welcome to Sugar Joy, Iwaizumi-san! I’m Sugawara Koushi and I’m the owner. Everything is made from scratch and we serve breakfast, lunch and dinner!” Suga briefly explained. “And my wonderful four employees! My cousin Semi Eita, Wakatoshi’s boyfriend, and Oikawa Tooru.”

“Nice to meet you two, but um...you said you have four employees. Where are the other two?” Iwaizumi asked.

“BACK HERE!” A voice called from the kitchen.

“Tooru and Eita work here in the front, while my other two, Azumane Asahi and Nishinoya Yuu, work back here in the kitchen with me.” Suga responded with a smile.

“WELCOME TO SUGAR JOY!”

“That was Yuu.”

“Welcome!”

“And that was Asahi.”

“Oh I see. Well um...Wakatoshi what do you usually get here?” Iwaizumi asked, looking up at the menu. So many items to choose from like salads, sandwiches, soups and desserts (just to name a few).

“I usually get a spicy chicken salad and chicken and rice soup. Unless Eita wants to me try something new.” Ushijima responded as Semi nodded.

“And on Fridays, he gets green tea mochi, which is already waiting for him.” Semi added as he looked up at his boyfriend.

“That too. Everything is delicious here, Iwaizumi.”

“And that’s going to make it harder because everything sounds so good.” Iwaizumi groaned, looking at the menu.

“If you want, I can give you a suggestion.” Oikawa spoke up with a smile.

“Yeah sure, what do you suggest?” The volleyball player asked, leaning against the counter (still looking at the menus).

“Well, I recently tried the tomato and mozzarella flatbread and that was very delicious. The roasted turkey is a big seller here and the spicy chicken melt is a personal favorite of mine. And all the salads are delicious, oh and my favorite soup is the French onion soup.” Oikawa explained, pointing to every item he mentioned. “And the stuff in the castes are just as good. Eita-chan, how many curry buns do we have left?”

“Three. Speaking of which, Koushi!” Eita answered, but headed towards the kitchen while calling out for his cousin.

“Our curry buns sell like hotcakes and katsu sando are each made when ordered.” Oikawa finished explaining. Watching as Iwaizumi blinked and turned to Ushijima.

“You said this was a cafe, this is a full on restaurant.”

“Koushi gets that a lot.”

“Okay well umm...I guess I’ll try,” He started, tapping his chin. “The spicy chicken melt and French onion soup.”

“Excellent choices.” Oikawa responded, adding the items to the bill as Ushijima handed his card over to the brunette.

“And thanks for the suggestions. Can’t wait to try them.” Iwaizumi thanked, giving Oikawa a smile before following Ushijima to a table.

“No problem.” The brunette smiled back and watched the two men walk away.

It had been a few weeks since Iwaizumi came to the cafe and he’d come every Friday for lunch with Ushijima. He had started to try out everything on the menu and was starting to figure out what he liked and what he didn’t like. So far, the French onion soup, spicy chicken salad and spicy chicken melt were his favorites. Oh and curry buns too! He usually took one for the road when they were about to return back to training. Oikawa always had a curry bun set aside in a little go bag for the volleyball player, and he may or may not always pick one of the biggest one.

He also may or may not have left a message or a doodle on the bag here and there.

“Eita-chan, I need dirt right now!” Oikawa explained.

The cafe was just about to open up for the day. Everyone was doing something to get the place ready to open up, Oikawa had been making the coffee, finishing that up. Suga was in the back, putting the finishing touches on the last few food items. Semi was stocking all the cases when Oikawa came up to him.

“Go outside and you’ll get all the dirt you’ll need. Just don’t bring any inside or Koushi will kill you.” Semi answered, placing the freshly made breakfast sandwiches in the cases.

“That’s not what I meant and you know that. I need some information.” Oikawa pouted as the blond smirked at him.

“I know. I couldn’t pass on making that comment.”

“...You really are Kou-chan’s cousin.”

“It runs in the family. But seriously, what’s up?” Semi asked, looking up at his co-worker.

“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure you would know. But do you know if Iwaizumi is single?” Oikawa asked, his cheeks turning slightly pink. Semi blinked for a moment before tapping his chin in thought.

“I...think so? He didn’t bring anyone to the team dinner the other night or really mentioned anyone.” Semi answered, trying to remember if the volleyball player said anything. “No, I think he is single.”

A smirk crossed Semi’s face when he asked, “Why? Are you interested in the newest wing spiker of the volleyball team?”

“NO!” Oikawa quickly responded and looked away from the smirking blond. “...Okay maybe.”

“So, what caught your attention? How his spiky hair keeps its form while it’s damped from the sweating he had been doing at training. The way he laughs when he hears a funny joke or when Wakatoshi gives him blackmail material of the other wing spikers? Or of Kuroo? Or the way his green eyes become so much more brighter when he comes into the cafe? Could it be how the sun makes his tan skin glow, that you find to be handsome?” The blond asked with a hum at the end.

“...His biceps.”

“Oh really? What’s so great about it?” Semi asked, leaning forward to listen on what Oikawa had to say about them.

“Eita-chan! Have you not seen them! They were sculpted by a god. I mean, they’re so gorgeous and have you seen his back? I mean granted, I haven’t seen him without his shirt on. But the other day when he came in with that tight shirt on, I would have fainted on the spot if I hadn’t been working. Oh and don’t even get me started on everything else like his hair- which did you know he loves Godzilla? Honestly it makes plenty of sence why his hair looks like the way it does. Because he loves Godzilla so much that he just had to have his hair spiky like them! Oh and Eita-chan, have you heard his-”

“Oh yeah, you’ve hopelessly fallen for him.” Semi responded, standing back up and closing the case. Oikawa opened his mouth to say something, but decided to close it again. He couldn’t argue against that.

“I really have. Eita-chan, what do I do?!” Oikawa asked.

“Ask him out. That’s the first step people usually do when they’re interested in someone.” Semi explained.

“B-but how? How did Ushiwaka-chan ask you out?” The brunette asked as he leaned forward to the blond.

“Take a guess how he asked me out.” Semi responded with a deadpan expression.

“...He just asked you straight forward didn’t he?” Oikawa asked as Semi confirmed.

“Yup.”

“I CAN’T DO THAT!”

“Sure you can. Look at ‘Toshi and I. He asked me out and we’ve been together for over five years. Look at my cousin and Daichi, Koushi asked Daichi out and look how they turned out. They’ve been together for four years and married for two of those years.” Semi explained as Asahi came out from the kitchen with a tray of donuts.

“Look at Asahi and Yuu, they’ve together for as long as I can remember. Thanks Asahi.” Semi added, taking the tray.

“Uh yeah, we’re going to make ten years next year.” Asahi smiled, even though he has no idea what the two of them were talking about.

“Well there’s this guy-”

“Iwaizumi, right?”

“Is my crush that obvious?” Oikawa asked as they nodded. “Okay well, yeah it’s Iwaizumi and I’m interested in him, but I don’t know how to ask him out.”

“Ah right, that’s tough. I remember when I was trying to figure out how to ask Yuu out and well, he kind of did it himself. Just ask him, Tooru.” Asahi explained before he headed back towards the kitchen.

“But he’s busy with training and is always traveling with the team-”

“If he is truly interested in you, he will find time.” Semi cut him off. “I know this, because I’m dating his teammate. You can find time to have a quick date, trust me.”

“I guess you’re right. Should I ask him today? Do they have a game this week?” Semi shook his head.

“Nope. It’s their off week, so it’s the perfect weekend for a date. Weather is supposed to be nice this weekend.” Semi responded with a smile on his face.

“Mmm, alright. I’ll ask when he comes in.” Oikawa responded with a sigh. As much as he’s nervous to ask, he might as well just try and see if Iwaizumi is busy this weekend. Maybe they can go for coffee and he can ask how much he really loves Godzilla.

And maybe he can talk about the X-Files.

“Oi Wakatoshi, I’ve got a question.”

“Yes?” Ushijima answered as the two volleyball players made their way out of the gymnasium for lunch. The Sugar Joy being their obvious choice to dine at.

“How long have you’ve known Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked, sticking his hands into his pocket.

“A couple. I’ve known him for about three years. Why?”

“Would you happen to know if he’s seeing anyone?” Iwaizumi asked as they came to a crossing, waiting for their turn to walk across. Ushijima didn’t respond for a moment, thinking about the question. Has Oikawa been seeing anyone?

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?” Ushijima asked as he looked at his teammate.

“Well I’ve been thinking about asking him out this weekend. Since you know, we have a bye week and coach wants us to rest. I was thinking of maybe asking him out this weekend to get to know him.” Iwaizumi explained as they became to cross the street.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he really seems like a pretty good guy and I mean, he’s cute. Is there anything I should know about him?” Iwaizumi asked.

“He likes aliens and I know he has a passion for space. And I remember while I was away for a week, Eita told me they marathoned The X-Files. So just a note, he likes The X-Files.” Ushijima briefly explained just a few things.

“The X-Files? Did they manage to finish the whole series by the time you got back?”

“I believe so? I’m not sure.” Ushijima shrugged. He couldn’t remember, that was over two years ago.

“So do you have any suggestions for places I can maybe take him to if he agrees? I mean, as much as I really love Sugar Joy, I’m sure he would want to go somewhere else besides going to the place he works.”

“A few places. Eita and I like to go to a cafe called The Garden View. They mainly have vegetarian dishes, but the food is delicious. Eita likes to go to different bookstores, he doesn’t have a specific favorite store. There’s a coffee shop near where we live that would also be a nice place. I suggest sitting outside since they put a lot of work into making their front patio. The coffee shop is called Extra Beans.” Ushijima suggested as they came closer to Sugar Joy.

“The coffee shop doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we’ll run into you two while we’re there.” Iwaizumi chuckled as his fellow wing spiker nodded.

“Maybe we will. We haven’t decided on what we’re going to do this weekend and upcoming week.” Ushijima responded they arrived to the cafe.

The lunch rush had ended and it wasn’t pack as it usually was during that time period. Just a couple of people still eating what remained of their lunch.

“Welcome to Sugar Joy!” Semi and Oikawa greeted.

“Usual, ‘Toshi?” Semi asked as the wing spiker nodded. “Koushi! The usual for Wakatoshi!”

“Got it!” Suga called back as Iwaizumi walked up to the menu, while the wing spiker took his wallet out to pay. The couple greeting each other as Oikawa walked over to the thinking man.

“So Iwaizumi, what will you choose today?”

“Uhh I think I’ll go with the soba noodle and chicken bowl. That sounds good.” Iwaizumi answered as Oikawa nodded as he wrote down the order. “Oh and a-”

“Your curry bun is already waiting for you.”

“You are seriously the best.” Iwaizumi chuckled and smiled at Oikawa. The brunette smiled back as he finished writing down the rest of the order. “Um hey Oikawa, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you doing anything this weekend? Because if not, do...do you want to go out for coffee?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa stopped writing and looked up at him.

“Eh? Coffee? This weekend?”

“Uh yeah. You know, if you aren’t-”

“No, I have no plans this weekend. I was going to watch X-Files all weekend because I didn’t have any plans and I work in the morning and get off in the afternoon and I would love to go out to coffee with you!” Oikawa quickly answered in one breath.

“Oi, breathe.” Semi said as him and Ushijima looked over at them. Oikawa chuckled nervously as Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck.

“Does Saturday sound good?” Iwaizumi asked as the brunette nodded.

“Um yeah! Saturday sounds good. Let me give you my number.” Oikawa agreed, pulling out his phone as Iwaizumi nodded. He also pulled his phone out and the two exchanged numbers.

“Awwww look how sweet! Eita this reminds me of when you told me that Wakatoshi finally asked you on that date.” Suga joined in and hugged Semi from behind, watching Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange numbers.

“Okay, awesome. What time do you get off on Saturday? I’ll meet you here and we can walk to a coffee place.” Iwaizumi suggested as Oikawa nodded.

“I think noon? Kou-chan is that right?” Oikawa asked, turning to the owner.

“That’d be correct.” Suga smiled. “Now Iwaizumi-kun, remember to have him back by ten o’clock, understand?”

“Huh?”

“No funny business. Ten o’clock or you’re banned from this cafe.” Semi added while crossing his fingers.

“Eita-chan! Kou-chan! Stop!” Oikawa pouted as the two cousins smirked. “OI!”

“Uh what did he mean by banned?” Iwaizumi asked while leaning toward Ushijima, as the three of cafe workers bickered.

“Koushi is married to a lawyer. Let’s just put it that way.” The wing spiker explained.

Let’s just say, Iwaizumi shut his mouth right away.

#Haikyuu!!#Cafe AU #IwaOi #Oikawa Tooru #Iwaizumi Hajime #tokiwriting #Happy birthday Lina!!#I love you!!

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