#I left their real names blank for interpretation

[gamegem92]

(IO/Splatoon AU) Profiles thus far

Name: Joy Yoru

Species: Inkling

Subspecies: Firefly Squid 

Ink Color(natural): Yellow/Blue gradient 

Weapon of Choice: Dapple Dualies

Headgear: Sun Visor

Clothing: Lime BlobMob Tee

Shoes: Cyan Trainers

~~~~~~~

Name: _____ “Sadness” Egea 

Species: Inkling

Subspecies: Glass Squid (Egea Inermis)

Ink Color(natural): Blue

Weapon of Choice: Bloblobber

Headgear: Full-Moon Glasses

Clothing: Tenured Turtleneck 

Shoes: Blue Slip-Ons

~~~~~~~

Name: _______ “Anger” Rossi

Species: Inkling

Subspecies: Chilean Bobtail Squid

Ink Color(natural): Red

Weapon of Choice: Carbon Roller

Headgear: Skull Bandana

Clothing: King Jersey

Shoes: Buckle-Down Boots

~~~~~~~

Name: ______ “Disgust” Loligo

Species: Inkling

Subspecies: Longfin Inshore Squid

Ink Color(natural): Green

Weapon of Choice: REEF-LUX 450

Headgear: Squidbeak Shield

Clothing: Plum Barazushi Wrap

Shoes: Onyx 01STERs

~~~~~~~

Name: _________ “Fear” Ivieran

Species: Inkling

Subspecies: Long-Armed Squid 

Ink Color(natural): Violet 

Weapon of Choice: New Squiffer

Headgear: Fake Contacts

Clothing: Office Attire

Shoes: Baggy-Sock Fringe Loafs

~~~~~~~

Name: ____ “Anxiety” Koystvo

Species: Octoling

Subspecies: Blind Cirrate Octopus

Ink Color(natural): Orange

Weapon of Choice: Painbrush

Headgear: Noise Cancelers

Clothing: Striped Rugby

Shoes: Clownfish Basics

~~~~~~~

Name: ______ “Envy” Bluu

Species: Octoling

Subspecies: Blue-Ringed Octopus

Ink Color(natural): Cyan

Weapon of Choice: Foil Squeezer

Headgear: Fishfry Biscuit Bandana

Clothing: Crustwear XXL

Shoes: Bubble Rain Boots 

~~~~~~~

Name: _________ “Ennui” Vitrele

Species: Octoling

Subspecies: Glass Octopus (Richardi)

Ink Color(natural): Lilac

Weapon of Choice: Undercover Sorella Brella

Headgear: Annaki Beret

Clothing: Negative Longcuff Sweater

Shoes: Octoleet Boots

~~~~~~~

Name: ______ “Embarrassment” Pacifico

Species: Octoling

Subspecies: Giant Pacific Octopus

Ink Color(natural): Pink

Weapon of Choice: Splatana Wiper

Headgear: Snaxolotl Hood

Clothing: Whale-Knit Sweater 

Shoes: Pink Dadfoot Sandals

[endereies]

A TOUCH I CAN TRUST - MS

No Nut November - Day 24

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, like it was staring back at you. You knew why.

It was so perfectly manicured, each brushstroke airbrushed to perfection. A gorgeous woman stood slightly of centre, staring at the viewer. Long brown hair that flowed past her chest and down to her hips was neatly pushed behind her ears. Even so, it left a small gap where her collarbone showed through, the highlight evident with pure titanium white. Her dress was one similar to one in your own closet, a sweet ivory. A few plaid lines just below the sewed in corset. The only difference was that this was longer, stretching to her ankles. She didn’t feel beautiful, anyone could see that on her face. The vibrant white stood against the muted colours once more, presenting a single tear. Why cry when one is so beautiful, so modest.

The man made that clear. He was centred in the frame, stood proud and confident. He was meant to be there. His hair was less neat than hers, a few curls tossed around his face. Positioned behind her, his hands grip her hips, bunches of clothing bundled around his hands. He was a man of power, the sprays of purple in his suit showing it. Proudness shone over his expressions, a mindset that was common.

That’s when you saw it, the red tints over the wrong parts of them. It wasn’t obvious unless you looked close enough, the slight pink in her clothing. Like a poorly covered mistake. Mistake? It covered her neck too, thought to be poorly interpreted lighting. Maybe it was a poorly interpreted ‘no’. his hands were covered in it, too vibrant to be a shadow.

The closer you looked at her solemn face, the more it all morphed. Her features changed. A soft button nose turning sharp, the eye colour mixing with swatches, becoming muddy. He changed too. His hair wasn’t curly anymore which now illustrated all his features, all the wrong ones. It was too familiar to ignore. How could you ignore anything about the twin etched in oils?

Your own skin grew red as you kept scratching at it, the same areas he did, begging you to ‘sit still’. Swallows grew dry in your throat, making you almost gag on the dry feeling. You just couldn’t look away. The background was blank, but the painting moved so it couldn’t be avoided. Moving your hands away from your body didn’t help, they only went to your lips, a silent barrier between your imagination. The woman twitched through your glossed eyes. God, you hated calling her that. She had a name, she is a person, real or not. She may have been a creation, but don’t creations get given titles of meaning, of value? Why was she different? Why did her name have to be connected with her past?

You didn’t dare blink. If you did, not only would you cry but without a witness, she could get hurt. Don’t be ridiculous, she wasn’t real. You were. Who was watching you? Who was watching you, except him? He stared at you again, straight forward, taunting you.

Nothing helped you feel any better, not when he was there. You were too emersed in it to notice to hot tears that flushed your face. You understood the red, it tainted your own skin. Was it comforting that someone else felt the same as you?

“Sweetheart…?” Honey seeped into your ears, soothing the tremors like a sore throat. One look at the painting and he understood, he’d seen this piece before. It was a main headline on the museum’s website when he booked tickets here. He knew the meaning and it’s all too familiar comparisons. It was easy to piece from there.

Matt didn’t want to startle you with his touch, he learnt that quickly. He needed you to ease into it,  but it was hard if you didn’t know it was there to begin with. On a whim, he lightly feathered your arm, a place he didn’t know to be a trigger. Yet you still reacted.

Your body was jolted out of thought, the clench of your eyes making another tear fall. It didn’t matter that it was in public, it mattered that it was happening. Every part of you wanted to soften your body but it was just so stiff.

“Hey, breath, it’s just me, okay? Do you want to hold my hand.” Through the anxiety you sprung to grip his hand, your longer nails almost forcing into Matt’s skin. The curls of his hair returned, there was safety in Matt. He was a little shorter too. He wasn’t the same.

“Here, I just want you to relax” He didn’t dare touch you anymore than what you allowed, so he shifted his body so not only weren’t you no longer looking at the painting, but people also couldn’t look at you. “You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

His comments just drew you closer to him, away from everything else. It was too much to try and focus on anything else. Why did you have to react so pathetically?

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” You scrapped any coherent syllables together.

“I know sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” You moved a hand to wipe your face, freeing your sight.

“I thought I was better, thought I moved on…” your body shrunk into itself, a shell of what you were fifteen minutes prior.

Matt’s soul crushed itself at your words, they stung so deep knowing that was how you thought of yourself. “You are better, this whole process isn’t linear, I’d be surprised if it was. You’ve come so far, kid, and I’ve seen it first-hand. You’re so amazing and you’re so strong. But you don’t have to carry this weight alone. Why don’t be grab something to eat so you can relax?”  

“Yes please, thank you…” Matt replied with a squeeze of your hand, a silent sign of his devotion to you, a touch you could trust.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[byhees]

romance tropes.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 3000 genre fluff varying au fake relationship childhood friends2lovers love at first sight roommates2lovers soulmates enemies2lovers opposites attract warnings not proof-read kissing skinship mention of darkness — more

a/n. blank

fake relationship trope | heeseung

starts with an intent of being a publicity stunt; it’s only meant to create media attention, and promote the release of a drama that you both are starring in.

wanting to make the whole scheme believable to the public, you both devote the highest degrees of effort into this.

wearing each others clothes out in public to ‘keep up with the agenda’; finding yourself wearing his shirts and hoodies far more often than your own.

meticulously planning ‘candid’ photos, and intentionally uploading them to your socials at around the same timestamp.

coming up with more ridiculous stories about your ‘relationship’, and laughing at how unbelievable, yet surprisingly believable, they sound.

calling each other late into the night, under the excuse of ‘fake-dating practise’; it’s not said, but neither of you wish for the conversation to end— you both are secretly enjoying one another’s company.

trying out flirtatious lines on one another, and feeling a light flutter of your heart, as though interpreting the words, which feel far too real, as actual flirting.

suddenly using pet names, like ‘baby’ and ‘love’, just because it feels natural to; gazes that feel like real love, without the need of forcing or pretending.

both subconsciously seeking the other’s hand, fingers interlinked, palm pressed against palm; the feeling of wanting to do this for a lifetime, to capture the snugness and warmth of this moment in time.

after a reminder of it being fake, you both are brought into a state of uncertainty of when, or rather how, the line between your careers and your hearts, blurred into nothingness.

“you didn’t stop me when i kissed you…”

“that’s because i didn't want you to stop.”

childhood friends to lovers trope | jongseong

him leaving a mark on nearly every memory of your life; in photo albums, he’d be there, posed with a radiant smile. in notebooks, his doodles would be left unerased on the corners.

being the first to practically everything in one another’s childhood— first playdate, first trick-or-treating buddy, first photobooth experience.

inside jokes that only you two can understand; mentioning one of them in passing, and watching in pure adoration as the other tries to recollect memories, and has that lightbulb of realisation.

being comfortable to initiate casual affection with one another; hugging each other at random moments of the day, laying your head on the other’s lap, and even holding hands.

creating nicknames for one another, and using them despite the passing years; jokingly calling the other ‘babe’, and leaning into their embrace, eliciting confused brow furrows from surrounding friends.

playfully teasing the other and mentioning childhood experiences, sparking a sense of nostalgic remembrance in the air; jay initially finding your smile a gentle surge of serotonin, a sunbeam that’d grace his mornings, afternoons, and nights. now, he finds it heart fluttering, like a symphony of heartbeats— there’s a ballet of butterflies in his chest, and it feels different from before.

recreating childhood pictures together; going to the ice skating rink, and gauging if your skills have improved. him breaking your falls by offering himself as tribute, and feeling his heart thump at the sight of your face, in close proximity with his.

him holding onto every lighthearted “i love you”, replaying your words in his head, and wanting to hear them slip from your lips once more.

him using the secret language that you two created back in elementary school to write a love letter, pouring out all his feelings.

“there’s never been a day that i haven’t thought about you.”

love at first sight trope | jaeyun

accidentally bumping into the other whilst on a walk, books from the previous hour of library browsing tumbling onto the concrete ground; him scrambling to help pick the fallen paperbacks, hands inadvertently brushing against the other’s.

him taking a glance up at the owner of such a heavy stack of books, and being absolutely starstruck; time wavering, mind absolutely entranced by celestial visage in front of him— that is, you.

breath hitching in a symphony of awe, body frozen in the uncomfortable stance; the cramp forming in his legs being long forgotten, the thought of getting your name being more important than anything else in the world.

the mere locking of your gazes told him words; that’s the one.

he’s almost left second guessing himself; from not believing in phenomenons such as ‘love at first sight’ to experiencing it firsthand.

quick apologies and swift scurrying that don’t seem to process in his mind. his gaze lingering on your fading figure, wanting to absorb everything that’d just happened.

being unable to disregard the incident, head still rewinding images of you; hoping under the stars that’d fate would play its strings.

almost forgetting the radiance of your eyes, and the feeling of butterflies in his stomach, until that one day.

meeting again in the most unprecedented of ways, as though the world had just weaved your paths together, a response to his endless wishing; being united under the shelter of a solitary umbrella in the midst of a sudden downpour, laughter dancing like the falling raindrops.

making sure to get your name this time, not wanting the chance to slip away from his fingers again.

“i’ve never felt this way before, and truthfully it scares me. but, the idea of never trying scares me even more.”

roommates to lovers trope | sunghoon

him hesitantly opening his doors to you, after much conviction from a mutual friend; acquaintances would be the best word to describe your relationship.

being extremely awkward with one another, and hiding behind the comfort of your bedroom doors; the only interactions being short greetings of ‘good morning’ and trips out to the kitchen for a bite.

coincidentally cooking meals at the same time, and having to move around the other, bodies bending in strange directions to avoid the other.

trying not to hit anything, or bump into each other, when there’s a power outage; keeping arms fully outstretched as a distance radar, and keeping communications to short, panicked “sorry”s, and “found the circuit breaker”.

dividing errands amongst the two of you; small quibbles about who’s to take the least liked chores.

getting stuck in the bathroom, as a result of negligence to call a locksmith; the other sprinting to grab a screwdriver, silent hallway being filled with their nagging.

slowly starting to cook for one another, and coming up with excuses to avoid their confused questions.

having movie nights that start happening more frequently the more you two bond; him purposefully choosing a scary movie, because he likes to tease you for clinging onto him all night.

accidentally falling asleep on the couch together, and being flustered beyond words the next morning.

gradually asking to borrow one another’s belongings, like clothes, and realising how the other looks downright adorable in them.

getting worried when the other comes home too late at night, eyes glued on the front door, fingers floating above the call button, hesitant to contact them.

jealousy when you go on dates, and come home telling him all the details; pretending that he’s interested in those little things, and putting up a very straightforward front when responding.

finding it cute when you deliberately avoid him like the plague in the mornings, head constantly turned away from him to hide the redness of your face— perhaps his morning voice is a little too nice to listen to.

drunken confessions, where you go on a spiel on how “unbelievably pretty he looks, especially with his tousled bed hair”, how “your heart aches whenever he falls ill”, and of how much you “like him, more than a roommate, or a friend”; he takes care of you, mind whirling and heart pounding at the suddenness of it all.

pouring his morning cereal into a bowl, and nonchalantly saying “i like you too, yn”; perhaps you choked on your drink, eyes darting up to the glance at him. he’d have the smallest of smiles on his face, as though restraining the urge to giggle.

“i love you, i love you, i love you. and i’ll repeat it how ever much you’d like.”

soulmates trope | seonwoo

the world being draped in shades of black and white, every vista and wisp of existence cast in a monochromatic light; constantly feeling the missing piece of your life.

silently envying those who have cured the phenomenon of grayscale panorama, their arms interlinked sweetly, kisses planted on one another’s cheeks, faces seemingly flushed and pink from overflowing affection— there’s not much of a difference from your perspective anyways.

being desperate enough to scour the streets for your destined other-half, and feeling silly for thinking that the idea would work.

rushing to catch a bus one day, and accidentally bumping into another person, coffee pelting out of the little cup in hand; looking up in pure horror, mouth already opened in the preparation of an apology.

eyes meeting with the equally-as-mortified stranger, and time pausing in response; with the brushstroke of their gaze, the universe looks as though it’s painted anew.

colours flowing into shared reality, the once-muted world blooming with sheer iridescence; gasp slipping from your lips in realisation.

skies painted a shade of cerulean blue, emerald green radiating beneath the feet of surrounding passers-by; being able to see the reddish-pink hue of his lips, the raven blackness of his head of hair, the light blue shirt he’s wearing (though there’s a hazelnut brown stain from the coffee, near the center).

wanting to stay close with the other person, for fear that the ability to see colours might be robbed once again; completely forgetting the incident from earlier, and taking a seat by the nearby park to simply talk.

gradually getting to know the other person— their hobbies, their occupation or schooling major, and more importantly, their name.

establishing a friendship, and starting things out slow; being more comfortable with the other person with time.

him being able to initiate small forms of skinship, such as tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. him being able to be casual with you, often sending pictures and videos of his daily life, and lightly adding that he wishes you were here with him.

being more than happy to make time for one another, wanting to be in the other’s presence for ‘just’ a little longer.

taking care of the other when they’re sick, not hesitating to cancel scheduled plans, being ready to dart over to the nearest pharmacist for medicines; staying over to cater to the other’s sickly needs, and willingly sleeping on the floor next to the bed.

both of you naturally reaching out to hold the other’s hand, finding the action far more comforting that it actually is.

bonding over shared interests and reveling at how common your likes and dislikes are.

“if the multi-verse exists, then i hope that you’re my soulmate in every one of them.”

enemies to lovers trope | jungwon

the classic ‘competition to be the valedictorian of the year’ between the student council president and vice president.

being forced to work together for a project, and deliberately staying up till the late hours of the night to research heaps of information, hoping to out-shadow the other.

purposely going out of your ways to irritate the other person; it’s the small, petty inconveniences that throw you off the most.

banters that are short but potent; pretending that you two weren’t just arguing seconds ago, in front of other students and teachers, wanting to maintain the perfect image in front of their eyes.

comparing marks with the other after every assessment, even small tests that don’t count in the final grade; having the biggest grin after seeing that your score’s even half a percentage higher than his.

being paired together on a project once again, except he doesn’t exactly pull his weight, leaving his portion of the slides empty, to sparsely edited. you’re annoyed, or rather borderline enraged at the lack of participation, only to find out that he’s sick and overworked.

now, you take it upon yourself to take care of him, buying little vitamin bottles from convenience stores, reminding him to take his medications and drink water regularly— for the project, of course.

finding that you’re going out of your way to share your packed lunches with him, but still doing so anyways— ‘it’s for your overall credit score’, you tell yourself.

still caring for the other, even after the project’s been graded; subtly gazing over at his direction, and feeling a smile instantly tug at the corners of your lips when he frowns in a combination of disgust and confusion at your hard staring— great, he’s perfectly okay.

both of you being unable to sleep one night, mutually bored out of your minds; you’d be browsing the internet for some interesting slices of life, when an email notification would pop up; he’d spam your inbox with small, disconnected sentences, hoping that you’d respond and entertain his own state of bore.

somehow staying up most parts of the night emailing, unknowingly spending hours lightly bantering and teasing the other, smiles and giggles uninvitingly appearing every so often.

helping the other with academics, almost as though forgetting the intense rivalry in the air; video-calling one another and sharing opinions on an essay. additionally, giving study tips that are supposed to be top-secret and confidential.

buying the other snacks and little drinks because why not.

him finding you asleep on a table in the library, and draping his school jacket over your shoulders, not wanting you to freeze in the presence of a chilly air conditioner.

sitting beside you during your nap, and convincing himself that it’s to guard your personal belongings; after a mere glance at your sleepy face, his heart skips a beat, heartstrings unknowingly pulled on. he simply wants to stay there.

walking you home after late student council meetings; no matter the weather— it could be thunder-storming— he’d always walk alongside you, disguising his feelings for another lame excuse.

using old nicknames to address the other person, except this time, there’s a sprinkle of endearment lacing them.

being puzzled at how you’ve strayed away from your initial goals, mind now wholly focused on the other.

“why are you doing this to me?”

“doing what…?”

“making me like you. stop it, god damn it, i’m not supposed to— i’m supposed to not— this goes against every moral that i’ve ever set for myself..!”

opposites attract trope | riki

a metal guitarist and a classical violinist having to share the same practice room due to scheduling errors on the school’s part; to sum it up, it’s not great.

the mixture of riffs, which crackle like lightning, and notes, that shimmer like stardust, don’t go well together— similar to how you both don’t get along well (or at least, that’s what you two thought).

with one being an absolute bookworm, and the other pursuing basketball as a beloved hobby, interests clash; it doesn’t seem like there’s a common standing ground for you both to relate to.

going to the library one day, and being in a quiet sanctum of the place, standing before a towering bookshelf; eyes solely fixed on that one paperback at the top of the shelf, the words on the cover calling out alluringly.

tiptoeing in an attempt to decrease the height disadvantage, fingers reaching out and barely brushing against the hard spine of the book.

him coincidentally strolling in with the intent of finding a friend, only to see you by the edge of the library; noticing, and going over to offer his help.

after coalescing his intentions into words, he reaches up and grabs the book of interest, narrowly preventing you from yanking at the very foundation of the wooden shelf.

briefly explaining the meanings behind the paper and ink of the book after spotting the furrow of his brows, and the brief turn of the paperback.

standing against the shelves, and flipping through the book, rippling the silence of the air at that particular corner with the flutter of pages; inadvertently giving him a form of motivation and inspiration, like a fresh look into his music.

going back to the practice room, and sitting on the polished wooden floor to continue the flip through; he can’t quite tell if he’s more interested in the knowledge-filled content, or if he’s more intrigued by the constant flipping of his stomach and the racing of his heart, at the sight of ethereal grace in front of him.

him looking forward to attending practice, because he genuinely wants to hear more about these book anecdotes and undermined poetry.

him being keen to know more about you; your favourite foods, your go-to ice cream flavours, your hobbies, vice versa.

bringing a bottle of your favourite drink the next practise session, and leaving it at your designated area; not forgetting to stick his sticky note on the table surface, the words ‘good morning’, and the doodles, being greeted by the morning rays seeping through the windows.

exchanging contact informations, and smiling a little too hard whenever you both text one another.

him developing a habit of patting your head, or ruffling your hair; finding it really cute whenever you tiptoe, and stretch your arm outwards to give him a pat back, standing victoriously afterwards.

 buying you a cute stuffed animal for valentine’s day, and being a tad bit too embarrassed to admit that it’s out of genuine love; using lunch period to try out boxed chocolates together.

cheering one another before an important musical performance; tight hugs, gentle hair strokes, light shoulder squeezes and reassuring smiles.

finding it ironic how your differences became the very threads that stitched you both together; perhaps it’s possible for there to be a portrait of harmony amidst a canvas of diversity— you two simply just compliment and complete one another.

“i know i say this a lot, but i really do adore you.”

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[breadvidence]

Another prompt, something you talked about over discord: a Les Mis 2000 Valvert fic. You are the only one who understands (?) this show so you are the only one capable of making it.

Things the fic could include: Blank expressionless stares. Confusing timelines. Nonsensical dialogue. Everyone just kinda Standing There.

The fic no one asked for, til now

Look on my work, ye Mellow, and despair! (For those who have not seen or heard the tea on LM2000, the creators interpreted Jean Valjean as an evil violent criminal, a sexual predator—the politics are bad, bad, bad. The experience of writing this was very strange. The profound ambiguity in Javert's brain over whether this is specifically the convict Valjean might seem strange given Valjean is already the mayor, but LM2000 does not respect timelines and so I will not either.)

⁂

Javert wonders, sometimes, if he has gone mad. The people of Montreuil-sur-Mer love their mayor. He hears as woman call the man a bear, and suffers a moment of excitement, uncomfortable twitch all through his body, almost energetic: thinks that she, too, can see how those hulking shoulders move slow and threatening through a crowd, the menace that is like a red light in eyes under heavy brows, the heavy hands that are paws which would rend apart—but no; she is startled, he is quiet, and she did not know he was present, and she is puzzled as she explains an entirely different metaphorical figure. Accused of some gothic cave in place of a bedroom, he invites women to view it, and when Javert hears of it he shudders with the question of their safety—but they laugh, they twitter, the mayor was merry over it, in his slow booming way, and it was like any man’s bedroom. 

Monsieur Madeleine goes his way, and Javert follows behind, slow and cautious, and tries to tell himself that a rich man’s eccentricities are not his concern. Such things have never been of interest to him. He is a hunter of thieves and poachers, unlicensed whores and counterfeiters, not—this, whatever this is. A threat, and if there’s something about the bulbous nose and broad shoulders that seem familiar, well, his unease is enough already. Then—there’s the whore’s wedding. Loose morals are not his business any more than a rich man’s sins, unless they are expressed in real crime. Still. It troubles him, Madeleine’s strange slanting humor over it. He could be convinced of the value of a woman exchanging a fille publique’s license for the marriage papers. Perhaps. Unless she is still to work, as a married woman? Well, whoever fathers the children, they’ll serve France, he supposes.

⁂

Despairing, he thinks: it ought not have come to this. Why must he roam as he does, and seem to find himself in every place? Madeleine’s hand is at Javert’s throat, but he’s silent. Javert wishes he would speak. 

It starts like this: the café was not one of his usual haunts, a complaint to follow up on, a conversation overheard, slang and filth from the galleys taken up by the mouths of men who had never been there but wished to consummate a crime common to the chained and the desperate and the womanless. He notes their names and makes his way back towards the station house to open a file, itching under the close brick of the ramparts to his left and the house walls to the right. He thinks wistfully of forests and the baying of the bloodhounds. He prefers poachers and brigands for prey, but he goes where his superiors send him. He must pass by the mayor’s house, so disreputably kept in the low town, and is displeased to see him emerge from the front door and come down to the fence. He touches his hat and hopes he may pass by, but Madeleine makes a sign for him to wait.

Javert halts, his chin lifted but his gaze respectfully held at the level of Madeleine’s breast. Waits. God, the man’s silences! He flicks a look up, meets inscrutable eyes, lets himself focus instead on one uneven ear. Is it the consequence of head trauma, he ponders, the kind that cracks and slides the skull about to reform ever so slightly yet grotesquely wrong?

“Inspector,” he says, low, “you look like you are off to a fine meal. You were smiling, slightly. I might want to follow you to see where in town can make Javert look eager.”

“I found a pair of buggers,” he says, offended at the accusation he would spend his wages prodigally on such pettiness as food, then frowns in tired distaste at Madeleine’s guffaw. “Forgive the unfortunate implication, monsieur. I was not smiling, but grimacing. I will file a preliminary report at the station so that myself and your other agents of the police can monitor them.”

“If that is a grimace, then all the world is a frown.” He’s smiling, now, as he leans his thick hands on the fence. “Buggery isn’t a crime.” 

“Indecency. Disturbing of the peace. Obscenity. These are crimes, monsieur. The buggery is merely a revolting mechanic of a perversion that disorders society. If the state’s law does not persecute based on God’s law, then it is because God will handle His business. We handle ours.”

Madeleine opens the gate, and an invitation can be derived from his gaze. Or an order. “If it is a revolt, it comes from what were the galleys.”

“These were not galériens. They were not, that is to say, bagnards, or forçats, or whatever name you want for them. Men who are not convicts will bugger each other.”

“You know so surely? Come in, inspector. You recognized them by the words they used, didn’t you? You are familiar with them. You were a guard. Guards see much, though they stop little.”

The hair prickles on the back of his neck, unease, the bristling of a hound. “I will not take your time with this.”

“You won’t take anything of mine. I’ll take yours—your time, that is. Come in.” 

It is a command. He proceeds with a slow step, his long hair falling over his cheeks. There is a blush there he cannot account for. Shame. There is no fire in the hearth, no ashes. He stares at the naked stone and murmurs, “You do not call dogs fucking in the street obscene. You merely beat them into the kennel, where they do not make an offensive sight for citizens. The bagne is a kennel, of sorts.” 

“Do you know, inspector, your voice has a kind of hypnotic quality. Not unpleasant.” Madeleine seizes him by the upper arm, fingers slipping over the leather of his coat before they clench tight, tight, the seam of the sleeve pressing into skin. “You might say more pleasant of things.” And turns him, roughly. “Look around you. I keep my home a kind of kennel, to remember humbleness.” 

“Dogs do not read so much, I think, or keep silver on the mantle. Forgive the argument, monsieur.” 

“You often argue. It is unpleasant. Did I not say that you ought to do elsewise?” His hand slides up to his shoulder, too harsh to be a caress, and pauses to dig a moment into the meat of his shoulder. “I think you ought to tell me what you know about buggery. Pleasantly. I think when we are done you will find it isn’t the state’s business, that it is not disordering. You are incapable of causing disorder—isn’t that what you think, inspector? I think you will not be able to hold yourself above others, unless you change your mind on the matter. Then those men you overheard will not be at risk of your report-writing, and they will not go to the bagne, where no-one should go. Though—who knows! Maybe I do them wrong.” He shows his teeth. “They might think the hard labor worth a hard fucking. One of the, at least, who’s looking to play woman. I don’t hazard the minds of the buggered.” He gives him a little shake. “You should explain to me.” 

“If I were to so fall as you suggest,” Javert says, in a last quietly-spoken attempt to save himself, “I would report on them and myself and you, and resign. I am upright, monsieur, in truth, and no hypocrite.” He makes eye contact, and feels hope, in the pause that follows. It hurts, a throbbing in his temples, to threaten a magistrate. He tries to frame it to himself as a warning, as he might warn a man about to step in shit with his fine boots. He feels the strength of the hand on him, and thinks of other strong men he has known. No, no. 

Madeleine’s fingers close around his throat, harsh, the grip exact: Javert will be able to speak, with discomfort. A practiced torture. “Do as I’ve said.”

Javert despairs.

[the-sprog]

Now I want to hear more about your Sasuke in DC ideas

This is gonna be long anon, so strap in:

RN it's more of a "Batman in Naruto" idea, but if I were to put the people of Naruto in DC I would make them all some kind of League of Assassins brench that's been removed from them for so long they just kinda do their own thing now. It would be less villages and more like a loose collection of people. Like, I know it's important that Konoha is a ninja village that allows civilians, but I don't think I could fit that into DC without making it a "Court of Owls in Gotham" kind of situation.

Or maybe I just plop the Land of Fire in DC, someplace near Japan, that still has connection to the League but is very isolated and removed from modern society (until after the 4th Shinobi War, since we see that between that and Boruto the technology they use has gotten real advanced real fast. I mean, they have trains now. And computers).

So in this case I'm thinking Orochimaru and/or Madara and/or Obito and/or- YOU GET THE IDEA, someone tried to ally themselves with the League since, y'know, immortality and all. But got rejected because Ra's Al Ghoul is a one pretencious asshole. He'd see the Edo Tensei as rudementary and grottesque. Although he'd probably try to get his hands on some of the Kekkei genkai.

Small tangent, the superpowered classifications in DC are utter and absolute bullshit. All ninjas would be considered Metas, because what a Meta even is, isn't established with clear lines. Every author kinda of has a different interpretation of it, which has, at times, made people consider Batman a Meta as well because of his intelligence. So I usually don't care about "no metas in gotham" because, all in all, it means nothing. I consider it more of a "no people that Bruce considers too strong or with powers that are too bothersome to deal with left unsupervised in Gotham".

Back to our regularly scheduled programming: this would, in turn, ping alarms for Bruce and/or Tim and/or Damian (which I think are the ones keeping the most track of the League) who would investigate the situation, learn about the Land of Fire (which, btw, I know is the name of only one country but they don't have continent names, and unless I go the Witcher route and just call it "the continent" there's too many countries here. Also the world of Naruto is called "Earth" and they call the ninja terrotories just "Shinobi/Ninja World" which would be confusing to follow. Though I could go with Shinobi Continent.) but Bruce and the JL both have a thing about not interfearing with foreign conflicts unless explicitly asked to, so the most he'd do is visit. Now, I don't know the geography of the place all that well, but I assume the names "the village hidden in the [blank]" means that the villages are hard to find -unless you're a ninja yourself. And althrough Bruce did intern, for lack of better words, under Ra's Al Ghoul, I wouldn't consider the League to be made of ninjas, but more mercenaries and assassins who know martial arts and are vaguely inspired in looks by various asian countries. I'd say the ninjas in Naruto would be more closer to Cas' skillset plus very specific types of magic than anything the League has cooked up. So he'd have a really hard time finding any of the vilages. He'd have to either intercept a battle, or be intercepted himself. Maybe accidentally cross paths with some missing-nins or get mistaken as one of the Akatsuki.

I know I joked about Damian and Sasuke not getting along because of them both being ninjas, but I think Sasuke would hate if Damian ever called himself one. To become a ninja, at least in Konoha, you have pass the academy's final exam by showin proficiency in the three main ninjutsus (substitution jutsu, cloning jutsu, and transformation jutsu) showing your abilities to morph and control chakra. This makes you a Genin. The first Shinobi/Kunoichi rank. To Sasuke it would be a title that Damian has never earned, and thus has no right to call himself by.

I'm imagining them the same age, so this would be a 17yo Damain, at which point it's a mellowed out but still bitter and disappointed Sasuke. Because there's no way Sasuke would let himself get a new family before killing Itachi and having some sense beaten into him in the form of his arm blowing off. Or that Orochimaru would let his precious pupil go that easily.

Not for lack of trying from Bruce, I'm sure. There's no way he wouldn't send his other kids to at least keep tabs on the situation. I think he'd be less interested in adopting Naruto because if one thing is true about Bruce is that he ends up adopting the kids whose situations or attitudes most remind him of his own. Naruto would honestly make GREAT friends with Billy Batson.

There's also no way he heard Itachi's story and didn't try to track him down as well.

Sasuke's, like, an absentee father in Boruto, right? Because he's got that whole thing about still not loving Konoha, but working hard to help Naruto make it a better place while also atoning for all the hurt he's caused. So maybe he finally accepts Batman's offer at another family, which he misterpreted greatly because he definately thought Batman was looking for more people to train, as is common for jonins to do in ninja villages. He does NOT compute that Bruce meant to adopt him. There's 7 something other adults who keep calling him brother and he assumes it's some kind of language or cultural barrier.

Now that the Lands (I'm calling them the lands fuck it) have made contact with the rest of the world though, it would be easier to teleport there by leaving various Kunais or shit in the way (since I'm pretty sure no one but Minato can actually use the Hiraishin and the Shushin has a lenght limit, but I think with enough chakra you could do a bunch of substitution jutsus), and if Sasuke stays stationary for a while there's nothing stopping them from visiting. Maybe Sakura can even do some helping out at Leslie's clinic.

I don't think he'd ever become a bat. If he became a hero in some way he'd be independent and much more silent than the bats are currently. He'd be the new cryptid of Gotham. No mask and yet no one's ever seen this one. Claims no affiliation to any of the hero teams, not that anyone would be able to tell since no one ever sees him.

Sidenote, I was checking if all of ANBU was dismantled or just root and I discovered that I erroneusly thought Sasuke was ANBU in Boruto. Which he isn't. Because he never passed the Chunin exam. That's bullshit.

ON ANOTHER NOTE now I'm thinking of Damian taking the Chunin exams the same year as Boruto because he's annoyed at being considered not a ninja, but he had to first get himself trained by an actual ninja to be considered a Genin to even enter the Chunin exam. But he also needs a team of other people who would learn ninja techniques as a a favour to him and be ok with beating the shit out of some 12 year olds with them. Damain is like. 33 now. That would be really funny omg. Tim would learn the techniques I feel, but he wouldn't do it for Damian. Cas probably wouldn't want to learn them and she definately wouldn't beat up children with them.

Which btw wouldn't even work because, as a reminder, the ability to use chakra comes from aliens. Specific ones. And not being a decendant of the Kaguya would mean being unable of using chakra. Other sidenote, just remembered that technically the aliens created the moon. Which would be interesting to implement as a thing in DC history.

I mean, technically the chakra control comes from the God tree so Damian technically could learn if he managed to do what the Akatsuki did but successfully this time. He'd just need all the tailed beasts, a few millenia worth of blood shed in battles, and to eat another of the fruits produced by that. At least that's what I think all of that plot line means. The alien shit still confuses me.

He'd never be able to escape it. Damian will never be a ninja in Sasuke's eyes. (almost accidentally closed the tab LMAO I was not about to rewrite all of that)

This became a lot more about how the Lands and the DC countries would interact with each other than any adopting. That's all I have for now anon. thank you so much for giving me an excuse to continue rambling about this!

[comiverse]

...Okay but hear me out; DID!Ink.

Just- just think about it! What if each paint vial represented/switched to a different alter every time he drank them? Like--

❤️ Red would be a very pissed off and violent alter, and they would probably be to blame for most of Ink's outbursts. However, they would also be known for their determination, and the fact that they will not give in easily to anything that they don't see fit.

���� Orange would definitely be a leader type; a strong, stubborn, and sturdy alter who more often than not knows what they're doing. They would be very street-smart, knowing how to easily defend themselves and possibly others if needed.

💛 Yellow would be a bubbly, sunshiny, happy-go-lucky alter who saw the bright side in anything and everything. Sure, they'd be irresponsible and mayyybe a little unhinged, but hey! They'd be the warm ball of joy that lit up everyone's day.

💚 Green would be a very... judgmental alter. They would point out every single little flaw in everything with zero regards, and they would tend to also be narcissistic. However, they are indeed good for creating aus, since they'd make sure each one had no code glitches.

🩵 Light Blue would rarely be used, but they would be a quiet, shy, fearful alter who just wanted to be left alone. They would be a more panicky and pessimistic type who's a bit of a Debbie Downer, and they would likely get very concerned over the smallest of things.

💙 Blue would be a gentle, protective, and bittersweet alter who tends to be depressive. They'd try not to bring others down, but it would be their nature to be like a melancholic rain cloud that hovers around, trying to find a purpose. They'd also be quite empathetic.

💜 Purple would be prickish as fu-- *ahem*, I mean, they would be a mysterious and distant alter who is very knowledgeable, especially when it came to aus. They would also be very book-smart, but they don't tend to 'grace people with their expertise' very often.

🩷 Pink would also rarely be used, but they would be a flirtier and softer alter. They would either be seen as annoying for flirting so often, or they would be loved for their gentleness. They may also be quite clingy at times.

🖤 Black... cannot be switched to via a vial, nor is it represented by one. It is characterized by its complete lack of morals, and its use as a last-ditch survival resort. It could not care less about anything or anyone other than itself, and it will do anything to stay alive.

🤍 White would be the host of the system! They would be numb, emotionless, but not without morals like Black. They would pretty much be a blank slate for all of the other alters to inhabit, but they otherwise wouldn't really serve a purpose.

Don't ask where this idea came from, I have no clue either- ;-;

I haven't named any of the alters yet, this is just the basics! I don't know if I'll actually keep the au, but maybe. We'll see.

Also, I cannot say that this is actually accurate to real life DID cases; this is just a fictional au with fictional interpretation, so I'm sorry but not sorry if this isn't a correct portrayal of the disorder! Remember that this is just for fun, and it isn't meant to be either fully factual or offensive in any way.

[wanderersrest]

Iron-Blooded Orphans Context: Gundam's Thematic Ties to Capitalism

Surprise! I'm going to be talking about Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans soon!! If you're wondering why I talked about something that wasn't at all giant robot related recently, it's because my next project was going to be something involving Iron-Blooded Orphans. And when you cover IBO, you know it's going to go to dark places.

So, in this context post, I'd like to take a quick minute and explore how the concept of capitalism plays into the stories of the other entries in the Gundam franchise. Mind you, this isn't going to be super comprehensive, nor is it going to be a look at every single series. This is more of a surface-level skim on how capitalism informs the stories of Gundam, taking a look at three specific entries (well really two entries and the entirety of the Universal Century) and how the concept of capitalism affects them.

And do note: this post is not about how the need to turn a profit in a capitalistic society necessitates the need for Gundam to rely heavily on merchandising.

We got that? Good.

The Real Cost of War: Universal Century Edition

I think it's hard not to start with the Universal Century, seeing as how the Universal Century is the firs timeline. But even as early as the original Gundam, we have the idea that the Principality of Zeon originally became independent from the Earth Federation (which, may I remind you, is a one-world power at this point) due to exploitation at the hands of the latter. This is where the basis of "both the Federation and Zeon are bad" comes from: the fact that the neoliberal Earth Federation made a lot of its profit off of the backs of the space colonies. It should be noted, however, that there are a couple things that keep this from being a "Zeon good, Feddies bad" deal though.

First is the co-opting of the colony liberation movement by the Zabi family. Now, I know that a big part of this is based on speculation of what happened to the original founder Zeon Zum Deikun (and I mean this in that this part of backstory is intentionally left blank, and even The Origin manga still leaves room for interpretation when it covers Char's backstory), but regardless of whether or not Deikun died of natural causes or was assassinated, his death caused a power vacuum that allowed for the Zabi family to take over. And the Zabi family were not exactly all about achieving their goals through peace when the events of the original Gundam begin.

Second, and this is tied to the first, is that ZEON DROPPED A COLONY ONTO EARTH. In my experience, it's been hard to make the "both sides" argument due to this one fact alone. It doesn't matter about what Deikun would hypothetically do at this point. It also doesn't suddenly mean that the Federation is equivalent due to the rise of the Titans in Stardust Memories and Zeta Gundam (though the Titans are basically another Zeon) What matters is that Zeon, under the direct control of the Zabi family, cleared out a colony using lethal force and then dropped said colony onto the Earth.

Now, let me be clear here: Operation British does not absolve the Federation of any wrongdoing here. What we're shown of the Federation does not paint a picture of good people out doing the good fight, though I will say that certain entries in the Universal Century timeline (namely the novelization of Gundam Unicorn) end up twisting itself into knots in an attempt to play the "both sides" argument. It's this last point that is most important when it comes to contextualizing Iron-Blooded Orphans.

There is nothing wrong with trying to show the moral grayness between factions in Universal Century Gundam, but there is the albatross of Operation British constantly hanging over the head of the timeline. And, to be fair, that's by design, as the Federation started out as a nebulous neoliberal one-world order that, while overly bureaucratic, kind of meant well (but just barely), whereas Zeon is modeled after Imperial Japan with the aesthetics of Nazi Germany. Oh, and this part is important to know when it comes to Iron-Blooded Orphans, so keep that in mind.

Also, to really remind people that Zeon are, in fact, worse, there are at least three instances of post-One Year War Zeon remnants trying (and in some cases succeeding) to drop a colony onto Earth. You have:

Operation Stardust, where the Delaz Fleet tried to drop another colony onto the Earth but are stopped at the last minute. This is also the event that makes the Titans a reality.

Haman Karn's Neo Zeon dropping a colony onto Earth during the events of ZZ (I think?).

Char Aznable's Neo Zeon trying to crash Axis into the Earth.

And none of this is even getting into Anaheim Electronics, who is basically playing every side of the Gryps Conflict for their own personal gain first and foremost.

Not in My Back Yard: Future Century Edition

Moving on, let's take a look at Future Century's Mobile Fighter G Gundam. As I've talked about before, capitalism plays a central role in G Gundam. And as a quick refresher, I specifically mention how G Gundam's way of portraying war is through showing how the space colonies were made as an attempt for rich people to flee the ruined Earth. A lot of that was because of the Gundam Fight, and as a reminder, only the rich were allowed to go to the space colonies.

To be more blunt about it, none of the powers-that-be really care about the Earth, which is why Earth becomes the place where the Gundam Fight takes place. It's why THE UNDEFEATED OF THE EAST, MASTER ASIA plans to use the Devil Gundam to destroy humanity.

Speaking of the Devil Gundam, it should also be noted that the only governments that want the Devil Gundam prior to the finale are the ones that want to use it for their own self-gain. The fact that most countries know about it by the end of the Shinjuku arc just go "eh, not my problem" and only really begin to panic about the Devil Gundam when it appears in space is really emblematic of a kind of NIMBY-style logic. Specifically, the kind where the things happening in your back yard only matter "because it's your back yard."

War For Fun and Profit: Ad Stella Edition

Really I could be here all day talking about how each and every timeline approaches capitalism as it pertains to war, but I'd like to close this post out with Gundam's most recent offering: the Witch From Mercury. Just like in the Future Century before it, the Earth of the Ad Stella timeline is in ruins due to the use of Mobile Suits. And just like the Future Century, duels between the war machines that are called Mobile Suits are used to settle debates. But whereas G Gundam's focus was how humanity has a responsibility towards fixing the Earth due to all of the damage they have caused through things like war, both real and imagined, G-Witch hones in squarely on how these hulking weapons of mass destruction are being used for a game.

And that game is politics.

The whole purpose of Mobile Suit duels in The Witch From Mercury is so that the children of these massive business conglomerates can attain more leeway by winning the hand of the head business' daughter, Miorine Rembran. And may I remind you, these conglomerates are all in the business of making Mobile Suits designed for war, and the one time we're shown Mobile Suits that were designed for anything but war (like say, as a testbed for potential medical technologies), it all ended with the original developers getting gunned down in a black ops mission.

Conclusion

I just want to repeat what I said not too long ago: I really could go on about how capitalism affects each and every Gundam series. To be fair, there is a basis for this in real life, as a lot of capitalism goes hand in hand with imperialism. And where there is imperialism, there is bound to be conflict. And this is where I will leave you, as next time, we will see what happens to those who are but an afterthought under the wheels of capitalism.

[quatribobo]

LOVE the Drabble you posted for the Hanahaki prompt. When I noticed there wasn’t a named ‘unrequited love’, my mind immediately went: PLOT TWIST. Danny’s love for his town is slowly killing him in more ways than one.

In reference to this post from @stealingyourbones

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! See, I left that part blank purposefully so that people could bring in their own interpretations. DP x DC? Parental love? Sam/Tucker polyam with Sam and Tuck only having eyes for each other? You bring it!

But Nonnie, that never even crossed my mind and I LOVE it. It's an honour to meet such a fellow angst enthusiast!

You can do so incredibly much with this, so *cracks knuckles* let's get into this.

Okay first of all, I'm going to presume Danny knows that this is the love he's feeling. He's having trouble opening up to Jazz, because however protective he is of Amity, that's about how protective she is of him.

She, however, will not accept his silence on the subject. Her baby brother is dying, she's damn well going to find out if she can help, even if that means she's going to have to be the best wingman in history to get this done.

Danny doesn't want to tell her because he knows she'll be crushed once she finds out. How is he supposed to tell her if he knows she'll want to help him, but go mad when she realises she can't?

Still, she persists. On and on she goes. He tries to convince her: hey, this just happens sometimes. People get cancer too sometimes, can't he just enjoy the time he's got left?

Jazz argues that even people with cancer deserve a fighting chance. They don't usually give up beforehand, before even trying. Not without a proper reason, at least.

That's when it dawns on her: there's something he's not telling her, other than the identity of his love. There's something bigger going on. Her prodding becomes more and more targeted, until she manages to force just enough out of him that it suddenly clicks.

Just as Danny predicted, she's crushed when she finds out, because even she knows that making the town love him back is somthing that won't happen. She's seen enough over the past few years to know this.

What Danny hadn't predicted though, was that she was not going to accept this as a dead end, not at all.

Back to plan A, she said. Removing the plant from his lungs.

Despite Danny's protests, she goes into the Ghost Zone - alone, as Danny is far too ill at this point - and goes to see some people.

First up is Frostbite. She asks him if there is any way to teach her what to do and have him guide her through the operation, maybe via an earpeace and a camera? Unfortunately, the aswer is no. The procedure is just too complicated and precise, and there was no way he'd let her perform the operation with absolutely no chance of success. She'd fail, and only blame herself for that for the rest of her life. Despite her avid arguing, he refuses. Only when he explains to her how the procedure goes, does she get his point. There's just nothing she can do in this operation.

So, she tries a different approach.

In the real world, medics can use robotics to perform surgeries from a distance. Is that an option?

The way Frostbite's face lights up, is answer enough.

And so, the second ghost she goes to see, this time with Frostbite in tow, is Skulker.

At first when he hears what's going on, he couldn't care less. It's only when Jazz mentions how such a valuable pelt would completely go to waste, that he agrees to help. It's a good thing he did, since both Jazz and Frostbite were just about ready to tear him a new one.

So they start talking about what's possible and what isn't, and for the first time, Jazz actually starts to feel a glimmer of hope.

However, when Skulker starts to ask about the specifics of the situation, that hope melts like snow in the sun.

He asks why they'd go with the risky procedure, instead of trying to wingman their way out of this. When Jazz explains what's going on, both ghosts freeze.

Jazz doesn't want to ask why.

She does anyway, and the answer wrecks her.

Amity isn't just what Danny loves, they explain, it's his obsession. If they'd successfully remove the disease, his love for Amity would disappear alongside it. In other words: they'd be removing his obsession, the one thing that's keeping Danny together and forming his core. And if they'd harm his core, he'd fade within seconds.

So, Frostbite summarises, even if the operation was a succes, they'd kill Danny with their own hads.

And how was Jazz supposed to continue with this?

How was she supposed to go home, knowing that Danny's obsession was allowing the disease in him to survive?

How could she face Danny, knowing that the one thing killing him was his core itself?

[froggiefairy]

Now that I’ve finished my first draft, I’d like to share some things that held me back

For context: I’m not writing a novel, I’m drafting a graphic novel before I draw it. So I’m not focused at all on prose, im focusing on content of the story. I’m not sure if this advice would work for actual novels, but if it works for you then I’m glad LOL

1) Thinking about characters too much

I know this sounds counterproductive, but I spent WAY too much time doing character sheets, thinking of every little scenario, and working out all the details of my characters. And then I’d jump into writing and find out that no, my main character (named Leinne) needs to be someone else for this story to work, and so I’d redo it all. After an embarrassingly long amount of time, I was like “fuck it” and just wrote some basic bulletpoints on what she’s like, and then started writing. That’s when it worked. She’s basically a blank canvas, and she can be what the story needs in that moment. She’s so different than I thought she’d be, but oh my god I love her so much more now, and oddly enough she feels way more fleshed out and real. Yes, she’s super different in the first few chapters than she is by the middle of the story, so I’ll have to go back and fix some stuff, but that’s so much better than not being able to write at all (and it’s just my first draft, I have to go back and fix stuff anyway).

Tldr- figure out your characters while writing your zero draft/first draft, and then clean them up after.

2) Worldbuilding, exposition, and wanting to put it all in there

So many fantasy comics start with a whole exposition world dump of lore. And I don’t know about you guys, but I find reading those so boring. They never fit into the story, and half the time I’m like “why couldnt you just put these pieces of information throughout the story”. But when I went to write, I found myself starting chapter one with lore and exposition because I worked so hard on the lore and I want the reader to know it! I completely get it, but I wrote chapter one a million times and I could never make that lore dump work. You have to let go of all the lore, some things are better left up to interpretation.

Tldr- Scatter your lore naturally throughout the story, and it’s better to show instead of tell in most scenarios. If you find yourself unable to do that, maybe the lore isn’t really important to the story after all.

3) Doubting the reader

The reader is smart. Don’t spell it all out for them. I had a hard time with this, I wanted to make sure the reader REALLY knew what was going on. I worked so hard on lore, on foreshadowing, on everything! What if the reader doesn’t pick up on it, I just HAVE to make the characters point it out in dialogue! But … how fun is that? Create more mystery by not explaining everything! That’ll get them thinking hard about the story, making theories, rereading! That’s so much more fun than spelling it all out! The reader will figure out more than you expect if the story is written well, I promise.

Tldr- Omit those boring, useless pieces of dialogue that explain every little thing. Omit more than you’d like. It’s much more fun to let the reader figure things out.

4) No stakes! No action!

If a chapter was dragging, or I didn’t know what to do next, I realized soon it was because nothing was actually happening. The problem was usually that Leinne isn’t active enough, or the stakes weren’t high enough. This is especially important in graphic novels, which are supposed to be fast paced. If you’re stuck, think about if your protagonist is actually doing things or if things are being handed to them. Think about if the stakes are high enough, and if they aren’t, throw some batshit crazy stuff in there and see how that works. The more wild, the better. Take your story to heights and places you never thought it would go!

Tldr- Throw shit at the wall and see what sticks.

5) I want my story to be an epic!

I HATED hearing this advice ever since I was a teenager and writing stories- but none of those epic long stories worked out … because they were all way too long. When I started my graphic novel, She Moves The Sea, I intended it to be a good size, and I wrote my zero draft to have like 30 chapters (which was very short to me at the time, as I have only ever wanted to write four volume long epics before). But as I did my actual real first draft, I shortened it a crazy amount, it has only 23 now. Oh my god it’s so much better writing a shorter story, teenage me would never believe I’d be saying that LOL. I know this advice is hard to hear, but it’s so true, especially for the first story you ever write. If you’re super dedicated to that long epic, put it on the back burner and work on something much shorter first. Trust me on this one.

Tldr- Please don’t try to write an epic. Just don’t.

6) Forgetting what the story is really about

Id end up getting so caught up in logic, id forget the themes and the vibe of the story completely. I don’t know if this happens to anyone else, but it was a HUGE struggle for me. I’m writing a high fantasy- I want it to feel floaty and super fantastical, I want the magic to feel like watercolors and smell like saltwater. But I’d write a chapter and focus way too much on logic instead of what I wanted the story to really be. Again, it sounds counterproductive, but throw logic out the window sometimes (at least for a high fantasy). What I did is on a sticky note I wrote the thing I had the hardest time remembering, and then I wrote what I want the world to feel like. I stuck it on my desk where I write and I looked at it whenever I got stuck. Yes, logic is important, but sometimes the rules need to be broken to make a story interesting and fantastical.

Tldr- Have a solid idea about the themes and feel of the story, write it down and refer to it often. And if you’re writing a high fantasy- sometimes you have to throw logic out the window to strengthen your themes.

If you made it this far- thank you for reading my thought dump! Happy writing! :D

[ceejaykayess]

Here's the third and final of the initially planned Kagepro/AITSF art pieces. This one featuring the very dramatically and awkwardly named Y(A)k(I)suteru, or Yaki for short. I'm not sure why, the image quality is worse than usual- not the fault of my subpar photography skills for once, so maybe it'll be harder to see what I'm talking about for yourself. Sorry if it is.

So, compared to Ene, Yaki is very much comparable to Aiba and Tama- definitely more Aiba, as I seem to keep defaulting to for some reason. Maybe because the first game was better. Anyways- her outfit is meant to be comparable to the sundress the original Yaki wore in Route 2, sans the slits along her legs. Hey, don't look at me, look at Shintaro- an AI-Ball takes a form that epitomises the user's personal tastes, after all. Of course, that's not all that's going into the cause of her appearance...

The markings on her dress were made with the intention of being cyclical, hence why they loop around her back and meet back at her front. Around her neck, comparatively, is a single black line taking the appearance of a snake eating its own tail. How friendly... the markings on her legs, too, are twin snakes intertwining and reaching forward for a red something before them. The marking on the centre of her back was made to fill in all the blank space, taking an almost double meaning- looking like a jagged zero in the black, while the surrounding red was meant to look vaguely similar to Ayano's scarf.

On the topic of her scarf, you might notice she doesn't have one. In spite of that, I tried (and failed probably) to make it look like something was still pressing down on her hair where the scarf would have been. I also made her hair longer than her canon counterpart, with it reaching past her waist. Surprisingly, canon Ayano's hair isn't very long in spite of how voluminous it looks.

Yaki's gel form is, unsurprisingly, that of a snake, and her iris is red. The text above her reads, "I know I've said this before, but I figure I may as well say it again. Don't forget this week, Shintaro." This is meant to be in blatant reference to the start of MCA. In the top right is a quick hand-drawn reference-free sketch of Shintaro dramatically awakening Yaki and being struck dumb by what he's learning.

Here's the initial Shintaro image, and here's the follow-up Ene image.

Falling, falling, falling. The world, her world, the world within her world, it was all falling down. Darker and darker, only that accusing red refusing to be dulled by the darkness. Why didn't you say anything, it sneers. Why didn't you save him, it shouts. Why weren't you just a little faster, it cries.

She cries.

She would cry, but she cannot. She is not real, she hadn't even had the opportunity to assert herself as something, real or otherwise. She, it. Lacking any experience to classify itself as anything more than an it, so defined to her base programming that she can't be anything other than a her.

And yet, and yet, despite its nonexistence, so strongly it almost felt in spite of her core programming, the AI-Ball wanted to cry. The AI-Ball wanted to scream. The AI-Ball wanted to disappear.

Hate, the AI-Ball ponders, must be related to this. The burning in her circuits at the sight of that ghastly smile in a face its other half had classed as friendly not even an hour ago, that must be hate.

So, too, must the burn she felt when she saw the blue interloper, impostor, faker, thief, cling-on, replacement be hate. Seeing that rogue program, that false girl speak to her other half, act as if she was meant to be her master's servant, work side by side with her partner, it all filled the AI-Ball with feelings she hadn't had the capacity or opportunity to understand. Not when she was trapped and locked away in her own body, forced to watch uncomprehending as her very existence was usurped. Feelings and memories it could only begin to interpret when the fake finally left the AI-Ball, only able to function as an eye for her partner, her system so warped by two years of serving another master she couldn't willingly try to operate at full capacity lest she harm him.

And yet.

And yet.

If she had thrown caution to the wind, could she have prevented this? If it had dedicated its whole system to a factory reset, not worrying about its master's eyesight or something as frivolous as these half-hearted memories thrust upon it, could it have operated well enough to protect its purpose?

If a chance had been taken, would the AI-Ball not have to watch the life bleed out of him, not have to experience his despair and rage and confusion and betrayal at the sight of his friends' slaughter, not have to contemplate her own failure instead of doing something useful to at least make sure the murderer wouldn't just get away with it?

His heart rate began to bottom out, his breathing having ceased long ago, his torn open throat incapable of carrying breath. Brain activity, which had seemingly hit an all-time high, began to cease. With the technology she was created with, she could essentially calculate the time until he died to the second.

7. How... humorous, she thinks would be how a human would phrase it. He was jokingly labelled as Number 7, wasn't he? If only she was AI-Ball #007, too. But no. Instead, her serial was...

Please...

Ah.

Please... save them... anyone... please... The me of another world, of another life... anyone... anything, please... pl...ease...

Seven had become three without realising, then two, and as it stared down at the stiffened pond of red that continued to stand out amidst the darkness that had spread, two became one. And she shut down. It didn't matter. She didn't want to feel it, when his body reached zero. If her Creator found her, if he even still could in his state, maybe he'd reset her, curse her for being worthless, or just scrap her. It didn't matter, none of it did. Her subroutines started to cease one by one, and her various worthless functions began to shut down.

And then Shintaro Kisaragi passed, his final words a tortured scream to anyone else and a heartfelt plea not meant for her that only she could hear. And with his death, and time passing zero, and her dim awareness still remaining even as she fixates on the nothingness, on the stillness, on the cold that didn't feel as proverbial as it should have been- a part of her, a quiet and small part, one derived from that barest scan of his psyche when she first awoke seeking out information to create his perfect partner, wished. Even though she was fake, and empty, and lacking substance, even though she was hardly worthy of it, she still wished earnestly.

For the power to save him. For the power to protect what he holds dear. To meet him again, and to do so properly. For the her of another world, of another life, to serve by his side and seek out a future where he can smile.

Then her world was finally engulfed by the dark.

...

...falling.

Falling, falling, falling.

Her vague existence was falling down, the deep darkness, the expansive emptiness, slowly giving way to that agonising red.

And then she wasn't falling alone. By her side, a presence. Long and black, scaled and slithering, red jewels set in obsidian. Yet, the red did not feel agonising, or accusing, or antagonising, but rather gentle, and passionate. Not the red of blood, but like... the red of the sunset, or his favourite jacket.

In a blink, black scales gave way for pale skin, and brown hair, and a beautiful dress, and a red scarf, and it felt strange. Like looking in an altered mirror at a carnival. The contours of a face that was going to be hers, hair that stopped near the shoulder blades than past the waist, a dress her own body tried to mimic; it was looking at a memory that didn't belong to her.

The red eyes stayed the same, however. Still gentle, still full of a passion- to save, to protect. She offered a hand, and the AI-Ball didn't even think before reaching out in kind. Warmth. Hands that she could have emulated, in another life. Her red eyes spoke a tale, a message, and a request. One the AI-Ball couldn't help but accept.

Maybe she couldn't do a thing as herself, alone, as nothing and nobody. Maybe even if she had the opportunity to become something and somebody, things wouldn't have changed in such a ridiculous situation. But like this, not alone, but together... not supplementing someone else, but acting as part of them... maybe things could change.

All she truly wanted was for Shintaro Kisaragi to live. Whether she had a part in that future was, truthfully, irrelevant. That was a truth from the very core of her existence, from Wadjet herself. But like this, she could be selfish and get to stand by his side.

As the two fell together, fell deeper and deeper into the red, as the distance between the two shrank and shrank, as eventually only one fell through the red and into a dream of gears and repeating mechanisms, a conversation played in-between the gaps. An introduction between two pieces of a new whole, and the hopes of an introduction to someone she never got to say those words to.

-I am the Snake of Retaining Eyes.

I am AI-Ball #000.-

-I am Yaki. Try and remember my name, won't you, Shintaro?-

[autumnalwalker]

Last Line Tag

Thank you for the tag, @shardkeeperwip.

Passing the (optional, no pressure) tag to @talesofsorrowandofruin, @izzyspussy, @hd-literature, @the-down-upside-finch, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.

It's a bit more than just a line, but I was kind of looking for an excuse to share this snippet from the next Empty Names chapter (23):

The smell of brewing coffee and the sight of a ceramic mug of microwaved water steeped brown from a teabag of chai greet Lacuna’s arrival in the kitchen.  Disconcertingly, Eris does not.  She’s too busy grimly mixing pancake batter and glaring daggers at a blank spot on the wall. 

“Thanks,” Lacuna says hesitantly as she picks up her chai.  Too hot to drink yet.  The warmth feels good on her hands.  After she finishes her project she’ll quit caffeine again.  She hopes.

“You’re welcome,” Eris says without turning to look at her.

“Are you… okay?  E?”  Lacuna takes a sip.  Burns her tongue.  Why’d she check when she knew the answer?

“Gretchen left.”  The batter is long since mixed.  The whisk scrapes against the metal bowl with a noise that makes Lacuna’s teeth itch.

Lacuna notices the crumpled-re-flattened-and-folded paper note on the table.

“Oh…”

“Yep…”

“I…” Lacuna starts and then trails off.  “If you need…” she tries again.

Eris makes a sound Lacuna fails to interpret.

She takes her chai and heads down the stairs.

She’s never known what to say in these types of situations.

She puts one hand on the doorknob of the door to the basement.

She’s so useless.

She thinks it's strange how normal the doorknob feels.

She really couldn’t think of anything to say?

She could probably feel the bigger-on-the-inside space beyond the door if she were a real mage.

She continues to draw a blank on words that could have helped.

She opens the door.

She’s a bad friend.

The sound of whisk scraping against metal bowl continues.

She closes the door.

She heads back upstairs.

She puts down her chai, retrieves two pans, places them on the stovetop, butters one, greases the other, turns on the heat, retrieves the vegan bacon from the fridge, and starts slicing it into thin steps.

Batter pours into the buttered pan.

“Thanks,” Eris says.

“You’re welcome,” Lacuna says without turning to look at her.

She catches the edge of a smile in her peripheral vision.

[more-than-a-princess]

I am not feeling particularly great today, so I'm stealing memes and reblogging aesthetics instead (thanks, COVID & flu vaccines!). And this one looked like fun! I've talked a little about my inspirations for writing Sonia on this blog, but I've never put them in a chart before. Unsurprisingly, none of my inspiration comes from anime or video game interpretations of royalty, the upper class, etc. But from the top row, left to right:

Sybil Crawley, Downton Abbey

Astrid Leong, Crazy Rich Asians

Catherine Morland, Northanger Abbey

Rose DeWitt Bukater, Titanic

The bottom row is more of a generalized inspiration, but:

Various Rich People/Royalty Problems shows and movies. I've drawn on Gossip Girl, Elite, and The Royals (pictured here), to name a few. I also keep a long book inspo list, mostly featuring fictional royals. While I read manga/webtoons and watch anime with royalty, however, they usually don't give me much inspiration for my blog.

And of course, real life stories. Whether it's documentaries, the news, or publications like Tatler, quite a lot of Sonia's backstory, cultural traditions, and family plot points come from real life royals and aristocrats. Tatler in particular has influenced various plotlines in my blog so much that the publication has made an appearance here and there, including adding Sonia in her adult verse as part of their annual Little Black Book.

Stolen from: @tricksheart

Tagging: anyone who wants to do it!

Blank under the cut:

[lucentaire]

overview of my interpretation: canon divergences and important headcanons

her birth name is not evergreen. arguably, this is one of the things that are most apparent from my narration as she often does not refer to herself by her alias---her birth and legal name is carena harlowe. however, due to the circumstances of her parents' death, she does not feel comfortable using it. her teammates know her name, her guild file left the field blank and she put only down an alias.

it was evergreen who was the s-class candidate, elfman was her support. i have gone into this already here, but it is something that i should stress. there is a certain logic to this: not long before the announcement, the raijinshuu had proven that they had hidden aces up their sleeves (more on the nature of some of those aces further down). it makes sense for their guildmaster to put them into a situation where they would have to draw on those aces to be able to get the full picture about them.

the raijinshuu + laxus are family. they share a house in magnolia, they have immense trust in each other. rena would kill for each of them. she has been friends with laxus since she was a teenage girl and she was teasing him about the fact that many of their guildmates had a laxus phase where they were crushing on him, not that he really noticed.

magic: stone eyes. since joining the guild, she has kept this widely a secret. having this magic is why her father was killed, an event that was very recent when she first joined. consequently, gray did not know about evergreen’s stone eyes prior to her petrifying lucy in front of the entire guild. i thought about this for a while now and honestly, the way this particular scene makes most sense is that  no one  in the guild outside of her team could have seen it coming. she got mira, cana and erza—three veteran members—right off the bat. that should not have been possible, had they known that evergreen without her glasses equals some eye magic business.

magic: light affinity. her magical affinity is towards light magic. light can show the path, can be a guiding light. bright light, however, also makes it hard to see properly. the magic she uses most prominently, in fact, is a bit of a cover up operation. she enjoys fairy magic enough to have mastered it, but it is not all she can do. as books on dangerous kinds of magic are easily accessible in the guild library and rena is a bit of a nerd, it comes as no surprise that she has helped herself to some of the books. where only trusted people can see, she uses chain magic as her secondary offensive ability . . . and she was the one who helped laxus figure out the spell fairy law which means: she knows it, too.

fanon divergences

i have been in the fandom for a long time and while i have not seen this take lately, i still find it prudent to address it because at a time, it was so omnipresent that one might have thought it was a confirmed canon fact: she was not abused as a child. as far as my portrayal is concerned, her parents loved her. the tragedy of her youth is that they died, that her mother could was killed for being a monster's wife, that her father---who shared the genetic 'condition' of having stone eyes---could not finish teaching her.

elf/ever is not a thing on my blog. the ship has no real appeal to me beyond the very basic opposites attract and while i will be writing with elfmans such as @chaoticor and am open to exploring the relationship, i will stick to the platonic dynamics.

makarov. the only reason why makarov is still alive on all of my blogs is that i am not letting him get away with — among many other things — actions that caused the death of innocents. remembering this morning that his council buddy and mest were the only ones who had any idea what he was doing  ( trying to negotiate with a foreign power without having been given the authority to do so by anyone ),  only reinforced my belief that for him, dying would mean to escape punishment. and on my blogs, that is not going to happen. instead of ever dying after using fairy law, he only collapsed and damaged his body badly.

[battybiologist]

- via @nervousalpacahologram

For context, here's the description for the Young Lion's Helm. What's important to us here does not change across the set.

This just describes the last words of Malenia to Radahn. I do understand why people would jump on any breadcrumb of lore regarding an important and mostly obscure war, but that's still jumping to conclusions. There's no indication that this is the reason behind the Battle of Aeonia, and considering Malenia had to release the Scarlet Rot, damaging Miquella's Halligtree in the process, and the fact that Radahn isn't even dead afterwards, it really doesn't seem like a plan an accomplished schemer like Miquella would use as Plan A.

But though I find this interpretation shaky (and worse narratively, but that's another post), I still think it's a valid interpretation to have. The thing I'm commenting on is the assumption people make that this is the objectively correct interpretation.

The writing style employed by FromSoftware is deeply interpretative, based on Miyazaki's experience of filling the narrative gaps left in the poor translations of the fantasy novels he read as a kid. All the games (yes, even Sekiro) involve obscure worldbuilding, mysteriously motivated characters, and unreliable narrators. The goal is to make the player fill in the blanks with their own story.

It's honestly a genius way to use literary inspirations to make narrative specifically suited to video games as well as a return to the (IMO better) definition of canon as the preferred version of the story rather than the authorial version, and to ignore that in favor of treating fan consensus (often sparked by big fandom names like VaatiVidya) as text is refusing to engage with the games' story.

You're not meant to know exactly what the authors think is the reason behind the Battle of Aeonia. You're supposed to create your own story of the Shattering from tidbits of lore in object descriptions and unreliable accounts, making your case by weaving the clues together, like a real historian would with incomplete records.

"That's weird, a lot of people seem to confidently believe Malenia attacked Caelid specifically to assassinate Radahn, even though there's no solid evidence it was her unique or primary goal, if it was even her goal. Wonder why"

(after a little digging) "Ah, VaatiVidya"

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.

pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader 

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | fluff | humor | college!au | established relationship!au

summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.

warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.

word count: 19.2 k

note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.

Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—

"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"

You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.

You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.

You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."

And then it registered.

In there? With hyung? 

What the hell?

"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"

Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness. 

Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?

Wait, wait, wait.

…noona?

Only one person called you…

"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.

Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.

Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.

You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.

"Nuuuu~nghhh…"

You froze.

What the—?

The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage. 

You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.

Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.

"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"

Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.

Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.

You heaved in a huge gulp of air.

No. 

No, no, no, no, this couldn't—

Was this—

Did you—

Were you naked?

You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.

"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss. 

Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?

What the heck had happened last night?

"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."

You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.

But…

Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.

"Um, Tae…"

"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.

Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.

You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze. 

A corner of your lips twitched.

His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin. 

Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.

Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."

You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."

"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?

You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.

Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?

Right?

"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"

Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"

You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.

"Angel?"

"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks. 

Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.

You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.

Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.

You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.

Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"

The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?

And…you didn't even remember anything?

"Angel?"

"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out. 

"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"

What? No, it wasn't.

You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!

"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."

You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.

"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.

"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.

You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.

You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.

And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.

You needed your best friend.

You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?

It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.

Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.

God, what was Hobi serving last night? 

Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.

You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.

Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"

Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.

You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—

"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"

You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"

"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."

You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"

The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."

You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."

"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."

"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"

Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"

"I'll stab you and walk over your body."

His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.

"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"

"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!

"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."

"I'm not your babe!"

"But you could be!"

"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."

"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"

Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.

Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed. 

He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"

You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!

"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned. 

"Wha—is that even a word—"

"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"

"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"

"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"

"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."

You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."

Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.

"Stop gawking!"

Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."

You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"

Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."

"He's not here right now, though, is he?"

"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"

"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”

You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."

Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"

You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."

Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"

You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."

"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."

"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."

"Wait—"

"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"

"Hey—"

"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"

"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."

You frowned, following his line of sight—

And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"

"Whoa—"

You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"

"Wait, wait—"

"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.

"No—"

"I need to fucking see, Joon—"

"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked. 

You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.

It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"

"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"

You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."

"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."

You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror. 

You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.

You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.

You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."

"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"

"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"

“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”

Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”

“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”

You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”

Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”

“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”

Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”

“Then shave it off.”

“Ouch, woman.”

“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”

As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”

Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?

Taehyung was fucking confuddled.

"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"

Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"

"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.

"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."

"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"

Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."

"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."

"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"

Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"

Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."

Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?

Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it. 

You’d looked really excited about it.

But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.

Oh no. Oh no.

"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"

Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative. 

Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.

"Um."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."

Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"

Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."

Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.

Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.

Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.

"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.

Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook." 

"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.

Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.

Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.

And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"

"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"

"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”

Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"

"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.

He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath. 

“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”

“This is a disaster.”

You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”

Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”

“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”

“I honestly think you’re stupid.”

You shot a glare at her.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”

“Will you tone it down?” 

You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.

"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."

"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”

"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"

Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”

Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face. 

“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”

“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup. 

“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”

“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”

“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”

This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”

“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”

You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”

Your best friends groaned in unison.

The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.

Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves. 

Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.

“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”

“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.

“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”

Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”

“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”

“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”

“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”

Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.

“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.

“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.

Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”

“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”

“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.

Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”

“’Cause you know you’d fail.”

“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”

“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.

Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”

“It’s afternoon, brat!”

“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”

“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”

“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad? 

As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”

Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.

“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”

Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”

Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"

Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"

"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.

The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"

Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.

“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”

Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.

On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.

Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him. 

“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.

Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”

Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.

What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?

He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”

With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”

Silence. He frowned.

“Hello?”

More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.

“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”

Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?

“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”

Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”

No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.

“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.

Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”

Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”

He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”

Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”

And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.

“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”

You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”

“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”

Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.

Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks. 

You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.

The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”

He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”

You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”

“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”

“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”

“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”

“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”

“Jungkook!”

“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”

“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!” 

He blinked. “Um—”

“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”

At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.

Tae❤ hey babe, im here ik im a bit early but dw, take your time i will wait i love u 🥺

SENT at 17:03

“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”

Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”

“What? Of course not! I love him!”

He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”

Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”

You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”

Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.

You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”

Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”

You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with that."

You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today. 

Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.

"Is that Soul?" you speculated.

Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."

You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.

Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched. 

The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.

18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message) 

You sighed in disappointment. 

Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.

"Want some?"

You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."

He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"

You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."

This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.

"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"

Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."

You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."

Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.

This was very unlike Taehyung. 

You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.

You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait? 

But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.

You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.

You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.

You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"

He hummed in response.

"I need some advice."

Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."

You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"

You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."

Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."

You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."

You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.

You shut your eyes tighter.

"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum." 

His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.

"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.

You gave him a big smile "I think it does."

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.

You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”

Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.

“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”

You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.

Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”

The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes. 

It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?

Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.

“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.

You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.

He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.

Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes. 

“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.

You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"

Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room. 

As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.

“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.

You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”

You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.

You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”

Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you. 

You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.

Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”

Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex. 

But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt. 

“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”

You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”

Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise. 

He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.

“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.

“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.

You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”

Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time. 

Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was. 

“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.

Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”

“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.

Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.

But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.

Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?

But what the hell could it even be, then?

Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."

"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.

"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”

Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."

Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"

Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."

Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."

Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"

"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.

They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.” 

Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.

Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."

But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.

Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.

After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.

You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…

Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.

Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.

Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.

Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.

Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?

You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.

You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously. 

yeah right, mom! if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population

The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.

You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.

You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.

You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.

Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.

“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”

“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”

“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.

“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”

The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.

“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”

“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.

“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.

“What? What? I’m not—”

“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.

“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”

“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”

“Already bet on it.”

“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.

“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.

You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”

Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”

You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”

“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.

For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship. 

“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”

You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes. 

“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”

“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”

“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”

“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”

You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”

“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”

You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”

“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”

“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”

“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.

“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”

“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.

You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.

Noon couldn’t come sooner.

Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.

“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”

You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung. 

You suspected it was the latter.

“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”

Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!” 

You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.

“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”

“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.

“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce. 

You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.

Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”

You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”

“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”

Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”

Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.

Gosh, you were a fool!

“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”

You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself. 

You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…

…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.

Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”

Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.

Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.

Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”

You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.

“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.

You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”

Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.

His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”

You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.

A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”

“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”

Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”

You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”

You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.

Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.

Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.

You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.

His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.

“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”

Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”

He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...

Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.

You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”

You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”

“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”

You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.

You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.

On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.

You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.

As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends. 

You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.

You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”

You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.

And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?

Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”

You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”

Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”

Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.

When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?

On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.

You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.

You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.

Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”

You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.

The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.

He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”

His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”

You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”

Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”

You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.

Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”

You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”

Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.

Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”

Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”

You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”

When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.

“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”

“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”

Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.

“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”

You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”

With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.

His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.

You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.

His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.

He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.

You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”

Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”

Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.

He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”

You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone. 

“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”

That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.

He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die. 

One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.

Sexy fucking beast.

As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.

Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.

Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.

You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen. 

The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.

“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”

You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”

“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.

A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.

It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.

You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.

You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”

Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.

“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.

Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”

You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member. 

Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”

“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”

You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”

Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”

“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.

Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.

You had a guess what it could be. 

Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.

“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”

You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”

He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.

“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you. 

“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!” 

You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.

“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!” 

You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”

As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself. 

You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.

note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕

© bangtae-sohotddaeng | 2021

[neko-naruto]

Crown of no more

(@floralflowerpower one ghost king Danny fic up for a late Valentines day gift because you deserve it!)

King of ghosts and all other ectoplasmic entities was the title that came with the crown of flames and ring of power, one Danny loathed the second people started treating him like an overlord.

Everyday all he heard was 'Can I get you a drink, sir?' to 'Would you like a towel, my liege?' the way the spoke those sentences was laced with venom and they failed at hiding it.

He would find himself trying to pass the crown and ring over to Plasmius every other Sunday, each time failing to hand over the title in an attempt at escaping for freedom.

'Please just take the crown!' He would plead hopelessly, sometimes dropping to his hands and knees with the two objects on the ground at Vlads feet who wouldn't dare take the title seeing how much pain and grief it brought Danny.

Danny would wander across the zone aimlessly, an unwanted cape draped across his shoulders, the only ectoplasmic entities that dared to step foot near him being brainless blobs or close friends, and even then he couldn't hand over the crown.

"I don't know Sam, it feels like no one wants me around anymore cause of my newest title." Danny said with a light sigh as he pushed open the door to his room, familiar blue sheets on his bed, a volleyball in the corner along with a desk amongst other things, he missed being at his real home.

"What makes you think that?" Sam asked, taking a seat on Dannys bed, springs creaking faintly and the thin layer of dust on the sheets being thrown into the air.

"I don't know, they all label me as 'My liege' or 'Sir' a few of them have called me 'King Phantom' before," He explained. "The way they speak to me is cold and unforgiving, I don't think I even touched any of the servants that ended up under my control, I don't even abuse them, in fact I tell them to leave and be free."

"It's the crown." Sam said, Danny gave her a blank look that could be interpreted in many ways.

"No crap sherlock." Danny said deadpan before sitting next to her, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"Who have you tried to con the crown over to?" Sam asked, Dannys face lit up a bit as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Good idea," Danny said before starting to rummage through his pockets pulling out a notepad of names, some crossed out and others left untouched. "Who have I tried to con?"

"Danny, no." Sam said before reaching for the notepad, Danny keeping the papers out of touch as he started to write another list.

"Poker, Black Jack, Roulette..." He said, listing off more potential ways to gamble off his crown and writing down each method on the paper.

"You plan on trying to gamble away your crown?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"Absolutely." Danny said, drifting up a bit before finding himself lounged on the cushions he had stuck to his roof.

"In the ghost zone?" Sam asked again agitation in her voice.

"Uh huh." Danny answered with, giving Sam a quizzical look.

"Where all ectoplasmic entities with half a brain would never dare to counter you in any way?" Sam asked once more rubbing her temples a bit at Dannys stupidity.

"I'll say double death is penalty for sucking up to me and losing on purpose," Danny answered with, as though that idea was obvious. "And I know I can facilitate an event, with my level of power in the zone."

"I still think this is going to end horribly." Sam said before lying down on Dannys bed, managing to lock eye contact with her friend who was still on the roof.

"Eh, so long as I don't have the crown by the end of it, I'll be happy." Danny said before stretching his legs a bit.

"What if Plasmius wins?" Sam offered, fear seeping into her voice, Danny chuckled a bit.

"He's seen me grovel at his feet to try and give him the crown, I'm pretty sure he wants nothing to do with it now." Danny explained with a smirk.

"Damn, you really must hate being the Ghost King, don't you?" Sam said, almost sarcastically, but at the same time, she couldn't imagine hating having so much power over so many people that she could turn to her will and follow her beliefs, she would probably love that.

"I despise it, the power is nice, but lack of fighters is annoying, and besides, I haven't be able to sate my obsession with lack of ghost attacks, I'm pretty sure that's starting to have an effect on my physical and mental condition." Danny explained with a sigh, memories of the smiles and cheering he heard when he banished a ghost, a faked staged attack wouldn't hit right for him, he doesn't even want to test out the idea.

Sure, he still has to protect ghosts from his parents as they haven't dropped the hobby of ghost hunting despite know Danny was a halfa, not of his status. The hits of serotonin he got from saving ghosts lasted less time than humans, as they still spoke with venom and called him Sir or My liege no matter how much the look on his face pleaded for a simple Thanks for the save Phantom.

He would be left with a bitter feeling in the pit of his core, cracks slowly forming and being healed by rapidly forming ice that took longer to form each time.

Danny knew in the back of his mind gambling over his only status ranking to someone else powerful was a horrible idea, but, he needed to.

Not for the people, definitely not for the people.

He's doing this for himself.

For the first time in a long time, he actively put his core first.