#and this is consistent with nearly every blue character I have ever loved

[doublel27]

No, you know what, Jack’s temper is part of his color and I will love it forever.

Blue Boys (and beauties) are notoriously calm and rational (most of the time.) But they have this really neat trick: when they’re done they’re all the way fucking done and they fully believe they’re rational even when they’re not. Especially if they feel betrayed because loyalty is a core value they hold, doesn’t matter why at this point. Especially because 9/10 it’s less that they were betrayed and more that they let someone past their walls and were let down. It’s the I trusted you. It’s the I believed you.

When the get to the end of their rope, they say some of the wildest, meanest fucking things you have ever heard another person say and they have what they feel are the receipts to back it up. And sometimes it looks like a double standard, because Blue Boys and Beauties will do some shady ass shit and lie about it (or at least omit it) but it’s only because what they say to others is only a fraction of the shit they say to themselves internally. Half of what they refuse to talk about is their own shame, always remember that.

And it makes sense. Blue is the color of the hottest flame. It’s the color of ice that is so cold and so condensed that there is no oxygen bubbles left in it. They will burn you through flames or frost. Now eventually they’ll either cool or thaw until they’re water, back to their general equanimity.

But…no, it’s entirely fitting with his color. And the colors mean things.

Signed,

A Blue Boy/Beauty Defender since X-Men TAS

[recurring-polynya]

Yesterday's post about shinigami blood types (or lack thereof) reminded me about an idea I had awhile ago that shinigami had an equally woo system of assigning personality types based on reiatsu color. This is especially charming to me because of the fact that Ichigo, who hates horoscopes and such, changes reiatsu colors like seventeen times over the course of the series and I feel like the Reiatsu Color Girlies (gender neutral) would have a field day with him.

For funsies, and because it's Friday, I decided to take a stab at making one. I started with the reiatsu color chart from the Bleach wiki. I threw out all the really minor filler arc characters. This is mostly a shinigami thing, so I considered non-shinigami characters as I was thinking about the categories, but they were, like, supporting evidence. I decided that black reiatsu is not a thing people have normally, that's...you know, final form nonsense. Both Yoruichi and Soi Fon's shunko is listed as white, but I feel like shunko is just white, that's not the same as having white reiatsu and is not a personality reflection. On the other hand, when one's bankai is a different color than their normal, that's like revealing a secondary personality type, which is oddly consistent with bankai as a concept. I futzed around for a bit, and finally decided I wanted it to be color-wheel balanced, so, while the Bleach wiki uses the categories of Orange, Golden Orange, Golden Yellow, and Yellow, I just used Orange and Yellow. These are all designed as a spectrum anyway, so if someone's reiatsu is somewhere in the middle, or two-toned or something, they are considered to either have the traits of both, or to be somewhere in the middle.

Finally, keep in mind, this is in-universe hokem, so it's actually very on-brand and hilarious for someone to be grossly miscategorized.

Some notes:

From the very beginning of this project, it was hilarious to me that Matsumoto was getting thrown into the same personality archetype as Hitsugaya and both Kuchiki. In my mind, Rangiku strongly identifies as a white reiatsu person, despite the ample evidence to the contrary. No one is sure if this is a bit or not.

I took all the Arrancar off this chart, but obviously Grimmjow's is blue, and I think it's a hilarious Seireitei microaggression that he would go into the studious class overachiever with Kira and Ishida (I realize that Ishida is also not a shinigami, so to him, it's a microaggression how on-brand this is)

The pink category was such a mixed bag, and it also contained basically every girl Arrancar. I tried to come up with something that literally every one of them would make a horrified face about, a club to which absolutely no one wishes to belong.

The red category feels very solid to me and I love the collection of characters within it, except for Urahara, what is this man doing here? I feel he would be very "hmm, maybe I am a man of action" about it, which is definitely a bit, and Yoruichi has nearly murdered him over it on multiple occasions.

Has there ever been anyone with green reiatsu who wasn't absolutely insufferable over it? Certainly not anyone on this chart. (Kira is both vocally critical of the reiatsu color personality system and incandescently angry that he doesn't have green reiatsu)

[sasubaeuchithot]

what do you think it is about sns that makes such an impact on people? why does no one do it like they do, why can no one ever be sasuke and naruto? or are the "friends" like this in any other shonen, i haven't watched any. sns have held me in a chokehold for literal years of my life and they aren't letting go. i'm not complaining, only trying to pinpoint what exactly it is about them that resonates so deeply with people.

to me, honestly, i think its due to the lack of comparable bond between two characters that we usually see set up by narratives to have romantic intentions. like, when every other show/book/media sets up a romantic relationship, they pretty much just rely on the characters being a guy and a girl, bc heteronormativity has dictated that that's all you beed. obviously the main guy and the main girl are gunna be togetha 5eva, so why do we need to explore the intricacies of the relationship?

sns's character dynamic is inherently dependent on their bond; it's one of the most important plot devices in the entire narrative. the narrative asks over and over "how far will Naruto go for Sasuke?" and consistently answers it with "unlimitedly far". there is the perfect amount of toxicity to the relationship as a result of stretching the characters both independently and together to their limit, showing that they will go past the normal boundaries real life sets. as a viewer, these slight extremes are very captivating, because it allows us to indulge in fantasy of unlimited devotion. added to that, we have every bit of symbolism and parallel known to literature-kind linking them together- sun and moon, orange and blue, yellow and purple, hated and loved to loved and hated, loud and quiet, rash and premeditated, yin and yang. nearly every character trait and design are perfectly balanced together. the fantasy of them being soulmates was set even before that became an actual plotline.

you just don't see this level of bond anywhere else in fiction. other anime attempts to mimic sns's rivalry, but they fall short of these most alluring parts of the rivalry that make sns what it is. they don't take it to its most extreme. sasuke and naruto have it ALL baybeeeeee

[jrtnotes]

Butterflies and Other Bits of Nabokov's Life, Dispersed to the Wind

May 6, 2004

To Vladimir Nabokov's favorite translator and only son, the thought of selling the books his father so intricately annotated with fantasy butterflies and personal asides was distressing, but it had to be done. That son, Dmitri Nabokov, who turns 70 on Monday, felt his own death approaching, he said in an interview, and he wanted to leave no loose ends.

So he decided to sell his father's memorabilia collection, which included an elaborate sketch on the flyleaf of a book showing the imaginary ''Verina raduga Nab.,'' with its dappled wings of violet and blue, blood-orange glimmers and iridescent greens. It was auctioned in Geneva on Wednesday.

''Of course it tugs at the heartstrings to let go of these lovely butterflies,'' Dmitri Nabokov said at his home in Montreux, Switzerland. ''The little, simple ones are so touching. But I would rather do a thing like this lucidly,'' he said. ''Having seen death close up on three occasions, it's frightening to think you might leave such precious loose ends.''

Dmitri has no direct heirs, so when his parents were still alive, it was decided that the books would be auctioned before his death. The collection, a few items excepted, sold on Wednesday for nearly $750,000, a lower price than anticipated. Various private collections, most from France and Switzerland, bought parts of the collection, which will now be scattered to the breeze.

Vladimir Nabokov died near Montreux in 1977. Dmitri Nabokov's library consisted of a wide array of his father's novels, short stories, poems and translations, as well as a small set of critical studies. Dedicated for the most part to Dmitri and his mother, Véra, the books were often autographed and annotated. Many are deftly adorned with butterflies, drawn in ink or color pencils on the first page of every work.

Putting a Price Tag on Art

Hot commodities. Paintings and other art pieces are regularly sold at auctions around the world. Here are some of the most expensive works to be sold in recent years:

“Untitled” by Jean-Michel Basquiat. A 1982 Basquiat painting of a horned devil sold for $85 million with fees in May 2022. It was the third-highest price paid for a Basquiat work; the highest price was recorded in 2017, when one of Basquiat’s coveted large-scale skull paintings sold for $110.5 million at Sotheby’s.

The first major series of Vladimir Nabokov archives and manuscripts was acquired in 1991 by the Berg Collection of the New York Public Library. This second series, and perhaps the last, constitutes more than 100 volumes and 30 titles, a remarkable medley of Russian and American literature.

''I am an American author, born in Russia, educated in England, where I studied French texts,'' Nabokov once noted. After publishing eight novels in Russian, he began a flamboyant writing career in English with ''The Real Life of Sebastian Knight,'' written in 1941 when he was 42. ''Lolita'' came 14 years later, and Nabokov called it ''the record of my love affair with the English language.''

Others read ''Lolita'' as a record of a more scandalous sort of affair, which brought that novel and its author international notoriety, along with immense critical acclaim.

From then on Nabokov endured ceaseless scrutiny. Who was this man who could write with such heart-rending poignancy about the ever-crafty charms of a nymphet?

In this light the books of Dmitri's library each offer a particular insight into the private Vladimir Nabokov, whose psyche was a far cry from the myriad personas of his characters. Nabokov was deeply in love with his wife, who died in 1991, and was a tender and attentive father. In a collection of short stories that sold on Wednesday, Nabokov wrote: ''For Véra. Adorata adorata. From V. Jan. 5, 1970. Montreux.'' In ''Despair'' he jotted for his Mitioucha, the diminutive for Dmitri: ''For Dmitri. From translator to translator. With love. Vladimir Nabokov. Papa. Montreux. 1966.''

The collection also presents ample handwritten notes. On opening pages or in the margins Nabokov points out plentiful misprints and errata, revealing unusual concern for minute revisions and retranslations. The first page of an early edition of ''Ada, or Ardor'' reads, among a web of other notes: ''p. 257 last line should be 'he was pregnant' (not 'she'!).'' Occasionally other hands, namely Véra's and Dmitri's, make cameo appearances.

Perhaps the most original piece is a book of expenses (1949-1952), which provides an endearingly scrupulous shopping list: ''New Yorker $00.40, Coca-Cola $00.10, movies $1.80, groceries $4.80, April rent $125.''

Then there are the fantastical butterflies, each selling for anywhere from $1,500 to $25,000. Those intended for Véra are perhaps the most resplendent and sold for the highest prices.

They have variegated colors, delicate artistry and fanciful names. Only on these pages appear the blue ''Colias verae,'' the dark ''Maculinea aurora Nab.'' and the translucent ''Parnassins concinnus Nab.''

Aside from his writing, Nabokov was a world-class lepidopterist who became the curator of the butterfly collection at the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard in the late 1940's. He discovered numerous real species, which bear his name, and created a revolutionary taxonomy still used today.

Nature, Nabokov once said, conjures up the same sort of mystification and magical spell as art. And like so many diaphanous signposts of Nabokov's celebrated ''other worlds,'' these ''pretty insects'' inhabit his prose: ''A butterfly in the Park, an orchid in a shop window, would revive everything with a dazzling inward shock of despair,'' utters Van Veen in ''Ada''

Dmitri Nabokov observed that there is a tiny consolation to selling these books now. ''Today it is possible to scan and preserve superb copies of all the graphic materials,'' he explained. As for the near future, he said that the earnings from the sale have not been earmarked for a specific project. In time they will probably contribute to the PEN Nabokov literary award, a literary foundation and the Nabokov Museum in St. Petersburg, which the Russian government has threatened to close. Dmitri said he harbored the hope of buying the museum, his family's former home, which is estimated to be worth about $18 million without its contents.

Jacques Tajan, a well-known auctioneer, presided over the sale. ''People who buy these books need to pay a significant amount of money,'' he said. ''Only then will they conserve them adequately.'' Mr. Tajan emphasized the sentimental value of the auction: ''It is bliss for me to do this. It will be a terrific memory in my career.''

No matter, Nabokov's butterflies were separated. And the distant echo of his ''Speak, Memory'' seemed to be touching them with its fragile grace: ''To love with all one's soul and leave the rest to fate.''

[almaasi]

@almaasi fic update 🌈

hello friends, i am BACK!!! sort of? mostly.

so here’s the deal. i haven’t posted fanfic in nearly 2 years. i’ve been unwell, and now i am less unwell. and now i have a stack of 9 new fanfics in my drafts, with a word count altogether totaling close to 300k. i intend to post one fic a week, starting on october 7th 2022. half of them are illustrated, and i’ll illustrate the rest nearer their posting dates.

but here’s the thing. these stories are for a fandom that once consisted of like... 3 people, and those people haven’t posted in years. on my last count, there’s about 23 fics in existence already. it’s a subfolder of a fandom. it does not exist. please join me in making it exist.

here’s everything you need to know (ugh let me engage my shift key, i need to capitalise names)

Redd “Rabbit Claw” Moonshine and Lohn Lightning are fictional characters from a youtube show i love: “Good Mythical Morning”. the characters were invented in 2008, given names in 2013, and were last seen in 2020.

Redd and Lohn were childhood friends, and now they’re redneck country music singers trying really hard to be famous. their two-man band is named “Rabbit Lightning”. and that’s the name of their ship, too.

i cut together a 20 minute video containing their ENTIRE history and backstory and relationship. literally every single thing you will ever need to know about them to understand my fics is contained within this video. (source links to original videos are pinned in the comments.)

if you ever liked my Destiel AUs, you’d like these fics, and these characters. i had to fight to not write them exactly the way i’d write Dean and Cas, because in some ways, they’re exactly the same.

Lohn: blue-eyed, dark-haired, clueless, awkward, dominating when he decides to be, touch-starved, sexuality.exe is corrupted, unusually formal speech, pastimes include staring at Redd with hearteyes and watching bees, loves animals.

Redd: green-eyed, browny-blonde-haired, freckles, taller than Lohn, bi panic mode, caring, grumpy, adores kids, has love to give in every direction, absent father with questionable teaching methods, Do Not Touch (please touch), loves rabbits.

if you ever got to know me on zoom during Sid City Social Club meetings, or via discord, or saw me interact with Mr. Siddig, you’ll understand where my first fic (”The Worst Jukebox in Arcadia”) is rooted. heck, if you’ve ever struggled to be creative for people who expect something, you’ll know where it comes from.

anyway. i love these two, they make me unbelievably happy, and gave me space to be creative in deeply personal ways that i always needed but never knew i needed. no other characters exist fleshed-out in what passes for their “canon”, so i get to invent them, which has been a delight for me.

i’m planning to post my first Rabbit Lightning fic tomorrow. so if you’re interested, please watch the video above, and then watch this space. ❤

thank you for being so patient while i’ve been absent. and i’m SO EXCITED to bring you along as i explore filling out worlds built around almost nothing.

[dovechim]

the happiest place on earth (m)

➾ 24k 

➾ summary: in this life, you have two goals. 1. get park jimin to notice you. 2. get into Broadway. (not necessarily in that order). you and jimin have been crew members at Disneyland for over a year, but he’s no closer to being your boyfriend than you are to getting into Broadway. when you get promoted from a fur character to a face character, your hopes and dreams of playing Princess Ariel opposite his Prince Eric are this close to coming true. But what happens when you’re tasked to play the Evil Queen instead? 

slice of life au, incredibly cheesy towards the end. basically a lot of fluff with some smut :)

➾ warnings: protected sex, oral (f receiving) this one is pretty mild tbh

➾ a/n: for the purpose of this fic, let’s ignore that Sesame Street and Disney are own by two different companies 🙃 happy 25/26th birthday to one mr park jimin, the only Prince Charming I'll ever fall for 💓 this is just a warning of the cheesiness to come 🧀

The sounds of joyful music are slightly muffled, not just by the constant excited chatter around you, but also by the heavy costume that drags your entire body down. The incredible buildup of body heat is seemingly exacerbated by the sheer amount of bodies around you, little kids who are scampering to get a hold of your soft yellow fur.

“Mommy! I want a picture with Big Bird too!” A toddler’s voice wails from a distance, and you struggle to see out of the tiny little eye holes in the yellow neck of the costume.

Well, the good thing about having to wear this is that you don’t have to fake a smile for the cameras. The permanent grin on Big Bird’s face- er, beak, convinces everyone around you that you fit right in at this place.

The kids are all in giggles as they take turns hugging you with joyful screams and giggles, being towed away by their parents once they’ve got their shot. You can see your handler, Joy, keeping a watchful eye from a distance away to make sure things don’t get too out of hand. Your movements are heavy and cumbersome, but luckily you don’t have to move much because all the kids just crowd around you anyway.

Your time is nearly up. For the safety and well-being of all cast members who are required to wear full costumes, often referred to as fur characters, shifts are restricted to 15 minutes at a time, with a 45 minutes rest time before you go again. And with this weather, you feel as if the 15 minutes can’t go by fast enough.

You glance over enviously at Oscar the Grouch, your usual character, having a much calmer time with the noticeably thinner crowd around him. He’s never been a very popular character, especially not with the kids, since they tend to prefer the bright and cheerful personalities of Big Bird, Elmo and of course Cookie Monster. The blue furry character is dancing energetically on the street, rousing delighted cheers and screams from the kids as he pretends to queue at prop truck selling cookies.

You curse at the management’s decision to have you take over Big Bird’s character today. Better yet, you curse the guy who originally plays Big Bird. Why’d Kim Namjoon have to call in sick today of all days? And why, for heaven’s sake, did middle management think it’d be a good idea to get someone your size, to take his place?

Miserable and sweating bullets, you try your best to wave and move your arms around in some semblance of a dance to entertain the kids.

“Last photo, folks,” Joy waves her hands to get the crowd’s attention with a grin on her face. “Be sure to give Big Bird a big hug, alright?”

Your head jerks sharply in her direction with a steely glare, but it loses all effect because of the stupid goofy Big Bird head. As if the grubby kids around you needed any encouragement to squeeze and grope you in this costume. You swear, one more little kid mashing his face into you, stepping on your feet in the huge orange shoes, and you’ll just scream-

“Alright alright, Big Bird’s gotta go help Cookie Monster bake some cookies now,” Joy gently pries a little boy wearing glasses off you. She loops her arm around your fluffy wing to give you some support as the two of you start shuffling away slowly. “We’ll be back at 3pm! See you all then!”

Even if you hate every second being in this sweat soaked costume, you can’t deny that you’ve definitely noticed a change playing a slightly more popular character. Kids don’t pull faces at you the way they did when you were playing Oscar the Grouch, instead they tell you they love you, their faces light up when they see you, and they fight to be the first in line at for a photo opportunity with you.

There is a small warmth in your chest as you walk painfully slowly and turn down a discreet corner into the staff rest area. Once out of sight from the public, you strip off the bright yellow head as Joy opens the doors of the air-conditioned break room for you.

“Oh my god. That was the longest 15 minutes of my life,” you groan, collapsing down onto the floor dramatically. Joy winces in sympathy as she quickly gets a bottle of water for you, rummaging in the pantry for the good snacks.

“It was extra hot today, wasn’t it? Ugh, I’m dreading my shift next,” Joy tosses you a packet of biscuits.

The door bursts open, and Cookie Monster comes in singing and dancing, his energy seemingly limitless. When he strips off the character’s head, Jeon Jeongguk’s voice comes out even more clearly, the grin on his face still at full power as when he started his shift.

His hair is messy as he runs a hand through it, casting a puzzled glance at you laying down on the floor.

“Wasn’t that a great shift?” Jeongguk enthuses, a happy puppy grin on his face as his handler Kim Taehyung unzips the back of his costume. “The kids were all so cute. This really is the happiest place on earth!”

As if on comedic timing, Oscar the Grouch bursts into the room, and you can hear Min Yoongi cursing and swearing as he can’t get the character’s head off fast enough. From your position on the floor, sipping your water and nibbling at your crackers, you cast a jealous, spiteful glance at him.

What does he have to complain about? Oscar is practically the easiest character to play on Sesame Street!!

The buddy system consists of one character and one handler, and they switch shifts throughout the day. Kim Namjoon calling in sick means that the buddy system is one short today, and Yoongi doesn’t have anyone to switch shifts with. Which means he’s due to go again in less than thirty minutes.

Feeling your strength returning, you sit up again and start to unzip your costume so that Joy can start getting ready. There isn’t any changing room here, but all of you aren’t exactly naked under the costume, so no one has any objections changing in each other’s presence. Your light workout shorts and tanktop are soaked with sweat and sticking to your skin when you climb out of the yellow costume, kicking off the orange shoes before you turn to help Joy into it.

“Goooood afternoon!” A cheerful, happy voice sings out as the door opens, and your entire being perks up in recognition.

His presence brightens the room immediately- even Yoongi looks relieved to see him.

“Jimin? What are you doing here? It’s your day off,” Taehyung is half-way into his transformation into Cookie Monster.

“Heard Namjoon was sick today, so I volunteered to come in to cover,” he says with a happy grin, his eyes creased into a smile. His fluffy dark blue hair looks so soft, and he casts a brief glance across the room, eyes landing on you and Joy, Jeongguk and Taehyung, and then Yoongi, obviously doing the math. “I guess I’m up next in Oscar the Grouch?”

Dammit. One more reason why you’re cursing Min Yoongi, or more accurately, your rotten luck. You could have had a chance to partner with Park Jimin today if you’d stayed as Oscar the Grouch, something you’d been waiting for ever since you joined the park as a character actor.

Unfortunately, your schedule never seems to coincide with his, until today.

“Oh thank fucking God,” Yoongi mutters as he strips himself out of the costume in a hurry. “I’m so happy I could kiss you.”

Park Jimin giggles, a sound that sets off butterflies in your stomach. But nothing prepares you for the way he casually strips off his grey sweatpants to reveal the tight booty shorts underneath, preparing to step into the costume.

You belatedly realise that you are staring at Park Jimin’s very supple ass, and Joy is left to struggle into the Big Bird costume all by herself, with time running out. Turning away with a reddened blush on your cheeks that you hope the others attribute to the heat, you zip her up and hand her Big Bird’s head, leaving her to finish dressing herself as you quickly slip on some jeans and the standard issue polo shirt that handlers wear.

Your throat is dry as you glance at him shyly, wishing more than ever that you could be the one helping him into his costume. Min Yoongi catches the longing glance that you give him, but he can’t be arsed enough to tease you about it.

“C’mon guys, time to go!” Jimin’s smile is blinding as he gets ready to put on Oscar’s head, shuffling towards the door with the garbage bin around his waist. He makes eye contact with you, and your heart skips a beat. “Let’s make this a great shift!”

You’ve never been one for optimism. But somehow, it’s almost bearable when its coming from Jimin.

As you hold Joy’s hand and walk her slowly out to the main street, your attention remains on Jimin in the Oscar costume. Somehow, even in his grimy garbage can, nothing seems to dim his bright personality. He is like the sun as he dances on the street, crouches down in his garbage can, teases the kids and makes them scream with laughter. His movements are large and exaggerated, the way you were all trained to do, and you can’t help but admire his natural talent that can’t be hidden by a costume.

He is an incredible hit with the kids, an unusual occurrence. Someone like Park Jimin really does fit in here. Every bit of his personality suits the happiest place on earth.

Unlike yours.

*

It’s been almost a year since you joined as a character actor, and by now, practically the whole crew knows about your crush on Park Jimin. Everyone but the man himself, unfortunately. Luck just hasn’t been on your side so far, and most of the time you’re left admiring him from afar.

“So… that was an unexpected surprise,” Joy says as she wipes her face with a tissue, glancing at you in the mirror.

You pretend not to know what she’s talking about as you tie your sweaty hair up into a bun, getting ready to clock out. You and Joy are familiar with this routine, sharing the same schedule ever since the both of you decided that working as an amusement park character would be the best way to boost your resumes and eventually earn you the chance to audition for Broadway someday.

They were big and lofty dreams alright, but as long as you take a tiny step every day, you know you’ll make it eventually.

“You won’t get anything done hoeing around like that you know,” Joy giggles as she spies the nonchalant look on your face. “You need to go out there and get your man. Honestly. Or someone else will.”

You whip your head around to stare at her in panic. “Someone else has their eye on him? Who?”

Joy shrugs carelessly, but you can see the caution on her face as her movements slow. “Well… there are some rumours going around about him and Dahyun…”

“Dahyun? The girl who plays Ariel?” You frown, picturing them together in your mind. “I didn’t know they knew each other.”

“_______... they’re in the same rotation schedule,” Joy says with a hint of pity in her voice. Being the more outgoing of the two of you, she seems to be in on the latest news and gossip.

Or maybe that’s because you always leave the crew group chat on mute.

Sighing in frustration, you toss a used baby wipe into the trash. “How am I supposed to make a move if I can’t even talk to him? We barely even know each other, we’re just co-workers!”

“You and Jeongguk are co-workers, that doesn’t stop him from stealing your Pringles every time you leave them in the pantry, or you from play fighting with him when he does,” Joy points out.

“That’s different!” Your brows furrow in consternation, but you leave it at that. “Anyway, we don’t even have the same shift lined up.”

“Girl, you’re working in the happiest place on earth, where magic and fairytales and your Prince Charming is infinitely possible,” Joy sighs dreamily, waving the wand of her lip gloss around as if it were a real magic wand. “Make it happen.”

It seems like the whole wow factor of working at Disney hasn’t worn off on your best friend. As for your naturally cynical self, you can’t exactly say that you’ve never been amazed by the fact that you work at such a magical place, but it’s not really like you to get sucked in by all the illusion that this place offers.

“Ooh!! Can you imagine if he played Prince Charming, and you played Sleeping Beauty?” Joy almost falls over in her excitement as she grips your arm. “That’s like a magical love story waiting to happen!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you grumble at her, but even you can’t help but let a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “It’s only been a year since we started, and all new joiners have to start at the bottom for god knows how long. Promotion is practically unheard of. Maybe we’ll be stuck playing Sesame Street characters still we’re old ladies.”

“Don’t say that!” Joy swipes your arm with a pout. “It’s got to do with vacancies as well. As soon as they need someone playing a face character, they’ll bump one of us up. That’s how Dahyun got Ariel within 6 months of joining.”

“Well, let’s hope one of them gets chickenpox or something, that’s the only way I’ll get a lucky break,” you say with a deadpan voice as Joy bursts into giggles, chiding you as you turn to exit the bathroom.

“What’s a princess character like her even want with Park Jimin anyway? Shouldn’t she be romancing, I don’t know, one of the Princes instead?” You can’t get your mind off that rumour of the both of them together.

You find it hard to believe, seeing as there is a very obvious social hierarchy amongst all the crew. The Disney princesses are the queen bees, the very top of the pyramid, along with the Princes. Somewhere around second tier are the less popular princesses such as Mulan, Pochahontas, or Tinkerbell, still very well sought after by guests, but a lot less well known as compared to, say Ariel or Sleeping Beauty. All the furry characters rank at the very bottom, with the only exception perhaps being the classic Mickey Mouse himself.

The hierarchy is so ingrained into the system that you don’t even talk to or hang out with anyone outside of your level. Even in the staff cafeteria, buried in the underbelly of Disney World itself, seating is segregated according to which character you play. It’s like high school all over again.

That’s exactly why Joy’s dream of playing a Disney princess is far-fetched, to say the least. It would be like jumping straight to the top of the hierarchy in the blink of an eye. The best you can hope for is a promotion to a face character. Any face character. Just so you don’t have to wear the unbearably stuffy, disgusting costume anymore.

“What should we eat? I’m in the mood for pizza- oh!” Joy stops in her tracks, and you smack into her back.

“Give me a heads up, would you,” you groan, massaging your forehead, moving to walk around her as you scan your card at the train gantry.

“Oh my god. It’s Park Jimin.” She sounds breathless, and you look up at the mention of his name.

And there he is, seated on one of the benches with his thighs spread in his grey sweatpants, white shirt almost hanging off his shoulder sinfully, and blue backpack slung casually over the other shoulder. He is scrolling through something on his phone, completely absorbed in what he sees on his screen.

“Here’s your chance!” You hear Joy hiss at you, shoving you forward. “Talk to him!”

You are reduced to a blubbering mess, somehow losing control over your limbs as Joy continues to push you forward until you are in his line of sight.

“-don’t want to- agh!”

Jimin glances up at the sound of your voice, a smile of recognition immediately lighting up his face as he puts his phone away.

“Hey! ______, right?”

Even the way he says your name reduces you to a pathetic pile of goo. The mere fact that he knows who you are…!

“U-uh, hi, yeah!” You smile awkwardly at him.

Jimin scoots over and pats the seat beside him invitingly, looking over your shoulder. “And Joy, right?”

“Mhmm, going home?” Joy responds so naturally; you wish you had her ease when it comes to talking to guys. Or anyone, in general.

“Yeah,” Jimin grins his heart melting smile again, this time directing it at you. “Hey, you did great with Big Bird today. It’s tough playing such a tall character­- his head is the heaviest, I swear.”

“It-it is,” you stumble a reply back to him. “I don’t usually play Big Bird…”

“I know, your usual is Oscar right?” Jimin beams back. “I don’t know how you do it; it’s so hard to get his character just right! Especially wearing that costume- I feel like I’m behind a mask.”

Now you know he’s also painfully kind on top of everything else; complimenting you even though he easily plays Oscar better than you on your good days. Even the way he takes notice of your usual character makes you feel… dare you say… special.

“Hey, I forgot something back at the park, I’m gonna go back,” Joy says with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she bids the both of you goodbye. “You two go ahead! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

That sly little minx! You stand up involuntarily, panicking over being left alone with Jimin. At the same time, he grabs your arm to get your attention.

“Hey! The train’s here,” Jimin seems unperturbed by Joy’s sudden departure, getting up and starts walking towards the doors.

You hastily follow him into an empty cabin, struggling to keep your composure and cool your heated cheeks. There aren’t many people going in the opposite direction at this time of the evening, and the both of you find a seat easily.

“Which stop are you getting off at?” You ask, glancing at the map above the train doors.

“The second to last,” he grins with a slight wince. It’s absolutely adorable, the way he scrunches his nose. “I know, long ride right?”

“That’s my stop too!” Your eyes widen as you realise that you’ll be sharing the entire ride with him.

“Guess it’s my lucky day to have company then,” Jimin grins. “I think we joined at around the same time, but we haven’t really talked much.”

“Yeah, about a year ago, I think our schedules just haven’t really matched up,” you smile at him, having to avert your eyes as he ruffles his dark blue hair casually.

He flirts so effortlessly; his smiles are charming, and he draws you in with every word of his. It’s more than you could ever hope for, sharing a nearly empty train ride back with Park Jimin.

“So, is working at Disney everything you ever dreamt of and more?” Jimin asks, his eyes shining bright.

“You mean, did I dream of being stuck in a stuffy, sweaty and smelly costume for four hours a day? Totally,” you say unironically, but it makes Jimin giggle.

“Yeah, that part isn’t the best,” Jimin admits with a hand covering his mouth, still giggling. “I always make sure to air our whatever costume I’m wearing, so that the next person doesn’t have such a bad time.”

And he has a heart of gold too.

“It’ll get better once we get to play the face characters,” Jimin reassures with a few pats on your hand. The physical contact makes your heart skip a beat. “I think it’ll be soon, if we keep doing a good job!”

“Who are you hoping to get?” You desperately hope that he doesn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I guess I’ve always been a fan of Aladdin. You know, how cheeky he is and everything. Of course, I don’t think I’ll get a monkey as my sidekick, but still…”

“You’d make a perfect Aladdin,” you can already picture him charming all the little girls, sweeping them off their feet even without a magic carpet.

“What about you?” Jimin asks, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Uhm… well…” you almost say Jasmine out of pure instinct, but you stop yourself just in time. To be honest, you never really thought about which face character you wanted to play. Getting a foot in the door to work at a Disney Park alone was a dream come true, and you’ve been so absorbed with the toiling labour of playing a fur character that you simply didn’t have the time to dream of something better.

But Jimin’s words have set you thinking. Of course, anyone’s answer might be to play a Disney Princess. It would be an incredible add to your resume. But could you really muster up enough of your acting skills to be in character around people all day? Not only would it be physically tiring like it is now, but it would also be mentally exhausting.

Unless you can find a character that suits you to a T, the way Aladdin suits Jimin. Or rather, the way Jimin can mold himself to suit any character he’s playing. It’s a talent you know you don’t have, and you know it’s an area of improvement for you as an aspiring actress. But somehow, you still can’t bring yourself to give up on your dream of standing upon the Broadway stage one day.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you admit finally. “I guess… anyone would be fine. As long as it’s not Pluto,” you add in as an afterthought, and Jimin bursts into his musical laughter that travels throughout his entire body.

“You could be Elsa,” he says after a moment, after he’s calmed down. “Cold, a little aloof, but beautiful. I think you’d suit her well.”

The sincerity with which he says this makes your heart flutter. Moments ago, the thought of playing the ice princess and having to sing ‘Let It Go’ to dozens of grubby children would have put you off. You’d never liked that movie, but with Jimin’s suggestion, you ironically find yourself warming up to the idea.

*

Life has a way of smiling down at certain people. Park Jimin is one of them. And with just one encounter with him, you can feel his good luck rubbing off on you already.

When you check your schedule for the next quarter, your eyes catch on his name along with yours, side by side as handler and character. This time, as your usual: Oscar the Grouch.

You are in a good mood that morning as you clock into the park, heading to the utilities room to retrieve your costume and sign for it. When you reach the desk, you realise that Jimin somehow got here earlier than you did, and already signed out on your behalf.

He’s waiting in the common dressing room, drinking a protein shake and dressed in a muscle tee that shows off a dangerous amount of skin. You catch a glimpse of nipple as he raises his shake to his lips, and your throat goes dry. No one ever comes in for the morning shift this early, so the two of you are alone.

“H-hey, you’re early,” you clear your throat as you slide your backpack off your shoulder.

Jimin turns to face you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey! Yeah, thought I’d get in a workout and start my shift little earlier today. Did you eat yet? I got you a bagel!”

He tosses a warm, buttery package across at you, and you just barely catch it. It’s only when you bite into it and a moan escapes your lips that you realise how essential breakfast is.

“Do you want to go first? Or me?” Jimin abandons his chair to come sit next to you on the couch. “I’m fine with whatever, but I’m a little sweaty right now, so…”

He grins bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so. It’s incredibly cute, and you have to distract yourself, tearing your eyes away from his almost transparent muscle tee.

“Sure, I’ll take first shift,” you push yourself up from your seat, feeling an intense need to put some distance between you and the dangerously charming man.

You usually dress the same way for work every time- jeans and the standard polo tee, with exercise shorts and a thin tank top underneath. It makes things easier when you have to rotate between being character and handler.  With Park Jimin in the same room, you feel a little self-conscious at stripping down in front of him, so you attempt to hide behind the locker as you quickly get rid of your jeans and shirt.

You feel painfully naked as you start to wrangle yourself into the Oscar costume. Jimin sets aside his drink and helps you by holding the bottom half of the costume open for you to step into, his face dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You can feel his hot breath on your flesh as you gingerly step into Oscar’s trashcan.

Putting on a costume has never felt this intimate before.

“It’s like you were made to play him, you fit perfectly!” Jimin giggles, patting the top of your head. “How cute!”

“You’re one to talk,” you grumble back at him, if only to hide the growing smile on your own face. “You fit into it pretty well last time too.”

The moment is shattered as the door flings open, and Jeongguk and Taehyung come chattering in. They give Jimin a fist bump each, in the natural camaraderie that boys have with each other.

“See ya at break, ______!” Jeongguk calls out playfully, waving a tube full of your Pringles with one hand just to taunt you. Even though you can’t see him with Oscar’s head on, you hear the telltale sound of the chips rattling inside the tube, and you actually growl in annoyance.

“Jeon Jeongguk! I swear if you eat even a single one-“

“I’ll save you the empty can! Hey, does Oscar do recycling or is he just in a normal trash can?”

*

The difference between your Oscar and Jimin’s Oscar is painfully stark. When it’s his turn, he gets no less than 20 children crowding him at one time. His natural charisma just oozes through the suit.

But rather than discourage you, it actually makes you work even harder. You actually learn a couple of things from observing how he plays Oscar, and by the end of the day, you’re proud to say that you’re on par to compete with even Cookie Monster sometimes.

“Good one today, ______!” Jimin grins as he strips off the green, furry head, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” you say with a tiny smile, offering him a pack of wet wipes.

“Hey, I was thinking we should grab a bite to eat,” Jimin turns to look at himself in the mirror, styling his dark blue hair as he rakes through it carelessly with his fingers. “You down?”

You have to stop yourself from grinning from ear to ear, instead answering coolly. “Sure. Where did you have in mind?”

“Cafeteria? I’m craving a Dole Whip myself,” he’s back in his muscle tee again, pulling on a pair of his favourite grey sweatpants.

You’ve never actually eaten anywhere other than the staff cafeteria, and even then, you avoid doing so after shifts because you don’t want to deal with seeing the rest of the crew. But Jimin has such a sweet smile that you don’t have it in you to refuse.

The two of you exit the dressing room, making your way down to the staff cafeteria, buried out of sight from the guests. To be honest, park food isn’t that bad, and the cafeteria serves a selection of it weekly, at a heavily discounted rate for staff.

Jimin’s just pondering over what he should have before Dole Whip, when a small tap on his shoulder makes him turn around.

“Oh- Dahyun! Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jimin greets her with a grin, and you can’t help but peer around him to get a glimpse of her as well.

She is exquisitely beautiful in a way you know you could never be, her features are dainty and delicate, and you can see why she’s such a good fit for Ariel. She moves with a grace and elegance that comes only with years of dance and stage training, and even in her loose-fitting pants, you can see that she has a figure to die for.

It’s people like her who make it to Broadway.

“It’s my shift starting soon,” she says in a soft, tinkling voice, casting a curious glance at you. “Anyway, I was just coming from the manager’s office. They want to see you.”

“Oh really?” Jimin frowns as he checks his phone. “I haven’t checked my email yet-“

“Yeah, something about a character change,” she smiles in excitement. “Seo Joon’s quitting, so they asked me if I had anyone to recommend to take his place, and I said you! Isn’t that great?”

Jimin seems genuinely enthused as he widens his eyes in realization. “Oh… oh wow! Prince Eric! I… I didn’t think it’d be this soon!”

“You should hurry down so they can give you the official new schedule,” Dahyun claps her hands as she giggles. “There’ll be character training sessions, outfit fittings, oh, and we also have to train together for a bit!”

The two of them almost forget that you are there, and you awkwardly take a step back, which makes Jimin look at you. His elation disappears a little.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’ll just go attend the meeting real quick. I’m sorry about lunch, we should reschedule and it’ll be my treat!”

“No,” you shake your head and swallow hard, struggling to express that you are really happy for him amidst the all the envy and jealousy swirling in your chest. Because you truly are, he deserves this and so much more. “Go for your meeting. Don’t worry. I’ll just… I’ll uh… just head home.”

“You should get a Dole Whip! It’s the perfect treat after a shift,” he calls over his shoulder as Dahyun shoots you an awkward little smile, turning to follow him.

You watch as the two of them exit the staff cafeteria, already excitedly chattering to each other about god knows what. Yeah, somehow, you don’t think a Dole Whip is about to make things better.

*

“Prince Eric?” Joy frowns. “Well, I can’t say he doesn’t suit that character, because he would suit any prince, but…”

Now that Jimin had to be swapped out, the only good thing about it is that Joy is back on the same rotation as you again. So it means you can whine to your best friend about how unfair all of this is, how you wish Dahyun would actually get her voice sucked out of her by Ursula.

“They’re gonna look perfect together,” you say glumly. “This is why I don’t hope for anything. The moment I do, it just gets taken away.”

Joy winces as she watches you avert your gaze, untying and tying your shoelace. Your sandwich remains untouched as the two of you hide away in the dressing room during lunch break.

“Sweetie… I’m sorry,” she sighs as she pulls you in so that you can rest your head on her chest. “I’m sure our big break is coming soon. It’s all about that stroke of luck, you know?”

“Only if that lucky break comes in the form of Dahyun’s broken leg,” you grumble. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Someone as bright and talented and golden as Park Jimin deserves to be with someone who can match him. Someone who can look as good beside him.

In other words, definitely not you. Children run away from you when they see you. They cry when they see your face. Even when you’re hidden and concealed behind a costume, they still can’t bring themselves to come any closer to you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jeongguk throwing open the door, still stuffing his face with a Mickey ice cream sandwich. His eyes land on the both of you, take in your disgruntled expression, then he continues to scarf down the rest of his sweet treat. Taehyung follows close behind, holding a bunch of snacks in his arms and dumping them all on the table.

“Whats wrong with her?” Jeongguk gestures with his sticky hands, stomping around in his heavy Timberland boots.

This dressing room is somewhat of a cosy reprieve, not only from the sweltering heat out there, but also away from all the other crew members. It’s long been established that it belongs to the select few of you who have the misfortune to be playing the fur characters, while the face characters are assigned the bigger, more luxurious dressing rooms for them to do their makeup and hair in. However, since the fur characters don’t need much prep other than climbing into a large furry suit, this dressing room only has the bare minimum.

You don’t mind though, because over the past year, it has come to feel like home. Ending a shift and collapsing on the couch, bickering with Jeongguk about the snack stash, coming in early to find Yoongi pulling an all nighter on the couch from the day before, getting annoyed with all of Taehyung’s junk everywhere. Getting secretly drunk after park hours with Joy and sneaking out to avoid getting into trouble.

As much as you hate to admit it, the few of you have become family.

“Not in the mood, Jeon, run along,” you shoot him a warning glare, but he is all too used to your caustic words, and sometimes you think he even enjoys riling you up.

“Might this have something to do with a certain Park Jimin getting to play Prince Eric?” Jeongguk is more astute than he lets on, but then again, it could be just because he actually bothered to read the crew schedule today.

“Who’s playing who?” Yoongi enters with a cup of cold brew in hand, sucking it down like it’s his lifeblood. All this while, you’ve never actually seen him eat something solid.

“Jimin is Prince Eric, opposite Dahyun’s Ariel,” Jeongguk repeats in delight, all too happy to take part in your misery.

Joy shoots him a glare and moves to cover your ears. “Gee, I don’t think you could rub that in any harder, Jeon.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he snickers, moving toward the lockers in the corner for his bag to start getting ready for the afternoon’s shift. At the last minute, however, he turns back to glance at you, still lying motionless on the couch, with a look of mild concern on his face. He looks like he’s about to say something, but lets it go at the last minute.

“I hope when we get promoted, we all get it at the same time,” Taehyung says earnestly, looking around at the rest of your faces. “I just wanna stay with you guys forever. Park can go play Prince Eric for all I care, honestly.”

Yoongi finishes his coffee, discarding the cup into one of the trash bins. “Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it though.”

With a resigned sigh, because the older man is right, you go about getting ready for your shift. Something tells you that today is going to be harder than it usually is.

*

You go through the motions of your job like you do every single day, stooping inside your little garbage can, twirling little children around, taking pictures and trying your best to be in character. It’s just the start of your third shift for the day, when something out of the ordinary happens.

You first catch wind of it through the children’s excited chatters.

“Pwincess Ariel is coming!” A little girl with a lisp says, pulling at the arm of her sister next you. “Huwwy up, we gotta go see her! Leave Mister Oscar alone!’

Her sister all but shoves you away in her excitement, causing you to nearly topple over in the heavy character suit, but luckily Joy is there to support you. All the children around you suddenly scatter, screaming and crying as they tumble toward the other end of the street.

“It’s Ariel! And Pwince Eric!” The same girl yells, and your breathing slows to a stop.

What? Why would they come down to the Main Street? Princesses and Princes usually stay in their own zone, in their castles if they have one, unless it’s parade time, which it most definitely isn’t. In a matter of minutes, your side of Main Street is left deserted, you and Joy standing pathetically alone in the middle of the road as you watch all the kids surround the perfect royal couple.

Jimin is absolutely radiant in his white blazer and dark blue pants that fit him perfectly. He looks every bit like royalty with gold embellishments on his shoulders, gold buttons down the front, and a sash to accompany his top half, while his long legs are accentuated by his boots. His newly dyed black hair is parted down the middle, swept back off his forehead to expose his sweetly smiling eyes as he greets everyone around him.

He walks as if he is on a runway. The audience is captivated by him; he steals the show even from the beautiful Ariel herself. Girls are falling at his feet to take pictures with him, children are asking if he has a white horse with him, and parents are sighing with adoration over how perfect he and Ariel look as a couple. It’s like a Disney movie come to life.

Everyone coos in admiration as the handsome Prince Eric gets down on one knee to a tiny girl dressed in an Ariel costume, takes her hand and kisses the back of it. Then the real Princess Ariel sweeps in with her green dress and flowing, shiny red hair, on the other side of the little girl, and the three of them pose for a picture together.

You are awestruck at how realistic they look together. They look as if they’ve just stepped out of a live action Disney movie.

“God damn,” Joy says under her breath as Jimin offers his hand to Dahyun, and the two of them continue their mini parade down the street. “He really does look perfect.”

It’s as if Jimin was born to play Prince Eric.

The two of them are fast approaching you and the other Sesame Street characters. Cookie Monster spreads his arms wide in welcome, doing a little jig that has the children screaming with laughter. He pretends to ask Prince Eric if he has any cookies, and their mini impromptu skit delights the audience. Worse still, Jeongguk in the Cookie Monster costume fawns over Princess Ariel too, gesturing for them to hold hands as he pretends to act as their royal butler, doing a deep bow that nearly has him toppling over.

Your legs feel weak and you opt to crouch down in your trashcan, making Oscar the Grouch look even smaller and more pathetic, all alone on the Street.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need to have a rest?” Joy crouches down beside you in concern.

“…fine…” you mumble, but you can’t really be heard inside Oscar’s head. But then, it actually might be a good idea to escape back to the dressing room before Jimin and Dahyun make it down here. You turn to tell Joy that you want to go back, but then a little child approaches you out of nowhere.

“Mister Oscar?” A tiny, petulant voice calls, and you turn around to face it.

It’s a little boy with glasses, dressed in an Oscar T-shirt and with an Oscar headband. He looks shyly up at you, but even from inside Oscar’s head, you can see his eyes are filled with wonder and amazement.

“Can I have a picture please?” He asks politely, and Joy jumps to her feet.

“Of course! And would you like an autograph too? Where’s your book?” She helps the little boy with his book and pen, and glad for something else to focus on, you take the pen and open the book to the right page.

“Whats your name?” Joy asks, so that you can write it along with your autograph.

“Seokjin,” he pronounces clearly. “You’re my favourite Sesame Street character,” the boy says with a proud smile, pointing to his Oscar T-shirt. No matter how foul your mood is, that’s bound to melt your heart a little, and you express it through your actions, holding your hands to your heart for a second before spreading your arms for a giant hug.

As you feel the squirmy little body in your arms, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Ah, how sweet!” It’s Prince Eric, and he looks on at the scene with his sweet smile. “Mister Oscar, thank you for keeping our streets so clean always!”

You release the child from your hug and look up at Jimin. His smile seems a little bigger than it was just now, and his eyes are trained on the exact spot where yours would be if you weren’t wearing the suit. For a moment, you wonder if he knows that it’s you inside the suit.

“Mister Oscar is smelly!” A child yells out from somewhere, and a dozen giggles follow. “He loves trash!”

Ouch. As much as it’s true, children can be rather thoughtless with their comments sometimes. You struggle to stay in character even as your character head droops a little, retreating into your trash can.

There is an awkward silence from the crowd, and even Dayhun’s smile is frozen, at a loss for words, and there’s even a look of pity in her eyes. You can feel Seokjin beside you grasp your hand a little tighter in defensiveness as he puffs his chest out.

But before he can say anything, Prince Eric frowns, turning to face the general direction of the child who had insulted you. “That isn’t very nice, is it?” He reprimands the child gently, and the crowd quiets down. “Mister Oscar has feelings too, and how do you think he might feel if you say that?”

The girl who had called you smelly looks guilty as Jimin admonishes her. “Sowwy, Prince Eric and sowwy, Mister Oscar.”

Prince Eric’s radiant smile is back on his face as he pets her head once. “That’s better. Now, you have a great day and enjoy yourselves in the Magical Kingdom. Have a great day, Mister Oscar!”

You pretend to bow as the royal couple take their leave.

*

“I don’t get it,” you say in a fit of anger as you sponge the sweat off your neck. “Why would he- they- come all the way down to Main Street?”

“Forget about it,” Joy soothes as she digs out a tube of original flavoured Pringles from her bag and offers it to you. “Shall we have soju or beer today? And chicken? It’s my treat.”

You take the tube from her and open it, shoving a stack of chips into your mouth, feeling better once you taste the salt. You’re no stranger to getting insulted by children, but somehow today stings more than usual. “I bet Ariel doesn’t get any children telling her she’s trash.”

Joy sighs, but doesn’t say anything.

You gather up your things to leave, pulling your hair back in a drooping ponytail. “Rain check? I’m not really feeling it today.”

“Sure,” Joy agrees, watching you pack your things, not even bothering to hide the tube of Pringles somewhere Jeongguk can’t find it. “Call me when you get back!”

The trek to the train station is longer than usual, lonelier without Joy to accompany you, but it’s better for you to be alone with your thoughts anyway.

*

You’re no stranger to fielding slightly abusive and insulting comments from children. Usually, you’re able to just brush it off because you tell yourself that children don’t really mean what they say. But the past incident has taken a toll on your psyche, and you can feel yourself dragging your feet to work.

On top of the next month’s schedule, you get another email from management asking you to drop by their office before your next shift.

Jeongguk catches you on the way to the management’s office, in the midst of finishing a Dole Whip from the cafeteria. The sight of it reminds you of Jimin and his promise to make up that missed lunch date.

“Here to see management?” Jeongguk asks, following you inside and offering you a spoon of the sweet yellow dessert. You open your mouth grudgingly, and the taste is not bad as it melts on your tongue. It does calm your nerves a little, though.

“Let’s hope it’s nothing bad,” you mumble under your breath.

Knocking on the door, you enter the corporate office, which looks very ordinary. No such trace of the Disney magic here. The receptionist directs you to the head of Character Management.

The head of Character Management is a stern looking lady with her hair pulled back into a bun. Kim Sejeong bids you and Jeongguk to sit down, lacing her fingers together.

“I’ve called the both of you in for some very good news today,” she begins, a hint of a smile on her otherwise serious face. “A career advancement. The two of you are being promoted to face characters.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, and Jeongguk can’t help but grin.

A lucky break. This is what you’ve been waiting for all this time. You can barely contain your excitement as your mind starts to race. Who could it be? Dare you even hope that you might be playing a Disney Princess? You’d be thankful even if it was one of the lesser known princesses. Mulan? Alice in Wonderland?

“First of all, Jeongguk.” She turns her gaze towards the boy with the bunny grin beside you. “You’ll be playing Gaston from now onwards.”

You nearly snort in laughter. Vain, idiotic, attention seeking Gaston who can’t read nor spell his name? It’s a perfect fit for Jeongguk. You can already see him in your mind’s eye, flaunting his muscles and bickering non-stop with the Beast.

Just as long as you don’t have to play Belle.

“And you, Ms _______,” she turns her gaze to you next. Your heart completely stops in your chest, trying to anticipate what’s coming next.

Maybe you’ll finally get a likeable character. Someone like Cinderella, and then kids won’t say mean things to you anymore.

“You’re going to play The Evil Queen, Snow White’s stepmother.”

*

“Oh my god!” Joy can barely contain herself when she hears the news. “I’m so happy for you! Finally, you got a face character!!”

Somehow, you don’t really share her excitement. It’s one of your last few times playing a fur character, and you can’t say you’ll miss it. Jeongguk was the first to break the news to everyone the moment he got back to the dressing room. As one of the first few to be promoted to a face character, it is definitely liberating, but a part of you is unsure of the uncertainty that lies ahead.

“At least you can attend the character crash course together,” Taehyung says gloomily at the prospect of losing his best friend.

“She’s lucky to be accompanied by my dashingly handsome self,” Jeongguk pretends to flex a bicep, already getting into the role of Gaston. It doesn’t seem like he’ll need much training to assimilate.

“It’s the Evil Queen,” you say quietly to Joy. “Who likes her? It’s even worse than Oscar the Grouch.”

Everyone knows that the fur characters occupy the bottom of the hierarchy. But what they don’t acknowledge is that the villains are barely a rung higher than them. It’s even worse now that you won’t have the character costume to hide behind. You’re going to have to step up your acting skills, and actually talk to and interact with guests who might be snarky and even meaner to you now.

“C’mon, it’ll be great for your resume. I can already see it. You’re gonna ace it, then you’ll snag the audition for Maleficient,” Joy is already thinking ahead. “And the role is practically perfect for you! Honestly, I was a little worried because I didn’t see you as the type to go around cooing at little children and hugging them and everything. This suits you way better.”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment,” you shoot back at her.

Joy only sighs. “You know what I mean.”

“We have a bigger problem,” Taehyung interrupts as Jeongguk continues to flex at himself in the mirror. “Who’s gonna take your places? It’ll be like breaking up the Fabulous Five. We won’t even see each other anymore. You’ll be using the huuuge dressing rooms. We’ll become like strangers!”

You sigh at Taehyung’s overreaction. “That won’t happen, Tae. Even if Jeongguk and I graduate from fur characters, it doesn’t mean we won’t hang out anymore. We’ll still come back here after shifts and all. I mean, this is the only dressing room that has a TV!”

“I guess…” Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced. “You’ll still come and visit though right?” He pokes Jeongguk in the ribs, causing the younger boy to flinch in the midst of practicing one of his Gaston poses.

“Of course he will, the bigger dressing rooms don’t have nearly as good a snack selection as we do,” Yoongi says off-handedly from his position stretched out across the couch. “And Jeongguk’s got all his weights stacked in the corner there. It’ll take him ages to move it over.”

As much as Yoongi seems to be aloof most of the time, the eldest crew member actually does seem to have a heart at times. His words do the job of reassuring Taehyung well enough, and the subject is left alone as everyone starts to get ready for their shifts.

“Hey, you on for the all-nighter today?” Jeongguk nudges you with his arm as you slip past him to put away your bag. “We gotta watch Beauty and the Beast and Snow White at least three times each before we start character training.”

“Who said I wanted to watch it with you?” You turn your nose up at him.

“Together? Ew,” Jeongguk expresses his dissatisfaction in a similar manner, scrunching up his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot! It’s just, I know for a fact you’re too poor to afford a TV at home, and we happen to have both films on hand here…”

Jeongguk pauses for a moment as he looks at Taehyung, Yoongi and Joy, all of whom are currently absorbed in a discussion of whether the turkey leg tastes better with or without mustard.

“… unless you guys wanted to watch it too?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over Taehyung’s valiant defense of ketchup.

“No thanks, I hate fairytales,” Yoongi grumbles, waving the offer away. You all know Yoongi only came on board because he’d been offered the chance to play Darth Vader, but at the last minute got scammed into Sesame Street.

“Why would we wanna be holed up in here watching the same movie over and over when we could be getting fried chicken?” Joy grins unapologetically, and Taehyung chimes in.

“With extra ketchup!”

“Alright, fine!” You toss one of Jeongguk’s white shirts at him. “I guess it’s just us.”

“… I brought snacks,” he holds up a bag of Pringles with a mischievous smile.

And you’re sold.

*

“Did you actually shower?” Your eyes widen in disbelief as Jeongguk returns to the dressing room after both your shifts have ended, hair wet and dressed in fresh clothes.

“I’m not a slob, you know,” he grumbles as he makes a futile attempt to dry his hair one last time. “I got us some food from the cafeteria on the way back. They had orange chicken from Nine Dragons.”

“Really? That’s different,” you sit up in interest. “Oh my god. Are those pork belly buns too?”

“How’d you know? You never go down to the cafeteria anyway,” Jeongguk opens up another box containing shrimp fried rice, and the whole room smells so good.

“I don’t like navigating that political jungle,” you say with a mouth full of delicious, savoury pork. “You ready? I’m gonna start Snow White first.”

Jeongguk begins to devour the food as the two of you settle in to watch the movie. You have a pen and pad by your side to take down some notes on the Evil Queen’s character, how she interacts with the other characters, and some of her more iconic lines.

She’s overall a very snarky and witty character, and the more you watch, the more you think you might enjoy playing her after all. Her personality is not unlike your own, and some of the things she says are straight up savage.

“Oh! You should definitely call people peasants,” Jeongguk chimes in, a fistful of chips in the air.

“You think? Wouldn’t that be too much?” You are doubtful, but you write it down anyway, figuring you could always run it past the trainer during the sessions.

“Please. You’re a Queen. Everyone else simply must bow,” Jeongguk does a horrible impression of a British accent, which sends you giggling so hard that you nearly drop your plate.

“Maybe I’ll even come by as Gaston and steal all the attention from you. How’s that?” Jeongguk grins cheekily, and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, as if your ugly face could ever.”

The two of you are laughing so hard that you don’t hear the knock at the door until it creaks open.

“Um… hi?” A familiar, honeyed voice makes you turn around.

It’s Park Jimin, the last person you expected to see. You’re suddenly aware of how this must look, of how you must look, dressed down in your sweats and junk food all over the place.

“Jimin! What are you doing here?” You attempt to straighten your shirt and sit up straight, pausing the movie.

“I know it’s late, but I hoped you’d still be here, so I decided to come and check,” he says shyly, averting his gaze to the floor. “I thought you’d be leaving soon… and maybe we could leave together.”

“We’re in the middle of a movie,” Jeongguk states the obvious, and you slap his wrist to get him to shut up, but he ignores you. “It’s for our character training.”

Realisation dawns across Jimin’s face. “Oh- oh! That’s right! I heard the good news. You’re being promoted to a face character! Congrats, that’s so great. I know you’ll do so well.”

Is he saying that to compliment your acting skills, or is he maybe insinuating that someone like you has the personality akin to an Evil Queen? Knowing pure, sweet Jimin, it’s probably the former, but your traitorous mind can’t help but doubt it.

“Um… thanks,” you smile hesitantly back at him. “I… I saw you as Prince Eric. You were… you were great.”

He blushes cutely, and you can feel Jeongguk rolling his eyes beside you.

“Well, um… glad to have you as a face character too. Maybe we’ll see each other more often. I think our zones are pretty close to each other,” Jimin ruffles his jet-black hair once, bringing your attention to the metal rings on his fingers. “So… see you around!”

“Wait!” You spring up from the couch, making it to the door before he can disappear fully. “I’ll um… I’ll walk you out.”

After not seeing him for more than a month, you can’t let him slip away that easily. Especially not when he looks this good, dressed down in a black shirt and black ripped jeans.

“If you need help with getting used to face characters, I could give you some pointers,” Jimin grins as you start to walk alongside him. “Or if you need help coming up with ‘outs’.”

“’Outs’? What are those?” You’re unfamiliar with the term.

“It’s when someone asks you to do something you’re not allowed to, like accepting food, or even hugs, if you don’t want to,” Jimin explains. “Or if they ask weird questions you don’t know how to answer. Usually it involves weaving in your character’s backstory to make it more believable.”

“Oh wow. I had no idea being a face character would be so difficult,” you can’t help but start to worry about how different it is from what you’re used to.

“It’s not that hard. This girl asked if she could marry me, right in front of Princess Ariel!” Jimin giggles. “Dahyun wasn’t very pleased.”

You go quiet at the mention of her, and the easy, joking atmosphere between the both of you fades. The park is dark and quiet, all the shops are shuttered, and in general, it is a much gloomier and more eerie place than you’re used to.

“Anyway, I think you’ll do a good job.” Jimin has a way with words that always seems to reassure you.

You come to the entrance of the train station, and you stand awkwardly as Jimin looks for his train pass.

“I’ll see you around?” You offer hopefully.

“Of course!” Jimin grins, turning to tap his pass. But then he hesitates. “Hey, um… maybe we should exchange numbers. In case… in case you need help with the training or something.”

“Y-yeah, that’s a great idea,” you fumble for your phone and present it to him, noting how cute his fingers look as he types in his number, giving himself a missed call so he’ll have your number too before he gives it back to you. You notice that he’s named himself in your contacts with a cute little chick emoji.

“I should be getting back now,” you have to stop yourself from fawning over how cute he is.

“Oh yeah! Shouldn’t keep… uh… Jeongguk from waiting too long,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “It’s kinda dark, will you be okay walking back alone?”

“I’ll be fine, I do it all the time,” you wave his concern away.

“You should text me when you get back,” Jimin says over his shoulder as he taps his train pass, then crosses the gantry. It’s only then that you realise that he might think you and Jeongguk are something more than friends, judging from the way he said his name.

“Jeongguk! He’s just…” You blurt out, causing Jimin to turn around, a few steps into the train station with a slightly confused look on his face.

Your cheeks are burning as your voice trails off. “He’s um… just a friend.” You finish lamely.

“Oh.”

Maybe it’s a little hard to tell in the dark, but you could have sworn you saw the smile on his face get a little brighter.

*

You can do this. This is only a tiny step of a multitude of challenges to come.

Knocking timidly on the door, you let yourself into the unfamiliar dressing room, Jeongguk close behind you.

“What if they eat us alive?” Jeongguk stage whispers into your ear.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you elbow him in the ribs in irritation as you attempt to swallow back your intimidation, walking to the dressing room with what you hope is a confident stride. “The worst they can do is stare us down.”

It must be at least three times the size of your old dressing room. There are two rows of dressing tables and chairs on their side, with brightly lit mirrors and bottles of makeup gathered neatly on the tables. At the back are two private changing rooms, one male and one female.

A few of the dressing tables are already occupied, and you don’t recognize most of the crew members currently here. But by the looks of their costumes, you gather that they play Princess Jasmine, Cinderella, and Aladdin respectively.

Walking cautiously to one of the dressing tables in the back, you set your bag down, realizing that there are private lockers stowed beneath the dressing tables themselves. You’ve never had this much space for your stuff before, even a dedicated hanger beside the mirror for you to hang your costume.

Jeongguk sets up shop beside you. “This is weird. It’s like there’s too much space.”

“Where’s Taehyung’s junk when you need it?” You attempt to make a joke to ease your own nervousness, even as you pull up a picture of the Evil Queen herself and start working on your makeup the way the character trainers had taught you to.

Being your first time playing her, you want to get everything right, so you make sure to come more than an hour before your shift is due to start. As the next half an hour passes, more and more crew members start to fill up the dressing room, but they keep mostly to themselves, and leave you and Jeongguk alone at the back.

Dark purple eyeshadow, dramatic brows, and red lipstick. You had been practicing this by yourself at home all weekend, so it goes pretty smoothly. To finish, you layer on the blush to complete the look. Now all you have to do is get into your costume in the private changing room.

A purple ankle length dress with sleeves, and a dramatic black cape with a high white collar to match. You have to tie back your hair so that you can secure the headpiece of the costume and affix the golden crown on the top of your head. When you look in the mirror, you don’t even recognize yourself.

You look tall. Intimidating. The thick layer of makeup has completely transformed all your features. You look like the witch from the nightmares you had as a five-year old. You try an experimental swish of your cape, and the resulting action makes you feel powerful.

There is a knock on the changing room door.

“Hello? Are you done in there? We still have to get changed.”

You open the door to see Dahyun’s slightly annoyed face morph into a semblance of a smile as she takes in your appearance. “Wow… um, ________. You look… um… great.”

The girls behind her giggle, and you know it is far from a compliment she’s paying you.

And maybe it’s because going through the ritual of transformation into someone else has truly changed you, because you can almost feel the Evil Queen’s aura that prevents you from doing something you usually would, like lowering your head or scurrying away in shame.

“I know,” you say, and you walk away in a swish of velvet fabric and shocked stares trailing after you.

*

It’s a hot afternoon as usual, but nothing you can’t handle. After being stuck in a stuffy little costume, getting to feel the slight breeze on your cheeks as a face character feels like heaven.

You hang out by the Wishing Well, practicing your cape swirls and finding that you enjoy it a lot more than you’d thought. It’s a quiet start to your first time playing the Evil Queen, and you try not to let the nerves get to you. Most of the visitors just walk by you and smile awkwardly without doing anything.

Your first customer is a child wearing the trademark Mickey Mouse ears. She approaches you timidly, holding out a red apple to you. The Evil Queen never smiles, so you glance down at the child, clasping a hand to your chest as your eyes widen in approval.

“Why hello there child, is that apple for me?”

The child nods so hard that their Mickey Ears nearly fall off, and you have to admit, they are kind of cute.

“Are you absolutely sure? Well then, thank you very much, I must say you have great taste. Even if you do like to wear rat ears on your head…” You take the apple gently from the child and raise it high in the air. “Behold! The most gorgeous apple in the kingdom, only suitable for the fairest queen in the land of course!”

You glance down at the child again, who seems to be more than excited that you accepted their gift. “Would you like a picture child? Alright then, where is your caretaker?”

The child grasps a fistful of your cloak in their hands as she points to her parents, waving a camera, and you pose for the picture, arms folded regally and eyebrows raised. When you see that the child kind of just freezes up for the camera, you take it upon yourself to bend down so that you are eye level with her, gently helping her to fold her arms and copy your facial expression.

You can feel her parent’s laughs of delight when they finally take your picture again, the child a carbon copy of your regal and intimidating self. When they come to collect their child, they flash you a grateful smile, and that tiny bit of affirmation is all you need.

After the ice has been broken, you feel much more at ease with the crowd. A few more people approach you for pictures, and you manage to maintain a friendly bicker with them while still staying in character. You ask for compliments, admiring yourself in their front view cameras, dissing Snow White when they bring her up, and when they leave, they bring a new crowd in along with them, all of whom are entertained by how self-absorbed and vain you are.

“Queen, queen! Oh, my queen,” a teenage girl raises her hand. “Who do you think is better looking, you or Gaston?”

“Gaston!?” You gasp in horror dramatically. “That terrible excuse for a man? You must be joking.”

“But I asked him, and he said he thinks he’s the most handsome!”

You wave them away with a roll of your eyes. “Oh please. Have you seen that pathetic little stallion tail he has for hair?”

“I heard someone was talking about me?” A loud, blasting voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Jeon Jeongguk dressed up as Gaston approaching, hands on his hips.

His costume consists of a large amount of shoulder and chest padding, and his red tunic is stretched tight across his naturally huge thighs. You have to say, he does have the body to play Gaston, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look ridiculous. You almost want to burst out in laughter, but somehow you manage to keep it in.

“Only about how ugly you are,” you say with a wave of your cape.

“Ugly?” Jeongguk is affronted. “That is a word I’ve never heard in my life.”

“With how small your vocabulary is, I’m not surprised,” you examine your flawless nails, and smirk in satisfaction when a few people around you clap in delight at your comeback.

“Look at all these people here to see me!” Jeongguk goes on as if he never heard you, spreading his arms to flex his biceps to welcome the cheers of the crowd. More and more people are now gathering around the two of you. “They must be amazed by how handsome I am.”

“They are here to see me,” you clarify. “That is, before you barged in so uncouthly. Don’t you have better things to do? Like groom that monstrosity of a dog in your backyard?”

“Did she just refer to the Beast as a dog?” Hushed whispers and giggles come from around you, and you don’t have to do much to hide your smirk.

“They’re admiring the size of my muscles, of course!” He strikes a pose down on one knee, flexing one bicep, and some of the girls actually swoon at his good looks. A part of you secretly thinks that he ignored the second part of your insult because he doesn’t know how to respond to it in an appropriate PG manner. Instead, he focuses on making sure everyone around him can see him flexing his biceps.

You can tell that he is enjoying every bit of the attention he gets, as some of the crowd ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s at his show, and the competitive spirit inside you gets ignited.

“A true Queen does not need to compliment herself, for she has her servants to do it for her,” you gesture at the crowd impatiently. “Well? Compliment me!”

“The fairest in all the land!”

“Snow White is ugly!”

“My Queen, you are so beautiful!”

With every compliment, you nod in approval, and it’s clear the crowd is having a great time. Some of them are even recording your impromptu little skit with Gaston.

It’s the most fun you’ve had playing a character since you started working here. For once, you can kind of let go and be yourself without worrying if you’ll be good enough.

Jeongguk gathers his little fanclub that has formed around him. “Come on, let’s go tell Belle how handsome I am.” He struts off, one arm around a girl each as they follow him back to his zone giddily.

“Ugh, good riddance,” you sigh and continue to admire yourself in a mirror someone gives you. “I dislike him almost as much as Snow White.”

Some of the crowd actually looks a bit upset when Gaston leaves, and you observe with slight surprise that they really enjoyed this impromptu skit between you. You make a mental note to yourself to talk about this with Jeongguk after your shift, to see how the both of you can arrange more regular visits for him in the future. The fact that both of your characters aren’t even in the same story means you have even more freedom to come up with their interactions.

The afternoon passes quickly, and you feel more settled into your role, even starting to have fun once you realise that you can pretty much just make up your lines on the spot. It’s even more enjoyable once you realise that playing a villain is essentially getting paid to insult visitors.

You’re just about to get ready to end your shift when you spot a large crowd approaching your area. At the very front, you spot Dahyun as Ariel, striking with her red wig and flowing green dress, and slightly behind her is-

Your throat closes up as you see Jimin in his prince costume again, the navy blue of his blazer making his white ruffled dress shirt stand out even more. His black hair is side parted, his eyes are smiling as he trails after his partner. It’s been a while since you last saw him in character, but he never fails to take your breath away.

When Dahyun spots you at the Wishing Well, you can almost swear that she slows down, turning behind her to reach out a hand to Jimin. At first the prince doesn’t notice her outstretched hand, as he leans to take a selfie with a visitor, but once he catches sight of it, he takes her hand without a second thought, tucking it into the crook of his arm in one smooth, natural motion.

You school your features into a look of disdain, but you don’t even have to pretend to begin with.

Making sure that they are within ear shot, you swish your cape in disinterest. “Does anyone smell anything fishy? Oh. It’s that fish-girl.”

You swear you can actually see the look of shock cross her pretty features, and she opens her mouth, but no words come out.

“Gaping like a fish too,” you say with a wave of your hand, and the visitors around you gasp at your savage comment. “Begone, trespasser, shouldn’t you be in an aquarium somewhere?”

Some of the visitors near you are laughing and even taking videos of you, and they are just loving the savagery that you dish out. Their impressed murmurs only serve to boost your confidence, especially when you see Dahyun’s reaction.

She only attempts to smile prettily at the crowd, unable to come up with a witty comeback, but you can see her grin is forced and doesn’t reach her eyes.

You haven’t dared to look straight at Jimin yet, but your eyes land on their joined hands instead. Clasping a hand to your chest in disgust, you roll your eyes. “Ugh, they’re holding hands. Someone please remove them from my presence.”

And then, even as you’re trying your very best not to look at the one person who has undoubtedly captured all your attention, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to the way his eyes widen when he sees you.

Suddenly a bead of insecurity creeps up in your chest. Surely he must think you look revolting like this. That’s what everyone thinks when they see a Disney villain. You are, quite literally, playing the villain in the love story between him and Dahyun. You might not be from the same fairytale, but the idea is there.

She’s the princess, he’s the prince.

And you’re the villain.

The two of them approach your Wishing Well at a steady pace, Jimin’s pretty eyes have now thankfully returned to their normal size as he runs his hand through his silky black hair, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. He doesn’t even spare you a single glance, and it stings.

You can imagine your face is a really bright shade of purple, if your emotions are anything to judge by.

“Ma-madam,” a whimpering child approaches hesitantly at your feet, and you nearly startle. You didn’t see them approach, all your attention being focused on the prince and his princess.

“Yes, child, what is it,” your voice coming out a little more huffy than you wanted it to. But still, no one around you sees this as out of character, and you suddenly remember who you’re supposed to be playing.

You’re allowed to be a little mean.

“Are you… are you a witch?” The child’s large, inquisitive eyes gaze up at you, and you stare back at her with your chin lifted high.

Jimin and Dahyun are within earshot now. You can feel as if the crowd is holding its breath expectantly, waiting for your answer.

“A witch?” Your voice rises, scandalized. You do a graceful swish of your cape as you spin around, arms spread dramatically. “How can a witch be this beautiful, child?”

It’s a lie. All of it is a lie, because you don’t feel the least bit beautiful. Especially not in this getup, especially not in front of Dahyun with her porcelain skin and fiery red hair that compliments it so well.

But the crowd eats it up with cheers and laughter, clapping and chanting your character’s name. All the attention is now on you, and the prince and his princess are left to pass by quietly.

Maybe your acting skills have improved, but you’re pretty sure that you’re the only one in the whole crowd who didn’t buy that act one bit.

*

“You’re viral!!! Oh my god. Have you SEEN this?” You’re attacked by some kind of rabid animal the moment you step into the fur character’s changing room.

It turns out to be only Joy, who seems beside herself with excitement. She’s currently still in her Oscar costume with the head off, that’s why you mistook her for a rabid animal in the first place. The fur of her costume nearly suffocates you as she’s all up in your face.

It’s late, you’ve just finished your last shift and all you want to do is collapse on the couch for a few minutes before you have to muster up the energy for the train ride home. Today took more out of you than you realized.

“You’re viral,” Taehyung grunts from a corner, attempting a few sets with Jeongguk’s weights that are clearly too heavy for him. “She’s been saying that over and over for the past few hours.”

“What are you talking about?” You say wearily, trying to focus on the phone that Joy is waving around in your face before you just grab it from her in your impatience.

It’s a Youtube video titled “EVIL QUEEN PUTS GASTON IN HIS PLACE” and it was just uploaded only a few hours ago. But it already has a million views and counting.

Slightly more awake now, you start to focus on the short three-minute video. It was just taken today, and you hear yourself insulting Gaston for a bit, before actually bickering with him when he shows up. The camera work is shaky, clearly taken by someone in the audience.

“Did you read the comments yet?” Joy says breathlessly as she peeks over your shoulder. “Read them. They’re gold.”

You start to scroll down to the comment section, your heart racing as you read them.

disneylover012: Oh my god. The Evil Queen is the best. She’s so savage!!

walkingonsunshine: Imagine getting paid to be mean to visitors. I LOVE HER

starwarsfan48: We need more of this. MORE

chipndale29: I’m gonna go to Disney tomorrow just to see her!!!!

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (4 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

chimchim013: why’s everyone saying they should date??? They’re probably just friends in real life…

nochu019: @chimchim013 lol don’t hate him just cuz u ain’t him… I ship them too

“Oh my God, they ship you and Gaston,” Joy is falling over herself with laughter, and you put aside the phone for a moment to help her get out of her costume, seeing the threat that she poses to anyone in her near vicinity.

“Who ships us?” Jeongguk arrives with his hair wet and shirt clinging to his body. He dumps his bag at the door and plops himself onto the couch.

You feel a little weird after reading that comment. Joy is safely out of her costume by now, and you hand her back the phone. “Nothing. Just some random people on Youtube.”

“They aren’t just some random people,” Joy admonishes. That’s the top liked comment, and that video has a million views now. And counting. _______, you’re famous!!!!!! The star of our little park!!!!!”

“Not forgetting who else starred in that video, are we,” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, popping open the lid of a Pringles can. “I was, after all, your co-star.”

“Oh shut up, you were totally getting owned- hey wait. We didn’t even show you the video yet. Why do you seem like you already know which video that is?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion, turning to look at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk turns red immediately, stuffing his face with more of your chips. “Mmf- happened to see it…”

There’s a loud clank in the corner as Taehyung gives up on working out. He massages his biceps as he paces around the room, eyes bright with excitement. “This is huge. Bigger than we could have ever imagined!!!” He grabs you by the shoulders. “________, you might even win Employee of the Month if you keep this up! The crowd loves you!”

“Oh please,” you wave away their optimism with a hand. “It was only one video.”

“It’s not just one video,” Joy corrects you as she scrolls furiously on her phone. “This account also uploaded another one. This time it’s called…”

Joy gets cut off with a snort of laughter. “Oh my god, you bad bitch.”

The door opens, and Yoongi walks in, hair in a mess and eyes half-open. “Who’s a bad bitch?”

“_________!” Joy squeals. “You fucking called Ariel a fish.”

“No way,” Taehyung grabs the phone to see for himself.

EVIL QUEEN DISSES PRINCESS ARIEL, CALLS HER A FISH

“…Oh. It’s that fish girl.” You hear your voice blasted loudly, and then the rest of the video is drowned out by boisterous laughter, cheers and screaming.

It’s chaos. Taehyung is running around the room. Joy is jumping up and down, replaying the video over and over. Jeongguk is rolling with laughter on the couch and falls off, knocking his knee on the table. Yoongi, true to his quiet self, only smirks at you with a look that resembles admiration, a tall order for the man of few words.

“Not bad. Guess you are serious about getting your man.”

“Wh-what?” Oh my god, guys shut up for a fucking second,” you say to your friends, but they aren’t having it. They are completely beside themselves with mirth, and a part of you can’t help but smile either. The animosity between fur and face characters has been an ongoing war ever since you joined. A video like this going viral just feels like a score for you and zilch for them.

“I thought we’d lost you and Jeongguk over to the Dark Side when you got promoted to face characters,” Taehyung says, still half doubled over from the exertion, face red. “But now it’s totally us against them. You’re a double agent!”

“She’s a fucking champ is what she is,” Jeongguk says with a look of pride on his face. “Insulting them while keeping character. I don’t know how she does that.”

You don’t really have much to say as you watch your friends replay the video over and over, but there is a warmth in your chest as they celebrate and dance. A warmth that completely erases the feelings of insecurity still lingering after seeing how beautiful Dahyun was today. The validation from your friends is just what you needed to chase those doubts away, and you plop yourself down on the couch, snuggling closer to Jeongguk as you settle in to watch the rest of the videos uploaded by that account.

Yoongi only partially grumbles about all of you squeezing onto one couch, but even you can see the tiny, proud gummy smile on his face as he watches from his standing position behind you all.

There may be shitty moments in this job. But moments like this make it all worth it, and you tell yourself to hold on to it no matter what.

*

Jimin collapses into a chair in the dressing room. To be honest, he prefers the fur character’s dressing room to this one. Always cosy, with that soft couch perfect for taking a nap in between shifts. And the main plus point: the people. Ever since he got promoted to a face character he felt weird going back there, but it seems like you and Jeongguk still treat it as your dressing room. He hardly ever sees you in here, even when your shifts match.

A bigger dressing room also means more people, and more strangers. It’s noisy, impossible to relax for a moment in between shifts. So he pulls out his earphones and plugs it into his phone, opening Youtube and idly browsing his homefeed.

He comes across an interesting video that catches his eye immediately.

EVIL QUEEN PUTS GASTON IN HIS PLACE

That’s you in the thumbnail. He’d know your face anywhere. Jimin clicks on it, and the video begins to play. You and Gaston are bickering away, back and forth with an undeniable chemistry, and Jimin feels a lump growing in his throat.

It’s partially overshadowed by the pride when he notices that it’s gone viral, over two million views now, and he grins happily. Watches the way you throw yourself into your acting, how confident you look making up your lines impromptu.

His mistake is when he decided to scroll through the comments.

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (2 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

He frowns. You and Jeongguk? Hm. Not if he has anything to say about it.

He types furiously on his phone and presses submit before he has a chance to think twice about it. Satisfied with his reply, he continues watching to the end of the video, but not before another ping interrupts him.

It’s a notification that someone has replied to his comment. He opens it and scrunches his brow in disapproval.

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (4 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

chimchim013: why’s everyone saying they should date??? They’re probably just friends in real life…

nochu019: @chimchim013 lol don’t hate him just cuz u ain’t him… I ship them too

He starts typing furiously again but can’t come up with anything intelligent to say. Finally, he deletes everything and clicks on the offending user’s screenname to check out his channel.

It’s primarily focused on gaming and streaming, although their latest video does look like it was taken in Disneyland itself. Jimin sees a familiar silhouette in the corner of the video’s thumbnail and clicks on the video to get a better view, though the figure is never clearly outlined.

Frustrated he scrolls through the rest of the channel’s videos, but it’s all lame gaming streams.

It’s probably just a loser gaming nerd, Jimin tells himself as he returns to the viral video of the Evil Queen. Nothing to get worked up over.

He’s interrupted by the timer on his phone signalling his next shift, and he sighs, tossing it away and starting to get ready.

*

The view count only goes up and up. Throughout the weeks that follow, more of your fan accounts pop up, uploading numerous videos of you sparring with Gaston, entertaining the crowd solo, insulting and bickering with guests. The list goes on, and your fanbase grows bigger.

Now you have a sizeable crowd at the Wishing Well every time your shift comes on. It energizes you, gives you the motivation to act better, think of wittier lines. The recognition that you’re getting every day makes you shine even brighter, giving you the hope to aspire towards your eventual big-picture dream of Broadway.

“It’s totally possible,” Joy gushes as she takes off her makeup at the end of the day.

You’re sitting on the couch in the small living area, face already scrubbed clean of all your makeup. You tear into a face mask and carefully align it on your face. With the extra makeup that comes with playing a face character, you also run the risk of breaking out more, and blemishes are even harder to cover. So you put more effort into your skincare routine to make sure that your skin is as flawless as can be.

“With all this fame you have, you could totally have an edge at auditioning for Broadway,” Joy continues on.

“Maybe…” you say, closing your eyes and tipping your head back for a moment of relaxation. “No one knows it’s me playing the Evil Queen. They can’t find out my name, or Disney will fire me. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, you could send it in as a highlight reel or an audition tape,” Joy answers. “Those are kept private anyway, so the public won’t find out. Win-win.”

You roll over to face her. “You think that’ll work?”

Her response is interrupted by a polite knock at the door of the small dressing room. You both know that none of you ever knock before entering, so whoever is outside must be a visitor.

“I’ll get it,” you say, walking toward the door and opening it.

“Um, hi.” It’s Park Jimin again, hands awkwardly in his pockets and looking freshly showered in a black shirt and ripped jeans. His favourite combo. “I thought I might find you here.”

You hastily rip off your face mask, cheeks turning red at your disheveled appearance compare to his flawless one. “Hey! Um, yeah haha guess I’m pretty predictable!”

You almost cringe at your awkwardness. Jimin only smiles gently, eyes looking past you into the room.

“Are you busy?”

“Um… no! Not really. Just relaxing after my shift, Joy’s here too, you know her, right?”

Jimin acknowledges her with a nod. “Actually, I kind of ran into senior management just now, and they asked me if you were still in the park. I think they want to see you and it seemed kind of urgent, so I came over to see if you were here.”

A slight tinge of disappointment makes itself known in your chest. So Jimin didn’t come here to look for you, he only came because senior management asked him to.

“They- they want to see me? I didn’t get any email from them though…” you pull out your phone and check it, only to realise it’s out of battery. “Oh. No wonder. Um… sure. I’ll go see them right now. Thanks for letting me know.”

You start to slip past him, but he catches your arm halfway.

“I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind,” he says with a shy little smile, flipping his hair off his forehead with one hand.

“You sure? I don’t want to hold you up… you must be tired.” Both of you start to stroll toward the head offices.

Jimin smiles companionably, taking a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. “I’m okay. Not that tired. It’s a really fun job, and seeing the crowd gives me energy. So I always end the day with more energy than I started it with.”

You can kind of relate to what he’s referring to, and for the first time you realise how important it is to receive so much love and attention from your audience. “Yeah, totally. It’s like a two-way dialogue. You give the audience your all, and they give it back to you tenfold.”

“Exactly!” He grins at you with a little skip in his step. “You’ve been killing it lately. I heard you’re going super viral on Youtube. The first video of you and Gaston has, what- five million views?”

“Oh, yeah… it’s crazy. I have no idea how that happened,” you blush a little under his intense gaze, focusing on the path in front of you instead.

“I know how it happened, your acting skills are amazing,” Jimin says with a shrug, saying it as if it’s obvious. “Watching you makes me feel like you were born to act. When you’re acting, you just steal the spotlight even if there isn’t a stage. I think you should give yourself more credit.”

He turns to you with a sweet smile, eyes warm. It almost makes you stumble over a non-existent rock.

“Thankfully neither you nor the crowd are mind readers, because I was doubting myself like crazy that day,” you attempt to laugh it off, but your confession only makes Jimin even more curious, his hand brushing against yours. You ignore the hitch in your voice. “It was more like tiny little questions. ‘Like is this okay? Am I doing a good job? Was that too mean? Do they hate me?’ ”

“Wow- that’s… I couldn’t tell at all,” Jimin admits. “From the outside you just looked like you were born to be there. You looked so confident and comfortable in your own skin, and… it was attractive.”

Your heart skips multiple beats as you shakily bring yourself to make eye contact with him. Jimin is still looking at you, and the words are left unsaid between the two of you, but his gaze makes it loud and clear.

I was attracted to you.

You’re saved from a response as you approach the head office. Thinking he’d probably do the normal thing and leave now, you turn to say goodbye to him, but Jimin follows you into the office.

“I can stay a little. Don’t have anything after this anyway,” he says with an easy smile, and part of you is glad, because you’re nervous at the thought of meeting with senior management.

Though you’ll have to go in alone, the thought of Jimin waiting outside for you makes you a little less anxious.

“Good evening, _________,” the head of Character Management, Kim Sejeong greets you.

It’s strange to be meeting with management so often, the last time being when you got promoted. But this time, the rest of the management is also in the room, sitting on either side of a long table, looking important and intimidating.

“Hi- Good evening, I believe you wanted to see me?” Your voice comes out small, and you hate it.

“Yes, we have some very great news for you,” Kim Sejeong smiles tightly as she ushers you to a seat at the end of the table. “I’ll let our director of HR deliver it himself.”

His nameplate reads Jung Hoseok. He clears his throat, adjusting his tie as he smiles at you. “Congratulations, ________. You’ve been made employee of the month.”

There’s a stunned silence for a moment as you digest the news. Finally, you bring yourself to utter a response. “Um… I… wow, this is amazing, I had no idea… Thank you so much, Mr Jung.”

Jung Hoseok laces his fingers together, smiling again as he looks at the other members of the senior management. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve definitely noticed how you are shining in your new assignment. We’ve taken note that you’ve gone viral, and we estimate that park visitation numbers have gone up by 5% ever since you were promoted. You’ve brought very good publicity for our park, and we think you deserve this title.”

“In fact, we decided to modify the title slightly, you’re now employee of the month for the next three months. Of course, we’ll be announcing your title in the official staff newsletter later this month, but we just thought you’d like to know in advance,” Sejeong interjects smoothly.

This has to be a dream. Some cruel nightmare where everything is ripped away from you at the very last second. There’s no way something this good can happen to you… is there?

“It’s not just a title,” Jung Hoseok corrects himself. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the Employee of the Month is also rewarded with a small voucher. But since this is Employee of the Month for the next three months, we thought the prize should be similarly inflated.”

You glance at Sejeong expectantly, not daring to get your hopes up. What could it be? Cash? A month off work? A bonus?

“Two pairs of VIP tickets to Disneyland, redeemable at any time with no expiry,” Jung Hoseok grins as if he thinks he’s awarding you the Nobel Peace Prize. “And, a free night’s stay at the Disneyland hotel, two rooms inclusive.”

You’ve never really been a fan of Disneyland and its hotels, but this is slightly ridiculous. The reward for doing well at work is… getting to spend more time at work? You supposed you can always sell the tickets or something… you just have to find a way to be discreet about it.

You realise that a longer than socially acceptable amount of time has passed in which you’ve just been staring at senior management, and you clear your throat, mentally slapping yourself out of your stupor.

“Thank you, Mr Jung. I truly… truly appreciate this, it’s such an honour,” you force the words out alone with a stiff smile on your face.

Jung Hoseok seems satisfied with your gratitude. “Thank you, Ms______. Please keep up the good work. Well, that’s all we have for you today, unless there’s anything on your side, Sejeong?”

“Nope, nothing from me,” Sejeong shakes her head. “You may go now.”

You thank them one more time before letting yourself out of the room, still trying to process everything. Jimin sees the slightly overwhelmed look on your face, and he immediately meets you at your side, arm around your shoulder to guide you to the door.

“You okay? It wasn’t bad news, right?” He asks, worried.

“No… no it wasn’t. Quite the opposite, actually,” you say still in a daze. “I was awarded Employee of the Month. For the next three months.”

“Oh my god. That’s amazing! You totally deserve it!” Jimin expresses his joy with his entire body, skipping ahead of you a few paces and even doing a spin, giggling in that cute way of his.

“It is,” you smile, genuinely happy now. “But get this, guess what was the reward.”

“A 13th month bonus?” Jimin guesses excitedly, his eyes bright.

“Two pairs of VIP tickets to Disneyland. And two hotel rooms, one night stay,” you say in a deadpan manner. “I know, right? How stingy. Employees already get a 20% discounted rate off everything, and yet…”

“You could always sell them. Or, I mean… take the chance to just be a normal person at Disney. I guess that’s easier said than done, with all the things that we’ve seen as cast members…” Jimin bites his lip in a way that highlights how plush they are.

“A normal person at Disney?” You’re intrigued by the idea as the two of you start to walk back towards the cast member’s dressing rooms. “I’ve never really thought of that before. I mean, this is our workplace, so I don’t think I could ever think of it as a place to have fun.”

“I could show you, i-if you wanted,” Jimin stumbles over his words, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks as his smile rounds them out gently. “I think it’d be fun. To just forget what we’re really here for and enjoy the park as Walt Disney himself intended it.”

From anyone else, those words would have rubbed you the wrong way. But coming from Park Jimin, it’s genuine because you can tell he really believes that this park was meant to bring joy to people.

And after all, spending a day with Park Jimin in Disney doesn’t sound all that bad. Especially when you think of the hotel room waiting for you after.

“I think it’s a deal,” you grin at him, a fluttering in your stomach when you see his face light up.

*

“Oh my god. Please,” Jeongguk begs, practically on his knees in front of you. “I’d kill to stay in a Disney hotel just once. And besides, this would be great for my channel!”

“You have a channel?” You frown at him. This is news.

“I recently just started one! It’s mainly gaming for now, but I thought of branching out into vlogging too! And what better place to vlog than Disney itself?” Jeongguk grins and stretches his arms, spinning in the small dressing room and nearly knocking Yoongi off his feet.

The older man glares as he shields his Americano with his body. “Count me out. Spending more time in this place is the last thing I want.”

You sigh under your breath. “Me too, bud.”

“C’mon, you have three tickets! Just give one to me, and Tae and Joy can take the other two! It’s perfect!” Jeongguk folds his arms petulantly, as if he can’t believe you haven’t done the math. “We can do the ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’ and then crash in the hotel room at night. It’ll be like old times again, just way fancier!”

“We can just sneak Yoongi hyung in for the ‘crash at hotel’ part,” Taehyung chimes in. “We’ll get snacks and alcohol and shit. It’ll be great!”

“Um… well, about that…” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “I… kind of only have two tickets left.”

“What? Where’d the last one go?” Jeongguk immediately questions this unexpected wrench in his well laid plans.

This catches Yoongi’s attention too, and he stops scrolling on his phone to fix his eyes on you. Eyebrow raised, as if he can tell what you’re going to say next.

“I don’t think you have any other friends than us,” Jeongguk is thinking hard, and you punch him in the shoulder just for that comment.

“It’s Park Jimin, that’s who,” Joy pipes up from the corner as she’s examining her skin for any breakouts.

Jeongguk frowns. “Wait. Prince Eric? He’s your friend? You guys are close?”

Yoongi snorts at that naïve response. “Dude, she has the biggest boner for him. Everyone in the crew knows that. Well, except for you and him, I guess.”

“Shut up, everyone does not know that!” You throw a cushion at Yoongi, but he raises an arm to deflect it, unbothered as always. “I’m gonna put salt in your Americano tomorrow.”

“Two slots and three people, that’s gonna be interesting,” Yoongi says, going back to his phone.

“Well, I volunteer Tae as tribute. He’s the only one whose shift doesn’t match ours for the next month,” Joy shoots you a quick glance as she says this, and you understand what she’s getting at immediately.

If it’s just you, Jimin and the two brats, you’ll be spending the whole day taking care of them like they’re your overgrown children. But with Joy along, hopefully she can distract Jeongguk long enough for you and Jimin to have some time together, and hopefully even hit the end goal of-

“Oh, right…” Taehyung says with slumped shoulders. “Who plans the shifts anyway? Why’d I have to be left out this time?”

Feeling a little guilty for all the unspoken planning going on between you and Joy, you ruffle Taehyung’s hair fondly. “Hey. You can still join us at night. We’ll just sneak you guys all in.”

You almost regret the words coming out of your mouth the moment you say it, because Joy shoots you an ‘are you sure about this’ look. You return her look with a shrug. As much as you want Jimin, it doesn’t feel right to exclude your friends like this, friends who have been like a family to you.

You’ll just have to find a way to get Jimin alone, because this is your best chance.

*

“Hey everyone! What’s up guys, today we’re doing a ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’!! Woohoo!” Jeongguk’s boisterous voice attracts the attention of a few other people around him.

He holds out his vlogging camera further to capture the rest of the party. Joy is walking beside him, doing a great job of being the physical buffer between Jeongguk, you and Jimin. She waves half-heartedly, more concerned with shielding herself from the merciless sun with her sunhat and making sure Jeongguk doesn’t crash into anything while mindlessly vlogging.

You’re a few paces away with Jimin, matching your pace to his and already feeling the exhilaration of the day ahead. Even just walking beside him is enough to get your heart racing. Today he’s dressed up slightly more, in a white button-down shirt with cut-off khaki shorts that show off his muscled thighs. To complete the look, his black hair is parted in the middle, showing off his forehead, black sunglasses hung on the vee of his white button down shirt.

“Did I miss the memo or something?” Jimin turns to you with an amused smile on his lips. They look soft, pink and even a little glossy, as if he’d taken the time to apply some tinted lip balm. “Eat everything at Disney Challenge?”

“Don’t worry, I missed it too. If I’d known, I would have worn something a lot looser than this,” you gesture down at yourself. If only Jimin knew that you had spent hours agonizing over your outfit last night, panic calling Joy for help and realizing that you have absolutely zero date worthy clothes in your closet.

It figures because the last time you went out for something other than work and auditions and grocery shopping was never.

Finally, you’d settled on a yellow plaid dress with thin straps to fight off the summer heat, and sneakers to make walking a little easier.

“You look great though,” Jimin says boldly, biting his lower lip. “How about this: he’s here for the all you can eat challenge. We’re here on a date.”

The words make your stomach flutter dangerously, as if you’re on Space Mountain just before the big drop. There’s something slightly different about Jimin today, he’s a sassier, more flirty version of himself, and it only makes you wish you could have come alone with him even more.

*

No more shy smiles or cute grins today, Park Jimin is going all out in his flirting. He’s going to get the girl today, Jeon Jeongguk be damned.

The four of you stop at a churro stand, and Jeongguk announces to the camera that it’s the first stop of the day.

Jimin’s never been one for the sugary treat, but he spies an opportunity as Jeongguk begins to scarf down his churro on camera, getting sugar all over his shirt.

“Hi, can I have one pineapple churro please?” He asks before turning to you. “Share one with me?”

“Sure,” you shrug as Jeongguk approaches the two of you, his original flavour churro already gone.

“What’d you guys get?” Jeongguk squeezes himself in between you and Jimin. “Oh. Pineapple? I didn’t know they had that flavour.”

Jimin hands over some cash to the vendor and takes the still warm, yellow churro dusted in bright yellow sugar. “They have all different kinds of flavours, look.” He points to the menu board on top of the booth. “Hey, you know what’d be cool Jeongguk?”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk turns to him with a questioning look in his eyes.

“You should try all the different flavoured churros, it’d be a really cool addition to the vlog!”

Jeongguk lights up at the suggestion. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He turns to the vendor and points at the menu. “Can I have one in every flavour? Oh, and employee discount please.”

“Sure, but we’re fresh out of churros and it’ll take about fifteen minutes to make the next batch, would you be okay with waiting, sir?”

Jimin discreetly tugs at your hand and pulls you away with him while Jeongguk haggles with the vendor about the waiting time, too preoccupied to even notice the two of you.

A safe distance away, Jimin grins as he glances you up and down as if he suddenly realized something. “Here. Take this.”

He shoves the churro at you, and you take it from him, brows knitted in confusion.

“It matches your outfit, and you look really cute. I wanna take a picture of you,” Jimin explains with a giggle as he takes his phone out of his pocket, positioning you so that the Magic Castle is directly behind you. “One, two three…”

You make him laugh in his signature way, with his entire body, when you pretend to play the churro like a flute. He snaps a few more pictures with a satisfied smile on his face, and you drop the pose, walking over to him to check the picture and half hoping you don’t look horrible.

“So pretty, see,” Jimin shows you a candid of you laughing at him laughing, and you realise it’s the happiest you’ve seen yourself lately. His proximity as he shows you the other pictures makes your heart race, and you almost don’t want to move away.

To cover up your fluttering nerves, you take a bite of the churro, feeling the sugar melt on your tongue, and the tangy taste of pineapple spread across your tastebuds.

“Good?” Jimin asks, putting his phone away, casually letting his arm skim past your waist as he tucks it into his pocket. “Lemme try?”

Before you can offer your end of the churro to him, he closes one hand around your wrist and lifts the other end of the churro to his lips, taking a bite of it. The sugar dusts his plush lips, and he maintains direct eye contact with you as he chews, his smoldering eyes such a contrast with the cute bulge of his cheek full of churro.

The slight height difference means the churro is tilted in between the two of you, and your end of the churro remains slightly out of your reach. Feeling as if his eyes are daring you to, you lean forward slightly and take a bite from your side while he takes another bite from his end.

God damn if this isn’t the most romantic thing you’ve ever done. You’d thought these things only happen in movies. Feeling your cheeks heat up from his stare, you break away first and brush some sugar off your chin.

“It’s really good,” Jimin comments, licking his lips to get every bit of sugar. “Tastes just like the Dole Whip. Pineapple’s really good for you too.”

“It is?” You ask before you can fully comprehend what he’s said, mind already addled by his close proximity and how outrageously cheesy he’s being. You see a stray granule of sugar on his bottom lip, and without thinking, brush it away with your thumb.

Jimin pairs his answer with another bite of the pineapple churro, a slight smirk on his lips as he chews. “Yeah, it tastes good, and it makes you taste good too.”

You understand his double entendre immediately and wonder where the hell this side of Park Jimin was all along. A moment ago, everything was straight out of a rom-com movie, and a second later he’s looking at you like you’re the lead actors of Fifty Shades.

“Hey guys, I got it!” Jeongguk bounds over with his two fists full of churros, his camera balanced dangerously in the crook of his elbow. Joy trails behind with a slightly apologetic look on her face at not being able to successfully keep him busy. “Guys, can you film me? I’m gonna try to break the world record for eating churros the fastest.”

You oblige, stepping away from Jimin to rescue the camera from Jeongguk. “There’s such a record? What’s the time to beat?”

“Dunno,” Jeongguk shrugs, his eyes already focused on the multi-coloured churros in his hands. There’s pineapple, plum, green apple, strawberry and blue raspberry. “I’ll make one if there isn’t.”

“Don’t choke, Kook,” you caution him, taking out a bottle of water from your bag just in case, and position him in the camera frame. “Three… two… one… action!”

Jimin looks over your shoulder at the camera’s viewfinder as Jeongguk begins to scoff down the churros at record speed. In the blink of an eye, he’s already downed three, and he shoves the last two in his mouth at the same time, chewing furiously as if he’s eating two Pocky sticks at the same time.

“And… time!” You call out, figuring he can just add in the timer below later in post editing. You keep recording though, and hand him the bottle of water with your free hand.

Jeongguk looks satisfied with himself, though his eyes land on how close Jimin is standing behind you as he chugs the water. With a petulant pout, he lowers the bottle from his lips.

“Do I have sugar on my mouth?” He asks you, looking at your face rather than at the camera.

“Yes, yes you do,” you say with a laugh. “It’s all over your face and chin.”

“Wipe it for me?” Jeongguk asks with a shameless grin, glancing at the way Jimin’s expression tightens. “I can’t see where it is.”

There’s a brief pause as you hesitate, and then you pull a pack of tissues out of your pocket, tossing them at him. “Here. Use these.”

Jimin’s laughter sounds angelic to you, but it grates on Jeongguk’s ears.

*

“Hey, can you walk ahead of me?” Jeongguk turns to you with his camera still focused in front of him. “I wanna do a ‘follow me’ shot. And I need a model.”

“I’ll do it!” Joy chimes in enthusiastically, although you can obviously tell how forced it is judging from the smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The heat is definitely taking a toll on her. You owe her a huge debt after this.

But Jeongguk frowns a little. “Hmmm, can ______ do it instead?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Joy crosses her arms defensively.

“Have you seen the way you walk?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “You’re like a drunk elephant.”

Joy’s eyes widen in outrage and you can tell this is about to turn into an argument between your two best friends. Before she can say anything, however, Jimin cuts in.

“I’ll do it,” he says, pushing back his black hair from his forehead.

Relieved, you chime in. “Y-yes! Jimin walks really well. You should see the way he walks down Main Street when he’s Prince Eric. He turns the whole place into his private runway!”

Jimin shoots you a fond little smile, glowing from your compliment and you feel Jeongguk’s eyes tracking this tiny moment between you.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, already walking in front of Jeongguk.

“But… ‘follow me’ shots are usually done by a girl because they get more viewers,” Jeongguk protests weakly, especially when Jimin appears in the viewfinder of his camera. “And… and we have to hold hands.”

“You have no idea how handsome I am from the back,” Jimin smirks, running a hand through his hair again. “I’ll get you way more views than Joy and ______ ever could.”

“God damn. That confidence is so hot,” Joy whispers beside you, watching the two men squabble over having to hold hands, and then finally settle for no hand holding.

You don’t doubt he could get way more views than you or Joy, especially with the little smirk he shoots the camera over his shoulder as he starts to walk toward the Magic Castle. Jeongguk follows while filming, leaving the two of you behind for a moment.

“You know what’s hotter?” Your eyes don’t leave him for a second. “That ass.”

Joy giggles in tandem with you for a second before she stops with sudden realization. “Oh my god. I just realised something. I hope the walls between the hotel rooms are soundproof.”

*

“And… here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen today…” Jeongguk suddenly turns the camera on you as you pick at your candy floss. “We’re waiting to go on the carousel!”

Suddenly camera shy, you hide behind the giant pink cloud. “What’s with you? Why are you complimenting me?”

“Because it’s true,” Jeongguk shrugs, one hand reaching out to move your cotton candy away from your face so that he can see you.

But his view is suddenly rudely interrupted by Jimin who sticks his face right in front of the camera. Jeongguk jumps back in slightly shock, a scowl etched across his features as Jimin blocks you entirely.

“How about me? Aren’t I the cutest guy you’ve ever seen?” Jimin checks himself out in the camera lens, and you have to stop yourself from agreeing. He fluffs up his silky black hair, taking the sunglasses that hang in the vee of his shirt and putting them on.

Jimin continues to check himself out in the camera’s viewfinder, and you laugh at him, watching him smooth his hair and lick his lips, and suddenly you find yourself envying the viewers of Jeongguk’s channel. That is, if Jeongguk decides to even let this make it into the vlog in the first place.

Jeongguk is making noises of disgust, trying to get Jimin out of frame, and the two of them are squabbling like little kids.

Jeongguk passes the camera to you. “Hey, film me.”

He grabs a piece of popcorn and tosses it into the air, trying to catch it with his mouth. Joy giggles when he fails, and Jimin snorts with laughter at his reattempts.

“C’mon, that’s easy,” Jimin says as he grabs popcorn from Jeongguk, and you turn to focus the camera on him instead. Jimin tosses it into the air and catches it easily, shooting the camera a little smirk.

“I’ll do it again,” Jimin says, grabbing another piece of popcorn and tossing it in the air. It lands in his mouth effortlessly, and the way he looks at you while chewing makes your mouth go dry.

“One more, and if I succeed…” his voice trails off so that you have to strain to hear him over all the background noise of the park. “You have to ride me tonight.”

Then he throws it into the air and catches it with his mouth, and your heart skips a beat when he catches your eye after.

“Um, what?? I’ll have to ride… what?” You feel like that piece of popcorn has gone down your throat instead, from the way you’re stuttering.

“You’ll have to ride with me,” Jimin says with a wink, nodding at the carousel. “What did you think I said?”

You’re saved from replying when the gates in front of you open, signalling the next batch of carousel riders.

Joy tugs you along, unaffected by what just went down whatsoever. Her only aim is to choose the prettiest unicorn so she can take millions of selfies, and you follow her, not realizing that Jeongguk isn’t behind you. By the time you do realise, you’re already standing beside a white pony with a pink mane and tail just behind Joy.

“You go ahead, I wanna film the carousel from here,” Jeongguk focuses on getting the perfect frame on his camera. Jimin glances over his shoulder and realizes that it’s focused on you, following you as you go from pony to pony, laughing and giggling with your cotton candy still in hand.

He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’? Why are you filming ______ like, exclusively?”

“Because I wanna eat her, that’s why,” Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, and Jimin nearly explodes.

“What did you just say man?” He’s ready to grab Jeongguk by the collar for referring to you in such a crude manner.

“Calm down dude, it was just a joke,” Jeongguk’s eyes widen in fear. “I say stupid things sometimes without thinking! You know I’d never treat _____ like that. She’s like one of my best friends! I can’t help if I’m attracted to her like that!”

“Kook? What are you doing? Get over here!” You gesture at him and Jimin, who are still in the queue even though there are more than enough spaces on the carousel.

You notice the two of them having a seemingly intense conversation, at the end of which Jimin backs down and shoves his way through the gate, with a hard set to his jaw as he approaches the horse you’re about to ride. But by the time he’s on the carousel itself, the annoyance has vanished off his face.

“You should ride on this one instead,” Jimin gestures to a horse on the inside of the carousel. “Switch with me.”

You were just about to get on the horse, but at his insistence, switch to riding the one on the inside instead. Jimin stands just behind you, making sure you’re securely on the horse before he climbs up on the one next to you.

He glances at Jeongguk still in the queue trying to get a shot of you on the carousel, but he purposely angles his body so that he’s blocking you entirely. Especially when he sees your exposed thigh when your dress rides up from your position on the horse. Jimin doesn’t want anyone but him to be privy to this view, that’s for sure.

The ride slowly creaks to a start, and the whimsical music starts up. Now that the sun has gone down, the glow of the carousel lights casts a magical tinge over everything, and when Jimin looks over at you, he isn’t ready for the surge of butterflies.

*

The four of you make it to the hotel to check-in, half exhausted and just wanting to collapse onto cool sheets for a while before coming up with a plan to sneak in Yoongi and Tae, who insisted on bringing the snacks and alcohol so that they wouldn’t be left out.

“Here you go, two rooms, across the hallway from each other. 503 and 504,” the hotel clerk smiles at you, and you thank her, grabbing the keys and joining the other three in front of the elevators.

“Fifth floor,” you mumble to no one in particular as the four of you enter the lift. Joy reaches out to punch in the correct number, while Jimin boldly wraps an arm around your waist and you press your cheek into his chest.

“Why’s Kook sulking?” You refer to Jeongguk who’s been silent ever since you got off the carousel ride, looking through shots on his camera with a sullen look on his face.

“His blood sugar is low, he needs some snacks probably,” Joy says, stifling a yawn herself. “God, I can’t believe it’s only 9pm and we’re dying to go to bed. When did we become boring ass adults?”

“Ever since we got jobs and started paying bills,” your voice is muffled by Jimin’s shirt.

The elevator dings and you stumble out, navigating the lush hallways lined with red carpeting to find the correct unit number. You stop in front of 503 and tap the key card to the sensor, tossing the other one to Joy who opens the opposite room.

The sight of the neat, luxurious hotel rooms perks even Jeongguk up, as you dump your stuff and throw yourselves onto the soft beds.

“Oh god. Who was the one who suggested The Spinning Teacups? I hate you so much right now,” you mumble into a pillow, all your energy sapped up.

“Jeongguk did,” Jimin helpfully supplements your memory even as you feel the bed dip slightly beside you.

All of a sudden, you are painfully aware that the two of you are alone in the room together… the door is locked securely and there’s no one, not even Mr Walt Disney himself, who could interrupt your moment now. You turn to see Jimin flat on his back beside you, eyes closed and hair brushed away from his face. The outline of his sharp jawline leads you down to his Adam’s apple, then further down into the v of his shirt that exposes his chest…

He catches you looking with a playful smirk on his plush lips, turning onto his side so that he can regard you better.

“I waited all day for this…” Jimin whispers in a low sultry tone as his eyes undress you, and he sits up, running his fingers through his hair. “Remember what I said about riding me?”

You can only gape at him for a moment, before you reach out to smack his chest. “Oh my god, I knew I heard that! You made me feel like such a pervert!”

Jimin laughs, reaching across the bed to pull you into his lap so that you are indeed straddling him. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You forget about how sweaty you feel when Jimin pulls you down for a kiss, and you finally taste those plush lips of his that you’d been dreaming of forever. You feel as if all of this is a dream, only it can’t be because the sensation of his warm body beneath yours is all too real, his tongue begging for entrance is making all of your fantasies come true and-

Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong!!!

The doorbell rings persistently and doesn’t stop. Such an obnoxious act can only be the work of one person. Sighing, you extricate yourself from Jimin’s grasp with one last kiss to his bottom lip and go to check who’s outside in the doorhole.

But all you see is darkness.

“What are you guys doing in there! Come out! Yoongi and Tae are here!” Jeongguk’s voice sounds from outside, and you can only surmise that he’s covered the door hole with his hand. Real mature.

Sighing, you turn back to Jimin still on the bed. Inside here is Jimin with his cute smile and sinful promises of the night to come, and out there is… Jeon Jeongguk with a penchant of cock blocking you at every turn he gets.

“We should join them for a bit. Then sneak away if we can.” Jimin sighs when the doorbell continues ringing, twitching an eyebrow in annoyance. “Or else he’ll never leave us alone. We need a game plan.”

Jimin turns to rummage through his bag for some comfy clothes to change into, and you do the same, only retreating into the bathroom to try and freshen up a little first. Five minutes later you emerge, dressed in comfy sweats as you open the door, only to stop the incessant ringing of the doorbell.

“Kook, you’re disturbing the neighbours,” you chide him gently, pushing him towards the other hotel room as Jimin emerges behind you in an oversized black hoodie and shorts.

It seems like the party already started without you, chip bags open and strewn everywhere, beer cans crushed and strewn around. You plop yourself down on a pillow and reach for some Doritos, moaning as the salty, cheesy goodness hits your tongue and you feel renergised.

Yoongi comes in bearing pizza, and for a moment no one speaks as you all hungrily devour the food.

“So Kook, did you manage to finish your ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’?” Taehyung asks with a hopeful grin, for he’d contributed to the idea himself.

“Obviously not, or else he wouldn’t be stuffing himself right now,” Joy says through a mouthful of pizza, chasing it down with a gulp of soda. “He started off strong with the churros, but I think he kinda got sidetracked along the way…”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, not really looking all that disappointed. “Bro, there’s always next time! I told you, you need me!”

Yoongi settles back with a can of beer, looking as though the day has thoroughly worn him out. “So, how’d you losers like Disney? As visitors, not as cast members.”

“Eh, was okay I guess,” Jeongguk picks at a piece of pineapple on his slice. “Vlog turned out slightly different than I wanted it to.”

“Too hot,” Joy complains, before realizing her mistake. Her eyes widen as Taehyung tosses an empty crushed beer can at her.

“Try an entire afternoon in costume!” Taehyung says indignantly, before bursting into laughter.

While they bicker back and forth, Jimin nudges your knee with his, and mouths the words ‘game plan’. Your eyes dart around the mess in front of you, then at each of your friends.

Jeongguk is stuffing himself with the rest of the pizza, and if you know anything about him is that he goes out like a light after meals. Yoongi is already more than half asleep, Tae and Joy are distracting each other. Now’s the perfect time.

You start to stand up slowly, making your way to the door to let yourself out quietly. You don’t dare to turn and see if Jimin is following behind you, all you can do is keep going straight without making any more noise…

“_______? Where are you going?”

Shit.

Jeongguk’s sleepy voice interrupts you, and you turn around, a hesitant smile on your face. You see that Jimin is still seated in the circle, and you root around in your head for an excuse.

“Just- just gonna get more beer, we’re already out!” You say, and Jeongguk seems to accept this as he shifts his position to lie his head on Jimin’s lap instead. “Hyung- can I call you that? Hyung, lend me your lap for a while. You’re comfy.”

Ignoring Jimin’s silent protests for help, you let yourself out of the room, breathing a sigh of relief once the door closes behind you. You let yourself into the other room with the spare keycard in your pocket, thanking the heavens that you decided to ask for an extra card at reception just now. The original one is with Jimin, if and when he manages to extricate himself from Jeongguk’s grasp…

You sigh and slide under the soft, warm sheets, deciding that you might as well take a nap while waiting for Jimin.

*

Beep-beep….

The sound of a key-card being scanned stirs you from sleep, and you crack open an eye, but all you’re met with is the darkness of your hotel room. Then there’s a weight on the bed beside you, and Jimin’s soft voice.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No, no I-“ the sleep in your voice betrays you, though, and you sit up hastily, taking in Jimin’s ruffled appearance; hair messy and cheeks slightly red. “What time is it?”

“Just past 2am,” Jimin rubs a hand down his face, reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside. “We were deep into some drinking game before I managed to escape. They’re all passed out in the other room.”

Jimin tilts the bottle and drinks deeply as if to chase away the sleepiness. He replaces the bottle on the bedside and moves to take off his hoodie, revealing the thin black shirt underneath. Unable to stop yourself, you push yourself into a sitting position, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss, continuing from where you left off earlier.

You can taste the remnants of beer on his tongue, his hands slide around your waist to feel your soft curves, pull you closer to him so that you feel the hardness of his abs and the heat of his body.

“Finally,” he groans, trailing his kisses down your neck. “Fucking finally. This was all I could think about when we were playing 7 Up.”

His hands slide down to lift your shirt over your head, his lips marking the top of one breast as he works at the clasp of your bra. Jimin’s roughness is welcome as he sucks purple and blue into your skin, tossing away your bra like it’s nothing.

“You had the nerve to fall asleep while I was stuck entertaining your friends?” Jimin emphasizes this with a particularly harsh suck on your nipple, his fingers twisting the other one and your thighs clench together, trying to seek some sort of friction. His palm gropes your breasts, squeezing it roughly as he marks the other with his teeth and tongue.

“Shi-t I’m sorry!” You squeak out, but this side of Jimin you’ve never seen before is so fucking hot, and you can feel yourself already craving his touch on your body, inside you, and just everywhere.

His anger translates itself into his actions as he pulls down your sweatpants with a yank, but his fingers are always gentle on your skin as he travels up your inner thighs, traces across your sensitive lower lips. He witnesses how soaked your underwear is, pulling it away from you as he settles himself in between your thighs.

One flick of his tongue sends your thighs trembling, and he concentrates all his efforts on your clit, his fingers digging into your soft flesh in an attempt to keep your legs spread for him. Two fingers spread you for his viewing pleasure, he eats you like a man starved, not caring if your juice smear on his chin or cheeks.

When his fingers start to tease at your entrance, you buck your hips in a silent plea for more, and Jimin obliges you by sliding in one finger. Even though you’ve pleasured yourself in the past, it doesn’t compare to the feeling of him filling you up with his fingers, stretching you out and watching how well you take him.

One thumb is still rubbing circles around your clit, fingers stroking that special spot inside you as he coaxes you to cum all over him. Finally, Jimin goes in for the kill, replacing his thumb with his lips wrapped around your clit, and sucking until you see stars and your thighs are wrapped tight around his head.

You are panting and out of breath when your muscles loosen up, and Jimin is licking his lips, staring at your cunt. Without giving yourself time to get shy, you move to straddle him, ripping his shirt off in a hunger to feel his chest and abs, grinding against him.

“Fuck, are you really going to ride me like this?” Jimin has his hands around your waist as your tongue swirls in the shell of his ear, feeling your wet cunt grind against his abs. He lets you get a fill of his rock hard muscles for a few more seconds before aligning you where he really wants it, just over the bulge in his sweatpants.

“A bet’s a bet, right?” You reach down to pull the waistband of his sweatpants lower, bringing his underwear with it.  You can already see the red tip of his cock, hard and angry and weeping with precum.

You grasp him with your mouth watering at the thought of swallowing his thick cock down your throat, but that will have to wait because you think you might die if you don’t feel him inside you this very instant.

“You know, I always look at your ass in your Prince Eric costume when you walk past the Wishing Well,” you admit to him, stroking his cock a few times and relishing the deep groans from Jimin.

“Sounds like you have a kink for Princes. Maybe I should fuck you while wearing my Prince outfit?”

“Bonus points if we can roleplay. You can save me from this big, towering castle, and when you climb all the way up I’ll thank you by sucking your huge-“ You’re unable to finish the sentence, bursting out into giggles only to be met with a puzzled look from Jimin.

“Wait, you weren’t being serious? I was getting into that!” 

“Only if you call me Queen. And I get to call you a peasant.”

Jimin mock pouts, but then when his cock brushes against your clit, he suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to be punishing you for falling asleep while waiting for him.

He delivers one spank to your ass, causing you to moan as he reaches for the condoms thoughtfully provided by the hotel.

“Ugh, they’re Disney themed,” Jimin groans in distaste as he tosses aside the Mickey Mouse wrapper, unrolling the red and white polka dot condom over himself and swearing even more. “Who the hell would be turned on by this!”

You giggle at his obvious distress over how the condom makes his cock look.

“You’re laughing?” Jimin frowns in disapproval. “I’m here in danger of going soft before I can even fuck you and you’re-“

“Then I’d better help out,” you stifle your laughter as you grip him by the base and sink down onto him, and immediately all thoughts of Mickey Mouse, Disneyland and his cock going soft flee from Jimin’s mind.

All he can think of is the feeling of your warm cunt surrounding him, how tight you are as you take him all the way. You alternate between bouncing on top of him and grinding your hips in circles when you want more depth. Your thighs are burning, but you promised you’d ride Jimin till he cums.

When your pace slows down just a smidge, Jimin bends his thighs under you and meets you halfway for a while, before finally wrapping his arms around your waist so that your upper body is pressed tightly to his. Then you feel him pound into you, using his lower body strength to keep up the pace.

Although you’re on top, he seems to be doing most of the work, and the most you can do is to tighten around him. You can feel his grasp tight around your waist as his breaths quicken against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jimin is clearly trying to hold himself back, but you gather the last of your strength and start bouncing on him, trying to push him over the edge. A few more squeezes of your core around him and Jimin is groaning, gripping your waist as he thrusts up into you and spills into the condom.

A few brushes of his thumb around your clit is all it takes for you to follow him over the edge, collapsing against his chest in exhaustion as you both come down from your high.

Jimin goes soft and slips out of you, and he rolls you to the side so that he can take off the used condom. He grimaces as he ties the end and tosses it into the trash. “Never a-fucking-gain.”

“Does that mean we aren’t having round two here?” You tease him as he comes back to bed, snuggling deep into the covers with his cold feet pressed against your thigh.

“I think I could maybe deal with that… are there any Donald Duck ones?”

*

“My queen! I brought you a new servant!” A teenage girl excitedly drags her friends towards you, holding a camera up to film your reaction.

More and more of your visitors have been filming you, but you take it all in stride rather than feel pressurized by the thought that this will end up on Youtube. You pretend to check yourself out in the camera’s front view for a moment before noticing her and her friends.

“My new servant? Well everyone’s a servant, what are you talking about?” You glance dismissively at the crowd around you, holding up your mirror to catch the sun’s rays. “Well, if you’re my servant, you may bow.”

The girls giggle as they attempt to curtsy.

“That was terrible,” you swirl your cape in response. “It needs work. Now off with you!”

You turn and begin to stroll in the direction of the Magic Castle, aware that your little entourage is following you. Children are running after you and a few of them ask to hold your hand, which you allow graciously.

“Come, come, walk with me. The Wishing Well is filthy, Snow White hasn’t been doing her job lately. Out of my way! Out of our way, peasants!” You proclaim loudly, making everyone aware that you’re currently conducting your own parade.

Your shift is due to end soon, but you can’t resist passing by the Magic Castle just once. If you get the timing right, Jimin should be doing his rounds there while Ariel is stuck inside at in a photo session…

From far away you spot the bright blue jacket of his blazer, his dark black hair glowing in the sun and his pretty smiles as he twirls a child around in his arms. The sight of Park Jimin as Prince Eric nearly makes you want to smile, and you barely manage to keep your smirk of disdain on.

“My Queen, what do you think of Prince Eric? Isn’t he just the dreamiest?” One of your followers sighs from behind you as they catch a glimpse of the Prince. “He would make a great servant!”

“That’s precisely the reason why I came here, to recruit a new servant,” you concede, waving your mirror in the air as you approach Jimin. “I think a poison apple or two should be enough to take care of Princess Ariel, and then he’ll be all mine!”

Your laughter makes Jimin glance up at your approaching entourage, and well-mannered as his character is, he gives you a slight bow.

“Well, to what pleasure do we owe your presence to? Not here to give out any poisoned apples, are we?” Jimin holds a child’s hand as they attempt to hide behind him.

“Not at all… not yet at least,” you smile deviously, gesturing to all the people following you. “Someone here suggested you’d make a good servant… and I came here to see for myself.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I have to politely decline,” Jimin says with a small bow, but you can see the slight smile on his face. “As much as it would be an honour to serve you, my Queen, I’m afraid my allegiance lies elsewhere.”

“Hmmm,” you consider his rejection with a finger on your chin, checking your reflection in your mirror before you answer. “Well, at least he has manners. Which is more than I can say for his other half, that fish girl. I guess he needs to make up for the both of them.”

You can see it takes everything Jimin has not to giggle with his entire body like he usually does. Swirling your cape, you turn around and stride to the nearest exit, waving goodbye to your followers.

A few minutes later, Jimin follows you into one of the dressing rooms already laughing.

“You did it on purpose! I nearly broke character because of you,” Jimin points an accusing finger at you, but his giggles take all the sting out of it. He takes your hand and the two of you start to walk back to your fur character’s dressing room, taking the shortcut through the tunnels so that god forbid, no one in the park sees Prince Eric and The Evil Queen holding hands and giggling together.

In all the fairytales you read as a child, it’s always the Princess who gets her Prince and her happy ending. Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that something like this would be possible, and yet here you are, walking hand in hand with the Prince of your dreams.

Maybe you don’t have to be a princess to get a happy ending after all.

“I should come by more often, you’re cute when flustered,” you tease him as he opens the door to the dressing room, and you’re thankful that no one can see the silly smile on your face that definitely doesn’t fit the Evil Queen.

“Ugh, get a room,” Yoongi peeks an eye open and closes it immediately at the sight of the two of you.

“This is a room,” you say, and Jimin only reluctantly lets go of your hand to let you take off your makeup.

Yoongi only grumbles and goes back to napping, and the two of you quieten down in the unspoken agreement that a sleepy Yoongi is like a bear that should best be left in hibernation.

You retrieve your phone to check your messages that you missed while being away for the past few hours, only to see that you have five missed calls and three messages all from the same number.

Opening the latest message, your heart skips a few excited beats.

Dear ______,

This is Mr Kim, Casting Manager for Broadway’s Maleficient. I refer to your audition tape sent in a few weeks back, apologies for the delay in getting back to you. I’d like to formally invite you down for an audition at your earliest possible convenience. The directors are all very excited to meet you, especially after watching your audition tape of your current role as The Evil Queen at Disneyland. You’ve become somewhat of an internet sensation, and we would love to have a chance to meet you in person. Please let me know what date works for you, or give me a call any time.

Your hands are shaking. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“What? What is it?” Jimin asks in concern, peeking over your shoulder to read the text.

Then he lets out a loud whoop that makes Yoongi grunt in annoyance.

“You better not be giving him blowjob right in front of my salad or I’m kicking the two of you out on your naked asses…”

“______ got a fucking Broadway audition! She’s going to BROADWAY!!!!”

Jimin is beside himself with excitement, and you turn to kiss him, not because you want to shut him up (though it does accomplish that too).  

You kiss him because you feel like every happy ending deserves to end with a kiss like this, only then does it count as a happily ever after.

[bored-mumma]

Steve Rogers - Smut Alphabet - NSFW

MASTERLIST

18+ only. Very sexual nature. Swearing. 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s the king of aftercare. He’ll get warm cloths and clean you up, will grab you a glass of water and massage any place you ask him. If there’s anything you need after sex Steve will be more than happy to do it for you. Especially on the days your legs feel like jelly. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favourite body part of his is his arms. The way they can just pick you up and carry you, no matter your size. Or how they can pin your down against the bed when his face is in between your legs. 

Steves favourite body part of yours is your thighs. The way they move when you walk, how soft they are in his hands or the feeling of them wrapped around his waist. He can’t get enough of all of your body, but your thighs are just something else.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Inside of you nearly every time. Thanks to the super serum he can’t have children anyway so there’s no pregnancy fear for you. Though it’s mostly about the feeling. Being buried deep inside of you and bringing you to your orgasm as well, so he can feel you clench around him, is a feeling he can’t describe. It’s pure heaven to him. Although some days he ends up cumming in your mouth instead, not being able to resist your lips around him and watching you swallow everything he gives. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s nothing he wants more than to fuck you in the compounds gym. Seeing you work out, getting all sweaty in your tight gym clothes does crazy stuff to him. It got to the point he’ll no longer work out with you, finding it too difficult to concentrate. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced at all. He’s only been with a couple women, all but one of them was more than 80 years ago. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

The “upstanding citizen” ironically.  You straddle Steve, wrapping your legs around his body (he keeps his knees unlocked and thighs spread slightly). He then stands and supports you in their arms. You can start on the bed and have them pick you up without disengaging. (Or for the truly bold, you can hop aboard from standing position!)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Most of the time he’s pretty serious. His number one priority being getting you off as many times as possible. However, occasionally when you’re both in more relaxed, silly moods, Steve can crack jokes and make you laugh as well as make you feel great. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t really do much down there. Which is fine, you’re not fussed about that and he’s not fussed about yours either. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

No matter what position or what mood he’s in, sex between you both is very intimate. Eye contact, loving whispers, moaning in each others ears and hands linked together. Its an act that brings two people to one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Not very often since you are always usually up for it but sometimes he can’t help but get himself off in the shower. His sex drive is pretty high and he knows sometimes after a pretty rough night you may need a few days to recover before you can go another round. Although masturbation isn’t his favourite thing to do, he’ll still do it on the days he doesn’t get laid.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s a slight masochist, loving the pain he feels when you pull his hair hard or drag your nails down his back. He always loves a bit of orgasm control too. You riding him and getting him so close to cumming but as soon as you hear his moans getting louder, you stop all movements. He’ll get his revenge though and the next time you two have sex he’ll edge you with his tongue.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

In the safety of your shared apartment. He doesn’t care where in it and has taken you on every surface but he doesn’t like to do anything outside of your home. He’s got a reputation to keep up but not only that, the thought of someone else seeing you in an intimate position makes him crazy jealous. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you sit on his lap then your night is instantly sorted. Especially if you lightly rock your hips as you straddle him. He could be in the middle of the most important paperwork but if you do that then he’s gone from your loving boyfriend to just an animal. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Two of the biggest things he would never do is humiliation play or breath play. He loves and adores you too much to ever even consider humiliation play and breath play feels far too risky for him. Especially when you count in his super serum strength - one mistake and you’ll lose all breath. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He can’t get enough of your mouth. You knelt on your knees before him, head bobbing up and down as he grips your hair. Torn between throwing his head back in ecstasy or keeping his eyes fixed on you. Its now to a point where he gets excited every time he sees your hair up in a ponytail since thats what you do before giving him a blowjob.

He also loves to give you oral back too. Feeling you writhe against his face as he uses his arms to hold you down in place, hearing you cry out his name as he holds back your orgasm for the third time. Its his happy place. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually pretty rough but not overly fast. His  strong thrusts are one that some may consider to be at a fast pace but since you know how fast he could get, it didn’t seem so to you. However on the occasion, he’ll go more slow, more sensual. Usually those nights consist of oral on you and some plan missionary, him going deep but slow and whispering how much he loves you. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’ll take whatever you give him! A good few hours of fucking at night time or just a quick ride in the shower before the day starts works for him. As long as you both get off, he’s not fussed. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’ll try basically anything you want to do. To him, one of the most important part of sex is making sure you have an orgasm (or a good few!) and if you want to try different ways of doing that, he’s usually game. He also feels very comfortable in talking to you about things he’s heard about and is interested in trying and again, most of the time you say yes to them. You both only have one very strict rule. Before trying out any new kinks of play things, you have a conversation about it beforehand. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Neither of you really know how long he can last since it’s usually you who has to tap out first. After three or four rounds lasting at least an hour each, you can’t even walk. Thankfully Steve's aftercare game is strong and takes care of everything for you. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You own a couple of toys for when Steve is away from you on work. But when Steve found them he couldn’t help but bring them into the bedroom together. Especially ones that vibrate. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very often as he loves the feeling of you having a wave of pleasure beneath him but every once in a while he’ll be in the mood to make you suffer. Orgasm control as he eats you out. Tongue going up and down your body but missing all the places you wanted it the most. Fingers circling your clit but refusing to give as much stimulation as you wanted. Anything to get you begging for him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not loud in volume but very loud in words. He’ll deny it but you’re certain he has a praise kink. Always whispering in your ear about what a good girl you are, how well you take him. He never stops talking/moaning and it turns him on to full extent when you do it back.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He can’t even tell you the amount of time he’s looked at you during an Avengers conference , eyes going over your body which is wrapped in your work suit - an outfit he has fucked you in so many times before. Instead of paying attention, he’ll sit there and think of all the ways he’ll play with your body later. To the other Avengers, he’s Americas man in blue, someone who is just a soldier and can do no wrong. But you and him knew his mind is one of the filthiest you’ve ever known.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

A good 9in.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive never goes down. He’s ready wherever, whenever you are. It’s usually you who initiates sex since its just easier that way. After four years together, Steve has never turned you down.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s out like a light! As soon as the two of you are finished, cleaned up and started to cuddle, you can hear his gentle snores. He doesn’t mean to do it and always tries to wait for you to sleep first but never actually manages to.

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY THURSDAY: Megamind’s Connections Beyond the Film

Before we get started, it’s time for the obligatory SPOILER WARNING!  

In case this hasn’t been made sufficiently obvious by the fact that this is a post about Megamind written in a fan theory series about Megamind and published on a blog dedicated solely to Megamind, please let me just assure that this article is, in fact, about Megamind.  

If you haven’t seen the film yet yet, I have to question why you’re reading this in the first place.  As well as your taste in animated movies.  I’m definitely questioning that.

Over the years I’ve heard several fan theories concerning connections between the film Megamind and various other forms of media.  Today, let’s delve into just a few.

The first one is so obvious it’s almost painful, but it has to be mentioned.  Megamind is a Superman spoof.  Metro Man is clearly based on the Man of Steel himself, with a hefty dose of Elvis Presley and a larger range of character flaws thrown in for good measure.  (He also seems to contain quite a lot of the Popular Jock archetype.)  The character of Megamind is more complex still, combining elements of Alice Cooper and a nineties Goth theater kid with several comic book supervillains. The best known of the last include alien genius Brainiac and mad inventor Lexx Luthor, but they aren’t the only ones.  Some of Megamind’s engineering and technological inventions call to mind Spiderman villain Doctor Octopus even more than Lexx Luthor, and he also shares some parallels with the mad inventor Dr. Sivana in the SHAZAM comics.

Megamind’s most notable of the latter is the similarity of attitudes toward society.  Both Megamind and Dr. Sivana started off trying to use their inventions for good—the first in the classroom and the second for the betterment of mankind—but both became bitter when people mocked and shunned them.  For Dr. Sivana, this led to a desire to conquer all of Earth while for Megamind, in a sort of microcosm, it led to a similar drive to take over Metro City.  Both Lexx Luthor and Dr. Sivana have, perhaps, the strongest connections to Megamind as share, deep down, a desire to help or protect mankind, and as Lexx Luthor, like Megamind, harbors a secret love for the reporter damsel in their respective stories.  (This desire to do good, especially in the face of corrupt officials, ties into another Megamind fan theory that I will likely discuss in more detail in a later post.)

The connection between Megamind and Alice Cooper, by the way, was extremely intentional.  The creators stated in an interview that, like Alice Cooper, Megamind’s dark, evil self is, in fact, a stage persona.  (Even their clothing, consisting largely of black leather and spikes, is similar.)  That fact is illustrated in the film as we can see that Megamind’s behaviors on- and off-camera tend to be vastly different.  Even as a villain, he is merely playing a role, although in the case of Megamind that role has begun to merge with his self-identity.

There are, however, hints within the world of DreamWorks that Megamind has other connections as well.  The first is fairly recent and intensely interesting. In the Rise of the Guardians, Jamie Bennett, a young boy who still steadfastly believes in the seemingly impossible, mentions “aliens in Michigan,” only to be scoffed at by his friends.  Because Metro City is located in Michigan, (as can be seen briefly when the Death Ray is fired from space,) many fans theorize that the “aliens in Michigan” are none other than Megamind, Minion, and, perhaps, Metro Man. 

This would indicate that the two stories take place in the same world, and that Megamind’s adventures, while well-known in Metro City itself, have been covered up and kept secret from the rest of the world.  (Imagine moving to a moderately-sized city only to discover that—surprise!—there’s an extraterrestrial supervillain in residence and, oh, by the way, if you live downtown homeowners’ insurance is ridiculous!)

The second inter-film connection is less clear, but has spawned some interesting fan theories as well.  The idea is that, like Rise of the Guardians, Monsters VS. Aliens also takes place in the same reality as Megamind.  It’s not too far fetched—after all, both films involve extraterrestrials and amazing inventions—but there is one specific theory that really ties the two together.  Consider this for a moment: Megamind is a blue alien with incredible intelligence who hails from a destroyed planet.  Does that sound like any other DreamWorks character you know?  If you’ve seen Monster VS. Aliens, the antagonist, Gallaxhar, probably springs to mind.

According to Fandom.com, Gallaxhar’s official backstory is that he “destroyed his home planet” for the implied reason that “he experienced bad childhood and unhappy marriage.”  The fan theory is that that Gallaxhar’s planet was, in fact, Megamind’s home world, and that the former created or harnessed the black hole which destroyed it.  This would explain why Megamind’s people—as well as Metro Man’s—didn’t have time to escape despite being space-faring.  You see, black holes take millions of years to develop, and even a rogue black hole would take about a million to shift and swallow an entire solar system, so if the event had occurred naturally, there should have been plenty of time to build an entire fleet of spacecraft and leave for Earth or another safe planet.  (The fact that Megamind’s parents set his escape pod’s navigation system for Earth indicates that they knew of its existence.)

Of course, despite their large heads and blue skin tones, there are quite a few physical differences between Megamind and Gallaxhar.  The first is humanoid while the second has four eyes and tentacles instead of legs.  Fan theories have explanations for that, too, however.  

There appear to be two schools of thought on the subject.  The first is that Gallaxhar was another breed of alien living on the planet, possibly a servile race different from Minions, and the second is that part of Gallaxhar’s “bad childhood” involved being experimented upon, thus giving him his bizarre appearance and his seeming obsession with experimenting on others.  (There is some disagreement in the Megamind fandom about exactly why Gallaxhar was subjected to such treatment, ranging from falling into the hands of an unscrupulous scientist to being part of an experimental medical program.  The latter fan theory suggests that Gallaxhar was both blind and paraplegic, and that his additional eyes and tentacle “legs” were meant to rectify that, but that those physical differences made him an outsider, thus leading to his unhappy life and ultimate hatred for his own planet.)

If that were true, many may wonder what, exactly, Megamind might do if he ever found out about Gallaxhar.  Well, good news!  Just like there’s an app for everything, there’s a fan theory for that, too!  I will warn you, however, that this one is, frankly, build upon pretty thin evidence.  However, it’s interesting enough to be worth relating.

There is a character in Monsters VS. Aliens named General Warren R. Monger who, on the surface, is exactly what he appears to be: a high-ranking military man.  However, there are a few things that fans point to as possible evidence that Monger isn’t what he seems.  

The first is so simple that, alone, it would be inconsequential.  Monger rose through the ranks uncommonly fast, so much so that it caused some comment among others.  The second is significantly odder; Monger claims to be ninety years old despite looking like he is in his late forties.  Now, of course, this may have simply been the character exaggerating or messing with the “monsters” under his care, but some fans say it’s more than that, and claim that Monger chose that age because he was unfamiliar with human lifespans.  Next there is the fact that Monger is so intelligent that, despite one of the beings in his containment facility. Doctor Cockroach, being a super-genius, Monger outwits every escape attempt the monsters can make.  Then, of course, there is the fact that, despite his brusque manner, Monger seems to actually sympathize with the inhuman people he is charged with containing, and even pushes for them to be given a chance to prove themselves.  There is the oddity that, although he is assigned to the secret military base at ���Area Fifty-Something,” Monger seems to disappear a lot, often for days at a time.  Finally, there are a few key physical and technological attributes: Monger has some odd and incredibly energetic facial expression—including a nearly maniacal smile and a dark scowl—as well as a jet pack that he appears to have constructed himself and green eyes.

I’m still not certain I see the resemblance, but maybe there are some similarities?  What do you think?

If you’re familiar with Metro City’s resident blue alien, you can probably see where this is going.  Although it’s not a popular theory, I’ve heard it suggested in the Megamind fandom that Monger is, in fact, Megamind disguised using his holowatch.  (This is why the green eyes are significant; Megamind’s eye color is the only aspect of his appearance that the holowatch doesn’t change.  However, I feel compelled to note that the shade of green appears to be different.) Fans insist that it would have been easy for someone as incredibly brilliant as Megamind to hack government systems and forge documents such as birth certificates thoroughly enough to dupe even U.S. Military Intelligence. The two jet packs, some have contested, look different either because of the disguise or because the one featured in Monster VS. Aliens is an older model. I’ve even seen the fact that both Megamind and Monger begin with M being pointed to as possible evidence that the latter is no more than an invention of the former.

The argument is as follows: as Monsters VS. Aliens takes place in 2009, one year before events in Megamind, it’s possible that Megamind, still being a villain, created an alter-ego which he could use to help him search for and deal with other alien life.  (He is shown to be painfully lonely, and the Megamind comics reveal his desperate desire to find other survivors from his home planet.)  Upon figuring out who Gallaxhar was, and more importantly what he had done, Megamind wanted to be part of taking him down.  But he couldn’t be too open about it; he was, after all, still a “Bad Guy.”  This theory explains Monger’s frequent long absences—during those time Megamind was back in Metro City taking care of his regular business— as well as why Monger had a secret soft spot for the “monsters.”  Megamind, having always been treated like a monster himself, would naturally want to give them a chance, but wouldn’t dare behave in too overtly friendly a manner as it would have aroused suspicion.

As I said, support for that particular theory is, perhaps, a little thin, especially given the fact the Monsters VS. Aliens preceded Megamind, so character designs from the former are unlikely to have been influenced by the latter.  Nonetheless, I admit to appreciating the complexity and creativity of it.  It’s an undeniably fun theory. If they haven’t already, maybe someone will write a fan fiction about it one day.

Those are only a few of the theories out there connecting Megamind with other fandoms.  One could go on and on about the subject, but I won’t torture readers by doing that.  Nonetheless, it illustrates once again the immense love and original thought that Megamind fans put into developing their theories!  I dare say that few other animated movies have earned a following so dedicated and inventive…  But, then, any of us who love the film Megamind will tell you that it has more than earned the consideration!

[fascination-street-writing]

Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero​ -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband –, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Enies Lobby

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

this is still one of my very favorite nami panels. i think she’s really great through all of water 7 and enies lobby in general, actually, even though she isn’t really one of the characters in focus for a lot of it- like zoro and sanji, she stays pretty steadfast and very badass even though everything that happens, and never gives up on robin for a moment despite being one of the ‘weaker’ members of the crew. and it’s always fun to see her playing with lightning.

one of my favorite jokes from the first half or so of enies lobby is the strawhats both being completely unsurprised that luffy charges in ahead of them as soon as they arrive AND being able to find him immediately by following the explosions. they know him so well. 

luffy’s never been scared of dying, going all the way back to when he told coby he was fine with dying for his dream back in chapter two or three. that conversation is what his exchange with blueno here reminds me of- blueno asks him how long he intends to keep fighting, and luffy says until he dies, like there’s nothing to it.

it’s always been a trait of his to face death unflinching with a grin, so long as it’s for the sake of something he cares about, be it his crew or his brother or his dream, and i just really like that about him.  

i’ll go into it in the dressrosa post too, but i think it’s really impressive just how long oda held off on giving luffy any sort of significant power-up. he gets his first big power boost in the whole series here, forty volumes in. i’ve always liked that oda is very conservative with power boosts like this, because it both keeps the series’ powerscaling in check and makes the times it does happen much weightier. this is a monumental moment, and it feels like it.

also, i love the way gear two is drawn pre-timeskip, especially with the steam. it looks very cool and atmospheric.

i really like how united the strawhat crew feels throughout enies lobby, after all the internal turmoil and discord of water seven. even though the matter of usopp leaving the crew is still unresolved, they’ll all together once more, on the same page, and fully united in the goal of saving robin, whatever consequences it might bring. 

the tree of knowledge has such a cool design- it looks massive, and even more than that, it looks old. you look at that tree and you know its been there for easily thousands of years. its seen entire eras of history, and it would be priceless even without the countless books stored inside it.

and then it burns.

i’m so endlessly sad about the tragedy that is robin’s relationship with her mother. they never even got to see each other until their world was ending, and even then only for a couple minutes.

olvia is a very interesting character, because she’s someone who chose her dream over the people she loved. that’s not an inherently good or bad choice, but it is a choice she made, and it’s what led to the ending she and robin had to have. i’ve wondered a lot what might have happened if she chose the other way, if she never left or if she came back sooner or if she chose to flee the buster call with robin, and how different (and almost certainly better) robin’s life would have been if she had.

in a way, olvia reminds me a lot of kouzuki toki. they both die in order to fling a light of knowledge and hope into the future, and they both send their children away and choose to stay behind to choke on ash for the sake of a better tomorrow. 

i didn’t really notice until putting these panels together, but a lot of things burn in enies lobby. ohara burns, and the pluton plans and the world government flag, and enies lobby itself, and at the end, the going merry burns, too. if you extend it back to water seven, there’s the galley-la headquarters, too. in an arc that deals so much with the preservation and destruction of history and knowledge, it’s a fitting motif. 

the world government flag burning is still to this day one of the most striking panels out of a series full of them, in my opinion. in one act, the strawhats proclaim their absolute defiance against the world government, and their willingness to make enemies of the greatest power in the world for the sake of their friend.

it’s also another one of those moments that’s interesting to think about in the context of luffy’s past. it was a ship flying that same flag that shot sabo down, and while luffy wasn’t there to see it, i don’t think he’s oblivious to that fact, especially given how he says just before this he understands robin’s enemies perfectly.

dadan told him and ace that there was nothing they could do against the whole world, and luffy went and did it anyways.

sometimes i just think about how scary it must have been for robin, someone who’s been weighed down by the shackles of her past with no escape in sight for so very long, to open herself up and let herself hope, for life and freedom and a dream that’s always been out of reach. 

franky has a lot of really great moments between this arc and water seven- his conversation with usopp as usopp is working on merry and his talk with robin on the sea train are two others. it’s almost impressive how quickly he becomes an immensely likable character once we start getting to know him, given how he’s first introduced as an absolute piece of shit.

his burning of the pluton plans is a favorite of mine, and i think it might be because, like so many people before and after him, he’s choosing here to stake all his hopes on the strawhats, on luffy’s ability to pull off the impossible and on robin’s goodness. when robin’s only ever been chased and hated and called a demon by the world, franky chooses to trust her and luffy with the legacy his dad died for, and neither of them let him down.

monster point looks SO FUCKING TERRIFYING in enies lobby, and i LOVE it. look at that. franky is seven and half feet tall, and in front of monster point he’s tiny. monster point is huge, and dead-eyed, and a force of absolute destruction. i do kind of wish we got to see chopper go completely feral like this more often. he deserves to be terrifying!

i love how much FAITH all the rest of the strawhats continue to have in usopp throughout enies lobby. he left the crew and they really would have a right to be angry at him if they chose to, but it doesn’t even seem to cross any of their minds. they’re just happy he’s okay, and they include him again without missing a beat, because he’s still their friend and they know down to their bones they can trust him, even after everything. 

i’ve always really loved zoro and kaku’s little moment of post-battle banter here- zoro relays paulie’s message about cp9 being fired, kaku says he’s out of a job, zoro tells him to try the zoo, and kaku cracks up.

it feels very real to me for whatever reason, and i think part of it ties back into how well one piece handles morality with its characters- zoro and kaku are genuinely pretty similar people who get along decently, it just happens that they wound up on opposite sides. there are series where you’d never see moments like this due to the lines between good and bad being so firmly drawn, and i love how one piece blurs those lines so much they may as well not exist a lot of the time.

this is the other sequence, along with luffy climbing the drum rockies barehanded, that always makes me physically cringe to look at. it looks so painful. robin is so nearly powerless here, but not quite- she can still buy time for her crew to catch up, even if it’s only seconds, even if she risks shattering her teeth or even her jaw in the process. she’s spent so long giving up and has only just started daring to hope- she’s not about to go gentle.

there aren’t many panels that give me catharsis like this one. there really aren’t.

oda’s villains are usually complicated and awful and often a little admirable, if only for how clever or how terrifyingly powerful they are, but every now and then he comes up with someone who’s just pathetic and cowardly and pointlessly cruel. spandam is like this, obviously, and so is orochi, and the celestial dragons, and i’d argue flampe from whole cake island as well. and there’s nothing like seeing characters like them- weak, cruel people so assured in their own power and rightness- get obliterated.

one of the things i really like about enies lobby is that nobody really gets sidelined- everybody gets multiple chances to shine. luffy, usopp, and obviously robin are the most in focus, obviously, but zoro, sanji, nami, chopper, and even franky all get a bunch of individual awesome moments. oda’s ability to handle his cast satisfyingly is consistently really impressive (if sometimes strained in huge ensemble arcs like dressrosa or wano) and it really shows here, i think.

i just really love the entire climax of enies lobby. much like the arc as a whole, it just feels triumphant, even though the situation is extremely dire. luffy unlocking gear three, robin’s cuffs getting unlocked, usopp shooting spandam and the marines all the way from the tower of justice- it’s all just good, a long chain of much-needed victories and catharses, and it feels very good to read.

i’ll always be impressed by just how much characterization oda manages to give merry, a boat. she’s only really a character in water seven and the end of enies lobby, only about two chapters of which she actually speaks in. and yet i don’t think you’d find a single one piece fan who disagrees that merry’s death is easily one of the most heartwrenching in the entire series.

i love the reactions of the strawhats to robin’s thanks. they’ve just gone through hell to save her, most of them are beat to shit and they all risked their lives, and yet they all just smile, or brush it off, because to them there’s nothing else they could have done. it’s all worth it, so long as they got her back, so long as she’s safe and happy.

merry’s funeral just hits me in the chest every single time i read it. it’s tragic, of course, but there’s also something almost lovely about it, something peaceful about her getting to go out on her own terms, carrying her crew to safety one last time, defying every rule of the universe to do it. just like a strawhat pirate.

oda’s ability to communicate emotion through expressions really comes through here, too. merry has the only lines in this scene, fitting for her death in the limelight, but the shots of every other crewmate’s face let us know at a glance just what they’re all feeling and just how strongly they’re feeling it.

you know, i’d forgotten we only learn the name of the new world after enies lobby. we only get proper exposition about the revolutionary army and the yonkou here, too, despite them being set up since loguetown and jaya (or alabasta, or even chapter one if you count from shanks’s introduction) respectively. oda’s ability to parse out exposition and explanation so we always have just the right amount of information is really impressive- we always have more questions, but we also always have the feeling that those questions have answers, and that sooner or later they’ll be revealed.

points at shanks. i just think he’s neat.

it’s my opinion that one of the great joys of one piece is seeing luffy and the crew rise up in the world, and seeing them gain more and more notoriety. i love nothing they do ever happens in a vacuum- everything has impacts, and there are always outside eyes watching, and often those impacts are things that they never could have predicted.

ace and blackbeard is still, i think, definitely one of the coolest looking fights in the whole series. it’s not all that often we get to see two people with extremely flashy and showy abilities go all-out against each other, and the resulting fireworks are still really something to behold, despite how badly it all ends. 

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. tbh i think the pointed ears on the nymphs is kinda cute, the issue is that rachel and her team cannot keep most of their designs consistent and most are so lazy (ie daphne is just persephone with blue splotches, leto is just hera with black eyes, echo is just female hades, etc) that the features arent really a sign of thought out character design, but rather laziness that even they cant keep straight, as well as showing how lazy it is when only single features can tell anyone apart.

2. if anyone wants to see good versions of taking a webtoon and reworking it for print, go look at hooky, punderworld, and even let's play to see how it's actually done. the LO version is so rushed and lazy it's honestly kind of insulting to how well the other examples did their print versions.

3. It’s a fairly profound realization when you can sit back and recognize that Persephone has almost zero personality traits that aren’t completely wrapped around Hades. When taking a moment to think about what other meaningful relationships Persephone has outside of her love interest, there’s maybe…two (Hecate and Eros…possibly Hera)? I just need to point out that this is highly unusual for any sort of character, especially within a serialized work of art, to possess nearly no identifiable attributes aside from “what will their crush think of them if they do [blank]?” Persephone retains the same lukewarm qualities that early-era Disney princesses hold: interchangeable, formulaic, and malleable enough that viewers can easily insert themselves within the character’s respective roles. Some other anon had mentioned this before, but you could just as easily change Persephone’s name to “Y/N” and practically nothing would change within the story context itself.

4. heres what i dont get. its pretty obvious the first lo book at least is riding off repurposing longer panels as page backgrounds, which i do think is neat, the problem is even by ep 26 (which is where the first book ends) rs stops doing panels like this, and if she ever uses them very rare and still lacking interest. by the time the print version line up with the actual comic, it'll be nothing but a bunch of squished in. static panels with nothing to try and punch it up in the background.

5. itss really weird hera pointed out persephone is young and impressionable and would never argue with hades because of her naive nature and how her youth makes her easy to be pushed around and yet ... hades does exactly that to her and its framed as romantic?? like rachel you know when you say hades shouldn't do that that you actually shouldn't have him do that, right?? like she always setts something up to be disproven (like the age gap or smth) only to play it straight, like???

6. what i dont get of the print LO books is that the logo implies it's a whimsical fantasy, which LO is not, and even the first volume's cover implies its a contrast between the ancient world and the modern when thats not what LO is either. It's aN obvious example of false advertising and promising a viewer something they wont be getting. The second volume cover is horribly designed and lazy, but it's a bit more accurate in telling the viewer LO is just a 50 shades rip off at least.

7. What bugs me the most about LO is the over the top naive personality that RS puts on Persephone; for a goddess who lives with her mother in the farms I guess she could have a more assertive personality giving the context of dealing with the constant feeling of getting married unbeknownst to her or her mother, @a-gnosis comic portraits a more competent and unyielding Persephone, even when it needs to confront Hades, she doesn't fall in love in the way like LO Persephone does, that's a good story.

8. I had to stop reading the most recent fastpass because I couldn’t stop laughing at how some of the hands were drawn. Like, there are panels of Apollo and Zeus where their hands are so out of proportion that they are comically huge in comparison to their tiny heads.

9. I looked at the lo fast pass tag and found an account blaming us antis for effing up the LO tag… Like can you guys take it up to ones who made this app??.. It’s not our fault that tag system is messed up.

10. Is it just me or the humour in lo got super tiring an completely out of place? We are getting same old jokes all the time with "people" being loud and disrespectful to social norms (like Hermes walking in the court as it's a tv show) and every time it's placed during serious events, like what for? Why destroying the mood? Also it got super predictable - who would have know P would ask H to represent her - such complicated plot much suspence. It got super tiring to read now

[beaubokuto]

━ smile a crooked smile

pairing: koutaro bokuto x f!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, royal!au, angst, fluff

summary: koutaro bokuto was the light amongst the darkness that was the kingdom of peredine. but being in love with a flame can only last for so long before burning out.

for the #tooruluv2kparty contest hosted by the lovely @tooruluv​ !!

prompt: “falling in love with my best friend...it is the most destructive thing i have ever done.”

tags/warnings: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, friends to lovers, characters age up throughout the story, minor depictions of violence (dueling, a little bit of blood, open wounds, the creation of a scar), stealing, made up words and phrases, mentions of domestic violence 

You met your soulmate at the age of six. As just a mere child, you had found a piece of yourself in someone else. 

It was the first day of schooling. On the first day, it nearly always consisted of crying children begging to stay with their parents and teachers pretending that everything was okay. 

You had walked to your first day alone. 

As you took the steps that lead to the small building, you walked by a small boy sobbing into his mother’s chest. She was petting his head and whispering something to him that you couldn’t hear.

He was the only one left outside.

“Look,” His mother said, this time in a voice a tad louder. Just enough for you to hear. “She is being brave and going in all by herself.”

The boy turned to you, tears in his eyes and face a shade of red that you never witnessed before. He looked on either side of you, assessing the fact that you were by yourself, and turned back to his mother.

“I can do it.” 

The boy wiped the tears that stained his cheeks and gave his mother one last hug, barely a second, before rushing to your side. You hadn’t realized that you paused on the steps. It was as if you were waiting for him.

“Hi.” The boy was a little small compared to you, still baby fat and full cheeks. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Not anymore!” He smiled. You felt the need to squint. “I am Koutaro Bokuto and my dad isn’t here because he’s a knight, so that’s my mama. She said you’re brave.”

“I guess.” You walked again. Bokuto followed. “You’re brave, too.”

He sent another bright smile. This time it was accompanied by a twinkle in his golden eyes.

The friendship only grew from there. You would sit together during reading, play together during recess. He would wait for you on the steps every morning just to walk into the building together. 

This continued into advanced schooling, into your preteen years and into high school. 

He became a true friend.

At the age of ten, four years into your friendship, he asked you to have dinner at his house.

“Why?” You asked in return.

“I think it would be a good idea!” Bokuto took a bite of his lunch. “I can show you around! And my mother is a great cook.”

“I do not think...”

“Don’t think!” He pointed at you with his spoon. “Just agree!”

The thing about Koutaro Bokuto was that he was never formal. He would talk to teachers as if they were his friends; he would laugh at the King if he had the chance.

He was the only one you were informal with.

“Fine.” You slapped his hand away from stealing a bite of your lunch. “Meet me in the town square tonight?”

“Yay!”

That started your routine dinner. For years, you would either meet with Bokuto or arrive at his house for your final meal of the day. Bokuto’s mother would greet you every time with a smile that mimicked Bokuto’s and took your tastes into consideration while cooking.

Bokuto had a life that you wish you had. His parents were married, but his father was a knight who worked in the castle a majority of the time. He had two older sisters, one who was working towards becoming a teacher and one who was only two years older than you two. They would laugh and smile together, discuss each other’s days. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your mother had spoken since your father left on a mission to another kingdom.

A garden lined their backyard, and you found your peace in the flowers.

The line between love and friendship is rather thin. You love your friends, of course. But, when does that line blur and shift into something else entirely?

You feared you knew the tightrope of love.

The year between your first and second year of high school was the year Bokuto became taller than you.

He grew overnight, it seemed, as he arrived at your doorstep. His shoulders were muscular against his giant frame. You had to gain your bearings for a moment. 

You found yourself staring.

“You seem smaller.” He joked, obvious to his recent growth and broadness. 

“I suggest you bite your tongue.” You rolled your eyes. 

You were going to say another quip, something about gloating in the presence of a lady, when you noticed a bruise on his cheek. It was purple against his naturally sunkissed skin, boiled at the surface of his cheekbone directly under his right eye. 

His father.

You reached to trace the bruise that marked his skin. He must have forgotten about it; he sent you a confused look as you placed your hand on his cheek. 

“It was him again, wasn’t it?” Your thumb brushed the purple. Bokuto winced, but only a little.

“It is all right.” He took your hand off of his face and intertwined your fingers with his. “We will be late for school if you continue to stare.”

Holding hands was not something new to the friendship. Oftentimes, you would find your hand on his or fingers interlaced. Bokuto would grab your hand, and you would allow him to do so. It was a common occurrence.

But his hand in yours felt like flames. He was attempting to comfort you, telling you that it was all right without using more words. 

That he could endure the pain his father inflicted. 

"Twist your waist.” Bokuto giggled from across the grass. “You cannot possibly think you are doing this correctly.”

You sighed. “Kou, I am throwing knives. You are the one that is good at this. I am not.”

“You are good at everything you do.” He walked to your side.

He had placed a false target on several trees, lining from close to pretty distant from where you stood. The two of you spent most days under the leaves; there was a dock that lead to the seas close by, and you preferred the smell of the salt anyway. 

“This is the hardest part.” Bokuto stood directly behind you. You had grown used to his height and broadness, yet you still felt small with his chest at your back. “Here,”

His hands found your waist, clasping you at your sides. He turned you in a quick movement, only at the hips. 

“Do you see?” He was far too close for you to breathe. “Now repeat that motion, but aim at the same time.”

You inhaled when he took a step back. You felt the oxygen enter your lungs as if he had taken it away in his mere presence. 

You did as told, moving your hips as you held the knife in the same way he taught you. Letting it fly, the knife landed in the second-most outer ring of the target on the tree.

Bokuto cheered. You smiled, noticing the improvement. 

“I was right.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned to your head. “You are good at everything you do.”

You wanted to tell him that you were still not hitting the middle, but you could not bring yourself to damper the mood. You pressed your side closer into him, instead, “And you are always right.”

Being the son of a King’s Knight, Koutaro Bokuto was invited to many of the castle’s festivities. There was a hierarchy according to profession, meaning that the richest were the ones who worked for and with the castle (The High Order: Knights, Cooks, Messengers). Many of the Magick and Medics lived with favor to the castle as well. 

You always stared at the Castle of Kageyama from afar. The castle sat on top of a giant hill that overlooked the rest of the kingdom; it was dark and always seemed to have a black shadow cast over it. You could only imagine how large it was if you were closer.

Bokuto and his sisters would tell you stories of balls, dinners, meetings. Sir Bokuto was high in the chain of command after General Shimizu, and that created a favorable blanket for the rest of his family. 

This particular time, Bokuto received an invitation to a ball for Princess Miwa. She decided to step down from the crown, not wishing to be a Queen and planned to travel to the other kingdoms and discover new things. The ball would be her departing gift.

Bokuto asked you to come alongside him.

“Kou, I would not even know what to wear.” You laughed. “I do not even know how to dance.”

“I want you to come.” Koutaro Bokuto pushed you. You fell onto his bedroom floor. “You do not need to dance to have fun. I am always bored at these events without you.”

“Are you able to invite me?”

“Yes, why could I not?”

“I would need a dress.”

“I can do that.”

You looked up at him from his floor, his eyes twinkling in hope and anticipation. How could you tell him no?

“Then I will go.”

The dress he brought to you was blue, mimicking his tailored black and white jacket and slacks with the same colored blue accents. 

You surprised yourself at how beautiful you could become, had given effort. The dress was one of his sister’s, but it fit you perfectly. You even did a spin in your mirror.

When you arrived minutes later at his doorstep, Bokuto was the one who opened the door.

He was surprised, too. With wide eyes, he blinked at you. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You replied. You hoped that he would not notice the blush on your cheeks when he took your hand. 

You realized that your soulmate was Koutarou Bokuto at the age of fifteen. As a teenage, you had found a piece of yourself in someone else.

At the ball, he was someone new in your eyes. He smiled at everyone, talked to every person as if he knew all of them by name, waved at the cooks and they waved back. It was completely different than any atmosphere than you had witnessed.

You could not take your eyes off of him.

He left you for a moment, something about retrieving drinks, and you found yourself alone. All you could do was watch him from through the crowd. He danced through the people as if he did it everyday, easily weeding through them and greeting some in casual conversations. 

He was glowing.

“For you, m’lady.” Bokuto said to you once he returned. The cup was of red liquid that smelled like fruit. “It is pretty good, though I am unsure of what exactly it is.”

“Why thank you, my liege.” You joked. You took a sip, the sweetness of the drink honey on your tongue.

“Good, is it not?” He took a drink after you took a second sip.

You nodded.

“That is enough of that.” He snatched the cup from your hand. You were going to protest, the words on the edge of your lips. “I believe it is time for a dance.”

“That juice must be expensive, we cannot just leave it.”

“They have plenty.” Bokuto took his hand in yours and nearly dragged you to the middle of the ballroom floor. “Follow my lead.”

Your feet matched the timing with his as he forced you to dance. The flow of the music seeped into your ears. You could feel lightness grow in your chest as the two of you danced in the festivities, fast music and laughter mixed together into a yellow light.

You never knew that the inside of the dark castle could glow such a color.

Koutaro Bokuto and you were one in the same, circling around each other and dancing to a rhythm you could only feel rather than hear. You were out of breath, sweat gleaming on your forehead, and your legs were tired. But you continued to dance. His smile matched yours, golden eyes shining with the reflection of you.

Perhaps being in love with him was similar to a dance. Unbearably exhausting, but you wish to do it forever.

You would hide your feelings, you decided. You had stared at the ceiling of your bedroom for what seemed to be hours. Your mind bleeding in thoughts and scenarios of you telling your best friend that you were in love with him.

If you knew him at all, you knew that Bokuto was dramatic. He would tell you that everything was fine, that he did not love you in the way you loved him, and he would do everything to make the situation seem casual and normal, only to make things astronomically worse.

You did not want that.

Hiding your feelings, masking them under the platonic love you shared, would be easiest. Perhaps they would go away in time, perhaps they would be replaced by someone else. 

You did not even know what love entitled, anyway.

A crumbled napkin hit your face, causing you to look up with a glare. The lunch room of the high school was full of students, eating and chatting and enjoying the little free time between classes. 

“Our final year of school and you still decide to drink milk instead of juice.” Bokuto laughed, blatantly ignoring the scowl you were sending him.

“Would you prefer I grab a juice next time, just for you to steal it?”

“I am no thief.”

He was, though, you thought. Because he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

“Sure you are not.” You jokingly agreed, though you rolled your eyes.

Keiji Akaashi was a transfer your final year of high school. He was younger than you and Bokuto, but quickly found place in your friendship. 

The two of you were walking to the peer, doing nothing other than walking off the sweat and weakness of just training and practice fighting in the woods. Bokuto loved to spar with you, hand to hand; “It is great practice for your future husband!” He would joke.

As you walked along the sand, you caught sight of Akaashi spearing fish in the shallow water. With every draw of his spear, a fish would be on the end. He hadn’t missed a single shot.

He was almost beautiful, the way he stood in the water. His dark hair reflected off of the blue that glittered in the afternoon sun. You looked at Bokuto, your best friend, and thought of how it never matched to him.

“You are excellent!” Bokuto complimented, catching Akaashi off guard. The boy turned around, spear in hand, and shoved the fresh fish into a netted bag at his side.

“I hear you are amazing with knife throwing.” Akaashi said. He walked closer to you smoothly; it was as if the water was no barrier for his feet. “I am a mere fisherman.”

The boy seemed to not do well in social situations. His words were carefully thought, said in a manor of formality you only witnessed when village people spoke to the High Order or royalty.

“I have watched plenty of fishermen.” Bokuto crossed his arms over his chest. You had to look away before you would get distracted in the veins that marked his muscle. “No mere fisherman can catch every fish as you can.”

“Perhaps I can teach you, if you wish to teach me some of your knife throwing.” 

“I can do that. I taught this one here how to, and now she is the best knife thrower in Peredine. After me.” 

You scoffed at his superiority and pushed him in his side. Bokuto only chuckled and pushed you back. 

“How long have the two of you been a couple?” Akaashi asked. He was becoming more casual after noticing your informality, you noted. 

“She is only my best friend.” Bokuto flicked your forehead. “We have been best friends since the age of six.”

“He would not stop talking, so I had to give in to his friendship.” You told him. You were not wrong, which made your joke better. Bokuto laughed.

Bokuto turned to the netted bag that hung across Akaashi’s chest. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“I planned to sell them.” Akaashi shook the bag, sending drops of water into the tide below. “I am trying to save up to a moonful. Hopefully I can enter the knight program come summer.”

“Head towards the center of the town.” Bokuto advised. “They would love fish, they usually end with what the fisherman and peer do not have.”

“Thank you.”

“You can sit next to us at lunch tomorrow.” Bokuto said. “I invite you to the sanctuary.”

Akaashi spared you a glance. You shrugged. “He has invited you. You must attend, now.”

The entirety of your life, you had wished for more.

You would walk the streets of the village hoping for more. The village, especially near the center. It was dusted in browns and beiges, dirt and dust. Moss climbed the side of buildings and horses stood on the streets.

You would not hope to live in the castle, surrounded by white and light and food for days. You would not hope to be royalty, or to be a member of the High Order. 

You would hope of travel. You would wish for what was beyond your island; you would wish for being... away.

You understood why the princess left.

Then your mind would remind you of Koutaro Bokuto. He was the only reason for your stay. Your family was not an avid presence, or a presence at all for that matter, and you had one other friend that you only recently became acquainted with.

Bokuto was your only reason for staying.

Despite every fiber of your being wishing to leave, you knew that you could not. The worst part of it all, is that you knew that if you were to tell Bokuto that you wished to leave ━ if you were to tell him that you wanted nothing more than to get on a ship and travel far, far away from Peredine and the Kageyama castle and the knife throwing every day and the walks on the beach ━ he would tell you to go.

He would tell you to live your life. He would tell you to write him every day and visit when you can. He would have a smile so bright that it burned.

How could you possibly leave someone who shined that brightly?

Shining that brightly would only end in destruction, you feared.

You already felt the inside of you withering in hopes of him returning your love.

You remembered the last day that Bokuto smiled.

It was nearing winter, cool air replacing the warmth of autumn. Leaves scattered the ground in every place imaginable. The entirety of the village seemed to be blanketed in brown and orange, reds and yellows.

You walked hand in hand, fingers interlaced and swinging with each step.

“Let’s spar!” Bokuto turned quickly, trying to catch you off guard. He might have been quick, but your reflexes were slightly faster. 

With a swish of your wrist, you sliced his face with a knife. He had been the one to tell you to “always be prepared” and wear the knife attached to your thigh. 

The moment your knife connected with his left cheek, you knew what you had done. He did not collapse, but reached up to stop the bleeding.

“Oh!” You immediately dropped the knife to check his face.

He was bleeding profusely, the hand he clapped to the cut doing nothing to stop the flow. You must have had a deeper motion than you thought.

“I’m all right.” He muttered, but there was a gargle beneath his tone. He was choking on his own blood.

“No, no. We must go to a Medic.” You said. You wanted so badly to move his hand out of the way to assess the wound, but you knew that it would only be worse.

“Yes, let’s do that.”

You held his elbow and rushed back through the trees. Leaves crunched under your feet, matching in footsteps. Blood dripped onto the ground in a trail. 

You reached his home before long. You left him to run into the kitchen, finding his mother cooking. She dropped the ingrediants that she was working with the moment she viewed your expression.

“It’s Koutaro.” 

You followed his mother out of the kitchen and to her son, who was still actively bleeding. She brought his hand out of the way to finally━ finally━ see the wound.

You had cut him across his mouth. It started just under his nose, across the left side of his lip, to his chin, and curved back into the middle of his left cheek. This may sound rather vulgar, but the skin was very gross and you wondered how it was still attached.

“We must go to the Medic. Now.” She turned to you. “Grab a towel from the kitchen and catch up to us.”

You nodded and ran into the kitchen, finding the cloth and rushed to walk with them to the Medic.

Because of their family being one of the High Order, they lived on the hill below the castle. The Medics were only a little higher on the land, their neighborhood close together rather than spread out along the grass. 

We entered a house, not bothering to introduce ourselves with a knock. The family was eating a meal at the table, standing immediately at the blood. A mother, a girl, and a boy your age. 

“We need your help.” Bokuto’s mother said. She must have known the family, because the Medic flew to Bokuto’s side.

“Aiko, the sewing set.” The mother ordered. The girl took off down the house’s hall, disappearing into the dark. “Asahi, the herbs.”

You watched from afar as the Medics worked on your best friend. He would grimace in pain, tears painting his cheeks. They laid him on the dinner table, replacing the food and dishes with his body. They were effortless in their movements, as if it was every day that they fixed a man with a gaping hole in his cheek.

“He will be all right.” The boy said from your side. He watched alongside you, as his mother and older sister finished their healing. 

“I know you.” You did not look up at him. You could not take your eyes off of Bokuto. “You are in the same school year as I am. Asahi Azumane.”

“Yes.” 

“I did not know you were a healer.”

“I did not know that you loved Bokuto as you do.” He replied.

It was three weeks for the cut to turn into a heavy, thick scar. It was three weeks of Bokuto’s absence. 

He claimed that he was too ugly for you to see him. He did not want to see anyone, his mother told you after your hundredth visit to their home. 

After the third week, he greeted you outside of your door.

“I cannot miss anymore school.” He said as a greeting. “And I cannot miss anymore of you, can I?”

Before you could take another breath, you leaped into his arms. He hugged you back, effortlessly, chuckling into your neck. 

When you pulled back, you viewed the scar that curved on his face. The stitches had been removed. The scar was lifted, pink and bruised still; you could not help but want to cry.

You had done that.

“I am so incredibly sorry.” You said as you scanned the scar. You wanted to touch it. “Please accept my deepest apologies.”

He pushed your head playfully. “Do not apologize. I am the one who taught you to do that. I am a bit proud, if I were to be completely honest.”

You pouted, but he only sent you a smile.

A smile that only lifted to his right side. His smile would be forever crooked.

Because of you.

Bokuto would not stay because of you.

You knew that he wanted to leave someday. You knew that he wished to travel and fight and be himself. It was rather hard to be yourself when everything and everyone around you expects brilliance.

You could not tell him to stay when he told you that he wanted to be a knight. It was already something that you knew. He wanted to be a knight, to work on the King’s Court and throw knives for a living. 

To be a better one than his father.

With a smile, the edge of his right lip the only one to reach the full length, he told you, “Do you think I would be a good knight?”

How could you possibly tell someone who shined that brightly no?

To be a knight on the King’s Court, there was a series of things you must do. Spend a moonful to be admitted━ a rather large sum, train in the castle for months━ dueling, fighting, training to the brink, and finally win a duel against the General or the King━ your choice. If you were to fail, you would have to pay another moonful to reenter. 

You have heard that some people had been training and failing for years. 

However, Koutaro Bokuto was confident. With his family being well off in terms of coin, he paid the castle his moonful.

“I start this summer.” Bokuto stated. Excitement drenched every feature. “Akaashi paid his sum, too, and will be coming along!” 

“Akaashi is a year below us.”

“He will graduate early, his transfer from Hittaku allows him to leave when we do.” He explained. You hadn’t thought of that. “He will do amazing with his spear, perhaps that can be his specialty.”

As he rambled about becoming a knight with Akaashi, you let your mind wander. He would leave you come summer, and he would be taking Akaashi with him. 

You would be alone.

The start of winter arrived as quickly as a blink. 

Snow replaced the leaves beneath your feet, hiding the dirt and grass you walked every day.

You wondered if your love would be similar. Hidden and masked.

Koutaro Bokuto had a sweet tooth. 

He loved desserts. He would beg after every dinner to have something sweet. He would pay for small chocolates and creams from the village center. 

You were surprised that he was broad and large instead of overweight and rotting.

“Thank you!” He gleamed at the clerk, who handed him a bag of chocolate covered berries. The clerk thanked him back, adoring the generous tip that Bokuto had given. 

“I think your addiction to sweets will be the reason for your inevitable destruction.” You told him, holding his hand as you walked through the town square. 

“That must be why I am addicted to you.” He joked, handing you one of his chocolate covered berries. You accepted.

“I am not sweet.”

“Oh, you are correct.” He pretended to think, popping a berry into his mouth. “Perhaps that is why you are addicted to me, then.”

He had no idea, you thought.

The snow had been incredibly difficult that year. Clouds and snow casted the kingdom in white every day, baring the land and stealing away the darkness. What was once hidden in the thick trees was exposed.

One afternoon, the snow had slowed. Several feet lined the ground and hovered in the branches. Yet, you found Bokuto outside, throwing knives into trunks.

You were walking to the peer, prepared to trade some of your saved food for something better with the pirates and traders that never seemed to leave the beach. You dropped your bag and rushed to your best friend, kicking up the snow as you did.

“Hey, Kou.” You announced as you approached. He must have heard you, snow was not an easy feat to run in. 

But he hadn’t. He was focused primarily on the target in front of him. With no gloves on, you could see the redness stinging his hands. Tears stung his cheeks as well. 

“Kou, hey.” You stepped in front of him as he started to aim another knife. He threw it, the knife flying past your ear and into the bark behind you next to around five other knives. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t. His tear stained face was red in coldness, matching his bare hands. He was not dressed to be outside.

“Look at me.” You reached for his face. He did not hesitate to let his face fall into your hands. “What are you doing out here?”

“I ━” Bokuto finally looked at you. You immediately felt a burning in your chest; his eyes were dull and more brown than gold. “I have to be better if I am to be a knight.”

“You are excellent.” You tried to warm his ears with your gloved hands, but also tried to examine him at the same time. “And you cannot get better if you overwork yourself. Or if you manage to get sick.” You wiped some of the dried tears away. “What happened?”

He did not utter another word. Instead, only more tears left his eyes and he collapsed into you. You stumbled against his weight, but held him with every ounce of your being. 

His cheek was cold against yours.

“I’m sorry.” Bokuto muttered against your ear. 

You did not know what he was apologizing for. “Everything is all right.”

Seasons changed quickly.

The snow melted, cascading the land in dead grass and leaves attempting to grow again. Attempting to live again.

You wished to stop time. There must be Magick Folk somewhere with that ability, to stop and freeze time. You knew that there was not.

The grass started to turn green, bright and vibrant.

Summer was arriving sooner than you wanted. 

You could feel a rush of emotions at the thought of your best friends leaving. You were never one to be sad, or get emotional at all; but the thought of being alone left your chest aching in a way you never experienced. 

You held back tears. For the first time in your life, you thought of crying about Bokuto.

Keiji Akaashi was a great person to be friends with. He never pushed his boundaries, he knew when to speak and when it was best to sit in silence. He always seemed to know exactly what to say and when. 

He would also tell you the honest truth, which was refreshing against Bokuto’s natural optimism. 

“You love him. I am correct, right?” Akaashi asked you.

You were sitting in Bokuto’s garden, waiting for him to arrive. He was the one who wanted to go for a walk, after all. 

You sat up, looking to him. “You cannot tell him.”

“I have known since I met you.” He replied. “I would not tell him now.”

“Then yes,” You blinked. “You are correct.”

A string of silence filled the air. It was not uncomfortable; Akaashi was trying to find the words to say. 

“You should tell him.” He finally said. “He would want to hear it, before going into the knight program.”

You sighed. You looked at him, sitting beside you in the colorful flowers. “Being rejected is not on my itinerary.” 

“What will you do when he leaves? When we leave?”

“I do not know.”

You would be lonely. 

That was all you knew. 

You would be lonely without the two of them. There had never been a day since the age of six that Bokuto was not a part of. Every single day consisted of him. 

You would go to school together, walk together, throw knives at trees together, sit on the beach together. You would go to sleep only to wake up to him. 

It was no wonder you found yourself in love with him. 

Bokuto hugged you tightly on your last day of school.

You only had limited time left.

The color blue reminded you of him.

He sat beside you on the sand. The beach was beautiful this time of year, just before summer. The water made the air cooler, yet you felt warm.

“I will miss you.”

He was leaving the next afternoon. He would head into the castle, starting his training and taking a step into his new life━ his dream. 

“I will miss you too.” You told him, staring at the water.

As the sun sat close to the horizon, covering the ocean in sparkling light, you thought of him. He was the color blue, calm and kind and light and happy. 

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that you were in love with him. Ready to tell him that you wanted him to stay, to sit with you like this, forever. You only closed it.  

If you truly did love him, you would allow him to follow his dream.

The knights in training cannot be visited or visit. Only when they become knights will they have opportunities to visit, few and far between. They have the busiest jobs. 

Once he left, you did not know when you would see him again.

You stared up at him, watching him as he watched the waves crash far away. His golden eyes twinkled, white hair shifting in the breeze.

He truly was more beautiful than the ocean would ever be.

You were talking with his older sister, listening to her stories. You were happy for her, enjoying the story of her meeting her love in a woman in her travels to Hittaku. 

“I need to speak to my best friend.” Bokuto interrupted. You looked up.

His sister waved you away, smiling still. Bokuto had given everyone their goodbyes already. You were the last one.

Akaashi told you goodbye earlier in the day, telling you a brief “Do what you think is right for you, not for him.” before departing.

He would be waiting in the dorm for Bokuto.

The moment you were alone, Bokuto pulled you into a hug. You fell into his chest, cheek pressed against his heartbeat. Strong arms were arm around you.

His head rested on top of yours. “I will miss you the most.”

“I will miss you more than I would like to admit.”

“I will write you with every chance I receive.”

You nodded. You would not cry, you told yourself even as the tears trailed down your face and onto his shirt. 

“You are crying.”

You heard the crack in his voice. “So are you.”

You pulled back, not wanting to break the embrace. His arms stayed on yours, and you kept your arms on his forearms. 

You took him in for what seemed like the last time. His white hair was pushed from his forehead, golden eyes marked with sadness. The scar looked much better, pink against his tan skin. 

His eyes met yours, and they were full of emotions you could not describe. He looked at you as if you were a dimming light in the darkness and he needed you to see.

He leaned closer, and you could feel the breath on your face. He smelled of wood and sea salt.

You could only inhale when Bokuto pressed a kiss to your lips. 

The kiss was brief. It was a peck, barely a second before he pulled back to rest his head on yours again. You hadn’t even noticed his chapped lips, or that he tasted like sweets.

It was silent for a moment.

“Until we see each other again?” You offered.

He nodded, holding you against him. “Until we see each other again.”

You decided to travel.

Listening to Bokuto’s sister’s stories, along with some of the dreams you had already wished for, you decided that travelling would be the best option.

You were on the next boat out of Peredine, only a small suitcase at your side and the sun on your face.

You never did tell him that you loved him. 

You did not think you ever would. As he hopped off of his white horse, full armor proving that he could only gain muscle, you could not help but feel the same ache in your chest.

He lifted his helmet off, his white hair releasing in a mess over his forehead. He rushed to you, pulling you into a hard hug. You laughed, the familiar feeling of drowning drenching your body.

You both were livelier, your travels and his knighthood. 

You smiled at him, listening to him talk about the castle and battles he had been in since you last spoke over a year ago.

You were drowning, but you managed to hover close to the surface. Every breath you took of his familiar and wonderful scent, you could feel the water fill your lungs.

Falling in love with Koutaro Bokuto was easy, but the consequences were excruciating.

glossary

masterlist

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift; You shouldn’t have given in, shouldn’t have caved to him. But what could you say? Some people were just too irresistible. But one too many bad choices lead to tension that even the worst of the worst couldn’t bare.

Word Count: 5473

Warnings: Angst, smut, dom/sub elements, daddy kink, dirty talk, very slight age gap, please let me know if I missed any

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. Please please please let me know what you think, this writing style is a bit out of my comfort zone. I’m trying some new things out before writing my book and really need all the feedback possible. Positive and constructive please. NO spoilers, taking place before the events of Knives Out, age difference of Meg and Ransom was skewed to fit timeline/idea // Read on AO3 here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs welcomed and highly appreciated!

The wintery chill of the evening Massachusetts air threatened to seep in, blowing harshly against the windowpanes and spinning it’s way through every bare branch and thickly coated pine tree on the property. A typical monthly gathering of family and those like family, a gun show and jab contest dressed up to look like a quiet evening around the fire with loved ones and good food. 

Gazes darted around the room, a tension so palpable it made even the Thrombey family uncomfortable. No one could quite place why though, or even which pair was causing the air to thicken. A typically thin lipped, on edge, cut throat monthly dinner was somehow even more treacherous this time around. 

But no one would have guessed that it involved you. Usually revered as the quiet one, the one who steered away from trouble and left before the tension boiled over, the girl who brought bright smiles and a sharp mind, Meg’s best friend since diapers, your father’s accomplished author for a daughter; not one person would have even thought to have blinked an eye in your direction.

But no one in that room knew why the air was so thick you could taste it, why the sound of the metal knives scraping against expensive glass plates was more bearable than breathing in the smog of tension. One wrong move and-

“So, what’s got everyone’s knickers in a twist, huh?” The smug, faux caring, intoxicating drawl that got you in this mess. 

The flood gates were open now. Everyone talking over the other, talking louder and louder, unknowingly looking for the cause of the uncomfortable feeling that sat low in their bellies. It didn’t last too long, maybe over a minute before it fell silent enough that you could hear the wind whistling outside.

Even with your gaze downcast to your plate you could feel everyone turn to look at you, eyes judging and calculating, picking apart every move, ever wrinkle in your clothes, and twitch of a muscle. 

“You’ve been quiet,” it was your father speaking now, and for the first time you were thankful for that, “What’s new with you, dear? How’s your third book coming along?”

A shrug as you met his gaze, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s coming.” Your tone was practically unreadable, unamused and almost annoyed. 

A snicker from the other end of the table had all of you snapping your heads in the direction of the noise. A shit eating grin was plastered on Ransom’s face, eyes glinting with mischief. You tried your damnedest not to notice how the ruby color of his scarf brought out the ocean blues you got lost in too many times, or how the cream color of his worn sweater was practically taunting you with every memory of you in that sweater. But you knew him, you knew him too well for your own liking, for your own good. And you knew he did things with a purpose. 

“What’s so funny?” His mother snapped at him, his lips pulling into that smirk that had you at his will one too many times. 

“Just never thought I’d hear little ol’ (Y/N) say something along those lines again.”

Pin drop. Silence and shock coursed through every fiber of every person sitting at that table. Confused glances between the two of you, unnerved and in disbelief. 

“What the hell, Ransom? Why do you-” Meg started, voice loud and higher than usual in agitation. 

But you cut her off, staring back at the man who seemingly was doing whatever he could to get under your skin. “Hugh, if you’ve decided you’re going to tell a story, at least make sure to tell the fucking truth.”

A few hushed gasps echoed around the table as Ransom matched your stare. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know that’s not what I like you calling me.”

You scoffed, “You lost the privilege of me calling you what you want the day you told me to leave.”

“As if you didn’t want it just as badly. I seem to recall rather clearly you begging for me.”

“And I seem to recall rather clearly you telling me to get my shit and get the fuck out.” You snapped, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment and agitation. No one was supposed to find out like this, no one was supposed to find out at all. 

Ransom stood suddenly, stalking over to you, eyes never leaving yours. He towered over your sitting figure for a moment, trying to melt your resolve before he leaned down, face only inches away from yours. The musky vanilla and cedar scent of his cologne, the mintiness of his breath with a hint of whiskey, the warm scent of clean cotton from his clothes, it was all almost too much. “Let’s get this straight, baby girl,” the nickname was taunting you like a schoolyard insult, “we had an arrangement. That arrangement didn’t involve feelings. You ruined that.”

“Yeah, because me loving you is the worst thing you ever heard.” You stood as well, at your wits end with this situation, with him, “Dumbest mistake of my life was thinking how you felt when you were drunk was how you felt when you were sober. Fuck you, Ransom." 

He stood back some, moving out of your way as you grabbed your jacket off of the back of your chair, storming out of the too warm mansion and into the freezing cold. Ransom’s voice followed after you, "Don’t forget you already did, sweetheart.”

-

Notification after notification, endless vibration making you want to pull your hair out. A long drive home with a clenched jaw and a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel. The day couldn’t be over soon enough, an escape from the embarrassment and misery of that excuse of a dinner much too far away for your liking. 

The hope that your apartment would have been your ticket to peace and quiet was quickly destroyed when there was banging on the door. A huff as you trudged out of the blankets on the couch to the door, swinging it open to see a distraught Meg. 

“What the hell was that about?”

There it went, any bit of resolve and composure went out that front door when she took a step in. Tears quickly welled in your eyes, falling in little streams down your face. The agitation on her face was quickly replaced with worry as she wrapped you in a hug, “Hey, hey, no need for that. Come on. Let’s get you something to drink and then I want you to tell me what that was all about, okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, alright?”

She walked you through the kitchen, making you both a cup of hot tea and grabbing a handful of snacks before steering you back towards the couch, sitting the both of you down. Meg’s eyes filled with relief as she watched you sip at the warm liquid, sniffling softly as you calmed yourself down. 

“Okay, start from the beginning. What happened?”

-

Warm, low lights, a soft thumping from the outdated speakers, a happy, giddy atmosphere floating over the table. A small, cheesy banner sat taped to the edge of the booth, bright tacky colors spelling out “Congratulations”. Two of your friend sat with you in the rounded corner booth, your leg sticking out to the side and bouncing with slight anticipation. Even though you requested a small thing, your beloved friends Shelby and Laura had a hard time doing things small.

But they insisted it wasn’t a lot. Meg was off studying for finals and wouldn’t be able to make it so instead Shelby invited her boyfriend Jay and told him to bring a friend or two along. And not to forget the cake. Their last phone call twenty minutes ago consisted of reiterating the confirmation over and over again. You’re on your way? Awesome great. Who’d you bring? Okay. Did you get the cake? Okay. Don’t forget the cake. Okay. Don’t ruin the cake. Okay you’re sure the cake is okay?

Laura and you couldn’t help but giggle at her, anxiety and anticipation evident in her features as she checked her phone again and again, eyes darting to the entrance waiting for her boyfriend and his friends to enter the hole in the wall bar with that god damn cake. 

Excusing yourself to the bathroom seemed to speed up the time because as you returned you nearly tripped over yourself. There was Shelby, cuddled up next to Jay. And Jay had two men sitting next to him, one you didn’t recognize and one you knew all too well. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

A man you hadn’t seen in easily a year or two. He had began to skip out on family dinners, tired of the endless drama and bore of it all. Even when the family took their yearly vacation together and during the holiday parties he somehow managed to not be anywhere insight, despite his mother insisting he was there. 

“Look at you, little (Y/N), all grown up now.” His eyes shamelessly raked over your figure, taking in how your body had changed over the years, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, brat. Since before you published the first book.”

You huffed out an anxious laugh, nodding as you took your seat at the end of the booth, opposite of him. “Y-yeah, it’s been a while. You kinda stopped coming around.”

“Can you blame me? My family would make anyway go insane. I’m surprised yours has stayed around as long as they have. But enough about me, sweetheart, from what I’ve been told we’re here to celebrate you-”

Shelby squealed some, “Yep! And that’s why,” she hung onto the end of the word as she lifted the lid of the box that was now sitting in the center of the table. Once the top was off, the sides fell down, revealing a cake decorated to look like a book with the title of your second book you had just published on it. The whole reason you all were here. 

Your heart swelled at the gesture, “Aw! Shelbs! Thank you so much!” You gave her a small little pout, “God I’m gonna cry. I can’t believe I actually did that. Twice now!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the group continuing to shower you in drinks, gifts, and affection. Jay bought you a drink and some food, Laura had gotten you a customized journal with your favorite quote from the book on the front of it, Shelby kept giving you little cards with her favorite things about the books you’ve written in them. It wasn’t long until the group started to dwindle though. First Jay’s other friend who probably felt awkward, then Laura who had to work in the morning. 

Ransom and Jay decided to play a round of pool before Jay and Shelby headed out for the night, and Shelby took the time to interrogate you. 

“Oh. My. God. He is so fucking hot. How the hell do you know him? You never leave your apartment.” She fawned over Ransom, who currently had his back to the two of you at the other side of the bar. 

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “First off, you have a boyfriend,” your reprimanded playfully. “Second, that’s Meg’s older cousin. He’s like 4 or 5 years older than us. Spoilt brat. Never worked a day in his life. Third, before you even suggest it because I see that look in your eye. I’m not sleeping with him. I didn’t even let him buy me a drink when he offered let alone going home with him.”

She pouted at you, “Come on, (Y/N/N), you’ve been so stressed with the editing and the publishing. Just have a little fun.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over and grabbing a nacho to throw into your mouth. “The only fun I need after all this is my handy dandy blue vibrator under my bed. No need to go home with him.”

She scoffed. “Fiiiine, whatever. I still think he’s hot.”

The two men came back a few minutes later, laughing loudly and teasing one another. It was odd, rare even to see Ransom genuinely laughing, whole chest vibrating with the motion, genuine happiness seeping off of him. Jay collected his things as did Shelby, both bidding you a goodnight, Shelby throwing a wink in as well as they exited. 

“Then there was two,” Ransom drawled, smirking lazily at you as he finished off his drink. “Come on, (Y/N/N), let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled, huffing out a small laugh as you shook your head. “I’m good, Ransom. Really.”

“After all those years of you stealing my stash I’m actually willing to buy you a drink and you’re telling me no?”

You rolled your eyes, butterflies beginning to swarm inside you. “I’m telling you no because I still have at least a thirty minute uber ride home and don’t want to be overly intoxicated. The only thing I want right now it a plate of pancakes and some greasy hash browns.”

“Then let’s go get some,” he offered, a somewhat uncharacteristically sweet smile replacing his smirk. “Look, I haven’t seen you in a while and you just accomplished something so let me at least try to do something nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You? Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Do something nice? Oh I must be dead.” He pouted at you, the slight disappointed look in his blue eyes sending you reeling. “Fine. I won’t pass up on an offer like that. Just make sure you take me somewhere good." 

Thirty minutes later you sat in a small diner that was essentially in the middle of nowhere. The name GiGi’s was in neon pink light on top the structure that looked like it was plucked out of Grease. A few semi-trucks littered the parking lot and only a couple of faces of customers sat in the diner. 

Ransom had already threw you for a loop, opening doors for you, turning the music down to ask you about your book; and not just what it was about, but what inspired you to write it, what was your muse. He had let you pick the seat and even ordered for you when the waitress came over. Two breakfast samplers with extra crispy hash browns, and two strawberry milkshakes because ‘why not? It’ll be just like when we were kids’.

You were beyond shocked at how comfortable you felt around him. No awkwardness or anxiety that had hit you earlier. It was simple, felt easy, felt right. 

"So, I have to ask, why are you suddenly being nice to me?” The question was simple enough, lips wrapping around the straw of the milkshake after you asked, watching him and waiting. 

“Was I ever not nice to you?” He asked, bemused and quirking an eyebrow at you. 

Swallowing down the cold liquid you scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve been a dick to me since I was like 12 or 13. Whenever you started hanging out with that one guy in high school - Chuck? I think. Anyways, it got even worse after you turned 21. You pretty much outright refused to acknowledge my existence." 

He pursed his lips as he thought about it, "I- okay yeah, you’re right. I did do that- but in my defense I stopped acknowledging you because I thought you were hot and I was older so it was creepy and just easier to ignore you.”

You blinked a few times, shocked and processing what he had just said, “You what?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his food. “Yep. And Chuck thought you guys were annoying so I dunno, guess I thought being a dick would keep you guys from pestering me.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him softly. “Then why did you come out tonight to celebrate my book? And offer to buy me drinks and food?”

Ransom suddenly looked a lot less relaxed, stern and serious as he kept his gaze on you. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You challenged back, heart thumping in your chest. 

He broke out into a huge grin, chuckling some, “Still not the one to ever back down from me. God, I love it. The reason I came out tonight was because, whether you believe it or not, I’m actually a fan of your writing. I have two copies of your first book and I already preordered the second. The reason I stayed out is because I realized how much I missed you. Most of my favorite memories from when I was younger involve you.”

“Really?” You inquired, munching on the food in front of you. “Like what?”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t have let that one slide.” He chuckled softly. “One of my favorite memories is when I was probably 10 or 11, I think you and Meg had just started school. And you guys were learning about the stars and space and for some reason I was really obsessed with astronomy at the time. So one night, Meg, you, and I decided to camp out back of granddad’s and mom set a fire up for us and we sat there for hours roasting marshmallows and me teaching you guys about the constellations.”

A bright smile spread across your lips, so big it practically hurt. “I’m surprised you even remember that.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a man full of surprises who aims to please.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Once the bill came, Ransom didn’t even let you see it, immediately pulling out some cash and handing it to the waitress, telling her to keep the change. He watched as you pulled out your phone, opening the uber app. “What’re you doing?” He asked quizzically.

“Calling myself a ride.” You answered, not even looking up. 

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head, reaching over and grabbing the phone from you. “I’ll take you home.”

“But my apartment is like 45 minutes away and your house is down the street,” you protested. 

“Then stay at my house tonight and I’ll take you home in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

You quirked an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “You sleeping on the couch? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” He promised, offering you a warm smile. “Now, am I taking you home or are you staying at my house?”

“…I’ll stay at your place,” you mumbled. 

Something about Ransom’s house felt oddly comforting. The large window at the front of the living room let the moonlight stream in, the darker colors that the walls were painted contrasting beautifully with every sleek modern piece of furniture he had. It was obvious his family influenced his taste some. The intricate designs on the patterns of the throw pillows something you could very easily see Halarn buying, while his kitchen was practically black, white, and silver - looking like it popped out of the modern section of an HGTV magazine. But it all flowed and melded together beautifully. 

He showed you to his room, grabbing himself a change of clothes before heading out and leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but stand there and take in your surroundings. Being in there, even without him, felt intimate. Like he was showing you a secret page in a book he loved. A few pictures were on his dresser, various ones or him at parties with friends, one of the family which was smaller than the others. It was neat, clean and tidy but most likely because of a maid and not because he took the time out to clean up his mess. And it smelled of him, everything in the room just breathed Ransom. 

Sitting down on the bed, you kicked your shoes off, sitting them down by the end before lying down and attempting to get comfortable. But to no avail, you tossed and turned for a few moments, and despite the softness of the mattress and sheets below you, you felt uncomfortable. Jeans too tight, bra irritating your skin, face feeling oily and heavy. You needed a shower and a change of clothes if you wanted to even think of falling asleep. 

Hesitantly you made you way back downstairs, where Ransom was currently sitting in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, book in hand. You didn’t even have to say anything, his eyes moved from the book to you, cocking an eyebrow, “Guessing you need a shower and some comfy clothes?" 

You nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, kind feel blah after the bar and greasy food.”

“That’s okay. Towels and wash rags are in the standing closet in the bathroom. Both bathrooms with have them but the master bathroom has better shower pressure. Just take something out of my closet to wear for the night.”

You nodded a thank you and headed back upstairs, grabbing the first sweater you saw in his closet and heading into the bathroom. A part of you felt as if you were dreaming, that this wasn’t actually happening. Any residual crush you had on Ransom from your childhood was coming back full force, and doubling all at one. A quick shower you hoped would calm your slightly growing nerves, but drying off and slipping on the damned creme colored sweater you knew you were hopeless. It smelled like him, was warm and soft. 

Before you could stop yourself you were padding back down the steps, not caring that the sweater barely covered your ass and that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear. Ransom was staring at you before had even looked at him, eyes taking in the sight of you in nothing else but his sweater, jaw set tight with a slight tick. “Whatcha doing there, sweetheart?” He urged, trying to keep his composure. 

You sat on your knees next to him on the couch, staring at him for a moment. “Debating if I should do something I’ll probably regret in the morning.”

He smirked, “I promise if you’re gonna do what I think, you won’t regret it. You can hold me to that.”

“Then make sure I don’t-” you leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. The fullness of his pouty lower lip slotted between yours, kissing you in a way you had never been kissed before, completely and utterly stealing your breath and any logical thought from you. 

His hands were on your hips, pulling you into his lap, groaning softly against your lips at the feel of your smooth skin in his hand. It was a battle of tongues for dominance, which you quickly surrendered at the feel of him gripping your ass, kneading and pulling before spanking the plump flesh. 

He pulled away first, a wild look in his eyes. “Get your ass upstairs, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna make sure you don’t regret a thing.”

A shiver went up your spine and you squealed softly before giggling, high on adrenaline and him. You stole another kiss before running upstairs to his room, heart pounding and mind racing. 

Ransom came in a few moments later, quickly discarding his shirt and tossing it in the direction of the hamper before stalking towards you. He moved to hover over you, lips dancing along the skin of your neck. “God fucking damn it, baby girl, seeing you in my clothes - fuck you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He pressed a few kisses to the sensitive skin before biting down on the junction where your neck met your shoulder. 

The whimpers and moans that left you spurred him on, lips continuing their worship of your skin as his hands traveled along the outside of your thighs and up to you hips. Fingers traced along to curve to your waist, up and over your breast as your nipples prickled at the sensation. He felt every movement, every time you squirmed, every time you squeezed your thighs together, every time you rutted. 

“Can I take this off you, sweetheart? Make you feel real good, promise, baby.” A nod was all he needed and the moment you leaned up some he pulled the sweater off, tossing it aside. Ransom moved to lean back, moving to sit on his haunches, moving your thighs and spreading them to be on his clothed ones. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re so fucking perfect. So fucking wet for me, I can already see it. You my little whore, hm?” He leaned down, pressing kisses against the skin of your chest. 

A sudden slap to your thigh caused you to gasp. “What was that for?” You whined, moving to card your fingers through his hair. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to or I’ll have to punish you.” The thought riled you up even more. Being splayed across his lap, hand coming down on you as you squirmed relentlessly, taking every bit of the 'punishment’. But that was for another time, hopefully. Right now you wanted, no needed him. 

“Sorry, daddy.” Your voice was so soft and innocent, absolutely driving him wild. 

He wanted nothing more than to ram into you, make you scream. But not yet, he wasn’t done teasing. Ransom’s lips moved from the skin of your chest to you nipples, pressing a chaste kiss on one before moving to the other and back again. Back and forth as the motions increased. A kiss to a flick to a suck to a nibble. 

His lips begin to move south, nipping at the soft skin along the way. “Absolutely stunning.” He hummed, “Better than I could have imagined, pretty girl.” Soon he was situated between your legs, breath fanning over your soaked folds. A soft groan left Ransom, kissing at the skin of your thighs. “Smell so good, gonna taste even better I guarantee it.”

“Stop teasing,” you whined, tugging on his hair. 

He looked up at you, “Baby, that’s not how this works,” he tsked softly. “You want something, you need to beg.”

Another deep throaty whine ripped from you. “Please,” you whimpered, squirming. “Fuck please, need you." 

He chuckled softly, "I’ll let you off this time - Wanna taste this pretty little pussy.” Without any other warning he delved into your cunt, licking a stripe from entrance to clit before suckling on the little nub. He licked and sucked and nibbled, two fingers prodded your entrance before pushing in to the second knuckle, curling and immediately finding that spot that made you see star. 

Ransom basked in your mewls, the feel of you tugging on his hair before your grip would loosen as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. Talented was an understatement and a part of you hated how good it was, how good he was treating you. 

He didn’t stop, determined to coax an orgasm out of you. Fingers moved swiftly, in and out, scissoring and curling. Lips worked in tandem, listening to your cries of pleasure to determine what you really liked and kept at it. It wasn’t long before your toes were curling, back arching off the bed in a loud moan, his name like a prayer on your lips. 

“Ransom,” you whimpered as the aftershocks rolled through you, his lips never leaving your core, “fuck, Ransom, daddy please. Want your cock.”

He pulled away, pressing one last chaste kiss to your clit before moving to kiss you, letting you taste yourself as he pulled his sweats down and kicked them off. Your hands quickly moved to his length, stroking softly and moaning against his lips. 

“You’re so big,” the little whine caused him to chuckle softly as he pulled away, leaning over to pull a condom out of his bedside table.

“Yeah? Think I’m big, baby girl? Want me to split you in two?” The cockiness in his voice only added to how much you wanted him. 

All you could do was nod, looking up at him with a pouty lip and wide eyes. “Please, fuck me, wanna cum on your cock.”

He growled softly, pulling the condom on and lining himself up with your entrance. Ransom teased, moving the head to hook your clit a few times, loving the little jolt and whine that would come from you. He pushed in, slow at first to let you accommodate to his girth, then a quick thrust to bury himself to the hilt, feeling as though he was hitting your cervix. 

If you had ever wondered why Ransom was a playboy, why he was so cocky and self assured, you knew why now. He pulled out almost fully before slamming back in, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your legs quaking every time he pushed back in. Each push and pull had your head reeling, moans falling freely from your lips as you scratched helplessly at his back for purchase. One of Ransom’s hands snaked between the two of you, flicking your clit in time with his thrusts. 

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he growled out words into your skin, pushing you closer and closer to the edge;

“Such a good girl for me.”

“Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good.”

“You were made for this, made for me. Weren’t you baby girl?”

“Come on, princess. Cum on Daddy’s cock. Show me how much you love it.”

One particularly rough thrust paired with a bite to your sensitive skin had you tipping over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as your toes curled and thighs squeezed his waist. A few more sloppy thrusts and he emptied himself in the condom, groaning and moaning low in his chest. 

A few moments of breathing, neither of you bothering to move as you came down from your highs. Ransom pressed a few kisses to your neck before taking what little breath you had away as he kissed you, an obvious heated passion still boiling beneath the surface. He pulled out while he lips where still on yours, swallowing down your whine before pulling away. 

Ransom left the bed, your body quaking ever so slightly with aftershocks as he disappeared into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later, condom gone and holding a damp wash rag. He handed it to you, letting you clean yourself up as he slid back under the comforter, taking it from you when you were done and tossing it into the hamper. 

Without as much as a word he pulled you into his side, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. The two of you stayed quiet for what felt like forever, never quite falling asleep and taking in what exactly had just happened. Just as the sun began to break the night sky, he moved so he was facing you, lying on his side. Crystal clear blue eyes searched your face, a look of contemplation evident. 

“Would you want to do that again?” He asked, voice almost hushed as if he was telling a secret. 

You hesitated your answer, nodding softly, “Yeah, actually. I would.”

He smirked softly, “We’ll discuss the details after we sleep. But let’s just make sure no one finds out. Our little arrangement, okay?”

-

Meg stared at you, a look mixed between confusion, disbelief, and a little bit of disgust. “That was-” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair, “That was a little more than I needed to know. Is he the mysterious guy you were seeing last summer?”

A small nod as you sipped at the tea more before looking at her, giving her a look that could only be compared to that of a kicked puppy. You watched as puzzle pieces fit together in her mind, slowly seeing the big picture. 

“He’s the guy who bought you all that jewelry. And the guy that got you a dog - he hates dogs - The guy who took you to Maldives and Paris? What the-” her brows furrowed some, nibbling at her lip as you nodded in confirmation, “The guy that got drunk one night and told you he couldn’t live without you? That you were his everything?”

Her words sliced deep and you sniffled to keep yourself from crying again. “Yep,” your voice was still hoarse with emotions. “It was all Ransom.”

Meg sighed softly, her sympathy evident in every move and noise she made. “I’m so sorry… Do - do you still love him?”

Time seemed to freeze momentarily, every single memory whirling through your mind. With tears brimming your eyes again you looked at Meg, feeling utterly broken and lost. “I’m scared there won’t ever be a time where I don’t love him.”

//

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @et-lesailes​ @necromaniackat​ @dramaticsassmaster​ @bval-1​ @writingoneficatatime​ @lokilvrr​

[seacottons]

uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

[sirrwritesalots]

Dance With Me? ~ Spencer Reid (fluff)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader [Y/n] Warnings: none, just fluff, and possibly mention of PG-13 (if it's even considered that?) Summary: The team is invited to an FBI gala-type event with food, music, and casual conversation, and everyone ultimately has a good time, especially you and Spencer, who find the chance to have a dance with one another as the air shifts between the two of you. [The imagine is set with all characters -Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia- and post-Maeve] Word Count: 1871 A/N: I love to write, but for the last few years, I’ve had horrible writer’s block, and I miss writing so much. This is my first imagine/creative writing thing I’ve posted on Tumblr, so bare with me please! I recently started watching Criminal Minds again, and this just popped into my head, so I figured why not? Though, Criminal Minds is not usually my genre, I wanted to give it a try (it might be cringy in some parts, I apologize). I hope whoever reads this enjoys it :)

Seeing as everyone on the BAU team was given a three-day-weekend off to have somewhat of a break, you all agreed to attend the FBI Ball Saturday night, giving you the day to relax and get ready.

That morning after you woke up, you had some breakfast and read a book by the window, followed by lunch and a nice, relaxing bath with rose oil, bath salts, and a lit candle. Once the water had gone cold and you were done with the bath, you decided to start getting ready for the plans you had later that evening, which consisted of blow drying and styling your hair, then applying some light - yet natural - makeup. Slipping into the dark blue evening dress with the strappy, laced-up back you picked out two weeks ago, you looked yourself up and down in the full-length mirror in your room with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since you had the chance to get dressed up and have a night of fun with friends, which is exactly what you were planning on doing; having fun. 

Work had been extremely stressful lately, for everyone - more so than usual, considering your line of work; being in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where you work with serial killers day-in and day-out. One case in particular was rough on everyone; picked by the team’s communications liaison, JJ, you were flown out to Omaha, Nebraska to find an unsub who had a wide victimology and almost no similarities when it came down to location or anything else. You were there coming up on two whole weeks, when, after spending nearly forty-eight hours awake studying every detail, Spencer had found a similar signature connecting each murder. It wasn’t previously detected because it was so small it was easily overlooked, that is, until Derek and Rossi revisited every site and concluded that Spencer was right. At each location where a victim was found, a trinket of some sort was hidden, left behind as a sign of remorse. At first it made no sense, because each killing seemed too extreme to leave any room for remorse, not until the idea of a partner in crime was bounced around. Meaning that there were now two unsubs, one who was the alpha that controlled everything, and a second who most likely lured in the victims but only because they were told to rather than because they wanted to. Luckily, all the trinkets had traces of the unsub and their partner’s DNA left on it. That discovery soon led to tracking the unsub and chasing him down, where you and Emily went into the building first, to try and appeal to and reason with the submissive unsub, and would ultimately save the life of their latest victim. The plan went sideways when you two were met with the wrong one, and stepped into the middle of a trap... The unsub wanted a trade - the final victim for the two FBI agents - but the rest of the team, including the police force backing them up, were not about to have that. In the end, everyone was extracted and brought back to the precinct, except for the second unsub, who lost their life in the midst of the fight. 

To say the least, the team needed a break, and to have some fun.

Adding the final touch to your look -- a pair of black heels -- you grabbed your purse and jacket before locking the front door behind you and making your way to the car.

Once you were at the venue, a valet took your keys and parked your car for you. You stood on the curb, looking up at the gorgeous entrance of a high-end hotel. Before you could think about how all-out the bureau went, a familiar, deep voice spoke up on your right, “Damn Mama, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Turning, you came face-to-face with the most iconic duo of your team, Derek Morgan with Penelope Garcia standing beside him. Your cheeks flushed as you smiled, “You don’t look too bad yourself, hot stuff. Penelope, sweetheart, you look as wonderful as ever.”

“Please, I don’t think anyone here looks as good as you.” She waved her hand, a dismissal to your comment as she noticeably gawked at you.

“Why don’t we find out. Shall we?” You raised an eyebrow at them, tilting your head in the direction of the hotel.

“We shall.” Penelope disconnected herself from her chocolate thunder, and looped her arm with yours with a giggle as the three of you entered the building and followed the signs to the ballroom.

Tables filled with assorted foods line one wall while tables are scattered throughout the front half of the room, a live band played against the back wall, and the floor of the other half of the room was left unoccupied by furniture to leave space for dancing and mingling. You mentally thanked the event coordinator, whoever they might be, for ensuring the lights were dimmer than usual, since it gave your eyes a rest from the usual harsh office lights. 

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the rest of your team, when your gaze landed on a man wearing a slick, dark gray suit and a maroon tie with his hair flopped perfectly over his forehead yet just out of reach of his eyes. You hadn't realized you were staring until Penelope had to practically drag you to where Emily and JJ were standing while Derek split with you guys to meet up with Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer.

“So, is anyone looking particularly yummy tonight?” Penelope asked Emily and JJ, bubbly before her first drink of the night as her eyes eagerly swept across the room. Typical Garcia. Gotta love her, though.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m going to get a drink, anyone else want a one?” The girls gave you their requests, and you were off to the bar stationed near the wonderful display of food that you were sure to raid in a matter of time - that is, if your stomach had any say about it. "One-"

A voice interrupted you and finished your order before you could get more than a single word out, "Gin martini with a lemon twist." A smirk formed on your lips as you see who was standing next to you. "Oh! And chilled, but not on the rocks," Spencer added with a wink in your direction, a goofy smile plastered on his face to match your own.

"Spence, you remembered!"

"Y/n, I have an idetic memory; of course I remembered."

You rolled your eyes in response and ordered for the girls before you forgot as the bartender handed you your drink. "So, how's your evening so far?"

"Good. Met a couple of Rossi's friends, one of which was an older woman who touched my arm a lot, though I don't know why..."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Oh, you poor innocent boy."

"Innocent?" He raised an eyebrow at you, faking offense, as he helped you carry the drinks to the table the girls were standing around. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Why shouldn't I be when you make comments like that?" you countered. "Alright," you announced, cutting the conversation short before it can lead to anywhere presumptuous in front of company, you name off the drinks as you and Spencer place them in front of their respective owners.

Spencer took his place by your side, his arm pressed against yours and his gaze fixated on you, waiting patiently for you to notice or make another comment from your earlier conversation. The girls hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, seeing as you and Spencer had become the absolute best of friends in a short amount of time when you first joined the group, which meant the two of you were in very close proximity to one another about ninety-percent of the time. They were also too busy to notice over their ogling of the other attendees.

"You're staring," you murmured over your glass to him as you took a sip of your martini before stealing a quick glance up at him, then returning your eyes back to the crowd forming in the room. Rossi, Hotch, and Derek were still nowhere to be seen from your spot.

"Sorry," you heard him whisper, his eyes still stationed on you for a moment before he looked around as well. 

The live band began to play one of your favorite songs by Frank Sinatra, Fly Me To The Moon, and you couldn't help the smile that brightened your whole face after you took another sip of your drink.

The warmth that accompanied Spencer when he stood as close to you as he had been suddenly disappeared, making your heart unexpectedly quicken in a mix of worry and disappointment at the loss of contact. Then, when a throat cleared, and you saw him still standing next to you only a little farther away than he originally was with his hand extended and a lopsided smile on his face as hope flickered bright in his eyes. Your anxiety calmed, and was replaced with joy.

"Care to dance?"

Taking his hand, you stepped closer to him and replied, "I'd love to," as he led the two of you to the dance floor.

There, he pulled you closer to him, your bodies pressed against one another, as his hand slid behind you to rest easily on the small of your back while his other hand held one of yours, and your other hand took place on his shoulder. The two of you swayed as the music filled your ears.

You felt content in that moment. So happy with your friends, music, and food and drink. You couldn't think of a better way to spend an evening during your weekend off. Hopefully you wouldn't spoil it all by accidentally drinking too much and either a) managing to somehow embarrass yourself before the night is over or b) having to nurse a killer hangover the next morning - the last day of freedom before being called back into work the following day.

You felt Spencer's eyes on you once more. Though it wasn't creepy or unsettling; with him it never seemed to feel that way. Instead, it warmed your body, making your cheeks flush and your chest flutter.

"You're staring again." When he refused to take his eyes off you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You seem to do it a lot. Why is that?"

"Possibly because you always look amazing. Except tonight; tonight you look... radiant."

"Oh, please... you're only saying that because you've never seen me all dressed up like this before." You dip your head rest on the side of his own in an attempt to hide your face, not from embarrassment, but rather to hide how red your cheeks had become in a mere matter of seconds by the few simple words he uttered.

"No, I'm not. Y/n, look at me, please." His voice was gentle yet serious as his fingers gently guided your chin up so you could properly look at him. "I mean it."

[cathoderaysunshinebeaver]

Heretic/Hexen

I love Doom. I’ve never made an attempt to list my favorite video games in a numerical order, but if I did, Doom would likely be one of the highest, if not #1. I’m also a big fan of the “dark fantasy” aesthetic, so discovering the Heretic/Hexen series was a treat, to say the least.

Released in 1994, Heretic was built using the Doom engine by Raven Software, with John Romero himself having helped the team set up their computers and teaching them the basics of how he would make maps for the game. With this in mind, you’d be forgiven for saying what a lot of reviewers said at the time: this game looks like a Doom reskin with a fantasy theme.

This sentiment mostly applies to the first game, Heretic. But in a sea of other “Doom clones” released at the time, it is definitely one of the more competent ones. You play as Corvus, one of the few surviving elves in a world overtaken by the evil Serpent Riders, who have decided to exterminate all the elves because their magical powers make them resistant to the mind control spells the Serpent Riders use to conquer and subjugate realm after realm on their quest for world domination. Unsurprisingly, Corvus is out for revenge, and the end goal of the game is to hunt down and kill the first of the three Serpent Riders, D’Sparil.

The gameplay in Heretic is more similar to Doom than in the later games, but it does the Doom formula well. Most weapons have a distinct counterpart in the game it is based on: the Elven Wand is your pistol, the Dragon Claw is your chaingun, the Ethereal Crossbow is your shotgun, and so on. They are satisfying to use (save the wand, arguably), and look deliciously fantasy-eque, with beautiful spritework. The levels are split into a familiar structure, featuring three episodes with nine levels each (and two more episodes released as an expansion pack). The enemies are varied, with pretty animations and distinct sounds, and play into the Doom experience very well in that the combinations and locations of enemies in each area lends itself to very different strategies (although “run really fast and blast everyone with the crossbow” rarely fails on most difficulties). The two expansion episodes are considerably more challenging, and will require more quick thinking and ammo, sorry, mana conservation. Definitely a fun romp.

The sequel, Hexen, is where the series starts finding it’s own unique twist on the genre, and is the by many regarded as the “classic” that really put the franchise on the map. Again, you’re playing as a vindictive hero on a quest to liberate their realm from the Serpent Riders. This time it’s Korax, the second out of the three. However, now you’ve got to pick a class. This is the first big difference you’ll notice when starting the game. Corvus is MIA from his last adventure, and instead your choice of protagonist is between Baratus the Fighter, Parias the Cleric, and Daedolon the mage. While the game isn’t an RPG, these characters all have different stats when it comes to running speed and base HP. More importantly, they each have access to their own unique set of weapons. Mana is shared between the weapons, which are now split into green, blue and dual mana types, but they all behave very differently. For example, the fighter’s weapons are mostly of the melee variety and consume mana rapidly only for special attack modes, as they can still be swung without mana. The mage on the other hand uses his bare hands to cast a lot of his spells, but they do not burn through mana nearly as quickly. Unsurprisingly, the cleric is a hybrid, and uses both a spiked club and a mix of magical weapons. An “ultimate” weapon is also available to each class, which must be assembled from parts and consumes both blue and green mana, but has really devastating attacks (the cleric’s “Wraithverge” summons ghosts that scream like banshees and tear every nearby enemy to shreds; it’s just as metal as it sounds)!

Beyond the class differences, the level structure is the other major difference between Heretic and Hexen. Instead of a linear series of levels, each episode is now defined by a hub level with many branching areas that can usually be visited in any order. You need to find key items and activate switches in each one to open the way to the next world, and many areas within each sub-level are also locked until you find the right key/switch in a completely different area. As would be expected, this new spin on the level progression comes with both pros and cons. Few players today will be able to complete the game without ever looking at a walkthrough, and based on some comments I’ve read, this is one of those games that many people in the 90s would only dream of beating on their own. That said, there are very few instances where pulling a switch won’t at the very least give you a short message indicating it’s purpose (i.e. “A door has opened in the Wastelands”), and even then those with enough patience will rarely feel completely lost if they’re willing to backtrack systematically through every area over and over, taking note of every single locked door and unreachable area. I doubt it’s something the majority of gamers enjoy doing, but if you’re the type who would rather give up before accepting a hint, I’m happy to report that this game IS beatable even with your play style.

On the other hand, this structure also adds a lot to the feeling of being on a dangerous, epic quest. Metroidvania fans know that there are few things as satisfying as picking up a key and thinking “hey, I recognize this symbol! Now I can finally see what’s behind that door in the swamp!”. Uncovering the world bit by bit in this fashion really lends an air of mystery to the land of Cronos (where Hexen is set), and truly gives you that classic feeling of “pride and accomplishment” when you’re finally able to descend into that forbidding temple that’s been looming on the horizon for so long. And for those of you who are worried you won’t get to blast enough monsters to get your fill, this game still has you covered.

The enemies in Hexen are just as threatening as those in Heretic, and they look even better this time (seriously, if you enjoyed the visual aspect of Heretic, Hexen steps it up tenfold with truly gorgeous sprites, textures, animations and even some environmental visual effects, like thick mist and dead leaves blowing in the wind). You’ve got a fantastic cast of evil wizards, zombies, dog-like orcs, Minotaurs and more types of dragons and dragon hybrids than you could shake a Mace of Contrition at. A good amount of the baddies are initially very similar to those in Heretic, but their attacks are more distinct, varied and dangerous, and there are a whole lot more of these guys this time around. If you have the enemy counter turned on in your automap it won’t be uncommon to see the numbers exceed 400, and some of the weaker enemies will even respawn after a while. Don’t worry though, it’s not frequent enough to be stressful, but instead it really helps the backtracking from getting too tedious. Key hunting is a lot more intense when you never know if an Ettin is waiting around the corner to cave your skull in! However, if you’ve seen any other reviews of this game, you’ve heard a lot of grief expressed in regards to the Minotaurs (and their big brothers, the Maulotaurs). They aren’t the strongest foe in the game, but their shields, their surprise lighting bolts and their sheer numbers can definitely be a pain in the gluteus maximus. On the plus side, it makes killing them all the more satisfying, and you’ll find yourself experimenting quite a bit with your weapons and items to figure out the safest and quickest way to end their existence.

That’s right, I forgot to mention the items. The third and last major difference between Doom and these games is your inventory. The items are largely the same in all the games in the series, and using them can be a bit of a hassle unless you’re willing to fiddle around with your control settings to find a setup you prefer (I would usually bind the item selection keys to the scroll wheel and use them with the right mouse button). Visually, the inventory is similar to that seen in Duke Nukem 3D, and just like in that game, you’ll likely find yourself using some items a lot more frequently than others. Health and mana refills are a major aid, and beyond that you have things such as invisibility, invincibility, flechettes (despite what the name says, they’re more like grenades or mines, depending on your class), and a magical book that gives your weapons a much more powerful firing mode for a short time (although this item is mysteriously absent in Hexen). A special mention also goes to the Morph Ovum/Porkelator/Seal of the Ovinomancer, which transforms an enemy into a chicken/pig/sheep, respectively. A lot of fun to use, and and immense help against some stronger enemies if you’re low on health and/or mana.

If you didn’t find yourself using these items all too much in Heretic or Hexen, the following game might just give you a reason to. Hexen II is the third game in the series, and the final chapter in the Serpent Riders saga. This time you’re in the realm of Thyrion, and the last Serpent Rider, Eidolon, is the one who must be slain to free the land from his curse. In terms of gameplay, Hexen II is a lot more similar to Hexen than Hexen was to Heretic. You’ve got the same type of hub level structure, and you’ll again pick a class at the start, although now your choice has expanded, consisting of the Crusader, Paladin, Necromancer and Assassin, as well as the Demoness in the expansion (yes, all these games have expansion packs and they’re all worth playing in that they’re more of the same, but expanded, duh, and more polished).

The major difference this time around is one you can probably tell immediately from the screenshot: yes, Hexen II goes 3D (and in an exception to the common rule at the time, it is NOT titled “Hexen 3D” despite technically being the third installment). Specifically, the game uses a modified Quake engine. As mentioned, the core gameplay remains largely the same as in Hexen, but the level designers definitely did not waste that extra dimension. The levels are less expansive here, but a lot more complex and full of hidden passages, surprising loops and a whole lot of verticality. Scurring across a courtyard with archers raining arrows down on you from balconies is just as tense as it is satisfying later on to reach the same balcony and return the favor to any ghoul unlucky enough to find themselves below. Overall, the layout and progression in each area feels like it’s been given a lot more consideration and has endured more testing. Most of the time, the key hunting in each area feels more self-contained, and when it isn’t you rarely feel like you have no idea where to go. This is because every lock has been designed to feel more like a puzzle. In practice, your goal is still to find an item and bring it somewhere, but the locks and keys themselves are much more distinct, which helps you remember what to do and where to go. Instead of levers and typical keys, you find yourself looking for artefacts such as potion ingredients that will let you turn metal into wood, pieces of a broken mechanism or symbolic relics that must be placed in the hands of a statue to go in line with a prophecy. There are also more direct instructions in the form of book entries and inscribed stone tablets, which are very helpful in those cases where the puzzle might require a bit more than just item hunting, such as pulling switches in a certain order or lining objects up to create a pattern. It’s still unlikely that you’ll breeze through the whole game without getting confused, but you’ll rarely be at a complete loss; you’ll usually know what you’re looking for or what you’re trying to activate, even if you may need a walkthrough to find a specific hidden passage or to figure out exactly what a contraption does.

Overall, Hexen II feels like a refined Hexen, with more care put into making every area feel very distinct. It is absolutely not any less challenging though. The areas might be smaller in terms of actual units of measurement, and there are definitely fewer enemies on the screen at all times, but this is compensated for in spades. The third dimension adds a thick layer of complexity to every level, and the enemies hit HARD. If you got into a rhythm in Hexen of circle strafing, dodging and picking off targets in an order of perceived priority, you’ll have to learn to dance to a different tune here. Some enemies will close in on you incredibly quickly, and many of them have the ability to turn you into minced meat in a matter of seconds. Now more than ever is when you’ll want to shoot with a steady aim, use your items wisely, keep all the possible paths of retreat in your mental map, and scour every nook and cranny for health and mana to stand a chance against some of the stronger mooks. Hexen II as a whole is a lot more fast paced and tense and also has a more dramatic views and set pieces along with some extra bits of storytelling scattered around the world for those interested.

So, what are my thoughts on the Heretic/Hexen series as a whole? In short, it’s a treat. Combining classic fantasy tropes with the hectic action of Doom (and Quake) was an idea that was bound to happen sooner or later, and in this case, it worked out really well. There are of course other examples of this iconic clash of genres (check out Amid Evil for a totally kick-ass recent example!), but from what I know, the Serpent Riders saga is the one with the most lasting appeal. All the games strike a great balance between frantic, gory FPS action and the slower paced mystery and brooding sense of evil that only dark castles and dungeons can provide, with each game leaning a bit more toward one direction or the other. At a core gameplay level, there is nothing absolutely groundbreaking about Heretic/Hexen, but every element is done well and with care, and the presentation oozes of 20th century gothic fantasy charm, both the visuals and music. If the first paragraph of this review made you go “oh, those are both things I like!” then definitely check these games out. Same goes for anyone who is simply curious about the history of Id software and the impact Doom and Quake had on the gaming landscape. My only warning to you before playing these games is this: keep in mind that these games are from the 90s. There’s a reason many people have memories of booting these games up, getting completely stuck and then never playing them again. That said, as long as you have an internet connection (how else would you be reading this?) and an average amount of patience, there’s a whole lot of fun to be had here. All the games mentioned above are available on Steam (and GoG as well, I believe), and play excellently with modern source ports: gzdoom for Heretic and Hexen, and Hammer of Thyrion for Hexen II are my recommendations.

Finally, there is another game in the franchise. Heretic II returns to the story of Corvus (from the first game) and continues the story beyond the Serpent Riders arc, but due to some licensing issues it is not available on neither Steam nor GoG. Technically you could still buy a physical copy of the game, and I’ve seen mentions of at least one fan endeavor to make the game more accessible on modern computers, but I have yet to check it out. Maybe in the future. For now, I hope you enjoyed this dive into one of the slightly less famous, but still very popular classic 90s “Doom clones”!