#but most of the other pairing i like also involve one of the six (8 if you count bkak) characters listed and it seemed to clash

[touchlikethesun]

how i think different hq couples get engaged

kageyama and hinata are dating and living together for over a decade before they get engaged. there's just always something more pressing going on - usually their pro-volleyball careers - and they're both just so content with how their relationship is, marriage just seems kind of like an unnecessary hassle and a logistical nightmare that neither of them want to deal with. once they reach their 30s though, and they've both settled a bit more into their careers, i can see one of them casually proposing one day - they don't even have rings - because at this point, they both know they are going to spend the rest of their lives together, why not make mrs. hinata happy and make it official. plus, a wedding is an excuse to get together with all their friends again. when they buy their rings, they buy chains at the same time so they can still wear their rings on the court.

tsukishima and yamaguchi get engaged a lot earlier than kghn, i think they get engaged a year after they both graduate from undergrad. tsukki bought yams' engagement ring in their second year at uni after saving up basically since they got together in high school, but he waited to propose until after they lived and worked "in the real world," just in case yamaguchi found someone better or if their relationship changed when they didn't have school as an excuse to see each other all the time (kei eventually admits this to tadashi years down the line and tadashi scolds him - the efficacy being undercut by the kisses he gives kei at the same time - for ever thinking their relationship was so fragile). obviously yamaguchi was over the moon when tsukki proposed, and takes to calling him "his fiance" at every chance he gets. they wait to actually have a wedding until after tsukki has finished his masters, and they've both started working, so that they can actually enjoy the event with as little stress as possible

iwaizumi and oikawa get engaged around their mid-20s as well. i think oikawa is the kind of person that has had their whole life planned out in a scrapbook since they were 10, and he knows exactly when and how he planned to propose to iwa, so when iwaizumi beat him to the punch - an evening complete with a romantic dinner in a jazz cafe that iwa scouted for the occasion, roses, and a walk to the playground where they first met where upon iwa finally got down on one knee - tooru was so shocked and generally overcome with emotion that he burst into tears and forgot to say yes until hours later, when iwaizumi asked him again after many kisses and sweet words. ofc, after the shock has worn off, Oikawa Tooru's Dream Wedding Plans are back on, and iwa lets him take over planning the most elaborate and expensive wedding japan has ever seen

(for my bkak headcanon see this post i made a few days ago lol)

xx

[sheepwavehdg]

HDG xenospecies reference doc: the Maelodions

This is a first draft of a little world building reference doc I put together for one of the xeno species I made up. They primarily appear in Good Sensory and Surrogate Bloom.

The Maelodions are 3 foot tall musically inclined fruit xenos with six bifurcated limbs from the galaxy Andromeda. They use their affinity for signals and frequencies for many creative and scientific pursuits, as well as no small amount of utilizing their highly polyphonic songs to hypnotize other xenosophonts for fun.

Home Planet: No agreed upon Terran translation, most common is "Harmony"

Native Gravity: .4g

Year Length: about 8 Terran years

Lifespan: The original lifespan of a Maelodion was only a single season, under the efforts of the compact this has been extended by hundreds of times, going through many repeated regrowth cycles, similar to reblooming, but they do eventually degrade and die. No Maelodion has ever lived a full millennium without becoming digitized.

Domesticated: first encountered the affini roughly 19,000 years before Terran Domestication, took an unusually long time to fully Domesticate.

Names: Maelodion names are snippets of melody, with too high a level of frequency precision to be decipherable to most other xenos. They adopt new names when interfacing with other cultures, almost always based on historically famous musicians, instruments, or musical theory terms. Motzart, Cadence, Beyonce, Dorian, Viola, and Harmony might all be names a Maelodion in Terran space would adopt.

Physiology

The Maelodions are about 3 feet tall, with a slightly gourdlike central body, two sets of photoreceptive eyespots, a cluster of leaf like fibers at their base and top, and six flexible limbs. Their central body varies in texture between individuals, from feeling smooth and waxy like a watermelon to fuzzy like a peach. They can be any color

They are sentient motile fruiting bodies that originate from non-sophont trees, and before the intervention of the Affini, they only lived a single season (about six earth years) but now may live many hundreds of years. Their honeworld had seasons that would bathe entire regions of the planet in snow and scorching heat that required even autotrophic organisms with chlorophyll to be capable of migration.

They have six vine-like limbs that extend from their base, and bifurcate three times to end in 24 small manipulators, each time one third a long the new segments’s length. the final pairs are about the length of human fingers, but can become thinner and stretch out to be about 6 inches long.

The species has no sexes but does use sexual reproduction, being hermaphroditic. Their sexual mechanisms involve their bifurcated feelers, so putting them inside of other sophonts is pleasurable to them. This mechanism is also a form of intimate communication, and Terrans not taking broad spectrum blockers are particularly easily hypnotized by the songs of a Maelodion if it is possible to conduct sound through their skull directly somehow. Major Source: Surrogate Bloom

This is accomplished using the application of what grants the Maelodions their sentience, what is inside the body of every Maelodion, their Song.

The Song is a recursive self modifying harmony that exists inside the hollow resonant body of a Maelodion. It is highly polyphonic and complex, and to the Terran ear would sound like warbling white static.

Each member of the species carries a significant fraction of the Song, but how each interprets it varies between individuals. When in physical contact with each other's limbs, Maelodion can exchange verses of their Song, which allows for incredibly rapid transfer of information and knowledge.

Culture as of Terran Domestication 

Maelodions in Terran space will lean towards societal roles that involve interacting with sequences of information in some way. The obvious role is musician, such as Mx. O’Lydian and the Accidentals in Irregular Orbits, but coding, mathematics, physics, writing, chemistry, and many other things fit within this definition. They do not see these pursuits as being fundamentally different from music, or more broadly as an expression of Song. 

They tend to be strong language prosessors and usually have a good sense of humor, especially about being mistaken for affini. They are quick to debate, and tend to be very opinionated on seemingly inconsequential subjective matters.

Maelodions can communicate via sound in any language they care to learn, having specialized organs that operate like computer speakers and can produce entirely arbitrary sound waves.

Maelodion languages are polyphonic songs that sound like a mix of chimes, synths and whistles. Terrans can mimic simple phrases by whistling, but would need specialized mods to perceive the level of complexity of unsimplified communication. For reference, while the most fommon Terran musical octave contains 12 tones, the most common Maelodion octave is broken into 2520 distinct frequencies. Major Source: Surrogate Bloom

Some independent Terrans choose to set their hab AIs to the Maelodion language because they can simply memorize the melodic chirping tunes and not have to be condescended to in a language they actually recognize, feeling more computer-like. The affini do not entirely approve of this. Minor Source: Wild and Domestic

Pre-Contact

Before making initial contact with the compact, the Maelodion Chorus was anything but harmonious. Individual lifespans of the species are extremely short, and their seasonal life cycle was such that the entire race would die during winter, leaving only the record of their Song in their nonsentient tree form for the spring. Even after they escaped this limitation, the notion that art and legacy was more important than individual lives was deeply ingrained in their way of thinking.

As the Maelodions spread, various groups within it drifted, creating the first Choirs- a subgroup whose Song has diverged far enough they considered those outside it heretical and dissonant. Massively destructive wars over differences of opinion over classic artistic works broke out during this period. While the Maelodions never developed capitalism or private property, conflicts over subjective disagreement and ‘disharmony’ between Choirs frequently escalated to the level of using weapons of mass destruction on each other.

This was a self perpetuating cycle, and much of their cultural works eventually became about th process of debating the meaning of art between Choirs. This took less destructive forms, as well, with many ritual dances where two Maelodion would dance to a previous classic and debate ideas through motion.

Due to their extremely native understanding of signals, functions, and frequencies, the Maelodions are extremely gifted in the fields of mathematics and physics, and they had already gained an understanding of the fifth fundamental force before leaving their own star system, and devastating hypermetric weapon use was commonplace both against each other and against the affini once the Compact discovered them. Minor Reference: Dog of War.

Domestication

The Maelodion Chorus was a particularly tricky civilization to domesticate. The initial war period was longer than most, taking over 40 years to pacify a region comparable in size to the Terran Accord. The Maelodions were highly technologically advanced, extremely conflict-happy, and generally did not value individual lives due to how short their life cycle is, making them an extremely tricky puzzle to pacify without massive casualties. Major Source: Good Sensory

This was further complicated by incomplete assumptions made during the Maelodion cotyledon program. An individual member of the species was relatively easily tamed, but the song/chorus of their collective was far more resistant. 

While mass conflict ended in less than fifty years, the Song that each Maelodion carries within them was a far trickier beast. Since the Song itself was as their sentience, it could not just be replaced from scratch. A single feralist sequence could rapidly transmit through large groups.

This required a Domestication approach that involved heavy information control to prevent old feralist ‘melodies’ from rejoining the population, and outbursts of small feralist Choirs continued for centuries.

Some Affini do not think that the level of cultural rewrite that occured was beneficial for the Maelodions, and mourn the old Song, but they are rare. However, many parts of the Maelodion culture of critique and debate were allowed to remain intact, such as their debate-dances. Major Source: Good Sensory

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

First of all, the this has to be the shadiest episode title ever. Second of all, did a little kid fly a plane in this episode? Sure did! Let’s get into it! This reaction is for the season 8, second episode “When the Boeing Gets Tough…” which originally aired October 3, 2024. This episode was written by Ted Griffin and Tim Minear (All hail the King!) and directed by Bradley Buecker. 

Wow! I don’t think I’ve been this riveted by 42 minutes of primetime television is a very long time. The second part of our 3-part season opener had more thrills than a Six Flags theme park. Last episode, hundreds of thousands of killer bees were unleashed on the city of Los Angeles. We then saw those bees form a bee-nado which caused a small plane to collide into a passenger jet carrying our beloved Athena. In this week’s episode, we pick up where we left off.  

Holding true to my promise in the last reaction, instead of doing a beat-by-beat recap, I will be highlighting what I bee-lieve (Sorry, couldn’t resist) to be the best plot, best emergency sequence, and episode MVP. We will also check in with the show’s hot new pairing in the BuckTommy Corner. So, without further ado, let’s chat about the episode. 

Best plot?

Okay, so there’s only one main plot this episode and that plot involves Athena Grant saving the day. We do have a mini plot involving the fallout from Gerrard’s almost getting taken out by a rogue saw blade, but the episode doesn’t spend too much time on that plot. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Captain Vincent Gerrard. Anywho, let’s talk about Athena.

Athena has been charged with escorting Dennis Jenkins (Glenn Plummer) back to Los Angeles. After avoiding some assassins in the previous episode, the two board a flight. It doesn’t take long for thing to go tits up and the plane immediately falls apart upon impact. Thus lies the shade. Now unless you’ve been living under a rock, the aerospace manufacturer has come under scrutiny recently due to two separate crashes that killed over 300 people. For Athena’s sake and all the other passengers, let’s hope that the only instance of Boeing in this episode is the title.

So, why is this particular plot the best of the episode? It’s because Angela Bassett gets to do what she does best. With both pilots out of commission – RIP Captain Dominguez (Cindy Chavez) – Athena has to fly the plane because of course she does. I love this show’s continuity when it comes to its side characters. We get to see the air traffic controllers from season 5’s “Panic”.  Athena is given instruction via phone on how to keep the plane in the air but thankfully she has some help from a kid named Jem (played by Carter Young). 

I was on the edge of my seat the entire episode. There was so much going on both in the air and on the ground. I really liked how the 118 were coaching the passengers on how to treat the wounded. I thought it was a nice way to bring Hen, Chimney, and Eddie into the episode. I also thought Athena was the funniest she’s ever been this episode albeit unintentionally so. As unbelievable as the whole mid-air collision is, I thought Angela Bassett did a great job of keeping things (pun intended) grounded. Her acting really sells some of the mor wackier moments of the episode.

We don’t get a resolution to this plot which isn’t entirely surprisingly considering this is part two of a 3-part episode event. I do wonder how Athena is going to land the plane. There’s only so much fuel left and there’s two giant holes in the plane. We are told that at any moment the plane could come apart. I feel very confident that the writers will stick the landing (pun intended) but I reckon I’ll have to wait until Thursday to find out.

Best emergency sequence?

As mentioned previously, we have quite a few injured people aboard the flight. The one that made me squirm the most was the girl who broke her leg. Dennis making a shiv out of a toothbrush was pretty funny. My favorite emergency is the one involving the passenger named Jordan (played by James Coker). During the initial crash, the oxygen masks drop down like they always do in the movies, however, Jordan’s mask broke which means he wasn’t able to use it. The woman sitting next to him, Tia (played by Bayley Corman) speaks to Hen on the ground who tells her Jordan is most likely suffering from high altitude pulmonary edema aka fluid in the lungs. 

Poor Tia has to crush up erectile dysfunction meds and mix them with water to create a makeshift nebulizer. Thankfully this works and Jordan starts to regain consciousness and gets a boner in the process. Shout out to Henrietta Wilson who is my runner-up for episode MVP. She is hands down the handiest and most intelligent character on the show. Presumably Jordan and Tia will get together because they have bonded over trauma and boners. Perhaps we’ll get a conclusion to their story in the next episode.

Episode MVP?

Athena, without a doubt, is this episode’s MVP which means she’s earned the title twice in two episodes. This episode was tailor-made for her. Athena is the person you want around in a crisis; however, I do worry about all of the trauma she’s collecting like Pokémon over the series. We see her deliver the eulogy at Emmett’s funeral. We also see her jump into the cockpit of a commercial jet without little to no regard for her own well-being. I’m honestly afraid that after this ordeal, Athena will be afraid to fly or get on a boat. We literally saw her face her worst nightmare last season and now a plane crash. Much like with Buck and Chimney, I need the writers to leave Athena alone for a while. Give her some easy work to do like write traffic tickets or something. The poor woman has been through it! Even badasses need a break.

BuckTommy Corner

We only got one half of our pairing this episode but that’s fine with me. I know Tommy will be back at some point. With that said, I imagine Tommy would’ve handled the situation with Buck and Gerrard a lot better than Eddie did this episode. Now look, I like Eddie. He’s a compelling character without a doubt. I love his backstory, and I enjoy any time we see him interacting with his family. However, after last season, I’m a bit frustrated with the guy and how he is going about things. I’m just gonna put it out there and I know the diehard Eddie and B*ddie fans will crucify me for saying this. Buck is a far better friend to Eddie than Eddie is to him and this episode proves my point. Much like Athena, Buck, too, was a bit traumatized this episode. He almost watched his interim captain get sliced in half and thankfully he was there to stop it from happening. At the end of the day, Vincent Gerrard is a villain, one of the best we’ve gotten on this series, but he’s also a human and Buck seems to be the only one who recognizes his humanity. Buck was clearly distraught by what happened, and he was really looking for his friend to provide some sort of comfort. The only response he got form Eddie was some tired old dance moves. 

As much grief as a very vocal part of the 9-1-1 fandom likes to give Tommy, I do think he would’ve handled the situation a lot better than Eddie did. Tommy has proven himself to be highly emotionally intelligent. In fact, one could argue that he is one of the most emotionally intelligent characters we’ve gotten on the show with Bobby edging him out for first place. We’ve seen Tommy ask Buck how he is feeling on many occasions. When they shared their first kiss last season, Tommy immediately checked in on Buck to see how he felt about the whole situation. He also recognized that Buck wasn’t in the emotional headspace to entertain a relationship with him and gave him space to figure things out. Tommy is a thoughtful human being, and I imagine that when all is said and done, he (or Bobby) will be the person Buck runs to for the comfort he is so clearly needing post Gerrard almost getting killed. 

Well, that’s my reaction! This episode was awesome. I think it’ll be regarded as one of the series’ best disaster episodes. I don’t think anything could ever top the tsunami saga, but this episode will be up there. Next week we get the conclusion to our three-part season 8 opener. Will we get to see the bees again? Will Athena be able to land the plane? Will Bobby become captain again. I reckon we’ll have to wait to see. Until next time …

[nycorix]

Consequences [10/11]

[fic post]

|part 1| |part 2| |part 3| |part 4| |part 5| |part 6| |part 7| |part 8| |part 9|

Aaaand we're almost done!! This part is short and (I hope) sweet, so I really don't have much to say about it except that it contains one of my favorite paragraphs I've ever written for this fandom (the "obedience" paranthetical). Also: have I mentioned how much I love Catherine Foster <3

[The part in which 22 is still out cold and Kit is overwhelmingly Kit about it]

_______

10. 

06 faces down this unique predicament the same way she always does. One arm akimbo, head tilted, worrying the nails of her dominant hand through her glove with her teeth.

She’d expected 22 to be in bad shape, but this—this is new. She can count on two hands the number of times she’s seen him pass out in the years they’ve been paired, and most of them have involved head trauma from training incidents, or else been on the operating table so they don’t even really count.

She crouches by his head, checks his pulse. Heat roils off his skin, soaking through her glove while she counts. A minute passes and she pulls her hand away, chewing her lip—forty-six beats, much too low. She brings up a chat box, hesitates, closes it. Finds his arm, heals the broken finger and the torn skin beneath his glove, fully expecting the pain to jolt him awake.

He does not stir.

He looks strange like this, expression wiped smooth, no trace of his usual scowl. He looks young, vulnerable, as close to fragile as she’s ever seen him. Without consciousness to keep it at bay, the illness is free to taint his features, circling his eyes in charcoal and turning the rest of his skin ashy pale. Only his sharp cheekbones burn, high color painted over them from the fever. His lips, oddly parted, are chapped. 

She hates it. 

Another minute sees her scooping him up, all one-hundred-eighty-something pounds of him like nothing in her arms. One around his shoulders, the other tucked under his knees, her exactitude of force never more precisely calculated than this moment.

His head lolls, and she shifts him so that it rests against her shoulder, his hot slow breath on her collarbone.

A memory washes over her as she takes a step, and for a moment it stalls her, locking her muscles in place as the images bleed through her vision unbidden.

A surveillance video, coercively shown her by the Director, of a scene she has no memory of herself: 22, age twelve, marching down the street with her in his arms like he is in hers now, bleak determination in every line of his posture. The Director trailing beside him in her personal car, snail’s pace.

He’d been sick then, too—only much, much worse, all of his organs in perfectly cascading failure as they rejected four years of treatment in a matter of hours, systemically, cell by cell; and though she’d had no way of knowing this at the time, she’d nonetheless been absolutely useless, falling for the Director’s trap like a fucking idiot.

She sets her jaw, shakes the memory out of her head. Dispels the Director’s commentary—You see, Catherine? 22 exhibits model obedience no matter the circumstances, you’d do well to follow his lead—and grits her teeth, fighting the sting of shame echoing out of that memory. Nothing about that poor sick 22 from the video says obedience to 06; no, she understands him far better than that. Desperation, sure. Necessity, probably. Loyalty, absolutely. He brought her back that day to save them both, nothing more.

Today, she will do the same.

(Obedience, the Director will say, a grudging acknowledgment in passing that would once have earned her a cookie and now simply falls hollow on uncaring ears. But 06 will think of that video shown in secret, of small 22 clinging to his dignity then and the 22 she carries unconscious through the black glass doors who fought her for the same, and she will look that bitch in her cold, soulless eyes and say, loyalty.)

It starts to snow as she starts to walk again, fat icy flakes brushing her face and melting where they kiss her skin, and she throws her head back and grins, determination flowing back into her with every careful step.

[ghostsandmirrors]

actually, I want to write that essay about the last edit bcus it's eating my brain rn.

(this is probably only interesting to ash-muses)

Important Context when I do pair aesthetics like that, there's two things that I like to do (if I can); - shared meanings or aesthetics, - mirrored positioning,

this means that it is important to remember that the images are not linked to the one matching their position, but the exact opposite. I will be numbering them 1-12 (not including shared; they'll get a section) for ease of understanding.

Shared Meanings or Aesthetics This is also something I do in solo aesthetics, too. In the case of the first of the two (not using names to avoid search), we have; important locations (Asgard vs. where he was taken to heal), something significant with opposing meanings, shared background for text, and then face.

With duo aesthetics, there's links within the solo and the pair as a whole.

1 and 12; places that caused their isolation and loneliness in different ways. One was a place that was supposed to be home, was supposed to be safe, and turned out to be a lie where he was already an outcast of sorts. The other is a place that was never supposed to be safe, that intentionally isolated him and caused him pain. Both are the sources of their problems.

2 and 11; home or a place they belong in. 11 is literally from CA:CW and is of the safehouse he lives in. They're intended to be homely, warm, welcoming images to push the idea of finding a place with each other where they have someone. That someone may not know everything, but they're there and they're willing to be there.

3, 4, 9, and 10; face. These were meant to be mirrored (blue with blue and then lens flare with lens flare due to the aesthetics) but it looked terrible, so it ended up being imprisoned (3 and 10) and controlled (4 and 9). They're a reflection of each others' histories in a weird way.

5 and 8; representations of loneliness. One reads a lot while in a less than favourable situation (T:TDW imprisonment). The other has trouble sleeping and often deals with these issues alone. Also there's something about an empty, messy bed that reads aggressively Barnes to me. Idk what it is. If you look at his Unsplash collection, there's six images of beds.

6 and 7; external home. 6 is the village mentioned in the tags, and 7 is just where he feels most comfortable. Both are intended as 'places of acceptance in some way'; opposites to 1 and 12.

Shared Images and Text Placement I said they were there to make people cry and I meant it.

The screenshots are images that don't feature these two characters after they fall. The one that doesn't have a connection to that character (mountains for one, space for the other) has the lyrics closer together, to draw attention away from the centre in some way; either by covering the centre of the image (space) or by being in the corner (mountains).

The one that does, that's the location of their fall, has the words more spread out and avoiding the area (roughly) that they disappeared into. The intent is to draw attention to what is being avoided; the cluster and the... I want to say 'river' but I'm truly not sure what it is at that distance. The intention is to link these shared images both in that their pasts involve a fall into being controlled and also to link them to the correct one; the alps don't mean a lot to the one from space and space isn't personally connected to the one who fell off the alps.

They're shared to have images that visually and literally link them. All of the others, even while sharing meanings or aesthetics, are different. These are the only ones that're the same images.

In other pair aesthetics (especially ones for my own characters like this one), there'll be a matching theme instead of them literally matching (unless the background is a solid colour). In that one, the words are on paper that match the character, for example.

Another aesthetic to have 'same image, different area' like the one being talked about is this one from years ago. The background is the same but flipped to show different sections of the image. It's honestly such an easy way to link aesthetics, even in the event that the other images aren't that similar. It makes them a set without it being hyper obvious and I love it. It's so simple. I'd highly recommend for anyone who decides to do an edit like that.

---

And that's my shorter than expected ramble about that edit. It can be applied to any of my aesthetic edits in that style, too. Some are more obvious than others, but there's always some kind of mirror/link. Sometimes it's literally just that they were too close in colour originally so they had to be split or else it'd look weird, but it's still a thing.

[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 12

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 18.1k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of putting down hybrids, discussion of insomnia caused by a traumatic event, panic attacks, derogetory language

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Phew, that was long one. Please comment and reblog it really motivates me to keep writing. And I always love receiving asks so don’t be shy ;)

"I can't believe this is happening! Why can't I receive good news for once?" After the initial shock, you were fuming. "Work of months has been destroyed and for what? Because someone decided not to take the proper safety measures to save some money. People could have been hurt in there! Seriously hurt. And it would have been on our heads!"  

Namjoon was holding your phone, the email you had received opened on the screen. "You didn't know they hadn't taken the necessary precautions. It wouldn't have been on your head."  

"Can you imagine what would have happened if we had been filming? If the actors and the crew were inside and the building collapsed on us?" The chair scraped against the floor as you raised to your feet. You couldn't stay sitting anymore. "I don't even want to think about that. How many people... If we would even get out of there alive. And it isn't only us. What if the earthquake hadn't hit at night? And the workers were still inside? What then? This is wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to count."  

Five point six Richter. That was the magnitude of the earthquake that had hit Virginia. It had been felt in Washington. They said it had affected a radius of two hundred kilometers around the center of the earthquake. No one had expected it and no one had been prepared. In the email there was a detailed description of how the earthquake had caused the sets for The Raven Cycle to collapse in on themselves, because the respective protection measures hadn't been taken. The earthquake had hit at night, waking up everyone in the area and causing panic as people flooded the streets. They had discovered the ruined sets in the morning.  

Protection measures were of utmost important in every environment and you were baffled that a film studio with such prestige would disregard them so easily. You had half a mind to storm into the building you had just returned from and make a scene in front of everyone. They had put everyone in danger, not only the actors and the crew and all the people working there but also the passersby who could have had metal rods falling on their heads.  

How could they allow this? How could they be so careless? It wasn't a building made for only a couple of days of use with light materials. Filming would take place there for the better part of the summer. In a few months you would have been there. You could have been there.  

"And now you have to leave?" Namjoon asked, jaw tense. "Can't you wait a few days and go later?" You knew what he was thinking. You didn't want to leave either. It was the worst time possible for you to leave. The two hybrids in the guestroom, the injuries you had to tend to, Jimin and Jungkook, Jimin's past. But it wasn't your decision to make.  

"I can't, they have already planned the whole trip. It isn't like I have a choice. The message is clear, I will be flying to Virginia in two days. As the director and showrunner, I have to be there. They have called everyone important in the project and I am one of the lucky ones. And it isn't like I can refuse unless I have a very important reason. And I can't exactly tell them I am nursing to health a stray hybrid until he and his friend can live on their own again, instead of reporting them to the hybrid services."  

Namjoon's face scrunched up at the mention of the services. They were anything but kind to hybrids. They thought they could do anything to them if they were strays before they had to give them to a center. The times he and his small pack had to run away from them weren't few. It disgusted you, the way some people behaved.  

You landed back on your chair with a huff, tired of pacing. Namjoon must have got a headache from the way his eyes were following you. "This is just what I didn't need. I thought we wouldn't have to go to Virginia until summer!"  

You felt like banging your head on the wall but you settled for laying you head on the desk. It collided with a dull thud.  

It wasn't only the destroyed set and what that meant for the show. Slowing down of the production, a larger budget needed (oh, the irony) and the bad press you would get if it got out.

People in the area must have suffered. Flashes of collapsed buildings, shattered windows and  cracks in the streets ran through your mind. No, it couldn't be that bad. You prayed it wasn't that bad.  

Namjoon frowned. "What are you supposed to do there? You aren't going to help rebuild the sets. What do they need you for?" You could see the worry in his eyes. His instincts calling him to protect you, to not let you leave. You appreciated the fact he was fighting it.  

With your cheek squished against the desk you said, "No, I'm not going to rebuild the sets, but they need me there nonetheless. There is a legal part of this whole thing I have to be there for. And me being there might help the ones doing the rebuilding."  

Namjoon sighed, giving up on trying to keep you here. "Will John come with you?"  

"Most likely," you said, raising your head from the desk and sitting back on the chair. Your back hurt from the awkward angle you had bent your body in. "I will ask him but I'm pretty sure he will say yes. He always comes with me when I'm working out of California. He has toured half of the world being my bodyguard. And this time.... This time I don't think he would let me go without him."  

 "It seems you do tend to travel a lot," Namjoon noted. There wasn't any judgment or disdain in his voice, he was simply stating a fact. If anything he looked at the cream and gold world globe on your desk with longing. He had told you he had never left California, created and bred in Los Angeles. You didn't like how he said "created" but you couldn't correct him. "It must be nice seeing all those places."  

 The gold of the globe caught the light, distorted figures moving on the polished surface. "It's nice when it's properly planned and when I actually want to go. And there aren't any natural disasters involved. I can't say that's true this time. It's the furthest it could be from the truth." You groaned. "What am I going to do now? I can't leave like this. There are so many things going on."  

 Namjoon was too close to what he looked like talking to you about the ending of the Book Thief. "How long will you be gone?"  

 "A week?" The email didn't specify. A week was how long most work trips that didn't include filming lasted, but this wasn't a normal work trip. This had never happened to you or to anyone you knew before. You had heard of disasters but nothing like this.  

 Your fingers had subconsciously started drumming a tune on the desk. A tune that had comforted you once. A tune he used to hum long before he turned it into a song. You stilled your hand.  

 An earthquake. Five point six Richter. Shaking buildings, rattling shelves, trembling chandeliers, cupboards opening and dishes and glasses falling to the floor. The kind of thing you see on the TV. The kind of thing you don't ever expect to witness. No one expects a disaster like that to strike out of the blue, but that's the way it is. There is no one to warn you, no one who can.  

 You didn't go to dinner. You told Namjoon not to wait for you, you would eat later. Climbing down the stairs, you stopped in front of the door and knocked. The reply was the same and Yoongi opened the door like every time.  

Every room had a medical kit in the bathroom, the one in this had to be restocked twice in the past few days.  

 Hoseok gave you a small smile and extended his broken arm. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you started telling him of the time you had spent in the Caribbean Sea. You had stayed there for a few months and had spent most of that time in Jamaica and Puerto Rico. The sandy beaches, the endless turquoise sea and the colorful houses didn't fail to bring a smile to your face. The people had been welcoming and kind, eager to help with any problems production faced. They invited you to nights full of dancing and music and included you in everything like you belonged there.  

 The movie you had filmed wasn't one of your biggest hits. It wasn't nominated for an Oscar and although it did earn much recognition and was played at multiple international film festivals, it wasn't as successful as your other films. But it was the most fun you had had filming. The actors were incredible both at their job and out of it. You had spent some of the best nights of your life there.  

 As you fastened the splint in place around Hoseok's arm, you told him of the night they had lit large bonfires along the beach and all the people in the area had gathered around to have a few drinks and dance. Your mind, however, wasn't on the story. A fractured arm and a rib wasn't something you should be treating at home. It didn't matter how many first aid classes you had attended, a lot of things could go wrong. But it was either this or nothing. When you had suggested taking Hoseok to the hospital, Yoongi had almost bitten your head off.  

Hoseok was laying back against the pillows with his eyes clothes when you were done. He was doing better. Having regular meals and being able to wash made the improvement more evident. He didn't complain when you were treating him but you could see his eyes clenching shut when you were applying salve to the most tender spots. The stories helped. They distracted him and you could work easier. He rarely spoke but lately he had been brave enough to voice any questions he had and you had readily answered him. Progress. Progress you hoped wouldn't halt now.  

"This is it for today," you said, rubbing your hands together and getting up. "In a few days you won't have any trouble moving around on your own. Not anything too strenuous, though, no running or jumping around."  

"Thank you." Hoseok spoke softly, like being any louder would break an unspoken rule. Like it would get him punished.  

Yoongi was sitting on the chaise lounge by the glass wall, facing away from you. The fire pits were lit all the way along the balconies, flames licking up the darkness of the night. He didn't look at you while you were there, only stealing glances when he thought you weren't looking. When his eyes met yours he would scowl and look away.  

"There is something I wanted to tell you," you started. You didn't know how else to say it so you jumped in head first. "I was called to Virginia for work. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow." Yoongi's back stiffened, his tail stilling in the air. Hoseok's eyes turned impossibly wide. "I don't know yet how long I will stay there but it will be some time before I can come back. I thought you should know because I won't be able to treat you."  

Yoongi huffed. "Who will be our caretaker then?"  

You paused by the door. "Do you think you need one?"  

"Is this a joke?" Yoongi's fists clenched. There was no blood on them anymore.  

It wasn’t a secret that hybrids were treated like pets, that included having someone babysit them when the owner was gone. You had been through it before when you had left for New York shortly after you had adopted Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. Everyone had expected you to ask someone to take care of them. You hadn’t. They could take care of themselves and each other just fine.

It was the same now.

“If you think you need a caretaker I can hire one for you, but I doubt you do,” you said. “I think you can survive in the Castle without me for a few days. If I’m gone for longer than a week, Helen my housekeeper will come over to do some cleaning. She usually comes over a few times a week. And the gardener comes by quite often. ”  

Yoongi looked stunned but schooled his features quickly. Hoseok’s ears were pinned against his head. You closed the door behind you.

Why did your work’s timing had to always be that bad?

An earthquake. A fucking earthquake.

In the kitchen, the table was served. The mouthwatering smell of the food drifted in the air. Jimin, Namjoon and Jin were sitting around the table, Jungkook absent once again. No one had touched their plates.  

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” you said taking your seat. Your plate was filled with a generous slice of meat pie and fresh salad. Your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t noticed you were that hungry.

“We wanted to wait for you.” Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, it hadn’t since the day he had come running to you, begging you to take him with you to work. Jungkook spent most of his time at the atelier and he slept in Jin’s room at night. Every time he didn’t show up for meals, the light in Jimin’s eyes dimmed further.

You picked up your fork and knife and cut into the pie. The taste was heavenly, not that you had expected anything else from Jin. You told him so and delighted in the way he got flushed and tried to cover it by a terrible joke he must have come up with on the spot. While you ate, you didn’t speak much, thinking about the best way to bring up the news crawling up your throat. Namjoon squeezed your hand under the table.

When your plates were empty and Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder, you decided it was time. You put your fork aside. You started by the email, the email that had looked so inconspicuous at first because you received emails like that all the time. An email labeled “important” was often not as important as the people sending it thought it was. You couldn’t have guessed what it contained inside. You hadn’t been prepared.

Your leg was moving up and down on the metal foothold of the stool, mimicking your racing heartbeat. An earthquake had struck Virginia at night. You repeated the dry words of the email, of someone who hadn’t felt the terror of the earth shaking underneath their feet. Five point six Richter, strong enough to knock down the sets they had been building for months. You were required to be there in two days.  

Jimin’s bottom lip was trembling. “How long will you stay?”

You shook your head. It was the same question you were asking and had no answers for. Even if you called someone in the company they wouldn’t have anything but speculations for you. “I hope no more than a week.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Jin asked. “What if there are aftershocks, or if it was a warning for a larger one coming?”

Jin’s question brought an dreadful shine to Jimin’s eyes. You had thought of that as well but your mind was troubled already as it was. Questions of your safety would take this too far. For once, you didn’t trust the company you were working with to keep you safe. You would have to do research before you left and take all the necessary precautions. You wouldn’t risk it like they had.

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his glass but didn’t bring it to his lips. “John will be with her. They will be alright.” It didn’t calm down Jimin who hugged himself tightly, dropping his head to his chest.

You couldn’t watch him suffering anymore. Getting up, you walked to him and hugged his from behind, prying his hands away so they were over yours instead. “I promise I’ll call you every day and we will text. It’s like when I was in New York and you texted me every day about what you got up to and what you were thinking. Your texts made me forget all about work and how tired I was.” Jimin sniffled but his cheeks remained dry. “It’s only a few days. They’ll be over soon. You won’t be alone here.”

Jin ruffled Jimin’s hair and the cat hybrid wrapped one arm around the oldest, pulling him into the hug. You placed a kiss on both their head, making Jin flush again. He wasn’t used to physical attention the way Jimin was but he craved it too and you were trying to make sure he felt as loved as he was.  

Namjoon held Jimin while you and Jin cleaned the table. He grabbed Jimin’s thighs lifting him up and carried him to the living room. The younger laughed all the way there, telling him to put him down. His tight hold around Namjoon’s neck told him a very different thing.

But you weren’t done yet. You had one more person to tell.

The atelier’s door was half open. You knocked once on the wood before opening it all the way. The room could be described as an organized mess. Two canvases were set up in the middle of the room and three half-finished ones stood against the cabinets. The floor was covered in newspapers splattered with all the colors of the rainbow and paint tubes were lined on the tables in no particular order.  

“I finished dinner, you can take it,” he said, gesturing to the tray on one of the tables with the hand not holding a brush.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” One of his ears perked up as you walked closer. The canvas he was working on now was a blend of shades of purple, orange and yellow with no definitive details. “What are you painting.”

He shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” Moving forward with no destination. You knew how that felt.

Jungkook hadn’t distanced himself just from Jimin but from everyone. He didn’t run to you to hug you and scent you when you came back like he used to do. He didn’t come up to the living room to watch TV and talk until you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. He didn’t show you his progress on the paintings. He didn’t annoy Jin while he cooked (the oldest liked it even if complained). He didn’t come to meals. Meals were family time.

Being in the atelier now was different to any other time. It was the stifling feeling of an empty page, which used to be ecstasy. It was wrong, something missing.

“I have to leave for Virginia the day after tomorrow,” you said, ripping the band-aid off. The times you had said it today were too many. Surprised doe eyes turned to you. You explained the story once again and waited.

Jungkook seemed to be bracing himself for something. “Can you take me with you?”

“Take you with me?” you repeated, dumbfounded.  

He nodded. The brush he had been holding had fallen to the floor at some point painting the newspapers in a shock of deep purple. Neither of you had noticed. “I won’t bother you. I’ll listen to everything you say. You can leave me at the hotel. I won’t cause any trouble, no one will know I’m there.” He lowered his head. “I need to be away from here.”  

“Jungkook…” Your hand touched his cheek and you felt the way he clenched his jaw under the touch. “If this is-”

“Don’t,” he begged, pulling away. A pained desperation coloring his voice. “You don’t know what I did. If you did-” He took a sharp breath. “Can I come with you? Please.”

Stifling. You hadn’t considered taking any of the hybrids with you now. You had planned on inviting them along when you would go there for filming, a much more fun part of your job. This would be a busy trip and most likely far from enjoyable. It could be dangerous. But Jungkook’s eyes were begging you. He was fading away locked up in the atelier avoiding everyone.  

“Okay. If you really want to, you can come with me. I’ll help you pack the essentials,” you said. Jungkook visibly relaxed. Maybe you should have pressed more. Insisted on him speaking with Jimin before you left or after you came back. But you were exhausted and a headache was brewing behind your temples.  

Jungkook glanced at a canvas covered with a white sheet at a corner. You’d let it go for now.

When Jimin sneaked into your room late into the night, you didn’t say anything pulling up the covers in a silent invitation. Jimin crawled underneath and hid in your arms. Against every expectation you fell asleep. Orange bottle untouched in the bathroom cabinet.

The days leading up to your departure were every kind of hectic. Panic had taken over the studios and the atmosphere was tense in every meeting. No one wanted to admit the colossal mistake that could have cost the lives of so many people. The press was another matter entirely. The project could get a bad reputation before it was aired. It was emotionally exhausting, your brain working in overdrive, coming up with solutions to problems that may or may not arise. You had to be prepared for the worst.

At home it wasn’t much better. You had started packing for the weird end-of-spring weather in Virginia. The Raven Cycle books and a little research had provided you with enough information about what to expect. Dry, warm and with a possibility of thunderstorms. It could also get cold at night so you made sure to pack a few sweatshirts.  

You helped Jungkook pack his things in a similar way. He had a habit of wearing long sleeves even when it was hot so you packed a few more sweatshirts and hoodies for him. He continued not talking much but he looked calmer now that you were leaving. All you wanted to do was hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. But you didn’t think that would be welcome.

Jimin had timidly offered to take care of Hoseok’s injuries while you were gone. You hesitated at first. While they had been here Jimin and Yoongi hadn’t interacted much. You had expected they would talk, figure out the strange tension between them, but they had kept to themselves. You gave in in the end. The worst had come and passed and you trusted Jimin to provide the basic care Hoseok needed.  

He came with you to their room before dinner and you explained to him what you were doing. Hoseok was a little more withdrawn than usual but  he didn’t protest, smiling at Jimin.

You had a long talk with Namjoon in your office the night before the day you were scheduled to leave. There were a lot of things to talk about and you tried to get everything out. All your worries and all the things you thought he should know. When you were spent and his reassurances were buried deep in your chest, he brought you close to him, rubbing his face in your neck. He places light kissed on your skin, his lips trailing up until they were touching yours.

The house was silent. You opened your eyes blearily, staring at your phone. The ringing of the alarm had stopped, leaving large numbers reading the time on the screen. The blinds were closed hiding the morning from you.  

There was a weight on your chest. You looked down to find tired eyes staring up at you. Jimin made a small sound in the back of his throat and nuzzled against you. His blond hair was soft against your fingers as you combed through it. A loud purr escaped him as you scratched the base of his cat ears. He held on to you tighter but the alarm was clear, you needed to get up and get ready. You had a flight to catch.

“No, don’t go,” Jimin whined.

You massaged his head down to his neck. “I have to get up. I’ll miss the plane if I’m late.”

In the shadows of the room you could see the pout on his full lips. “What if you miss it?”

“If I miss it, I’ll get in trouble. And I’d rather not get in trouble.” Jimin snuggled closer to you and you could smell the vanilla shampoo he loved. Mia had said in the early days that she had smelt vanilla and muffins on you and you had guessed that was Jimin’s scent. The shampoo must serve to accentuate his natural scent.  

His cat ears lowered as his tail wrapped around your bare leg. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling of the soft fur against your skin. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I know, that’s why I have to go.” You untangled yourself from the hybrid and pressed the button for the blinds to retreat. The morning light spilled into the room. It caught on Jimin’s curls painting them golden. You had an urge to capture the moment with your camera, the way he looked so soft, hair mussed and eyes still dreaming. Carving the image in your memory, you walked to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for the day.

Getting dressed for a flight was different than getting dressed for any other work day. You liked to wear something comfortable that wouldn’t look too bad on camera. You weren’t the kind of celebrity to get mobbed every time you went out but sometimes paparazzi could get wind of where you were going and show up at the airport. When you were traveling for premieres or events, fans and paparazzi would fill the place.  

The previous night you had set aside a pair of loose black pants and a red top. You would also take your leather jacket with you because it could get chilly on the plane.  

Jimin, wearing his stripped white and blue pajamas with the little pink hearts, clung to you like a koala all the way to breakfast. He only let go of you when you placed your large black bag on the floor and took a seat at the kitchen island. Jin was finishing up with cooking, taking the pots off the stove. Breakfast was almost ready.

John would be coming later to drive you to the airport. The black SUV had turned into a sign you would be traveling. Because of the sheer volume of the luggage you always ended up with, a large car was needed to drive you to and from the airport. This time you had packed two suitcases and your handbag. You had been tempted to fill a sac-voyage as well but you quickly abandoned the thought.  

Namjoon arrived, looking wide awake. The opposite of Jimin and his drooping eyes. Only one was missing. And you weren’t compromising today.

“Jungkook?” you asked. The others exchanged a glance. It told you enough. “I’m going to go get him. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Their gazes followed you as you left. They probably didn’t believe you could get him to come up. And any other day that could have been the case.  

The door of the atelier was closed but you were sure Jungkook was inside. The amount of time he had been spending in there was unhealthy but you were the last person who could judge him, having spent the majority of your so called break in your office. You knocked three times before opening the door.

Jungkook was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, lost in a place that used to scream comfort. Did it still? You couldn’t feel it anymore. The canvases were all in their places and the paints and brushes had been tidied up. Sitting on the paint splattered newspapers in his completely black clothes, Jungkook looked lost.

“We’re having breakfast upstairs,” you said.

Jungkook’s eyes cleared, just enough for most of the fog to disappear. One bunny ear drooped down and he swiped it away from his face. “Can’t Jin bring it to me?”

You shook your head. “Jin isn’t bringing anything to you. You will be coming to breakfast and eat with us like you used to.”

He lowered his head, both ears falling in his face. “I can’t.”

“You very much can and you will.” You tried to be gentle but you were firm on this. “You will come up and we will all eat breakfast together. We are leaving in a few hours for the other side of the United States and I have no idea when we will be back. You aren’t doing anything here and everyone wants to see you and spend some time together.”

“Not everyone.” It was so low he probably hadn’t meant for you to hear.

“Everyone,” you said, kneeling by his side. “Everyone wants to see you.” You brushed his bangs off his face, petting his ears in the process. He didn’t relax the way he usually did, melting in your hands, but he did lean into the touch. “One breakfast. That’s all I’m asking for. You said you’d listen to me if I took you with me to Virginia.”

He couldn’t disagree with that and when you offered him your hand he took it.  

Jungkook and Jimin had had a special bond. That first night you had seen it in the way Jimin cried begging you to help Jungkook, to heal him. You had seen it in the way Jungkook, beat up and having trouble breathing, was asking Jimin if he was injured, if he needed to be treated first and Jimin had cried every time Jungkook flinched but smiled and squeezed his hand to ease the pain. Nothing had changed the longer you spent with them, the way they loved and cared for each other only becoming more apparent.

Jungkook had gone to Namjoon crying, saying he had hurt Jimin but you couldn’t imagine him doing anything but loving him. Misunderstandings preyed on everyone and they were hungry for those who loved each other. They would get through it, you assured yourself. They were strong and they cared too much to continue hurting each other like this. You cared too much too, you wouldn’t let this get out of hand.

They needed a break, that’s what it was. Jungkook had been right, the trip would help put some distance between them to think clearer. You would make sure when you returned they would be ready to face whatever had happened between them.

Jimin lit up at seeing Jungkook but the light dimmed when the younger didn’t even glance his way. You sighed into your orange juice.

After breakfast Jungkook carried up his suitcase while you went to another room. Three knocks and a question of who it was. It had become routine. Hoseok smiled at you, he had been doing that more and more.  

You sat down at the side of the bed, Yoongi watching you from the chaise lounge, his ears standing alert. “I’m just here to check on you one last time before I go. Jimin will take over after this.”

Hoseok was sitting with his back against the headboard. He hadn’t been able to do that without hurting the first days. “When will you be leaving?”

Touching his arm to inspect it, you said, “John will be here in about thirty minutes but the flight isn’t for another two hours. We have to be early at the airport because the process to get on the plane takes a long time. Do you want to hear about the first time I got on a plane? That’s a funny story.”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically so you started recounting the time you were sixteen and you had to take a plane to get to the film festival that was held in France. The short film you had directed would be played there. The only problem was that you had never been on a plane before and the prospect of flying wasn’t appealing to you in the least. It just happened that the flight was far from calm.

The check up was finished halfway through the story but Hoseok touched your arm, wordlessly asking you to finish it. At your arrival in France Hoseok’s smile dissolved.  

“I have to get going, John will be here soon,” you said getting up. Hoseok had met John only after you had told him of the time both of you had gotten lost in London. John had been insisting he knew what he was doing leading you deeper into the maze of streets. Because of that a few more stories the bodyguard had guest-starred in, the fox hybrid hadn’t looked as terrified as some people did at the side of the giant of a bodyguard.

“Thank you for,” he gestured to himself “this. And the stories. Thank you for the stories.”

You stopped by the door. “It was my pleasure.”

John was at the Castle right on time, parking the SUV close to the front door. He helped you carry everything to the car, which meant he carried the three suitcases while Jungkook insisted he could help. The bunny hybrid did help but only because John took pity on him and let him help with putting the suitcases in the trunk.  

You lowered your sunglasses. No wind and no cloud in sight. You would have a calm trip.  

You hugged all the hybrids, letting them scent you. Jimin’s eyes were growing misty and you hugged him extra hard assuring him you would be back soon. You rubbed your forehead against Jin’s and kissed his cheek in goodbye, his skin warming up under your lips. Goodbyes were hard and you’d thought you’d gotten used to them. Saying goodbye to Taylor and Zayn before tours, to your aunt the rare times you could visit her, to your friends, to the actors and the crew.  

And yet your chest was tight.

Namjoon was talking with John by the car and you heard him asking John to take care of you and Jungkook. John replied he would protect you with his life. John was your bodyguard but this had been more than a job to him for a long time.

From the corner of your eye you saw Jimin approach Jungkook. He reached to touch him, hug him. Jungkook flinched. Jimin’s hand hovered in the air before going limp. He backed away, his chin dropping to his chest and jaw trembling.  

You bit the inside of your cheek. A hand landed on your shoulder and you turned to find Namjoon standing next to you. You weren’t the only one who had watched the youngests’ exchange. You hid in his arms, forgetting about the world for a moment. The two hybrids who loved each other too much, the trip you had to take, production being halted, that godforsaken earthquake. He nosed along your neck, his warm breath tingling your skin.  

Jungkook got into the car first, an escape, and you followed soon after, a necessity. The house got smaller and smaller behind you as the car drove away. The Castle fading in the distance. Another trip. Different reasons, a different disaster, but familiar territory. Once you used to be excited about these trips, exploring a new place and living new experiences. Where had that part of yourself gone?  

But you weren’t alone this time. Jungkook was looking out of the window, his head laying against the glass. You would take him to that yogurt shop you had liked so much and you would show him the park you wanted to film at and take him to that endearing small cinema. Yeah, you would do that.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The hotel towered over the rest of the buildings in the area. It wasn’t the same one you had stayed on your first visit last year, more grand and definitely more expensive. The company had gone all out. An admirable attempt to quell your anger, yet it continued simmering underbeath your skin. A young man was waiting for you outside, taking the suitcases from the car and leading you to the lobby.  

Jungkook looked around with wide eyes and an open mouth. There was so much glass and marble, almost everything was made using these two materials.  

The receptionist smiled at you wide, her teeth white and straight like her uniform. She welcomed you to the hotel and handed you two key cards, white with a gold line on front and the room numbers in cursive. Two cards.

“I was sure I’d forgotten something,” you muttered.

The receptionist’s smile faltered. “Is something not to your liking, miss?”  

Two cards. One for your room and one for John’s. You had notified the company about Jungkook accompanying you but you hadn’t requested another room. Granted, you had thought they would come to the conclusion on their own. One more room would have cost them a lot, though. Easy way out. But you couldn’t exactly blame them. At hotels, owners rarely bothered to spend money on a room for their hybrids.

You held the cards like a magician ready to do a trick, showing them to John.  

“Shouldn’t there be one more?” he asked.

The woman behind the desk blinked a few times. “More? Two rooms were booked in the name Y/N Y/L/N. Is there a problem?”

You sighed. “No, I guess there isn’t. Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” Jungkook watched the exchange shifting from foot to foot. His black hoodie was a size too big and he was drowning in it. “Do you have any available rooms in the same floor.”

“I’m afraid we don’t, miss. The rooms on the top floor are all booked for the night.”

“Great.” You couldn’t think of another solution, you would have to make do. “Thank you. We’ll be going now.”

“Have a nice stay,” the receptionist said.

The elevator was as luxurious as the lobby, a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. John had your black bag slung over his shoulder. The man with your suitcases was already gone, you would find them in your rooms when you arrived. There was a mirror to your left and leaning your back against the wall your gazed at your reflection. With your black circles hidden with concealer and carefully applied makeup, you looked just a little tired from the flight. You had brushed your hair on the plane and it fell in waves over your shoulders, curling at the tips.

Jungkook hadn’t been to a hotel before and it showed as he tried to take everything in. The lights that were on even in the afternoon, the golds and whites, the mirrors and glass and the velvet seats. It was wonderful but still it wasn’t the best hotel you had stayed at.

The elevator’s doors opened with a ding and you walked into the well-lit corridors. Doors were on either side with a sitting area at the front. You had stayed in many hotels over the years but they were nothing more than a place for rest. Sleep and shower, that’s all you did in your room. And sometimes breakfast or dinner if you didn’t feel like going out.  

Stopping in front of a white door, you checked the numbers on the cards again. The two rooms were very close, only a few meters distance from each other.

Two rooms. Right.

You handed John his key card. “So, we’ve got two rooms…” Jungkook looked at you curiously. “I hope you don’t mind staying in my room with me for now. Unless you would prefer staying with John and his snoring.”

John pointed a finger at you. “Hey, I don’t snore.”

You hummed. “Sure you don’t. What I have been hearing all those years must be the pigs outside.”  

Jungkook was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and doing a poor job of it.

John dropped your bag by your feet. “Do you hear her? No respect for me. That’s what I get for listening to your every whim for years. I’ll go to my room now and snore in peace.”

You giggled as John struggled to swipe the key card right. With an ‘aha’, he managed to open the door and get inside. You swiped your own card, the door clicking open at the first try. Both of you had been doing it for years but John was more of a fan of traditional keys.  

The company had booked a suite for you, which you guessed was one of the best in the hotel. The door opened to a grand living room with white velvet couches and armchairs and a 75 inch TV. You took off your sneakers before stepping on the wool carpet, it was white with veins of gold running through it.

You fell on the couch, taking off your backpack and placing it on the floor. “I’m sorry for this, I thought they would book three rooms for us.”

Jungkook looked at you from where he was still standing by the door, his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack. “Why would they book three rooms?” There was a gap here. Hybrids stayed with their owners, that was the norm. You realized that was what he had expected.

“We are three people. I thought you would want your own room. I told them you would be coming with me for the tickets but they didn’t change the rooms they had booked.” You threw your head back and closed your eyes. “Everything is going so well already.”

There a shuffling of feet from the door. “I thought… I can stay with John if he doesn’t mind or… I can…”

You opened your eyes. Jungkook was looking at the floor, his ears drooped at the sides of his head. “What are you talking about?”

Jungkook hugged himself. “I don’t want to bother you.”

And it clicked. You got up from the couch. “Oh, bunny. You aren’t bothering me. I only wanted one more room because I thought that’s what you wanted, that you wanted your own space.” You didn’t touch him, remembering him flinching and pulling away, but you stayed close to show him you were there for him.  

“Oh, I-” He flushed, not knowing what to say. You had been past that stage and it was unfortunate to see the shyness and hesitance come back.

“Come on, take off your shoes,” you said, motioning for him to come further into the room. “I desperately need a shower. Then we can rest. I don’t have to do anything until late tonight. Do you want to go in first?”

Jungkook sat down gingerly on the couch. “No, no, you can go in first. I think I’ll sleep a little.”

You stopped him before he could lay down. “Here?”

Confused, he looked around at the furniture. “Should I take the smaller couch?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said. “But there is a huge bed in the bedroom. If you feel uncomfortable though, I could take the couch.”

Jungkook shot up at that. “No, no way. You have work, you should sleep in the bed.” The redness creeped into his cheeks again. “I would like… I would like to share, if that’s alright.”

You gave him a smile. “That’s more than alright. Come in, then.”

You were planning to make the most out of this trip.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Jimin had memorized everything you had said about checking and treating Hoseok’s injuries. He had memorized the pills he was taking, the salves you used and the times you checked on him during the day. Before you left, he had even looked up all the injuries Hoseok had on Google and read all the information he could find. You had told him Hoseok was well on his way to recovery and he didn’t have to worry much. But he was worried. He was very worried.

He had thought he had been ready, that he could do this. But standing outside their door, second thoughts were smothering him.

What if he did something wrong and he hurt him? What if he made everything worse? If he pressed too hard, if he used the wrong cream, if he wrapped the bandages wrong…  

Seokjin would have been much better at this. He took care of them like a parent, he would have been a better choice than Jimin. But Seokjin was the one to cook all their meals, he had enough on his plate. Yoongi could have done it but… He had only glared at you and sneered something that sounded very much like a refusal.

Yoongi…

He hadn’t talked to him since the day he had chased him to the alleyway. The older didn’t leave the room he shared with Hoseok unless it was absolutely necessary. Jimin didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this… This stasis they were trapped in. He had expected someone yelling, accusing. Sharp words, that didn’t match the soft voice he had been used to. There had been none of that. Nothing at all. He wasn’t sure what he preferred.

Hoseok smiled a little at him when he walked into the room. He was sitting up in his bed with his reddish tail in his lap. Yoongi, laying in his own bed, didn’t acknowledge him but his dark eyes were burning Jimin’s skin when he wasn’t looking.  

Hoseok patted the bed with the hand that wasn’t in a cast. His smile was smaller than it had been in the morning. Your absence wasn’t affecting only them. Jimin had heard you telling stories to Hoseok, you had done the same with Jungkook. But he had no stories to tell, nothing worth sharing. He hadn’t traveled the world, he didn’t have interesting and famous friends, he didn’t have a job or childhood memories by the beach.  

Silence spread, only broken by his apologies every time Hoseok winced. He was holding back for his sake and it made his stomach clench. He left the room like there were hell-hounds on his heels.  

The second day you were gone everyone woke up early in the morning, like all the days they had to be up early to see you before leaving for work. You might not be there but his body demanded he wake up and drag his feet upstairs for breakfast. A book was laying cover up on the table. One of the leather-bound classics you kept on the top shelves of the library. Namjoon read it at night before going to sleep.

Seokjin placed a plate of pancakes in front of Jimin. Pancakes were his favorite.

Belly full, he trudged to the second level.  

“Good morning,” he greeted, coming through the door.

Hoseok’s fox ears twitched. “Good morning,” he said with a small smile. Yoongi remained silent, standing by the glass wall.  

Jimin fetched the medical kit from the bathroom. Everything he would need was in there. “Did you sleep well?” He tried to make conversation. It wasn’t easy when he felt like he could erupt at any moment with Yoongi’s gaze on him. If he hurt Hoseok, Yoongi would never look at him again. Or he could do so much worse. But Jimin had already lost him years ago.  

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied, fumbling with the blanket he was sitting on. “I had a weird dream. About being at the lake. There was a statue there and he was talking… It was good, though.”

There was a small Greek style statue on the half-empty shelves of the room, a Kouros you had explained to him. “It must be because of that.” Jimin motioned to the shelves. “There are pieces of ancient Greece all over the house. The first show Y/N directed was about Persephone and Hades, the Greek god of the dead. Greek mythology has a special place for her.”

“She talked to me about Greece a little but she didn’t say anything about the show,” Hoseok said.

Jimin opened the medical kit, remembering watching the episodes one after the next, hanging from every word the characters said. “The show is so good! I couldn’t stop watching it, I didn’t want to get out of the cinema room for anything. The characters were perfect, Persephone was so sweet and kind but she-” He stopped himself, cutting off his rambling. The cream in his hand was getting warm.

Hoseok sat up straighter to help his work. “But what? Why did you stop?”

Jimin startled. He could at least do this, he could speak about the show. He had watched the episodes multiple times and he had asked you so many questions, some of which you hadn’t talked your way around. Hoseok didn’t wince as much as the first time and maybe Jimin go a little carried away, but he didn’t make any mistakes and Hoseok even asked questions and talked with him.  

The cat hybrid had to suppress the shivers the eyes on his back sent down his spine.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Greek gods, fantasy, romance and mysteries. That’s what made you rich. That’s what got you this huge house and more money than anyone would ever see in their lives. The Castle. Yoongi scoffed. What a pretentious name for an even more pretentious house, but that was the way it worked.  

Yoongi disliked rich people on principle. Privileged, arrogant and self-entitled were only a few of the adjectives he would use to describe them. They thought they could control anyone because they had money and money made the world go round. Money could get you everything and that’s what they wanted. Everything. In long coats and designer sunglasses looking for entertainment in the most dubious places, feeding off the struggle of the others. Watching enraptured as others fought for their lives.

All of them were the same. It didn’t matter if they were hiding behind smiling masks or surface philanthropic acts. They were the same. And you were just like them. He refused to believe anything else. Despite how hard it was getting. But every time he was slipping, he would remember the pleads and rough hands. His resolve didn’t crack.

He heard all the stories you told Hoseok. Not that he wanted to but there wasn’t a chance he would leave him alone with you. Most of them were funny and although he didn’t want to admit, there were parts the corners of his mouth had lifted up without his permission. He was grateful for those stories, they made Hoseok forget. One rare time, when you were telling him about a disaster on set that involved three spoons, a maraca and a lost script, Hoseok had giggled and Yoongi’s heart had come close to bursting out.  

Every morning and every night you would have a different story for him and it made Yoongi wonder if they were all true or if you were coming up with them on the spot. Not that it mattered, it made Hoseok smile and that was enough. Yoongi had found himself waiting for the times you would come into their room and start talking. You had a way with words.

And now you were gone, leaving them alone in the house, alone with no one watching over them like a guard dog (except that damned wolf hybrid, but that was another case entirely). There were a few things he knew about the world and one of them was that hybrids weren’t left alone in a house that cost more than his handlers would make in their whole lives. He didn’t like surprises and he hated how full of them you were.  

Jimin had been the one to take over and you must have been somewhere in Virginia laughing at Yoongi’s expense. The younger looked good, his cheeks were full and there was a certain glow on his soft skin. Jimin had always looked beautiful but now he was ethereal. He couldn’t keep his eyes away.

Hoseok pressed a few buttons on the TV remote and groaned. After Jimin’s excitement about the show in the morning, he had decided he would watch the show. Jimin had showed him how to put it on but Hoseok was having some trouble.

“Give that to me,” Yoongi grumbled, taking the remote. He searched for the title among the options (there were too many of them).  

Hoseok pointed at one of the pictures. “That’s it! That’s it! “Land of the Gods”.”

A girl wearing a flower crown was gazing at him from the screen. He clicked on the picture and the synopsis and the episode list appeared. “Are you seriously going to watch that?”

“It must be good if Jimin was so excited about it. He was so excited he got me excited.” A smile stretched his lips. Yoongi was weak.

“What do you know about Greek mythology?”

Hoseok shrugged. “Not much but I don’t think I need to. The show has to be good if it got her where she is now. I’m sure she must have been great at her job to be this successful.”

If anything, there was no doubt you were successful. He could see it everywhere he looked. One night he had been watching the news, Hoseok long asleep, and they had talked about your newest project set to start filming in May. One of the greatest directors of our generation, they had called you, predicting high ratings and large audiences. But success didn’t necessarily mean talent and Yoongi told himself he didn’t care enough to see if you had it.

Contemplating, he sat on the bed by Hoseok’s side. “We should discuss when we are leaving.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, his tail fluffing up. “Leaving?”

“Yeah, leaving. You’re better, aren’t you? We should be gone before she comes back.” Yoongi threw the remote on the bed.

“Oh.” Hoseok’s fox ears lowered. “I wanted to thank her, it feels wrong to leave like this.”

Yoongi sighed. He could understand Hoseok, he didn’t want to leave either. He wasn’t stupid. Having a warm meal three times a day was more than they could dream of in the streets. It was more than they could dream of when they had a roof over their heads and murky water on their tongues. These few days Yoongi had eaten and slept more than he had in three years but it had to end. It was nothing more than a polished dream. He didn’t want your pity and he wouldn’t have accepted to come here if it hadn’t been for Hoseok.

“I think she would appreciate us leaving more than a thank you,” Yoongi said. “We don’t know how long she will be gone and we have already overstayed our welcome.”

“We… yeah.” Hoseok gave in. “But you should talk to Jimin before we go.” Yoongi stiffened. “I have seen the way you look at him, you know. I heard you that first day. He is the only reason we are here now. I can connect the dots. I don’t ask you about your past because I know it hurts you but I ask you this. Talk to him before we go. Jimin… Jimin looks like a part of your past that shouldn’t hurt this much.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw. Because Jimin was the most painful part of his past. Everything that had happened to him, everything he had been through didn’t hold anything to the pain he felt when thinking about Jimin and his delicate features. Nothing hurt more than the images of that night ingrained in his brain. He didn’t deserve to forget, he didn’t even try.  

“I can’t talk to him.”

Hoseok scooted closer and Yoongi reached to steady him. The fox hybrid would laugh at him, he had the all clear to move on his own and he didn’t need help with something as simple as this, but he didn’t push him away. “Why not?  

“I just can’t.” Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him. “Hobi, just let it go. Jimin wouldn’t want to talk to me, there is too much you don’t know.”

Hoseok turned his head away. “Yes, because you don’t tell me.”

“Hobi…” Yoongi placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, there were no bruises there. “What happened, it’s better if you don’t know. I don’t want any more people being haunted by what I did.”

Hoseok’s eyes softened, taking Yoongi’s hands in his own. Every touch from Hoseok was like a brush with the sun. “If you think anything you say could change my opinion of you, you don’t know me at all. You saved me, Yoongi. You saved me when I thought I was done for, when I thought I wouldn’t live to see another day. If you weren’t there, if I didn’t have you…” A shaky breath fell past his lips. He squeezed Yoongi’s hands in his and Yoongi squeezed back. “I would have never gotten out without you. You are all I have.”

Yoongi touched Hoseok’s cheek, nosing against his neck and breathing in the scent of cinnamon. “And you’re all I have.”

The first episode of “Land of the Gods” played as Yoongi laid next to Hoseok with the younger’s head on his chest.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The workers kept looking at you like children who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar and it wasn’t even their fault. They had been following instructions and using the materials the company had sent. The one who had decided to forgo the safety measures because they were too expensive had yet to admit to anything, but a storm was brewing and you would watch until the end. They could say whatever they wanted about you but no one’s life was at risk on your watch.  

You hadn’t been alone in the sentiment, most of your co-workers siding with you and calling meetings after meetings on the matter. You had taken it up to yourself to send a lengthy email to the president and were waiting for a reply that wouldn’t take long to come.

In the meantime, you were stuck with damage control. The meticulously designed sets had turned into ruins and rubble. A lot of expensive equipment had been destroyed and the replacements had yet to arrive. The first night you had a short meeting at a building the company was renting and then drove to the set to survey the damage. You had gritted your teeth at the sight of broken blocks like legos. There was nothing more to see.

You came back with heavy limbs and dust on your jeans. The air-conditioning was on and Jungkook was sitting on the couch watching a superhero movie. It wasn’t one you recognized, an older one than those you usually watched. You changed into your pajamas after taking a shower for the third time in a day (your skin barrier was set to be destroyed soon) and joined him in the living room. Neither of you had had dinner so you ordered food from the first place you found on the web. The delivery was fast and you settled on the couch, eating pizza and watching an old Samuel L. Jackson film.

Fortunately, the earthquake hadn’t caused any major disasters but you had heard that a couple of people had been injured. The most damage in the area had been to the TV show sets. That was alright, you could work on that.  

Your schedule wasn’t much different from usual. You woke up early, the sun peaking over the horizon and showering the room in its morning glow through the thin curtains. Reaching for your phone, you turned off the  alarm before it could start ringing. You woke up earlier but you scheduled it every night regardless of that. Jungkook blinked his eyes open as soon as you moved a little, he was used to waking up early too.  

At breakfast it was only the two of you, John and the hotel staff. It was way too early for anyone else. Jungkook didn’t leave the hotel and you spent most of the day outside. The first days were the most crucial and therefore the most busy. Go there, take this, fill this out, talk to him/her. An endless task list. And there were a lot of things you had to figure out yourself.

“You should come with me today,” you said, digging your spoon into the bowl of yogurt. You ate a generous breakfast to propel through the morning.  

“T-to work?” Jungkook stuttered, his hand loosening around the spoon. He was eating pancakes with maple syrup and you had a feeling about who he was thinking of.

You rolled the spoon between your fingers. “Well, you don’t have to come to work with me. We could drop you off at a coffee shop or a park if you want to. You can’t stay cooped up in the hotel room all day.”

John nodded in agreement. “I think it’s a good idea. You need some fresh air, staying in three rooms can’t be good for you.”

Jungkook dropped his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “I’m alright here, you don’t have to worry about me. Really.”

“But that’s what I’ll do at work if you stay in here for one more day,” you said. “You can go anywhere, there is a whole city to explore. And if I have any breaks I can call and I’ll come find you.”

Jungkook looked down at the pancakes. “I don’t think I should be out alone.”

“Of course you can. You can wear a collar and no one will say anything. We packed a few didn’t-?” Wearing a collar would protect him from the hybrid services, especially with your name and number engraved in the back of a charm. But you realized it wasn’t hybrid services he was afraid of. A hybrid alone in the streets could be an easy target, Jimin and Jungkook had been together that night and still… But it was broad daylight. “John could come with you,” you offered.

“No, no, he should be with you,” Jungkook protested weakly.

You exchanged a look with John, after years you were perfect at reading each other. “I actually think John would have a much better time with you. The only thing he does with me is follow me around and wait for the day to end. And it’s not like I’m in any danger there, I’m surrounded by a lot of people and some of the places have security so…”

“Or she’s trying to get rid of me,” John said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Not that I’m complaining, waiting outside of those meetings gets very boring very quickly. Who will drive you?”

“It won’t be hard to find someone. I’ll catch a ride with Will, he has plenty of space in his car.” Will was the assistant director and he had been dragged to Virginia with you. When you worked it was rare to find one without the other. He had been with you for a few years and he was your right hand on set, he could get everything you asked done in a matter of seconds and often better than you could have done them yourself.  

Satisfied, John finished his sandwich. “It’s settled then, I’ll go with the guy while you run around like a mad woman.”

“It isn’t so much running around today,” you mumbled. In comparison to other days, that was.

Jungkook picked up his fork again, his nose twitching. “Thank you, but I really don’t know where to go.”

You smiled. “That’s the most exciting part. There are so many places you can choose from. John knows the area a little, he knows a few places worth visiting.” John saluted with two fingers on his temple. “Is there something you want to do?”

Jungkook shrugged. “The park maybe? I would like to walk a little if that’s alright.”

“Fine by me,” John said. “Let’s reconnect with Mother Nature a little.”

You shook your head. “As if the sets aren’t in the middle of nowhere. They’re like thirty to forty minutes from the city, I spend most of my day in a car.”

“Stop complaining. It’s partly your fault,” John reminded you, which only caused you to complain more.

Jungkook let out a cute giggle at your bickering. He looked small in his oversized hoodie, it was a gray one this time with design of black swirls interwining and forming a heart. He would have to change before going out. He would melt otherwise.  

They dropped you off at the set, having spent most of the thirty minute drive (John was a fast driver, always following the speed limit though) listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind. Jungkook had insisted on coming with when John dropped you off instead of waiting at the hotel for John to come back. He didn’t care that the drive would be more than an hour for him. You stepped out of the car, adjusted your backpack with all the papers and files inside and sent flying kisses to them while John rolled his eyes.

It was one of the good days, everyone was in a relatively good mood, they were listening to you and the conversations about the problems you were facing rolled smoothly. Will had taken over some of the most tiring tasks ignoring your protests so you were left to do most of the talking and the moral support part.  

They worked quickly but there was no doubt that the sets wouldn’t be ready for filming to start on the initial date you had set, you would have to rely more on the sets in Los Angeles and film some scenes earlier than planned. Time was precious and you couldn’t waste it sitting around doing nothing.

Will was more than happy to give you a ride back to the city, you had many things to discuss on the way. You hadn’t been at this park before. It wasn’t the one you were considering for filming but it was just as nice. John had texted you where they were and you had typed the address in Will’s GPS. It was way past lunch and you wondered if they hadn’t left the park since the morning. That was a lot of hours spent in a park.

You followed the cobblestone path, tall trees framing the way adorned with green leaves and tiny flowers. Sending a quick message to John asking him about more specific directions, you stopped at a bridge arching over a small river and rested your elbows on the railing waiting for the reply.  

You missed home in a way you hadn’t before. Home hadn’t always been Los Angeles, it had taken a long time for you to see it that way. It had been your hometown at first and that would always remain a part of you but it had been years since you had stayed there for more than two weeks. Home had been a suitcase and a vague idea of belonging for the most of your adult life. Being at a new place every few months, often more than that, you traveled and met people, you explored new places and learnt their secrets and culture. Los Angeles was just the base you returned to before you were gone again.

And then you had met Taylor and Zayn and suddenly you had a reason to come back other than necessity. They had become your closest friends and you held a new appreciation for the city because that’s where you spent time with them, strolling through the streets and going to the beach or staying inside watching movies or baking.  

And through Zayn you had met Jacob and Los Angeles became more and more to you. The two of you had decided to build your life there together. That was gone now but the City of Angels had sneaked into your heart and made a home for itself there. Yet you hadn’t missed it like this before.  

Texts and calls were fine for some time but not nearly enough. Jungkook was withdrawn while you talked to the other hybrids and Jimin’s voice got smaller and smaller every time the youngest refused to speak with him until he stopped trying. Namjoon and Jin tried to comfort him but the only person who could help was the one shutting him out. On top of that, Jimin tended to Hoseok’s wounds, the two hybrids were still at the Castle and you hoped they wouldn’t leave until you got back. You wanted to check in with Hoseok one more time before they were gone, back to the streets.  

The streets… Those damn streets. Where Hoseok had been beat up, where Jimin and Jungkook had been attacked, where they didn’t know which day would be their last, starving or being beaten to death. You had done all you could, when they refused any more help, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough.

A whistle made you turn around.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” John called to you.

“Me?” you called back. “How long have you been here? Did you eat lunch?”

“We went to a restaurant nearby, John ordered the best from the menu. I told him to wait for you but he said you would be late,” Jungkook said.

You ruffled his hair and he shuffled closer to you. “Late… I’m not late, I didn’t say I would be back for lunch.”

Jungkook chuckled. “When are you back for lunch?”

You gasped. “You have been spending too much time with John. He’s corrupting you!”

On the other side of the bridge, the path opened up to a large expanse of grass with a few trees sprinkled in. Jungkook had his sketchpad with him and sat down against a tree with pieces of black charcoal, a method he had been experimenting with.  

Next to him, you pulled out a notebook from your backpack, it was your personal space where you could write anything and everything. Drawing faint thick lines on the paper, Jungkook told you excitedly about his day with John, who was sitting at a bench talking on the phone with his family.  

A shine you hadn’t seen in a while was back in Jungkook’s eyes. You took photos and sent them to the hybrids at home and rolled around in the grass. He pointed at the clouds and what each of them looked like. There was turtle, an elephant and a vase, although you insisted it looked more like an Egyptian cat.

Jungkook came with you to work later and although he was shy and stayed away from everyone else, trailing behind you like a lost puppy, he was smiling. Fascinated, he listened to your conversations about the show and the sets and admired the designs. Your co-workers cooed at the cute bunny hybrid and he flushed hiding behind you.  

When the day was over and you were back at the hotel, you realized it was the most fun you’d had since coming to Virginia. Freshly showered with his wet hair sticking to his forehead, Jungkook slipped into the bed next to you.

“Did you have a good time?” you asked. In the quiet of the night it felt wrong for your voice to be louder than a whisper. “You can be honest with me. I won’t take it personally.”

A small smile simmered on Jungkook’s lips as he turned on his side to look at you. In the lights of the city coming through the window, his chocolate brown eyes seemed black. “I had the best of times. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It was nice having you there, it was… different. A good different. You should come again tomorrow, to the sets outside the city this time.”

“I would like that,” he whispered.  

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Jungkook repeated in a breath.

It would be nice to have him with you. He wasn’t distracting you, on the contrary you were more focused because you knew he was there watching you, you wanted to show him the best of you. This was far from the most exciting part of the process of making a film but it was necessary. Well, it wouldn’t have been necessary if someone hadn’t decided to purposely forget all about the safety measures but you had already dedicated too much of your energy being angry about it.

Once the actual filming had started you would take Jungkook with you and show him the behind the scenes of how a TV show was made. If he was fascinated with this part then he would love filming. The actors were incredible and they had found their connections to the characters, channeling them at the table readings, it would be even better when they were in the costumes on set.  

“I liked it,” Jungkook said. “I really liked seeing you work.”

You smiled at the bunny. “You used to see me work every day at the Castle.”

“But it wasn’t the same.” Jungkook laid his head on his hand. “You looked different there,” he said. “You looked powerful, like you could do anything. Everyone looked at you like you had all the answers.”

“It was a good day, I guess. It isn’t always like that. I might look confident and like I have everything under control all the time but that’s far from the truth.”  

For all of your fame and the praise you received, you did make mistakes, you got stuck and felt helpless against some problems. Not everyone listened to you and you got into arguments with the executive producers sometimes. And you weren’t always the one who was right.  

“Looking confident is half of the job, even when you don’t feel like it. It’s one of those situations where ‘fake it till you make it’ is a requirement. When you want to be heard you have to look and act like you are sure of what you’re doing, especially when you are a young woman at an important position. If you don’t, people begin to doubt you and if they doubt you, they will begin to talk over you and disregard your opinions. That was the first lesson I learnt on this job.”

At seventeen, you had been in charge of directing “Land of the Gods” and it wasn’t all smooth sailing, much less at the beginning. You were young, too young for most of them. You couldn’t direct such a project they said. They questioned your every move and decision, every correction you made and everything you said to the actors during a scene. They didn’t take you seriously until halfway through filming and even then they didn’t hesitate to question your authority. A constant battle of wills.

But it had gotten you here. You couldn’t complain.

“You’ve done so many things,” Jungkook said as if in awe. “All those shows and movies. And they are all so good. You are so talented. I could have never achieved what you have even if I wasn’t…” He left the sentence hanging.

You adjusted your position, laying on your forearm. “I don’t believe that, I think you would be marvelous at whatever you did. You have the dedication and that’s half of the job done. About me…” You let out a small chuckle. “I was very young when I started, I’m still young considering my profession, and I had so many ideas. I still have so many of them.” Or you used to, before the buzz in your brain became just noise. “And I don’t want to wait so long the industry gets tired of me, I have to take advantage of the light as long as it’s on me.”

“I don’t think they can get tired of you, not when your movies and shows are… like that. I couldn’t get tired of them,” Jungkook said. “It’s just- I’m not-” Frustrated, he cut himself off. “You work too much. I’m just… When was the last time you had a break? An actual break without working in any form.”

You opened your mouth to answer and closed it again. It certainly wasn’t this year and it wasn’t last year either. When you had taken a break to buy and decorate the house, you had been answering calls about work when you had been choosing the paints for the walls and writing scripts while you discussed floor plans. Break for you wasn’t a time you didn’t work but rather a time they couldn’t call you to the offices or the set.  

“It’s been a while,” you said in the end. “I’ve got a lot of things going on, I don’t really have the time to take a break. I can’t leave them hanging, they rely on me.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t. Not so much.”  

But that’s how it has always been for as long as you could remember. You were involved in every single part of the process, in every decision, from the scripts, to casting, to the set and costume design, to the actual filming, the post-production and the editing. Supervising and making sure that everything was right. That was your charm, that was one of the reasons you were one of the most sought-after directors in Hollywood. Each project was a part of yourself. If you let those responsibilities go, what would that mean for you? What would they say about you?

The air-conditioning made a small sound as the room reached the desired temperature. The setting wasn’t too low, a pleasant coolness replacing the stifling heat. The thick walls of the hotel kept the heat of the day trapped inside, something that would be very beneficial in winter but a lot less so in spring nearing summer.

“Anyway, I think we’ll be done in a few days,” you said. “We’ll probably be home by the end of the week. The new plans have been drawn and there is only one more meeting I have to attend and that’s more for appearances’ sake than anything else. The rest is up to the crew here.”

Jungkook’s smile wavered. “So soon? Don’t you have any more work? The people here seemed to need you.”

“They don’t need me, there is nothing more I can offer them. My place right now is in Los Angeles, that’s where they need me.” You nudged his foot with yours, your knees were close enough to touch every time you moved. “But that’s not what you’re nervous about, is it?”

Jungkook shook his head, hiding half of his face in the pillow. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Kookie…” You nudged his foot again until your legs were intertwined underneath the thin sheets. “Staying here won’t help anyone. You have to talk to him.”

Jungkook closed his eyes as if the conversation pained him. “He shouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“But he does. You know he has been asking for you,” you said.

“He stopped.”

“Because you never replied. Doing this, pulling away and ignoring him, you’re hurting him more than whatever you feel guilty for. You didn’t see how sad he was every time you didn’t show up for a meal or when he called for you and you ignored him. You’re hurting him and I know that isn’t what you want so why do you keep doing it?”

A sob clawed out of Jungkook’s throat and he tried to muffle it with his fist. Your eyes widened at the sound, instinctively pulling the younger boy into your arms. He didn’t fight you, holding on to you like you were the only thing keeping his afloat, hiding his face in your neck as the sobs he couldn’t suppress fell from his lips.  

“What… What I did to him was h-horibble. I-I took adva-advantage of him,” Jungkook chocked out as his tears dampened your skin. “And I know, I know he’s going to forgive me. But I don’t want him to. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t forgive-” A sob cut him off. “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”  

You run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at the base of his bunny ears, something that used to calm him down. “Baby… You should let him have that choice, you can’t take it away from him.”

“I can’t forgive myself,” he muttered, desperation and heartbreak seeping into his voice like water through the cracks of a dam until it breaks.

“If Jimin can forgive you then you can work towards forgiving yourself. All I know is that you love each other too much to continue like this.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It was the fifth day you were gone. Seokjin had been keeping track, the equivalent of another line engraved on the wall of a cell. He had been going to sleep and waking up alone in a bed that felt too large for one person. He had added more blankets and stuffed animals decorating embellishing his nest but it did nothing for the feeling of emptiness covering it like a veil.  

You called every day and texted them religiously, it was more than he could have expected but much less than what he craved. Jungkook sent photos of the hotel suite and of every place he visited with short captions. Seokjin smiled as his heart constricted.

It was the fifth day you were gone and he was sitting at the large table in the back garden, drinking tea at the time he would have been bringing yours before you had to go back to work. Jin didn’t consider himself a clingy person. He was loyal and protective of the people he loved, he obeyed his past owners and he took care of them. But this was new. It had been five days, the number didn’t change but Jin felt like it had been much longer than that. When his past owners left it wasn’t for long, less than two weeks, he didn’t have the time to miss them. He hadn’t missed them. Two weeks. Five days.

Jungkook would be nagging at him by now, tugging his arm or foot or whatever part of him he could get and if Jin didn’t give in the bunny hybrid would sprawl himself next to the older with his head in his lap. Despite Seokjin warnings about getting splashed with tea or coffee in the face, Jungkook stayed there.  

If you were back from work, a rare occurrence, you would insist you all spent that time together. Like a family.  

Family. Such a peculiar word. It was one of those words Seokjin couldn’t grasp the real meaning of. He was a hybrid, he didn’t have parents, the one who had given birth to him had delivered him to the scientists earning a large amount of money for her services. His first owners had trained him harsher than a pet and treated him like a servant or a living piece of decor. It didn’t matter if he’d thought of them as his family to feel better for himself, they owned him and they didn’t let him forget.  

He didn’t know what having a family felt like. But he guessed it felt a lot like the mornings before you left for work and Jungkook was bickering with Jimin about how much he could eat while Namjoon was smirking into his coffee.

“A penny for your thoughts?”  

Seokjin startled, the mug trembling dangerously in his hands. Another hand enveloped his to steady it. “How do you do that? I almost had a heart attack.”

Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “You aren’t the first one to say that, about the heart attack. I’ll try to make more noise next time.”

There was only a tiny bit of tea left at the bottom of the mug so Seokjin placed it on the table to avoid any more surprises that could threaten its survival. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, looking at the black backpack Namjoon was wearing.

“I’m going for a walk in the forest. Would you like to join me?”  

“Like this?” he gestured to his casual attire.

“Maybe you should wear different shoes,” he said referring to the slippers he was wearing.

Seokjin was tempted to say no, sugar gliders might be native to forests but he didn’t have the same ease among trees. But he was tired of being in his own company and something inside him was screaming to go and be with his pack. After all, it was impossible to not give into Namjoon’s dimples.

“Okay, I’ll come with you. Just don’t lead us so far away we won’t be able to come back.”

Namjoon’s smile widened as Jin left to change his shoes. His sneakers were in a box under his bed. He had worn them only once because he preferred wearing his slippers in the house or the gardens. These sneakers were the ones he had on when you had gone to the lake before you had to go back to work and be away for most of the day.  

The wolf hybrid was waiting in the back garden for him by the curtain of vines with the purple blooms. The mug was nowhere in sight.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked him.

“Ready,” Seokjin said, not paying any mind to the fluttering in his stomach.

Namjoon pulled the curtain of vines aside, the path stretching ahead. The forest was alive in spring, trees green and tall, creating shade for the small creatures roaming around to hide from the sun. And when a few sun-rays slipped through the spaces between the branches and the leaves, they looked like a touch from the gods.  

Namjoon navigated the forest with practiced ease and Seokjin had a feeling the wolf hybrid knew exactly where they were going. He just hoped Jimin wouldn’t look for them while they were gone, but knowing Namjoon he had probably already told Jimin. Or Jimin could call them. Seokjin wasn’t used to having his own phone and often he forgot he had the device.  

Staying close to Namjoon, he kept his eyes on the ground. A poor attempt to keep his tripping to the minimal. But the forest was conspiring against him. Roots, stones, sticks, everything he could trip over was in his path.  

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Namjoon stopped, turning to look at him. He smirked. “It’s a surprise.”

“No, I prefer no surprises,” Jin said. Rock. He stepped over it, avoiding a possible humiliating fall. “Tell me where we’re going. Is it far?”

“Not too far.” Not too far for Namjoon could be totally different from Seokjin’s idea of not too far. “I swear to you we aren’t getting lost today. I know this part of the forest like the back of hand and I have a good sense of direction. See?” He pointed to the direction of a large tree on his right. “That’s north,” he pointed to the opposite direction, “and that-”

Before he could finish, Seokjin had tripped over a protruding root. He hadn’t seen it, being too focused on Namjoon. He let a shriek as he tumbled to the ground, scratching his hands as they came in contact with the ground fist.  

Namjoon called his name but he hadn’t been fast enough. He grasped Seokjin’s elbows pulling him up so he was sitting instead of laying face down on the dirt.  

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, kneeling next to him, and Seokjin felt heat travel to his face and his chest tightening. He had an urge to flee and forget that had happened. Namjoon didn’t give him the chance though. He took his hands in his, turning them over and inspecting the damage. Dirt was clinging on the flesh and Namjoon blew on them to make some it go away. “We need to clean this.” He pulled out a water bottle from his backpack and poured water on his hands. It did sting a little but Seokjin was used to much worse than this.

Thin lines were etched on his palm, none of them bleeding. His hands had taken most of the burnt of the fall. The pride he had been piecing back together hurt more than his body did.

“We should go back,” Namjoon said, letting his hands go. Seokjin mourned the loss then reprimanded himself for it. “Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea.”

“I’m fine,” he said. He didn’t like the frown on Namjoon’s face. “We don’t have to go back. I don’t want to go back.” He cleared his throat. His face, neck and ears felt impossibly hot.

Namjoon regarded him with careful eyes. “Are you sure? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Really, I’m fine,” he repeated. He put one hand on the ground to steady himself and get back on his feet. It didn’t work very well because as soon as Namjoon saw him moving he was helping him up supporting most of his weight. “It wasn’t painful, more embarrassing than anything else,” Seokjin muttered. Despite the low tone, Namjoon heard him and his face smoothed. “Let’s go. We will never get to that place you want before nightfall at this rate.”

Namjoon chuckled shaking his head. “If you say so.” Seokjin expected him to start walking but instead he laced their fingers together. “Is this okay? I don’t want you falling again. If you trip again I’ll keep you up or at least we’ll fall together.”

Seokjin huffed out a laugh, lightheaded. Namjoon wasn’t distant but he wasn’t open with his affection like Jimin or Jungkook or even you and feeling his hand in his had ignited something inside him he was struggling to bury.

They held hands all the way to the secret destination. Seokjin tripped a couple more times, the rocks and the roots were still there and Namjoon was too distracting, but he kept his balance. Namjoon held on his hand tighter whenever he lost his footing and he allowed himself to consider it for a moment before banishing the idea.

The walk wasn’t too long and as the trees thinned out a little, a few large rocks emerged from the ground. They had climbed higher than the level of the house, the forest and the lake stretching under them. On the side the Castle peeked between the trees and the road leading to the city.  

Namjoon helped him up the rock while he complained for the sake of it. They sat down to rest and Namjoon offered him the bottle of water he had used before, plenty of water was left inside. Seokjin insisted they shared it, he had already used half of it on him anyway.

“You like being outside so much, you have walked through most of the forest. You go on walks every day. Why don’t you go out with Y/N? Or around the neighborhood?” he asked. Namjoon wasn’t someone who could be contained in a house, he needed to be outside, and the forest looked too small for him.

Namjoon crossed his hands over his bent knee. “Being in the forest is easier. I can’t explain it but it’s familiar territory. Outside the forest, outside the house, that’s different. I know the streets of Los Angeles, I’ve spent more time on them than I would have liked. And now things are different but those streets are the same. I don’t think I’m ready to go back there alone.”

Seokjin’s heart constricted at the reminder of what the three hybrids he held so dearly had been through. He was spoiled, he couldn’t have survived a life in the streets. But if he was with them… If he was with them maybe it would would have been worth it.  

It was a dangerous world for lone hybrids, people were eager to take advantage of them and hybrid services were always lurking in large cities like Los Angeles. Going outside alone could be an invitation for harassment from a few sick people who thought they were entitled to hybrids’ lives because humans created them, who thought they were lesser. Seokjin hadn’t been allowed to be alone outside, his owners believed it was indecent and disrespectful for hybrids to walk alone or stay alone.  

“Do you want to go outside in the city?” Namjoon asked.

Seokjin hugged his knees. “I wouldn’t know where to go or what to do. I’ve never been out alone.”

Namjoon nodded. “That’s alright. It was nice being out for Spring Cleaning, I saw the city in a different light.”

Seokjin smiled, for him it hadn’t been only the city he had seen in a different light. “I would like to go out one day.”

“I would like that too,” Namjoon said softly.

But Seokjin didn’t think of going alone. He thought of being with Namjoon holding his hand so they wouldn’t lose each other or an excited Jungkook hopping around with Jimin chasing him.  

Namjoon’s phone beeped with a message and he pulled it out of his backpack to read it. A smile spread on his face at whatever he was seeing. Seokjin wanted to lean closer and look at what was making him smile but he held himself back. There were only three people it could be from.

“Jungkook is playing her assistant,” Namjoon said, turning the screen so Seokjin could take a look at the photo. Jungkook was looking to the side, probably at someone talking to him, carrying two folders and a few loose papers. Seokjin’s heart softened at the sight, Jungkook looked content there. Excited and a little confused.

Seokjin took the phone in his hands. “I’m sure he insisted on carrying them for her. Doesn’t she have an assistant?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, Will. But I’m not sure he’s that kind of assistant.”

“Maybe she should keep Jungkook on set, he could carry anything she wanted,” he joked. Their bunny could pick up all of them without getting tired, Seokjin had been his victim enough times to know that.  

Jungkook had been doing better, his messages were more frequent and he talked more on the phone. He had been doing better but Seokjin was missing him a lot. But he couldn’t be selfish with this, going away had been good for him and if it hurt a little that he needed to be away from them, Seokjin didn’t utter a word. He had heard him sniffling at night, covering his mouth to muffle the sounds. Seokjin didn’t know how to comfort him so he just held him tighter.

Namjoon sighed, taking his phone back and hiding it in the backpack. He sighed. “Jimin is hiding away again. He barely spoke to me before locking himself in the cinema room. I don’t understand what is going on between them. Jungkook had to travel to the other side of the States to get away.  I can’t get a word about what happened from either of them. Jungkook says he did something horrible to him and Jimin doesn’t want to say anything about it. And every time Jungkook pulls back from him I can see how much it hurts them both and I can’t do anything about it.”

“They don’t want us to do anything about it but they need us next to them,” Seokjin said, looking ahead at the sun slowly descending in the sky.  

Namjoon let the silence stretch before speaking, “I’m grateful you’re with us, that you chose to stay. I don’t like to think about how it would have been without you.”

Seokjin turned his head away. “I didn’t do anything special. I am not that important.”

A hand touched his cheek, leading him gently until he was face to face with Namjoon looking into his hazel, almost golden, eyes. “Listen to me when I say this; you are important to us. You are pack and your place is with us here. I’ll be honest, I was weary at first but you fit right in like you were always meant to be with us. You belong with us and we’ll never let you go or get tired of you. You give so much without even realizing it.” His thumb rubbed small circles on his skin leaving burning trails behind. A heavy cloud had covered everything around him and all he could see was hazel eyes. “All I ask you is to let us take care of you, too.”

And before his doubts could stop him he surged forward. Namjoon caught him in his arms, cradling the oldest’s neck as he hid his face in his neck breathing in his scent. Time was meaningless there.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You were taking a short break. John had delivered your second cup of coffee for the day and a smoothie for Jungkook who disliked the bitter taste of coffee with passion. It was a mostly practical day that didn’t require a lot of moving around. You had been meeting up with people since the crack of dawn and discussing the best ways to cover up the disaster in a way that wouldn’t turn the public against the show or the studios. So far, you had been holding off any reporters from including the overlooked safety measures when publishing the news about the collapsed sets.  

After being inside all day, you had decided to take a stroll around the block. Jungkook was walking next to you sipping his smoothie. He was wearing a simple black chocker with a silver charm.

He was telling you about a video he had seen on YouTube when your phone started ringing. Your nickname for Taylor was displayed across the screen with a photo of her pulling out a tray of cookies from the over.

“Hey, Tay,” you said.

“I called at the right time, didn’t I?”  

“Just the perfect time, I have around twenty minutes before I have to go back. Work has been kicking my ass.”

Taylor laughed. “I’m sure you’ve been kicking its ass too. And better.”

You had told her around what time you would be taking your break. You hadn’t talked on the phone since coming to Virginia and you had missed her voice.

You stopped at a bench and Jungkook pulled out his phone. You felt a little bad for talking on the phone when it was the two of you but you had really missed Taylor and it wouldn’t take long anyway. She had been busy with Astrid, getting to know her better and helping her adapt to the new environment. When you had visited the hybrid had looked enamored with Taylor, you knew your friend would be amazing at taking care of a hybrid.

The conversation soon turned to you but you didn’t have much to share. Work was the same regardless the disaster but Taylor was more interested in other things.  

“It has been almost a year since you and Jacob broke up. Don’t you have your sight on anyone? Any flirts? It isn’t like you lost the one and only,” she said.

Jacob had been far from the one and only. And when she asked, your mind went to dangerous places.

“Just because you found your man doesn’t mean we are all that lucky,” you said. “And how am I supposed to find anyone? I’m too busy.” From the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook turning to look at you with an unreadable expression.

Taylor continued, “Aren’t there any cute boys on set? At work? There has to be someone. Don’t bury yourself in work and forget to live. I’m not saying you need a man to be happy or complete, but don’t you miss going on dates? Getting to know someone like that?”

The answer came to you unbidden but it wasn’t something you were ready to say. “Maybe after the TV show, for now I really have to focus. After that is done and I don’t have to worry about anymore earthquakes, I’ll see where I’ll end up.”

You knew Taylor cared for you and she worried about how deep you threw yourself into work. Maybe there was also a small part that was still uncertain about the way you and Jacob had broken off things and the way you had avoided the topic like the plague for the first months. Like you and Jacob had never happened. But looking at boys and dating had been the last thing on your mind.  

Ending the call with Taylor promising to text her when you got off work, you patted the small of Jungkook’s back. It was time to walk back. The smoothie was half-finished, the way it had been before, like he hadn’t taken a sip since sitting down.  

You asked him if there was something wrong but he replied that everything was alright. It didn’t look like that was the case. He stayed close to you all day, more clingy than he had been the whole time you had been in Virginia, wary of the men who talked to you.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

The blue sky and fluffy clouds reflected on the lake, a huge mirror creating another sky on its surface, a more vibrant but precise copy. No boats cut through the water, it was like there was a part of the sky that had made its home on the ground. Trees extended on every side of the lake, so many of them one next to the other with no end in sight.

The grass tickled Jimin’s palms swaying in the gentle wind. He breathed in the fresh morning.

“One day we’ll go on a boat ride.” Jungkook was sitting next to him, his long bangs falling at the sides of his face. “We’ll see every part of the lake, not just this. We’ll go everywhere.”

Flowers bloomed all around them, white and blue petunias, chrysanthemums and lilies. Jimin wanted to cut the most beautiful one and tuck it behind Jungkook’s ear. He turned to tell him but hands were holding the back of his neck and lips devouring his. He gripped Jungkook’s arms to steady himself from the force of the kiss. The sweet aroma of the flowers filled him up, engulfing every part of his being, the deepest crevices and the smallest of cracks.  

Jungkook pushed him back so he was laying on the grass and Jimin let him, too drunk off the flowers and soft lips. Touches on his cheeks and his sides, caresses under his shirt. He was burning.  

It didn’t take long for the panic to set in. With weak arms, he pushed Jungkook away. The air wouldn’t reach his lungs. The scent of the flowers turned stale and bitter.  

“We can’t,” he tried to say but his voice wasn’t coming out right, sticking in his throat and refusing to flow.

Jungkook pulled back. His eyes were darker than before. “Is this it? Am I too common for his highness? You didn’t have any reservations about the panther hybrid, did you? Are you attracted to power, Jiminie? Or do you open your legs only for him?”

There were sharp blades piercing Jimin’s chest. How did he know? Who had told him? No one was supposed to know.

Two figures were hiding between the trees in the darkness the day couldn’t chase away. Your hands were crossed in front of your chest and Yoongi was standing right behind you.  

Jimin took a step back colliding with the fountain at the entrance of the Castle. The house was looming over him, ominous and tall as if it could touch the sky. His clothes were torn, dirt and blood staining them. They were the clothes he had been wearing the day you had found them.

“I’m sorry but you can’t stay here anymore,” you said. You knew what he had done, you knew his dirty secret and he was paying for it again. He would be paying for it his whole life. A pain so powerful he felt like he was dying bloomed in his chest as rivers of tears rolled down his cheeks. His knees were weak. He couldn’t stand.  

He searched in the faces of his pack, of the people he loved so much he thought his heart would burst. Nothing but sneers and gazes of pity. Whore, they whispered. Slut. Worthless.  

Jimin crumbled to his knees. He was dying. He was sure he was dying. Spasms wrecked his body as he sobbed. He had nowhere to go, he had no one but them. He couldn’t live without them.

And when he thought it was over, that it was the last breath he was taking. He opened his eyes. His chest was heaving, his heart beating like a wild animal scratching at the bars of its cage. He was in their room, the glass wall looking out at the forest. Only the moonlight fought the darkness.

The sheets were restricting him and pushing him down, tangled around his body. Frantic movements born out of desperation took over his body and he stumbled over the edge of the bed, falling hard on the floor with the sheets wrapped around his legs.  

And it overflowed.  

The sobs and tears. He pulled at his hair and scratched his skin. They couldn’t know. No, they could never know. You would never look at him the same way. He would lose the only home he has ever known.

He wanted to scream. Scream until his lungs were empty and his body stopped shaking. Scream until he didn’t feel worthless and used like an old toy forgotten in a corner of the attic.  

There were arms around him, prying his hands away from his hair and skin. He tried to pull away but they only held tighter until he gave in and sunk into their warmth. Blood was rushing to his ears and he only made out his name falling from the other person’s lips. He rocked in his arms, cursing himself and the world. Weak. He was so weak.

Fucking pathetic.

He gripped the hands holding him. He focused on the voice speaking although he couldn’t understand what it was saying. He choked on the bile in his throat, his body shaking with his sobs.  

“Jiminie, breath. Just breath,” the voice said and Jimin tried to listen to it. He did. But it felt like he hadn’t been able to breath for a while. “Just like this. Breath with me. That’s right, like this. Breath. You’re doing so well, Minie.”

Spent, Jimin fell on the chest behind him, shaky breaths leaving his lips. One of the hands rubbed his stomach over his nightshirt.  

“There. You’re alright. You’re alright.”

Jimin swallowed with difficulty down his scratchy throat. “Joonie?”

“I’m here. I’m here, Minie,” the other said. Jimin didn’t have the energy to look at him, laying his head on the older’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

His breathing stuttered. Another tear escaping from his eyes, he thought he’d run out of them. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” Namjoon’s voice was unsteady and it hurt Jimin knowing he had been the cause of it. “You’re alright. I’m always here for you but I can’t protect you from your head.”

Jimin’s tail wrapped around one of Namjoon’s arms as Jimin sniffled. “I don’t want to be alone. Please, please don’t let me go. Don’t make me leave.”

“Never. I’ll never leave you. We’ll never leave you. I’d do anything in this world to keep you safe.” Namjoon caressed his arm, moving upwards and pressing his fingers against Jimin’s left scent gland. Jimin’s whole body trembled, shivers overtaking him. Namjoon rubbed his nose against the other side of his neck, leaving kisses behind. Purring, Jimin arched his neck.  

“I love you,” Jimin whispered, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Namjoon kissed over his scent gland and Jimin felt it everywhere. “I love you, Minie. So much.”

[krreader]

seven sins | chapter nine.

pairing: bts x reader ; kim namjoon x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; historical!au ; princes!bts ; concubine!reader ; sex ; impregnation kink (they all have that at this point lol) genre: smut ; fluff ; angst word count: 2.4k+ previous: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8

summary: even in times such as yours, you still led a privileged life with nothing to ask for. that is until first your father, then your mother died and you were left to care for your two younger sisters. the position for royal physician seemed to be open and with your father having been a general and your mother having been a maid for the queen, you thought you might be able to get it.. little did you know that your visit to the palace would put a completely different offer on the table.

a/n: it’s getting teeeeeense here!

The secret you've been trying to hide from the queen so desperately, exposed by one of the princes and so... casually. You were staring at Namjoon with shock and that seemed to amuse him more than anything.

“Don't worry. I won't tell, I know you've been taking them so that my big brother can be the one to impregnate you,” Namjoon said and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, that you quickly hid by gulping down. That wasn't at all what you were taking it for, but you'd rather have him believe this than know the truth, “And I think it's good, it let’s my brothers have their share and feel special.”

“But then why even bring this up?”

“It's not common knowledge that these herbs prevent pregnancies. I only know about it because I've buried my nose in books all my life. So that makes me wonder... how do you know?”

Would this be your chance to finally tell him about it? The fact that you were not actually a concubine, but a physician? Would this finally be over? But if you told him the truth, what would happen? What if he didn’t like it and then, if worse came to worse, killed you for treason? 

You knew your time was running out and you had to finally come clean... to somebody. But would Namjoon really be the right choice?

“Well... my mother and father, they...-

But without knocking, someone slid open the door and your instincts kicked in, too afraid that whoever this was had heard what you had said and would then force you to go on.

This wasn’t something the wrong person should hear. 

So you grabbed Namjoon's shirt and pulled him towards you, kissing him deeply.

“Oh.. I'm... sorry,” another physician instantly bowed a few times, but Namjoon was already gone, immediately kissing you back.

False alarm, but by the time she was gone, you realized that you had already pushed Namjoon over the edge, his eyes full of lust. 

Not really what you had in mind....

“We'll have this discussion later... promise me,” he whispered against your lips and you nodded, but inside, you shook your head.

He wasn’t the right one for this. Prince Namjoon was the smartest of the princes, but he was also one of the most intimidating ones. You had such a heard time reading him, no idea how he would react to the news once he heard it.

So, it was still only prince Seokjin or the king himself.

You knew you could use his lust to your advantage and make him forget about what you had just said for now, pulled him between your legs on the mattress that was on the floor and grinned.

There wasn't much foreplay involved, despite you having thought that he'd be one of the few that would actually like it, but maybe he was just too excited now, because when he pulled down his pants, his dick immediately sprang up.

“Are you sure?” still, stuff like this made you happy. He probably meant because of what happened earlier with the queen, but you felt safe with him now, when he didn’t know your secrets.

Namjoon still leaned down and kissed you, a lot more gentle than what you had expected. His dick was sliding through your folds, entering you effortlessly within minutes because of how wet you got.

But then again... this man looked like a god on top of you. Who could blame you for that?

“How hard do you want me to go?” he whispered against your lips, only moving ever so slightly on top of you.

“You're the prince,” you brushed your hand through his hair, the other you grabbed his butt with, “Take me in whatever way you want.”

In a different situation he maybe would have taken his time, but Namjoon was so ready to do just that, that he got up on his knees and pushed your legs back, beginning to fuck you mercilessly.

The duality. 

His eyes never left yours though, if he had seen just a slight flicker of discomfort, he would have stopped.

All he could see, however, was you biting down on your lip, trying not to scream from pleasure when he pushed your legs further back and hit the spot inside you, that made you see stars.

So that was a good sign.

He let go of your legs, only so that he could lean down and whisper in your ear once more.

“These herbs are great, you know?” he chuckled, his next thrust so deep that you did scream, “But I read that they don't always work...”

You were breathing heavily when he looked at you, confusion written all over your face.

“I can't help but wonder.. what it would be like.. to see you carrying my child.”

You didn't know what kind of books he read, but that was the moment that you realized that you indeed were smarter than him. Thankfully. 

You grinned, “Why don't you try?”

Namjoon licked his lips and immediately pulled out, turning you around and then your ass towards him, so that you were now on all fours.

He fucked you from behind, as hard as before, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

Despite you knowing that his plan would fail, you didn't complain, not when he once again found that spot within you that made you scream unintentionally. 

And to your surprise, when you screamed your final scream, so did Namjoon. He timed it perfectly and spilled himself inside you, filled you to the brim just like he wanted to. And he really made sure that not a single drip of his seed left your body. 

Once he was convinced, he gently pushed your upper body down and pulled out of you.

“Stay like this for a few minutes. You'll be with my child soon, beautiful.”

Damn, you really needed to become the royal physician... who the heck told him that this would work?

“Of course, my prince,” you said nevertheless, needing to get on the prince’s good side no matter what. 

The king was having dinner with his family later that night, pushing his food around on his plate, before finally looking up at his sons, more specifically at Hoseok, “I heard your concubine gave birth to a girl. Why not a boy?”

“His seed just isn't good quality,” Namjoon joked, making Hoseok get up and ready to fight him, but Jimin instantly pulled his big brother back down.

“What about you, then? Heard you fucked our favorite concubine today? One of the guards said you wanted to get her pregnant.”

That made the room turn quiet instantly, the king narrowing his eyes at Namjoon, “(Y/N)?”

Namjoon became smaller and smaller, but then he said: “Yoongi hyung, Jimin and Taehyung tried too!”

“Hey!” all three of them instantly started arguing that that was not true, in the meantime, Seokjin was sitting at the other end of the table, looking miserable as he forced himself to eat.

The king noticed, but didn't say anything for now. He let his boys argue this out and then disappeared relatively soon, only to ask for his oldest son in his chambers later on.

“You wanted to see me, father?” Seokjin bowed, then knelt down before his father.

“Am I under the right impression that all six of your brothers have had their share with this concubine (Y/N)... all but you?”

Seokjin lowered his head, but then he nodded, “I wanted them to spend time with her first. Since I'm going to be... you know.”

“The father of the future heir that she will have.”

Ah, great. All his responsibilities summed up in one sentence.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Well, all six of them have had their fun. Now it's time for you to do your duties. I've arranged for her to come to your room tonight. I want you to finally do what you're supposed to do and give this kingdom a prince that will eventually become king.”

“Tonight?” Seokjin stuttered, “But... but Namjoon and her, they..-”

“Tonight, Seokjin. Every day you waste is another day less that this kingdom has a new heir.”

“But father, I don't think that we should..-”

“You dare to talk back to me?” with the way his voice got louder, Seokjin immediately flinched and shook his head, getting up and bowing a few times, way too afraid of his father to say anything else that would undermine his authority.

“I will do what is required of me. I promise you.”

But the moment he was out in the hallway, he felt like crying.

[jennana501]

A Case for Rexsoka

I’ve been around the block when it comes to ships. I’ve seen people obsess over them, and I too have been driven mad by obsession. I was a hardcore original avatar fan and I was OBSESSED with shipping Toph and Sokka together. Any time they so much as made an interaction I over analyzed it and picked it apart looking for clues that somehow would prove that my hunches were correct. It was because I related with both characters, and I loved their chemistry. I wanted them to have a romantic relationship because it would feel like some sort of personal validation.

I’m an adult now and nothing has changed. But it has been a while since I’ve desperately shipped two characters together that are not obviously romantically involved with one another, or who could be romantic behind the scenes or beyond the story shown.

Until Rex and Ahsoka.

And I’ve seen people be adamantly against it. 

“No no no it’s just a brother/sister relationship.” 

“No it’s gross she is a child”.

And of course being disagreed with on the internet can drive a person crazy, and instead of individually arguing with dozens of people online, I’m making this post once and for all to explain why I think Rex and Ahsoka have romantic feelings for each other. Especially Rex.

The argument I’ve seen, that their deep passion, commitment, love, admiration, and respect for one another (which are all so obvious you’d have to be...silly to not see it) are felt in a platonic fashion. Which, for the first 6 seasons and 8 episodes, I would totally agree.

But then Ahsoka comes back. And let’s face it. She is a woman. Age wise, she’s around 17, but everything from the maturity of her Lekku (which weirdly don’t get all that longer, especially compared to other Tagrutan women) to her poise and confidence, to her prowess as a warrior, a user of the force, and her ability to command soldiers as well as control her emotions points to her being an adult woman. She’s no Snips anymore; she’s no child. She’s grown up. And how her peers react to her illustrates how they now view her as an adult.

First there is Obi-wan. Obi-wan has always been a mentor to her, a sort of second Master. Obi-wan never hesitated to guide and Ahsoka or offer his council. He is proud of her when she succeeds, and will admonish her when she makes mistakes. When she returns and he sees her as a woman, he changes the way he treats her. He acknowledges her maturity by addressing her as an equal. He doesn’t admonish her. Instead he discusses with her, challenging her ideas and letting her offer an argument for them instead of putting them down and telling her how she should think or act. He also comes to her in his time of need, trusting her to help him with Anakin.

Then there is Anakin. We all know of Anisoka shippers, and they are perfectly able to ship and enjoy said ship, but we can all acknowledge that it is a crack pairing with no basis in the canon. Anakin portrays the perfect kind of brotherly love. He is excited to see Ahsoka, and is stunned by her unexpected reappearance. Things are harder for Anakin because he is used to their fun banter and sibling-like companionship. He’s constantly shut down with her business like manner and he struggles with coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t a little kid sister anymore. She is an adult with a mission and a plan. When he looks at her, he is endearing. He loves her. Admires her. And he can’t wait to pick up where they left off. There’s joy and adoration in his face. He is proud of her and what she has become, but he also feels alienated and even hurt because of how her adulthood has changed their dynamic.

Then there is Rex. When he first sees her, he wants nothing more than to reassure her that she still belongs. The clones had accepted her into their family. As far as they were concerned, she was one of them. When he looks at her for the first time, he’s beaming with the same adoration as he had had for her before, but also with a solemn awe at what she has become and what she has grown into. He welcomes her back into his life without hesitation.

But then there is a moment things shift so drastically that I paused the show and re-watched it half a dozen times. We all know it and love it. This face he gives Ahsoka. The Look.

What we see here is something we have never, EVER seen in Rex for 7 whole seasons. And it is my opinion that this is the first time Rex has been able to feel and express that he is attracted to Ahsoka. In other words, Rex has a sexual awakening.

Up until this point, Rex has been a sexless character. Nothing he does is flirtatious, sexy, or at all suggestive that he has those feelings inside him at all. Every sexual being has a moment where they are first animalistically drawn to another being. Characters who have already had this moment are easy to pick out. Obi wan. Anakin. Ventress. These characters have already experienced their sexual awakening. Ahsoka has too. Lux was her first object of attraction.

But Rex has never had this moment. Until this reaction.

I know some of you might be thinking “but Ahsoka gives a very similar look to Anakin, does that mean she is sexually attracted to HIM?” It’s a very good point. Ahsoka and Anakin share some cheeky playful looks during “Old Friends Not Forgotten”. We see many characters give similar looks to other characters, but does this mean it means the same thing as when Rex does it? The short answer is no.

When animators design a character, they establish the “range of emotion” for that character. You can easily see this when you look back at how many times you see Rex break from his stoic, captain’s face. He rarely laughs, smiles, or emotes in any way. This is why when we see him emote it is exciting to us as an audience. A character like Ahsoka or Anakin commonly show a wide variety of expressions. Ahsoka is much more likely to give a cheeky look than Rex is. So “the look” for Rex, means a lot more when he is doing than it does when another character does it, say Fives or even Obi-Wan.

Which means the writers are trying to tell us something about this moment. 

This moment has changed Rex’s and Ahsoka’s relationship. 

Now does this mean that they are going to go bang each other immediately? Does this mean the second they are alone after “Victory and Death” they start an intense, sexual relationship? Of course not. That’s not what this ship is about at this time. But the reason many of us ship it is because suddenly they don’t feel like brother and sister anymore. It isn’t entirely platonic. And the show does a good job to further emphasize this as they come closer and closer both emotionally, and physically during the finale.

Blocking is a huge factor in visual storytelling. During the finale, Rex and Ahsoka are blocked in a way that makes them as close as physically possible on the screen. This communicates to the audience that they are closer now than they have ever been. As Jedi and Clone Trooper. As friends, and as companions, their bond forged in the fires of war, struggling to find meaning in life as soldiers.

In contrast, look how Ahsoka and Anakin are blocked in their scenes. There is nearly always a gap between them, illustrating that they are distanced from each other emotionally. Rex is even visually inserted into the gap between them in several instances. Anakin and Ahsoka are growing apart, but she and Rex are growing closer.

We get to experience Rex and Ahsoka engaging in actions and conversations that we had rarely seen before. From casual banter, to moments of intense intimacy, to emotional peaks, Rex and Ahsoka interact more in these four episodes than in the previous six seasons. Part of this is because their maturity gap has closed. Ahsoka is finally Rex’s equal in experience and maturity. It is also in part because it is a unique dynamic. No Obi-wan. No Anakin. Rex and Ahsoka are equal leaders of the 332nd. There’s also the fact that they are put into life threatening situations and have no one else but each other.

But there is that “look” that is given at the beginning of all this that suggests something else, that as their bond undoubtedly becomes strong as beskar, there is an element of it that takes their relationship from the platonic to the romantic.

I feel every detail, moment, and piece of dialogue in the finale tells the story of this bond. 

Many instances of their strong emotional bond have been spread throughout the internet, with most ready to acknowledge that they have a connection unlike any other, one that may even be described as a “force” connection. These last four episodes are so exciting because we see two friends reunited, but then we get to watch as their relationship transforms.

Even disregarding their implied attraction to each other physically, they dive into each other and hold on tight. Ahsoka shares deep personal worries with Rex, and Rex and her are shown opening up to each other in ways they have never opened up before.

We were all floored and dumbfounded at scenes such as these that show these characters at their most vulnerable. But they decide to be vulnerable together. Is it because they are all that is left of their 501st family? It part, this is definitely true. But by being this vulnerable they transform their relationship into something very different from what they had before. It will never be the same again, and it will be near impossible to back out of the emotional intimacy that these two have participated in. Once you have formed that kind of an attachment with someone, there is no going back, and as is seen in rebels, these two maintain that strong connection even after years of being apart.

This goes beyond their sexual desires or needs. They’ve forged a bond that cannot be broken. They have shared minds, shared pain and agony that only the other can understand. They’ve been isolated from the world, and all they have left is each other.

And at the end of the series, when we have Rex and Ahsoka broken, their world flip upside down and everything they ever valued or cared about lies in ruins before them, the idea that they still have each other is that beautiful seed of hope Star Wars is so good at preserving. Those of us who believe that their relationship could be romantic want good things for Rex and Ahsoka. We want them to have that love and share it with each other. Maybe only for a few moments, but having known it would be better than both of them living and dying without having that experience. 

When we see the two in Rebels, for me it confirms that these two love each other deeply. But their lives can never be lived in a normal fashion. They cannot even be together as partners in life. The Empire has stolen this from them. The tragedy of this ship is that it can never be the way we want it to be. Rex will age and die long before Ahsoka is even halfway through her own life. They cannot live with one another. They cannot wake each morning with each other, at least not at the point we see them in rebels. 

But they continue to love each other. Even over distance, even knowing that mortality will claim them with only a fraction of the memories that they deserve with one another. 

So please, the next time you see some art or a fic, or a post like this, think of what I had to say. Rexsoka is about two adults, their lives destroyed at the hands of Sidious, but in defiance they still forge a bond that he could never break or take from them. And that to me is beautiful and something to celebrate.

Side note: I spent a ton of time making gifs but they never would work and so I had to use screenshots instead :(

EDIT: At the request of the OG poster of a few gifs, I have replaced them have also made some grammatical changes. 

[goldnratio]

Inconvenient Interruptions (Spencer Reid x reader)

Summary: the team has to catch an unsub at a nightclub. spencer is paired up with female reader. they flirt, dance, and confess some feelings.

Warnings: briefly mentioned killings, some touching and kissing, microscopic teen wolf and beetlejuice references, a little ooc Spencer I think, and some guns at the end

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a part 2 that���s smut but idk yet,,, this is a hot mess but enjoy :))

—

Going undercover wasn’t so bad, you’d done it plenty of times while working for the BAU. Usually you’d go by yourself - with the rest of the team and local cops outside - or with a partner, and that sometimes meant you’d portray friends or lovers. Having been paired up with everyone on the team at least once, you’d probably say that you preferred pairing up with Spencer Reid. You were comfortable with the whole team, but you felt different with Spencer. You liked him, and you only hoped he felt the same. If not, then all the casual flirting back and forth would have just gone waste.

This case involved another serial killer, identified as forty-one year old Adam Raeken, that was going around Los Angeles, California and preying on all types of young couples. He seemed to have favored night clubs; abducting a couple from one club, and disposing their bodies somewhere near a different club. So far, he managed to abduct and kill six different couples without getting caught, and your team was hoping to catch him before he got a seventh.

After learning when and where Adam would strike next - around 9:30 PM at a club a few miles from the LA police station called ‘Dante’s Inferno’ - every available unit was going to be deployed.

Turned out, ‘Dante’s Inferno’ was a pretty big club, both in size and popularity. In an effort to try and catch Adam without causing a mass panic, every officer and agent was to go in plain clothes, along with the law enforcement waiting outside.

Even though the informant gave a rough time estimate, the team got there when the bar first opened at 8:00 PM to keep tabs on everyone who walked into the club.

—

Hotch made you and Spencer partners, assigning you the task of focusing on scoping the bar area for Adam.

You’d chosen a short, red bodycon dress that hugged your curves with matching heels and a loaded gun in your bag, acting coy with Spencer while you all waited for Adam to show up.

“What’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” Spencer said as he got comfortable in the bar seat next to you.

You take a sip from your non-alcoholic beverage and grin, “You use that opener with all the ladies?”

“Just the gorgeous ones.”

“Well to answer your question, I’m looking for someone.” Your smile feigns innocence, except Spencer can see the humor in your eyes.

“Really? A pretty girl looking for someone? I would’ve guessed someone here would be looking for you.”

“Most days, but tonight is special. He’s unique.” You wink at Spencer and he laughs.

“I’m sure he is. With a woman like you after him, he’s a lucky guy.”

You sigh dramatically. “That depends on if I find him tonight,” you take another sip from your drink, “if not, I’ll have to go home all by myself.”

“Oh please, I’m sure any man in here -“

Static coming from your earpieces interrupts him.

“Reid, (Y/L/N), if you could focus on the case, please.”

“Sorry, Hotch,” you blush, looking away from Spencer.

“Yeah, sorry, Hotch,” Spencer cleared his throat, “we’ll focus.”

“You can flirt off the clock after we’ve caught Raeken,” Emily teased.

You saw her down at the end of the bar with JJ and stuck your tongue out at her. JJ tries not to laugh as Emily fake gags.

“Ladies, if you can keep it together for the rest of the night, you can have your pick of a wine bottle from my cellar,” Rossi chuckled.

“Got it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bet.”

No one saw, but Hotch rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You quickly scanned the other people at the bar and a portion of the dance floor, making sure Adam hasn’t showed up early.

Your attention directs back to Spencer when he puts a shy hand on your waist and leaned in close to your side without the earpiece and microphone, so close that you felt his hair tickle and his breath hot on your skin.

“You know, we were ordered to come in plain clothes.”

Two can play this game, you thought.

Placing one hand on the back of his neck to play with his curls and the other on his bicep, you lean forward towards his earpiece-less side. “Plain clothes just means ‘not a uniform.’ This look like a uniform to you?” You softly squeeze his bicep, sitting up and taking another sip from your beverage.

Spencer simply shakes his head and smirks. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”

“I don’t think a dress, much less one like this, would be...appropriate…in the field.”

“I think I could imagine a few places it would be appropriate,” Spencer countered.

“Yeah?” You hum, “like where—“

“Alright it’s nine o’clock. Make sure you are on alert in the next twenty-five minutes so that we’re ready if he sticks to the time,” Hotch interrupts.

A series of ‘okay’s’ are heard in your earpiece.

“and (Y/L/N), Reid? Just because you’re not talking into the earpieces, doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

This time, it’s a series of your teammates’ laughs in your ear.

“Right, sorry...again,” Spencer answered.

You gave a small laugh and issued your second apology as Spencer excused himself to use the restroom.

—

As soon as he got in the restroom, Spencer took out his earpiece. Right before he walked into a stall, the restroom door opened and revealed none other than SSA Derek Morgan, who also took out his earpiece.

“Reid, my man!” Derek clapped his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Who knew you had that kinda game in you, buddy?”

“Oh my god, Derek, please don’t do this now,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Do what?”

Spencer can’t help but give him the ‘seriously?’ look.

Derek smiled. “Look, kid. All I’m going to say is that it’s obvious you’re both into each other, you should go for it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if she really likes me or it’s just the friendly flirting or the fact that we’re technically undercover right now!”

“Kid, I’ve gone undercover with (Y/N) before, and trust me when I say that her flirting with you is real. And I’m sure you’ve noticed that she doesn’t ‘friendly flirt’ with anyone else other than you.”

Spencer sighs. “You really think she’s into me?”

“Of course I do. You’re a great guy, Reid. You two deserve each other.”

“Thanks, Derek...but is that it because I came in here to actually use the restroom.”

“Oh,” Derek laughs, “my bad, Reid. I just came in to wash my hands but I’ll let you get to your business.”

“Right...see you out there.”

—

When Spencer made his way back to the bar, the last thing he expected to see was a man trying to hit on you. He walked a little faster to you and noticed how your eyes lit up when he got there.

“Oh look! Here he is!”

The mystery guy looked at Spencer, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of this man making a move on you while he wasn’t there.

“Who are you?” He asked Spencer in a bitter tone.

Spencer took a step closer to you and put an arm around your shoulders, “Her boyfriend.”

Luckily the man got the hint and left, and Spencer’s arm loosened up on your shoulders.

“Sorry I left, I didn’t think anything would happen in such a short time.”

Reaching for one of his hands and you give it a quick squeeze. “It’s not your fault, and um, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both sit in silence - as much silence that’s possible at a crowded club with music that’s blaring, until you hear a familiar beat. You glance at your watch, it's almost 9:10 PM and you realize there’s time to have some fun.

“Hey,” you look up at Spencer, “you wanna dance?”

His instincts almost kick in to say no. But then Derek’s restroom advice is ringing in his head, ‘you should go for it.’

He gives you a hesitant smile, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Okay, just a sec.” You reach for your earpiece. “Hey guys? Spence and I are gonna scope out the dance floor.”

“You sure you’re not going just to dance with Pretty Ricky?”

Spencer blushed.

“Yes, Derek. We are also going to dance, we have to blend in.”

“Just stay focused,” Hotch reminds you.

With Hotch’s semi-blessing, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

At first, Spencer is a little stiff, but you’re patient with him as he tries to find a rhythm that works for him. In any other circumstance, Spencer would’ve lost his mind trying to dance to music so loud that he can feel it in his bones while surrounded by sweaty bodies. He can only tolerate it because you’re with him.

Only because it’s his large hands that have a tight grip on your hips.

Only because it’s his long fingers dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

Only because it’s your hands in his hair.

Only because it’s his eyes your gaze is burning into.

Only because it’s your body moving in sync with his.

The upbeat music lasted a few good songs, but the music transitioned into something slower. It sounds like R&B, but you lose focus with how Spencer’s hands feel on your lower back, practically burning through your dress. And how good he smells. And how handsome he looks in the club’s colorful lighting. You almost forget why you’re in the club in the first place.

Your hands are on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the back of his head to thread your fingers in his hair as he leans forward to bring his face closer to yours. Neither of you say anything while you stare at each other, both too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

You don’t know who leans in first, but you can feel Spencer’s nose brush against yours and his lips are just millimeters away and -

“All agents, I have eyes on the target. I repeat, I have eyes on the target.”

Crap, it was finally 9:30.

You quickly pull apart from each other, despite the disappointment evident in both of your faces.

“Copy that. Where’s he by?” You’re looking around the dance floor but don’t see him.

“Raeken is approaching the bar. Remember to proceed with caution, we want to avoid casualties.”

You double check the dancing crowd to make sure there’s other plain clothed law enforcement, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

“Let’s go get a drink, all this moving made me thirsty.” You kiss Spencer’s cheek, and his face is flushed as he follows you to the bar.

Adam’s already ordering a drink, so you settle a few seats away. To avoid suspicion, you order drinks for yourself and Spencer, but he looks tense and you’re hoping no one notices.

You wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck to get closer so he’ll hear you. “You’re too stiff, follow my lead.”

Moving just a few feet closer to Adam, you purposefully drop your drink, gaining the attention of the people around you.

“Oh no!” you pout.

When Spencer asks the bartender for a rag, he sees Adam staring at you with a dark look in his eyes. Spencer doesn’t like it but he has no choice but to stick to whatever plan you have.

Spencer turns back to you and helps you clean up your spilled drink. Fortunately, the cup was plastic and not glass.

Once the mess is cleaned up, you thank the bartender for the rug and ‘accidentally’ bump into Adam.

“Sorry about that,” you fake giggle.

He smirks at you, his eyes never leaving your body. You fight the urge to arrest him right there.

“No worries, gorgeous.” He takes a sip from his own drink as you walk back to Spencer.

You hug him again, and his hands gravitate towards the middle of your back. “Is Raeken looking?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, good. Sorry about this in advance.”

That’s when you lean in to kiss him and you lightly push down on his arms. Luckily, Spencer gets the idea and moves his hands to your backside and squeezes. He relishes in the taste of your mouth and the sound of your moan, until you break the kiss.

He has to remind himself how to breathe when you ask him if he wants to get out of there, just loud enough for Adam to hear. You wink at Adam as you walk past him, anticipating him to follow you as you lead Spencer to the club’s exit.

“Hotch, he’s leaving with Reid and (Y/L/N).”

“Start to make your way towards the exit, we’ll catch him outside.”

Some officers stay inside, while the rest of your team is following you three out.

Outside, you’re surrounded by police cars to ensure the serial killer’s capture, who was just a few seconds behind you and Spencer. You quickly throw on some vests you were handed and pull out your gun.

Adam walks out of the club and the look on his face is priceless.

“Adam Raeken, freeze!”

He tries to make a run for it back into the club, but your team is already blocking the entrance, guns pointed straight at him.

In a matter of minutes, Adam is cuffed, being read his Miranda rights, and in the back of a cop car.

Before heading back to the LA precinct, you want to talk with Spencer.

“Hey Spence,” you pull him to the side, “can we talk really quick?”

“Of course, (Y/N).”

You walk away from the crowd of law enforcement and onlookers leaving the club.

“Listen, about the kiss and everything I said at the bar, I’m sorry again for springing that on you. It was completely unprofessional of me and unfair to you.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “No uhh, don’t worry. I’m sorry about what I said at the bar too, but the kiss thing was okay, really, I enjoyed it.”

You giggle and he immediately realizes what he said.

“Wait I didn’t mean that - I mean - Not that I didn’t enjoy it, because to be honest, I did and -“

He’s surprised by the feeling of your lips on his, and he’s already kissing you back before he brain can even process it.

You pull back with a small smile on your face. “Spencer, I like you too.”

He sighs in relief, “Oh good, if not this would’ve been awkward.”

“Totally,” you laugh in agreement, “but um, since the case is over, do you maybe wanna get a cup of coffee or something when we get back?”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Okay, great! I guess we can-“

“Hey, Romeo! Juliet!”

Your’s and Spencer’s heads whip to the direction of the voice, belonging to a very smug Derek Morgan.

“You two done over there? Because we’ve got a case to wrap up and a plane home to catch!”

You yell back, “In a minute!”

Spencer’s yelling, “Alright! We’ll be right there!” at the same time.

“We can talk more about this,” you gesture between the two of you with your hands with a grin, “later.”

You’re both wearing smiles on your faces as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder, back to your team, trying not to think about the numerous questions they’re about to ask.

[grishaversecommunityyy]

The Grishaverse Ship Survey Results

So! After all of that, we finally have the results! What is the general opinion on the ships in the Grishaverse? Well, that’s for you to read below! It’s actually pretty interesting and, while some parts make sense, there were definitely some parts which... surprised me... Anyway, onto the results!

Everything in this post can be split into:

The Grisha Trilogy

Six Of Crows Duology

The Nikolai Series

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

Most Enjoyed Ships

Least Enjoyed Ships

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

Notes from the Survey 

(note from mod emily: i tried to bold all of fritz’ comments, but i might have missed a few! be aware there are two of us analysing here :))

The Grisha Trilogy

The first book series we asked about was, of course, the first chronologically: the Grisha Trilogy. The most popular ship, with 83% voters for this series selecting this, was Genya/David (Fritz was glad to hear that; Yes I am). This is likely due to the lack of alternate romantic interests in the series, which seems to be a major issue for Alina’s ships. It also seems to be one genuinely enjoyed by most fans, in contrast to Darkling/Alina and Mal/Alina (each around 30%) and Nikolai/Alina (just under 20%), for which I have definitely seen plenty of debate. The second and third most popular ships for this series were Tamar/Nadia (55%) and Nikolai/Zoya (47%). Interestingly, Genya/Alina (43%) and Zoya/Alina (30%) ranked surprisingly high, especially considering how few of my friends and associates I hear talking about them. Good for them!

Honourable mentions:

Alina/Sun (no doubt inspired by that crack fic I wrote a while back) (Still havent read that out of fear)

Alina alone (a common concept among those surveyed, though most mentioned it later)

Zoya/Genya or Alina/Zoya/Genya

Six Of Crows Duology

This series was a little less divided, I would say. Predictably, Kaz/Inej came out on top with a whopping 96% of voters (:relieved:), with Wylan/Jesper next (90%) and Nina/Matthias just after (83%). None of the others really came close, despite Nina/Inej gathering 35% of the votes and Colm/Aditi at 25% (yeah, I’m not sure why that was so popular on AO3 either, but nobody really has objections so I assume that’s why it amassed so many votes). As Six of Crows is decidedly less divisive about ships and doesn’t have such controversial ships (more on that later), it seems the fandom agrees with canon pairings and the votes are... pretty unanimous.

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper/Wylan/Kuwei

Polycrows (platonic or romantic)

Kaz/Inej/Nina

Whoever didn’t read the instruction about this being for only the book series and put Jesper/Milo. I will never escape. 

The Nikolai Series

This one is a little harder for me because I actually haven’t read this... so over to Fritz for analysis! But first, the stats. At 85%, the most popular ship is Genya/David, followed by Zoya/Nikolai at 77%. Tamar/Nadia and Nina/Hanne draw at 61.5% and Nina/Matthias has 56% voters onboard. There’s no real honourable mentions for this one, sadly. Hello Fritz here! Read the books and very glad to see Genya/David as the top ship as it damn well should. Although still a bit surprising since its more of a side-arc of the two and only ties in with the importance of the story at a specific chapter that I feel like I don’t need to elaborate about, if you read Rule of Wolves. (I believe the popularity of the ship also sky-rocketed due to ROW) Following of course Zoya/Nikolai, the high ranking makes sense, it is the main ship and lets be honest they deserve it <3

I think the only really surprising thing about this is the high votes for Nina/Matthias since [SPOILERS CROOKED KINGDOM] he’s dead so I feel like people should move on from that. Nina/“Hanne” having not as high a ranking as I would’ve thought, but with Matthias still being in the frame I guess we shouldn’t be surprised either.

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

This one is really interesting, with the exclusive show watchers now taking part! We have 89% voting for Kaz/Inej, 76% for David/Genya, 71% for Matthias/Nina, 67% for Ivan/Fedyor (that’s a thing???-->Yeah they had a few somewhat sweet interactions in the background-->nvm i watched it you’re right fritz) and 62% for Mal/Alina. What’s really surprising is how high Malina is compared to Darklina, with Darkling/Alina at 36%. Who knows, maybe Fritz’ analysis can shed some light on this?

Yes yes Fritz to the rescue: First of all we have to see their interactions a little different from what we already knew of them by the end of episode 8. I still think it is a surprising number, since the Darkling in the show isn’t as nasty as he was in the books BUT over all his actions are now seen on TV. We all thought the deer antlers were a necklace amirite? Well no apparently not, the darkling used the worst kind of small science to fit Alinas collarbone to the bone and out comes a gruesome sight: a reason why many people might have started thinking: Wow what a disgusting person he is. And on the Malina “ship”: Mal finally has personality!! jkjk :eyes: Mals and Alinas friendship has been portrayed way better in the show and I believe that the people noticed more chemistry between them especially by the end of season 1. So I’m still a little surprised Darklina has such a low ranking (what with him being all sweet and cuddly in the middle of the show) but it makes sense and the Malina ship as well. Their vibes are just *chefs kiss* and thats coming from someone who didnt even like any of these “ships” <3

Loving the quotation marks for the word ‘ships’, Fritz. Over to the honourable mentions!

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper and Milo (isn’t milo a goat? guys, why?)

Nadia/Marie (huh that didn’t appear anywhere else)

One person had several - Kaz/Inej/Jesper, Dubrov/Mikhael, Dubrov/Mikhael/Mal - and yeah, you can really see the show differences in these mentions right? (whose dubrov...and whose mikhael...)

16% actually voted for Inej/Alina which is wild to me because of book context (they did have chemistry in the show tho :cowboi_smirk:)

Another person with several! We have Nina/Inej, Genya/Alina, Zoya/Alina, Zoya/Genya/Alina. Very sapphic. Good for you.

Kaz/Jesper and Nina/Inej all in one

That’s a lot of honour and mentions but it’s so interesting to me and I think you should see too

Most Enjoyed Ships

The most enjoyed ship was Kaz/Inej. This had unparalleled support, being at 35%. Jesper/Wylan, which was next on the list (23.5%) and Nina/Matthias (18%) were also pretty popular. Most of the others were quite low, though interestingly Mal/Alina only had 1 vote (plus one for the show version). Overall, the SoC ships were a lot more popular in this section, which makes sense - this part is really about your favourite ship, and those were more unanimous in the last sections.

Least Enjoyed Ships

Most people said Darkling/Alina, which got 47% of the NOTP votes. A lot more people disliked Darkling/Alina than liked Kaz/Inej. Make of that what you will, but I take it as a somewhat general agreement among many of you guys. Mal/Alina was also strongly disliked at 22%, but around a half or more of these were clarified to be about the book version of the ship specifically. They really must’ve upgraded in the show! Jesper/Kuwei and any other Darkling ships were also voted by a few, but all of these pale in comparison to the anti-Darklina votes. Shoutout to the person who said Apparat/Anyone. I agree, though it’s not something I thought of before seeing this response. Also one person said they didn’t like the poly ships, which I hope meant just the ones mentioned earlier and not all poly relationships in general... Another shoutout to whoever said Kaz/Heleen, because why did I have to read that. A fun question, all in all!

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

I love talking about crack ships, so let’s start with that! This time, I really don’t want to have to count and list because... well, let me show you:

I think that sums up the sheer variety, to be honest. Then again, it would be rude not to mention that the most popular were Jesper/Milo, Darkling/Nikolai and Alina/Sun. (If you’re still confused about that last one, I take full responsibility.)

YES KAZ/KRUGE I SUPPORT!!!

Honourable mention to this:

which was a lot to take in, and:

Now for the discourse. Yep, the part you probably came for. 

Actually... maybe you didn’t? Looking at all of these responses, I see a lot of people genuinely don’t care about ship wars and so on, and often enjoyed the books regardless of the romances involved. Quite a few disapproved of the ongoing (though small) wars between Darklina and Malina, and others had a similar line of thinking, saying we should maybe stop focusing so much on it. You guys are right. I know this is a ship survey, and the conclusions should not include that shipping isn’t as important as we make it (Yes it should), but... that’s where it’s at.

And then again, a lot of you guys expressed disapproval for Darkling/Alina, discussing how it is often one-sided and manipulative and overall unhealthy, so I could be completely off with that last one. Some people mentioned that they ship this but as a slightly different version that the one given to us, recognising the flaws of the canon ship.

Someone said they headcanon Tolya as aroace (OMG YES!!). We need more aroace characters, so thank you for that headcanon :) We also have a few gay ships mentioned here, and one person telling us they love Malina. Yes, you’re right - it’s pretty unpopular, it turns out. Someone else said Alina should’ve been single, and I agree, actually!

One person rickrolled me here. Thankfully, Youtube’s ads saved me. *wipes forehead*

I leave you all with this, in the end:

Notes from the Survey

Statistics Stuff:

The top ships were taken from AO3, so some ships may be more focused on in other books and may not provide accurate statistics for an earlier series.

The main circles this was sent around may have had bias as most people are from the same discord server, which has debated these topics in the past. Hence certain ships may have lower-than-average results. In future, this could be improved upon by sending this to other servers and areas of the fandom.

Personal bias may be present in the analysis, though I have tried to minimise this in the more formal sections.

Observations and Notes from Me:

You guys really don’t like Darklina. Or you love it. Usually one or the other. Wow.

Be glad I didn’t talk about any of the cursed ships in this. The things I have seen... (:cowboi_eyes:)

I thought more people would rickroll me, ngl.

What Surprised You Guys:

Kaz/Inej/Jesper

A few of you guys saw some of those cursed ships, and that surprised you. Well, me too!

Nikolai ships being in the TV Show section at all, what with his character not being in the show (yeah what was up with that huh tztz)

Inej/Alina

The existence of The Severed Moon

Darkling/Nikolai(/Alina)

How fun the quiz was :D

Things You Sent Me:

Bee Movie copypasta

“Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!”, except via an AO3 link

A fun fact about enzymes! I liked this one

Fic recs for Feriku and Sarai (esp for Wylan/Jesper shippers)

Another rickroll

Nice compliments :) aww you guys

I asked everyone for some kind of placeholder name and never used it. Sorry! But hey, anonymity, right?

Closing Statements

If you got this far (I feel like ive been sitting here for hours), thanks for reading! This was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed all of this too! The survey is still open for anyone who hasn’t done it but wants to. If I get a huge amount of new responses, I might update this post! But for now, adios!

-mod emily (and mod fritz)

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Shipping in AR Fandom

Banner credit

This is the first weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 4 weeks to go!

This week we’re going to look at the current state of shipping in Alex Rider fandom.

A Not Entirely Scientific Look at the AR Fandom by rirren and pongnosis

AO3's categories provide a good overview of not just the AR fandom but fandoms in general and the sort of fandom content that gets posted on the site. The following two graphs cover the six categories options on AO3, excluding those fics where the author didn't choose a category. Fics can also have multiple categories, e.g. F/F + M/M or F/M + Gen, so the same fic can appear in multiple slices.

The first chart covers categories within the AR fandom (specifically the Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz tag, i.e. not fics that only include the Alex Rider (TV 2020) tag), the second AO3 as a whole:

So what IS the state of the fandom compared to the average?

* Fully half of the fics in the fandom are categorised as Gen. In comparison, the AO3 average is 17 percent.

* The vast majority of shipping fics in AR fandom are M/M (see note 1), which account for 36 percent, where the AO3 average is 45 percent.

These two categories in total account for 86 percent of AR fics, and 62 percent for AO3 as a whole. So what does the rest cover? F/M is 8 percent for AR (22 percent for AO3), Other and Multi both account for 2.5 percent in AR (3 and 4 percent respectively for AO3), and F/F - which appears in 8 percent of AO3 fics in general - appear in 1 percent of AR fics (see note 2). That's ten fics in total. This is probably not a surprise to anyone who's read the books (see note 3), as the only thing that rivals Ahorz's shaky grasp of continuity is his (in)ability to write female characters.

So let's dig a bit deeper and look at the rest of the tags, split into general tags (tags that are not necessarily ship-specific) and shipping tropes:

(see note 4 for methodology)

The Alex Rider fandom, at first glance, is not a ship-heavy fandom and the additional tags only confirm what the categories already showed. There is only a single ship-only trope in the top ten most used tags in the fandom, and that's a nice, general Sexual Content. That one appears 117 times, only just beating out Fluff, which appears in 112 fics (see note 5).

The same is reflected in the fics themselves. Of the most kudos'ed fics in the AR category as of this posting, it's not until the fifth fic on the list (Synergy by Sigma) that we actually meet a shipping fic. Of the top ten most kudos'ed, five are shipping fics - and only four of them are pairings that involve an AR character (the last being a crossover with Sherlock/John Watson - homes out of human beings). Two of the other fics are Yassen/Alex, two are crossovers with Alex/James Bond.

For AR shipping tropes, the top trope - by a wide margin - is Sexual Content in 117 fics, followed by Underage in 58 fics (see note 6). Given that Alex is 14-15 in the books (and 16-ish in the TV show), the second one isn't much of a surprise. Lots of shipping fics age Alex to 18+, but shipping fics set during or right after the books that involve Alex will mean an underage pairing.

The next two shipping tropes are Dubious Consent (45 fics) and Rape/Noncon (31 fics). The midpoint between the two - Extremely Dubious Consent - appears in 10 fics and could arguably be applied to most of Alex's missions, too.

Age Difference is tagged in 27 fics and proves the difficulty of analysing anything across multiple fandoms. To people familiar with the fandom, Yassen/Alex fics have the age difference implied and isn't something most writers would even think to tag. To an outsider unfamiliar with the characters - or a particularly desperate reader in search of a highly specific kink some late Friday night in lockdown - a pairing alone says nothing, and they have only the tag to go by.

So that said, how does this compare with other fandoms? In 2016, the Fansplaining podcast did a survey of fanfiction readers. They got 7,500+ responses and a fun insight into a small chunk of fandom. When we compare those results with AR fandom, we get some equally interesting insights. Now that we have the popular AR shipping tropes, here are the ship-specific ones the 2016 Fansplaining survey found:

The hands-down most popular trope (in general and shipping-related both) was Friends to Lovers. Almost universally beloved, this trope proves a bit of a headache in AR fandom, given that Alex does not have a lot of friends that are actually mentioned in the books, much less ones we see him interact with. The TV show provided a nice departure from that, though, with Tom and the Point Blanc kids' much larger roles. Luckily for the book fans, Enemies/Rivals to Lovers makes it into the top ten of ship-specific tropes from the survey! This really broadens the field, as Alex has an abundance of those.

Interestingly, not a single one of the top ten tropes from the survey appears on the AR top ten as well. The AR top tropes are mostly sexual, the survey ones are mostly romantic. Is the fandom just that kinky? Is it just that horny? Is the source material just that dark? Or are we about to get an influx of softer Tom/Alex thanks to the TV show and get Friends to Lovers or Bedsharing into the top ten?

If you want to dig a little more into classic tropes, including those that don't normally make an appearance in the fandom, Tiermaker has a great fanfic tropes tier list and lets you make a handy chart of your personal HELL YES and NOPE.JPG tropes.

Until next week!

-------

Notes:

(1) Two-thirds of which (235) are Yassen/Alex, for those keeping count at home. The next one on the list is Tom/Alex with 25 fics. (2) Of the 10 fics, 4 are multi-crossovers. In total, only 2 (!!) have F/F pairings with at least one AR canon character mentioned in the tags that can be positively identified: Kyra Vashenko-Chao/Laura (despite the weltering earth and malevolent alps by laukyra) and Tulip Jones/Julia Rothman (The Rothman Scandal by mediaboy) (3) To the TV show fans, I can only say you're missing out on some quality rants about continuity, villains, and female characters ... which, to be fair, might be good for your blood pressure if you're not reading through nostalgia glasses. (4) Methodology for the additional AR tags: using a data scraper on the additional tags will give the tags but not the synonymous tags that AO3 uses – e.g. ‘Yassen lives’ will be considered a synonym of ‘Yassen Gregorovich Lives’ and filtered with it. For this reason, we have looked at the top ten tags along with the results from the data scraper and then checked a number of them individually as the number in the filter sidebar on AO3 will not be consistent with the search results. As an example: ‘Tom Harris/Alex Rider’ will show 25 tagged fics in the sidebar but will give 26 results when searched for. The last one is tagged ‘Possible Tom Harris/Alex Rider’, a synonymous tag which shows up in the search but not the sidebar-count (and which is also not tagged M/M for the same reason, which accounts for the difference compared to note 1). As a result, we may have missed some in our calculations. (5) Yassen Gregorovich Lives appears in 65 fics, narrowly making it into the top ten. The jury is still out on how many of those Ahorz wrote himself. (6) Given that Alex is fourteen for a lot of the series, that MI6 is screwing his future like a particularly demented rabbit, and Ahorz's kink for Alex whump, it could also be argued that any canon-compliant AR fics should come with 'Underage' marked by default.

(Disclaimer: All AR-specific data was current as of the writing of this post (February 21st, 2021). This is in no way scientific but still a hopefully-fun look at fandom. The authors have no conflicts of interests, but pongnosis is open to bribery and would really, really like to see more fluffy John/Helen fic)

[bedlamsbard]

Part 12 of the other side AU concept, the second epilogue sequence!  At least one more sequence after this before I either start revising or just keep on going as concept writing.

Previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

About 4.6K below the break.

***

Humidity made the rock of the cliff face slick against his fingers, forcing him to pay extra attention as he made his way up it.  He clung to the seemingly sheer rock with his fingers and boot-toes stuck into grips too small for most humans to manage for more than a few meters, relying on the Force to keep him from falling.  Heights had never bothered him, but he still didn’t look over his shoulder at the vast spread of jungle beneath him; he needed all his focus for the climb itself.

“Sure,” Ezra Bridger muttered, the words so soft that they were closer to being a thought than voiced, “ninety-nine percent of the time it’s ‘sit in this cell until we can think of something better to do with you,’ but it’s that one percent of ‘you’re a Jedi, please do this incredibly dangerous thing that no stormtrooper can pull off’ that gets you.”

The unfamiliar weight of both the sniper rifle and the pack slung across his back made the climb a little more awkward than he would have preferred, but he didn’t mind it.  Going anywhere without a weapon right now would be a bad idea, not to mention the fact that he was still a little impressed that Captain Pellaeon had given him one at all.  More than one, as it happened; he had a blaster pistol holstered at his hip and a couple of vibroknives secreted elsewhere around his person.  Pellaeon didn’t know about the blades.

Despite the fact that the humidity was so thick that the growing fog was just short of being rain, Ezra couldn’t resent his current position.  If he fell – and it wouldn’t take much – then not only would it be an ignominious end, but it was likely that no one back at Chimaera Camp would even notice his absence for a few days.  If they did, Pellaeon would probably assume that he had made a break for it.  It was an option that Ezra had considered and discarded given their current circumstance, but he was keeping it open if those circumstances happened to change.  He knew roughly where they were in relation to the Chimaera’s crash site, but he was also aware that there was nothing space-worthy left on the star destroyer. Aside from the ships back at Chimaera Camp, there was only one other option to get offworld, and Ezra wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

It felt good to have his hands on the living stone of the planet, to feel fresh air – and yes, the fog – on his bare skin, to lick his lips and taste the slight tang of the moisture of a new world.  He had spent nearly all of the previous six years on the Chimaera; the Force was everywhere, but it was different in space than it was planetside.  After spending his entire life on Lothal, the months the Ghost had spent with Phoenix Squadron in deep space had been a shock to him.  It had been at least a little preparation for all those years on the Chimaera.

This wasn’t Lothal, but he was still attuned to the Living Force and he could still feel the thread of wrongness that ran through it here.  As far as they knew, this planet didn’t have a name, just the designation it had been given when they entered the star system; if it had an indigenous sentient species, they hadn’t run into them yet.  Ezra had no way of knowing what the planet should have felt like in the Force, but he could tell that there was something badly wrong here and getting worse by the day.

A few minutes later, he pulled himself up over the top of the cliff with a grunt and crouched there, breathing hard, then took out his water flask and drank sparingly.  The Chimaera’s scientists were monitoring the water in the stream that ran past Chimaera Camp and had found that its chemical content was changing by the day; Ezra had water purification tablets with him, but there was always the chance that whatever was leaching into the water table was wouldn’t be affected by the Imperial-issue tablets.

He put the flask back onto his pack and took the sniper rifle off his back, using the scope the same way he would have done a pair of macrobinoculars.  The scope was the reason he hadn’t brought a pair of macrobinoculars; if he had to he could remove it from the rifle to use on its own, and he might need the weapon.  While he had never been formally trained as a sniper the way that some of the stormtroopers and death troopers aboard the Chimaera had been, given the time needed to set up a sniper’s shot he could use the Force for nearly the same level of accuracy.  If not, well, a sniper rifle was still a rifle – this one was reconfigurable, so Ezra could always break it down into an assault rifle or a heavy blaster pistol.  While most death troopers used the BlasTech E11-D and DLT-19D that were standard issue, they often had the liberty to carry other weapons if desired, which was how Ezra had gotten his hands on the A280-CFE that was commonly used in the Rebel Alliance.  

The view from the scope showed him only the seemingly impenetrable tree cover of the jungle he had come through.  Ezra knew that there were a number of clearings in it, some large enough for a light cruiser like the Scylla or the Charybdis to put down in – and in fact the Seventh Fleet’s remaining cruisers were parked in two such – but even with the scope they were impossible to see.  It had a range of five kilometers on a clear day, which this wasn’t; a heavy blanket of fog mixed with the tall native trees of the planet, turning the view beneath him into a grayish-green sea.  With a sigh, he straightened up again.  He kept the rifle in the curve of his arm rather than returning it to his back, wanting to have it quickly to hand if he needed it; the few seconds it would take to swing it around could cost him his life.

The jungle began again a few meters from the edge of the cliff.  Ezra eyed it dubiously; having spent his entire life to the age of fifteen in grasslands he still found forests both disconcerting and distasteful. When he stretched out with the Force, though, he could feel the life within it – confused by the changes being wrought upon the planet, but still present.  The wildlife, he knew, would be his first hint of real trouble.

Right now it told him that there was nothing to be concerned with except for the planet’s native dangers. Still, Ezra hesitated, looking at the edge of the jungle and fighting down his nerves.  Annoyed by his own reluctance, he sank down into a tailor’s seat, resting the rifle across his knees.  He fell quickly and easily into a light meditative trance; he had years of practice, after all.  He didn’t let his attention roll out the way he had done when he had meditated the previous night at Chimaera Camp, but turned it inwards instead.  He just wanted a few minutes to clear his head.

He was, he realized, afraid.

The fight on the Chimaera had been one thing, as had the handful of other skirmishes he had been involved in over the years, but this was the first time in more than six years that Ezra had been completely on his own, whether on an alien worlds or back on the Chimaera.  If he had died then, at least Grand Admiral Thrawn and the other Imperials would have known, assuming the whole Chimaera hadn’t been destroyed at the same time.  There was no real difference in being out here than there was being back with the Imperials, who had more reason to want him dead than anything else on this world and had come close a few times; Thrawn had twice had his own men shot over two such incidents.  Ezra had scars from the attempt that had come closest to succeeding.  On this world only Captain Pellaeon and a handful of other acquaintances – not quite friends – amongst the Chimaera’s complement really cared if he lived or died.  Some days Ezra wasn’t entirely sure that he himself did.

Kanan had lived like this for years, Ezra reminded himself, and often in worse situations than this one after his entire world had died.  So had Zeb.  Ezra could do no less than either of them, and refused to fail them.

It hadn’t been left to him to make any decisions one way or another for a long time now – not the kind of decisions that actually mattered.  He had been volunteered for this particular mission rather than volunteered himself, but hadn’t bothered to argue it even though others had.  It was something to do, at least.

Years ago he had asked Captain Rex about the Clone Wars, which Kanan only ever talked about when forced or when he had been drinking, which wasn’t very often.  The old clone had gone quiet, thinking about the question, and then said slowly, “When you go into battle – whether it’s a major push like Geonosis or a five man black ops mission – you go in understanding you’re already dead.  You can’t be afraid of dying.  You accept it – you take it inside of you.”

Rex hadn’t said whether or not he had learned that from the Jedi he had served with, but Ezra wouldn’t have been surprised if he had.  He let that knowledge fill him now, the reminder that in the Force he was both living and dead at once, and even if he was still drawing breath now, it was a state that could change at any point.  There was no point in being afraid of the unknown: what would happen would happen as the Force willed it.  All he could do was the best that he knew how.

He opened his eyes and got to his feet, tucking the rifle against his shoulder as he went into the jungle.

It was slow going. The undergrowth seemed to be thicker up here than it was in the lowlands around Chimaera Camp.  The tree cover was so thick that it blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving Ezra to pick his way through the jungle in greenish gloom, trying not to trip over creepers on the forest floor, which had leaf litter so thick that in places he sank into it up to his ankles, or hang himself on the vines that passed from tree to tree.  Many of the tree trunks were so wide around that it would have taken a dozen men holding hands to encircle them.  Nor was it silent.  Animals – he saw avians and snakes, along with some kind of small red-scaled reptile and the quick flash of a furry mammalian tail vanishing up a tree – called out constantly.  They weren’t much bothered by his passage, as animals usually weren’t, though more than once he heard them go quiet in response to some native predator passing through.  He sensed disquiet among them even as they went about their normal routines; they were as aware of the changes happening on the planet’s surface as he was.  More so; this was their home.

Mid-afternoon brought the downpour that Ezra had learned to expect after the past three days onworld. Rather than press on, he spent the time crouched on the upturned root of one massive tree, sheltering as best he could beneath leaves the size of his cell door back on the Chimaera.  The rain seemed to come down in sheets, like a solid wall of water despite the fact that by the time it reached him it should have been disrupted by the tree canopy. Ezra managed not to get drenched this time – the first day he had gone out to stand in it, to the horror and disgust of the sailors assigned to guard him.  Most members of the Imperial Navy hated and distrusted uncontrolled weather at best and planets entirely at worst.  This time getting soaked would be a hindrance – and besides, it wouldn’t particularly aid his already slow passage.  Ezra watched the rain fall from the dubious shelter of the tree and let his mind drift out in something that wasn’t quite a meditative trance – while most of the native wildlife had gone to shelter at the same time he had, it wasn’t a guarantee that the enemy would do so as well.

When the rain had passed and the sun had reappeared, Ezra recommenced his slow trek through the jungle. He hadn’t stayed completely dry in the downpour, but the scout trooper’s undersuit he wore was more or less waterproof; it still left him feeling uncomfortably like he had gone through a sanisteam in his clothes.  He paused twice to eat, the tasteless emergency rations that stormtroopers carried as a matter of course, and once to refill his water flask at a stream after he had tested the water with the Force and decided he didn’t need to use one of the water purification tablets.  By the time that dusk fell, casting the jungle into even further gloom, Ezra had, he guessed, advanced within a kilometer or two of his goal.

The advent of darkness slowed his progress even further.  He took out the night vision goggles he had gotten from the Chimaera’s death trooper captain – promoted from the ranks two years ago after the remaining death trooper officers had died – and put them on, blinking as the shadows of the jungle resolved into only moderately more penetrable shades of green.  While he had a glowrod, using it would be just as good as sending up a beacon, not something he wanted.  He could have passed through the jungle without needing to see at all, except that would leave him vulnerable to something he wouldn’t have thought possible six years earlier.

By the time he sensed the final setting of the sun sometime later, the jungle had been the next thing to pitch-black for more than an hour.  Ezra was silently arguing himself out of trying to find somewhere to sleep for a few hours when he felt the nearby animal life go silent, then recommence its noisy outcry.  The negation and recommencement of sound shifted in his awareness of the Living Force, and he swore wearily to himself.

Something was coming towards him.

He settled the rifle more closely against his shoulder and touched a finger to the night vision goggles, making certain that they were as firmly affixed to his face as possible. He had learned the hard way that what was coming left no trace in the Force – not of itself, at least.

Ezra could have gone up a tree, but he was city born and bred and could count on one hand the number of times in his life he had actually tried to climb a tree.  Even in this unfamiliar environment he felt far more comfortable on the ground that he would have perched on a branch – he was sure he could get up to one, but not positive that he could stay there, a hesitation he would never have had on a cliff edge or a high-rise.  He was absolutely certain that trying to fight on one would end with him flat on his back on the ground, and that was a best case scenario.

Instead he settled himself in the soldier’s stance he had learned from Rex, letting the rifle rest loosely against his shoulder as he let his awareness spread out.  Animals, frightened by the alien sight and scent of the intruders, fled their approach; plants flinched away from the heavy tread of feet.  Ezra felt them come closer and closer – a near-silent passage to anyone but a Jedi. The air felt close and heavy around him, the night sounds of the wildlife vanished into stillness or flight. Ezra let his mind fill with the blazing clarity of the Force, until in every way that mattered Ezra was the Force itself.  The Jedi were the sword hand of the Force, Kanan had said more than once; with or without a lightsaber Ezra was still a Jedi.

He fired even before he saw the flicker of movement in his night vision goggles.

The crack of the blaster shot broke the stillness of the night air, sparks flaring at the laser bolt struck armor it couldn’t penetrate. Ezra threw himself sideways, feeling the rush of air as the thrown thudbug just missed his previous position. He rolled and came up on one knee as he fired again, twice in quick unison, relying on instinct rather than the little his vision showed him.  He got one more shot off and then had to reverse his grip on the rifle, slamming it upwards two-handed to block the amphistaff blow aimed at his head.  Quick as the serpent it resembled, the amphistaff lost its staff form and lashed out, its jaws gaping wide.  Hissing, it spat poison at his eyes.

The night vision goggles cracked as the poison struck.  His vision blurring – knowing he had only seconds before they broke entirely or the poison dripped down onto his skin – Ezra thrust out with the Force.  The amphistaff’s bearer didn’t release the living weapon, but his arm and the amphistaff both swung wide, away from Ezra as he threw himself into a backflip, ripping the night vision goggles off as he did and letting them fall.

Darkness closed over him.

He pulled the rifle back to his shoulder and fired again; once more, sparks briefly illuminated his enemy as his shot struck uselessly off armor.  Then the warrior was on him; Ezra swung the rifle like a club, feeling it connect with his enemy’s skull.  Undaunted, the warrior lashed the amphistaff like a whip; the serpent slashed down across the barrel of the rifle, cutting the weapon  in two.

Ezra didn’t hesitate, just flung the remaining half of the rifle at his opponent even as he flung himself sideways again, avoiding the amphistaff’s attempt to get its teeth into his throat.  He twisted and came up with his blaster pistol, firing as fast as he could pull the trigger – a steady stream of blaster bolts, nearly all of which sparked uselessly off vonduun crab armor.  Only one penetrated between the joints of the armor, making his opponent grunt in pain.  His ears ringing from the blasterfire, Ezra thought he heard it echo oddly in the jungle, but he was already moving, grabbing one of his vibroknives with his left hand and slashing backhanded in the same motion.  With the Force behind it, the vibroknife cut through the amphistaff in the vulnerable place just below the head.  Halfway through the blade stopped, jammed against the creature’s seemingly indestructible internal structure.  It thrashed in the warrior’s hand.

It couldn’t cry out, but he could.  Ezra could neither understand the words nor sense the emotions that underlay them, but he released the vibroknife and got both hands on the grip of his blaster again, firing at the place he thought he had seen a vulnerable point between helmet and breast plate.

The blaster jammed.

Oh, karabast, Ezra thought – he didn’t have time to voice the words before his opponent’s free hand shot out and closed around his throat. He was lifted off the ground, armored fingers like durasteel cutting off his breath.  The blaster fell to the ground as he clawed at that implacable arm, fingers scrabbling over the plates of living armor that covered his opponent’s forearm.  He felt it twitch beneath his fingers, lending its strength to the enemy.

His opponent snarled something in his native language, his fingers tightening.  Ezra reached for the Force as his vision started to gray out, knowing that if he wasn’t dead yet then it was because the enemy intended to take him alive.  After enough suffering to make up for the death of his amphistaff.

Light flicked out like a whip, coiling around the warrior’s body.

Ezra had just enough time to feel astonishment before the brief flash of a jetpack’s repulsors heralded the being who slammed feet-first into the warrior, knocking him sideways. He dropped Ezra, turning to grapple with this new adversary as the glowing line of energized whipcord vanished. Ezra hit the ground, gasping for air but already reaching for another of his sheathed vibroblades.

Even now his enemy was absent from the Force, but the new arrival wasn’t.  Ezra didn’t bother to think, just drew his vibroknife, thumbed the switch on, and waited – with his amphistaff dead, or at least out of commission, the warrior was left with only whatever razorbugs or thudbugs he was carrying and his dagger-like coufee.  He heard the living weapon scrape against – or possibly through – what could only be beskar, and a grunt of surprise.  The brief burst of a short-distance repulsor sent the warrior stumbling back a step and Ezra struck in his moment of confusion, slamming his vibroknife up beneath the skirt plates of his armor to the vulnerable place on the inside of his thigh where most humanoids had a major vein.  He felt the weapon dig in and dragged it down as far as he could before the warrior cuffed him aside, sending Ezra flying to strike a tree.

He hit hard enough to black out for an instant, but was dragging himself upright as soon as he could, reaching for his fallen blaster through the Force.  The grip smacked into his palm hard enough to hopefully displace the jam and he raised it, aiming at the spot he thought the enemy was.

There was a blaster shot, not his, and in its flash he saw the warrior on his back in the undergrowth. It also illuminated the injured amphistaff making its way like a sidewinder through the leaf cover, with Ezra’s vibroknife still stuck into its neck.

Even as the flash faded Ezra fired.  His own shot wasn’t aimed at the creature, but at the hilt of the vibroknife, slamming the weapon those last few precious centimeters forward to sever head from body. Ezra heard it thrash briefly, dying, and then there was silence.

He would have liked nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week, but he braced himself against the tree with his free hand and kept the blaster in his other hand.  His head was pounding; he knew he’d have bruises the next time he looked, to go with the bruises he still had from the Chimaera’s final battle and crash.

“Who –”  He coughed as his abraded throat protested. “Who’s that?”

Light sprang into being, the thin artificial life of a glowrod illuminating the Mandalorian woman standing by the warrior’s corpse.  After four years living with one, Ezra was hardly going to forget that particular silhouette.  His gaze traversed the slopes of painted beskar armor, noting the fresh scars on it from the coufee blade before settling on the helmet before the woman reached up to remove it.

“Ezra?”

He stared.  Then he tried to take a step backwards and couldn’t, his shoulders already braced against the tree trunk.  His mind didn’t seem to want to come to terms with what was in front of him, even as he lowered the hand with the blaster in it.  He slumped back against the tree, letting it take more of his weight.

“Hey!”  She crossed the space between them with a few quick steps and grabbed his shoulder, her grip solidly human and real. “Don’t you dare pass out on me now!”

Ezra reached up and closed his free hand around her forearm, staring into her face. “I’m not going to pass out,” he said. “They usually patrol in threes –”

“Yeah, we met the other two. They’re dead.  You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” Ezra said, or tried to say, but was already folding up.  He sat heavily, belatedly holstering the pistol he was still holding. “You changed your hair,” he said inanely.

“Yeah, I do that,” Sabine Wren said. “So did you.”

Ezra touched a hand self-consciously to what remained of his hair – long on top and pulled into a tail wrapped with strips of thin leather, close cut at the sides, because he had spent the past six years with sailors and stormtroopers who thought a buzzcut was the height of fashion.  He stopped with his fingers hooked through a strip of leather, stared at Sabine, and felt himself start to shake. “You’re real,” he croaked, even though the Force had already told him the answer. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand still on his shoulder. “I’m really here.  We’re all really here.”

When he looked up again, he felt as much as saw them ghosting out of the shadows at the edge of the glowrod’s illumination like the spectres they had been named for.  Ezra was too tired and overwhelmed for further disbelief; he pushed himself to his feet with Sabine’s help and stumbled into Kanan’s arms.

“I felt –” he said shakily, his voice muffled by the fact that he had buried his face in the other man’s shoulder.  He fisted his hands hard against Kanan’s back, aware of how gloriously alive he felt. “– in the Force, I felt something change, six months ago.  I felt you come back.”

“It’s me,” Kanan said, his voice gentle. “Yeah, Ezra, it’s me.”

Hera put a hand on his shoulder, smiling, and Ezra turned into her embrace, then Zeb’s.  He was shaking so badly that Zeb had to help him to a seat on an upraised tree root, one hand folded over his shoulder as though he couldn’t bear to let Ezra out of his grasp.  He wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t hallucinating – that he hadn’t been taken captive after all and this was some new torture.  Then he looked at Kanan’s calm white eyes and touched the Force again, gingerly, like prodding a sore tooth, and knew it wasn’t a trick.

“You’re going to explain that,” he said, a little wildly. “You were – I thought – I saw – I felt –”

“Yeah,” Kanan said again. “It’s a long story.”

Meaning not now.  Ezra took a shaky breath and leaned back into Zeb’s reassuring grip, watching Sabine crouch to inspect the fallen warrior.  She touched the scratches on her breast plate gingerly, then her eyes widened as a hand-size piece of beskar broke off in her hand – the coufee had cut nearly through it and the slight pressure of her touch had freed it. “What are these things?” she demanded.

Ezra sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Long story.”

“We saw the Chimaera,” Hera said, sitting down on his other side. She kept her blaster in her hand, resting across her knee, which under the circumstances Ezra thought was the wisest thing she could have done. “We were on our way to the rendezvous coordinates when Kanan sensed you, but we had to find somewhere safe to put down. Chopper’s with the Ghost about two kilometers away.”

Ezra rubbed his hand across his face.  “They’re from beyond the Unknown Regions – beyond our galaxy, maybe – and they’ve been making a push towards the Empire since it was still the Republic,” he said. “They’ve been tracking the Chimaera and the rest of the Seventh for months – years – and finally cornered her here. They’re warriors – shapers, they call themselves; everything they use is organic, alive – their armor, their weapons, their ships.”  He nodded at the warrior’s corpse and the dead amphistaff beside him.  “They’re called the Yuuzhan Vong.”

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Unwanted Advances - My Princess Pt. 8

*Zendaya x Reader

*Summary: Prince Thomas makes a move on the Reader. Zendaya and Reader aren’t happy about it.

*Warnings: Minimal threat of violence (not against main characters or Reader), let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: Next week is finals week and then I’m officially a college senior ;-;

Tip Jar

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten

**********

Surprisingly, the meeting with your parents wasn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, you were being informed of more details concerning your engagement as negotiations continued, but there were small highlights of the meeting. Perhaps the brightest point was learning that your engagement was being prolonged; instead of being married before the year was over, ongoing negotiations and the upcoming ball made it appear that the wedding would probably occur sometime in the next year. The difficult part of the meeting came when your parents were discussing what would happen following your wedding. As it stood, it was likely you would be sent to Xerin to rule alongside Prince Thomas. The throne in your own kingdom would remain with your parents until they were too old to rule, then would go to your cousin (you assumed that was the relation, even though you didn’t exactly know how they were related to you).

For once, the issue wasn’t with your parents. No, the issue came in the form of one overzealous Prince Thomas. Dinner itself went by without real issue - he asked about your day, gushed about how excited he was to have his friend coming to the kingdom for the ball, talked to you about anything that came to mind - but the issue came during the walk back to your chambers after dinner. Prince Thomas insisted on escorting you back, and you agreed, not thinking anything ill of it. Then he had the audacity, right in front of your door, where your beloved sat on the other side waiting for you, to attempt to kiss you. He’d held your hands, talking about how nice it was to spend time alone with you, and then leaned in. If you hadn’t been quicker with your hand on his chest, pushing him away, he would’ve kissed you.

“Prince Thomas,” you chastised him, voice harsh to show this wasn’t a coy attempt at flirting.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so… I can’t even put it into words,” he said, eyes looking at your lips once again. You took a step back.

“It’s not proper. I’m afraid I’ll have to have a chaperone on any further outings with you. Goodnight.” With that, you let yourself into your room, closing the door before Prince Thomas even had a chance to respond. You waited for a few seconds, listening for his retreating footsteps. You hear a soft curse as he walked away, and you weren’t sure if that was at your rejection or at himself. As soon as you heard the footsteps far enough away, you finally turned to find Zendaya sitting at your desk.

“My Princess, what troubles you?” Zendaya asked, watching you with concern. “Did the meeting with your parents not go well?”

You huffed out a small laugh. Of course Zendaya would think your parents were the cause of your troubles as they normally were, but for once she was wrong. “I wish that were the case. My meeting with my parents actually went fantastic, my wedding has been pushed back due to the ball.”

“That’s great news,” Zendaya interrupted, though you knew she was still waiting for you to tell her what else happened.

“It’s the Prince,” you finally said, still trying to figure out how to tell Zendaya exactly what happened. Sure, he hadn’t actually kissed you, but the fact that he’d been that close just made you feel off.

“What did he do?” There were few times when Zendaya got as serious as she was now, you couldn’t even remember the last time she was like this. “(Y/n), I can’t do anything to help you if you don’t tell me. If the Prince was inappropriate wit-”

“He tried to kiss me.” Zendaya clenched her jaw as she took in the new information. “I stopped him, but he tried.”

“When.” It wasn’t a question, Zendaya was demanding to know. With the way her fingers now fiddled with the dagger on the table, you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“Love, he-”

“Just tell me when he tried to disrespect you like that.”

“Just now, when he walked me back here,” you explained, looking down at your feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that. I didn’t think he’d try something like that, especially right at my door.”

“Wait, love, are you crying?” The harsh tone Zendaya had taken was now long gone, replaced by a low one, like she was worried about scaring you. You reached a hand up to your eye, feeling the tears gathering there. You didn’t know why you were crying, or even when you’d started crying.

“I guess I am…” you trailed off, not sure what else to say. 

“Love, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m so sorry,” Zendaya got up, going to your side and taking you in her arms before you could really process it. “I didn’t mean to push you, I realize now how uncomfortable that must’ve been for you. I can have one of the other guards give him a talk, make it seem as if one of the maids came upon the scene.”

“I told him I’ll need to have a chaperone with me on any further outings. I didn’t know how to just tell him I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to marry him. Hell, I’m not even sure I’d consider being friends with him anymore,” you lightly swore even as you choked a bit through your crying. “I wish I could just end this whole engagement and run off with you.”

“(Y/n), you did what you were trained to do. I don’t blame you for any of this. Requiring a chaperone was the safest option you had. I’ll be sure to be by your side every time you see the Prince now, and if not then I’ll have some of the other guards I’m close with on standby. We’ll make sure you’re safe and you feel safe, that’s the most important thing to me,” she told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re not upset with me?” You asked, the little nagging voice in the back of your head still insisting that you were to blame.

“No, my Princess. I could never be upset with you. He was the one that tried it, but you stopped him and immediately put distance between the two of you. Even if he had kissed you, you aren’t to blame,” Zendaya told you. You nodded. “Come now, Princess, let’s get you ready for bed. I want you to rest, you’ve had a stressful day.”

“Can you sing to me? It will help me sleep,” you decided to try. It was rare that she’d sing for you, but you loved her voice. Zendaya gave a heavy sigh, but nodded.

“I’ll do anything to help you, my love.”

**********

For the next few days, Prince Thomas made himself scarce. You’d heard some of the chambermaids talking about how he’d received a visit from someone you knew trained under Zendaya, but you didn’t know exactly what he was told. You didn’t know if it was the (unproven) threat or if he genuinely felt bad about your reaction to the almost kiss, but you were glad for the newfound space. It allowed you time to actually breathe and process everything that was going on around you.

Rihanna provided you with a list of the potential candidates to take your place as Prince Thomas’s fiancee, with most of them vaguely knowing the Prince or having previous relations with him. You vaguely knew many of them, having encountered them in your years of hosting and visiting other kingdoms, but you couldn’t say you knew them well enough to picture Prince Thomas with any of them. You tried doing your research on the other Princesses, having some trusted aides go off to find information and report back to you. You needed to be more involved with this, this was your future you were talking about. You weren’t going to sit idly and let this just happen to you.

Since many of your lessons had been reduced due to the other nobles needing to prepare for the ball, you finally decided to use your free time for good. The library had records of alliances between the kingdoms, tensions, and the histories overall, so you spent your time pouring over these volumes, trying to find kingdoms that would make sense to pair with the young Prince of Xerin. Of course you had to worry about the Prince getting along with whatever Princess it was, but you also had to worry about their Kingdoms coming to an agreement. If the newfound engagement didn’t work out, Xerin may attempt to reign your kingdom back in with a renewed proposal.

You recording any findings and speculations you had in a leatherbound journal that Sir Chadwick had gifted to you years ago, but you always found too pretty to actually use. You were sure Sir Chadwick would approve of your use for it. You didn’t notice the guard switches as you worked, letting your mind become filled with only the politics of your neighboring kingdoms. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like for the great academics of your kingdom, occasionally called in to help advise where even the advisers did not have the historical knowledge to help.

Sometime after the sun had already set, leaving you sitting in the candlelight as the moon and stars shone through the sunroof, you heard the door to the library open. You glanced up, blood running cold as you saw the young Prince standing there, looking like he didn’t know if he should leave or not. You knew there was a guard stationed outside while the shift changed, waiting for Zendaya to come back to her post. You also knew the guard knew Prince Thomas wasn’t supposed to be allowed near you without someone else present, so why did he let the Prince in alone?

“Princess (y/n)-”

“Prince Thomas, you should go. I don’t know why my guard let you in, but-”

“I need to talk to you.”

“And that can be done with a chaperone present. I’m sure you’d rather have this talk later rather than have me call for my guards now,” you insisted, standing your ground even as you looked back down at the book in front of you. Surely he wouldn’t be dumb enough to continue even after you’d threatened to call the guards.

“I just wanted to apologize.” Apparently he was dumb enough, but if you could get this over with as soon as possible, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

“You have two minutes and you need to remain over there,” you ordered, using your firmest voice. It wasn’t one you used often, but it demanded respect. He nodded, and you sat up straight, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Right, thank you. I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you, perhaps I- no, I did grossly misinterpret the situation. I didn’t intend to disrespect you, but I know I did, so I’m willing to do whatever it takes to gain your trust. I promise I won’t try anything like that again, but I do truly enjoy spending time with you. You don’t have to forgive me now, but I just wanted to let you know I deeply regret making you uncomfortable,” he rushed out, still slow enough for you to understand. You stared blankly at him, not sure how to take this. You’d never had another royal apologize to you, especially not so… sincerely. 

“I shall think about it, but you should leave now. Lady Zendaya is the next shift and it wouldn’t do you well to run into her,” you told him.

“Thank you for hearing me out, Princess.” He gave a slight bow before turning to leave the room. You nodded, waiting for the door to close before finally allowing yourself to relax some. You tried to get back into your research, but you just couldn’t get yourself back into the right frame of mind. What was the Prince’s game here? Surely there was something he hoped to gain from apologizing to you. Was it just access to you? There was no way he could’ve genuinely fallen for you in the short time you’d known each other. You stared at the book in front of you, tapping your pen against the desk, but you started getting lost to your musings. Before you could spiral further, there was a soft knock at the library door.

“Come in,” you called out, rubbing your eyes. Maybe you just needed to reset a bit before you got back to work.

“My Princess, I brought your dinner from the kitchens. You’re lucky the cooks realized you weren’t at dinner so they made something for you. Sorry for being late,” Zendaya apologized, trying to balance the tray they’d sent your dinner on. She placed the tray on the table, finally taking a good look at you. “How’s the research going, my love? I heard you’ve been in here all day.”

“I just can’t focus anymore,” you huffed, putting down your pen. Zendaya walked to your side of the desk, petting your hair as she dragged your meal in front of you.

“Eat, darling. It’ll help you feel better and you need to take a break anyways,” she insisted. You nodded, figuring she was right. “Have you learned much?”

“The political landscapes of the kingdoms truly is insane, I don’t know how the nobles navigate it,” you admitted. Zendaya could tell you didn’t feel like talking, so she gave you a recap of her day. For the days she had night and morning watches, she was supposed to spend her afternoons sleeping, but she rarely spent the entire afternoon asleep. She talked about the archery training she was undergoing, wanting to strengthen her skills with the bow since she rarely used it. After she was done talking, you finally decided how you wanted to broach the topic. “Love, the guard before you was Sanders, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“I believe he needs to be demoted for a while. Before shift change, he allowed Prince Thomas to enter unaccompanied even though the guards were told of the new requirements,” you explained, going to grab Zendaya’s hand. You could tell she was about to get a bit heated. “Nothing happened. Prince Thomas stayed by the door, apologized, and then exited in under five minutes, but he should not have been allowed in the first place.”

“I will let my superior know, love. Well, after I get done with Sanders,” she muttered the last part as though you wouldn’t be able to hear it muffled by your hair.

“Love, don’t hurt him too bad.”

“So I can hurt him just a little.”

“Try to make it look like an accident. I wouldn’t want you to get punished over something petty like this,” you explained. “Though I’m sure I could get you out of it, I don’t want people to think I’m playing favorites.”

“Please, everyone already knows I’m your favorite. It’s not hard for people to see your heart eyes when you look at me,” she teased, as though what she said wasn’t truly accurate.

“It’s not my fault when you’re genuinely gorgeous,” you pouted, looking up at her. She laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Finish eating, then we can clean up here and I’ll tell one of the handmaidens to draw you a bath. You’ve been working for too long, love, you need to rest. I don’t want you to get burnt out.”

“Fine, but I need to figure more things out if I want this plan to work.”

“We can’t force him to fall in love with one person in particular. We just need to present him with the options and encourage whichever one he wants,” Zendaya said. “The plan won’t fall apart if you rest for the night. Please, my Princess? For me?”

She had you there and she knew it. Whenever she directly asked you for something, you could never say no to her. She smiled at your little pout, leaning down to kiss you soundly until you stopped pouting. Before you could truly give in to her methods and smile into the kiss that you only wanted more of, the sound of the door fully closing interrupted the silence in the library. Zendaya pulled back,  the both of you immediately looking at the door. “Did you close it when you came in?”

“I did. Stay here,” she ordered you, drawing her sword as she went to go investigate. You stayed in your seat, biting at your thumbnail as you watched her leave the library, pulling the door completely shut behind her.

**********

Tag List: @uncookspaget, @ddesert-rosee, @gangganggg

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

[bnhayyy]

Less shipping: top ten platonic m/f friendships.

Oh man… not gonna lie, I’m kinda disappointed that you specified male/female friendship, because there are also a lot of same-gender relationships that I enjoy platonically, but don’t particularly ship. (Hello Sokka and Zuko) However! I think I’ve come up with a pretty good spread for this list.

My qualifications for a paring to appear on this list were simple:

The pairing is not romantic in canon.

I, personally, do not ship them.

The dynamic is not paternal or that of a mentor and mentee. That would get its own list.

Friendships are ranked by no metric other than my personal enjoyment of them. With that out of the way, let’s get started!

10. Sandstorm & Graystripe (Warrior Cats)

Holy childhood flashbacks, batman! I’ll admit that it’s been a long time since I’ve read warriors, but I remember that I really enjoyed it whenever these two interacted. They were Firestar’s most important people, and maybe their character arcs didn’t really involve each other, but damn if they didn’t have some good chemistry.

9. Sam Temple & Diana Ladris (Gone)

Another one from my childhood. Sam and Diana might have initially been presented as a “hero” and Diana a “villain”, but as the series progressed and black and white morality gave way to shades of gray, it became apparent that the situation was more complicated than that. They were just scared kids who made a metric fuckton of mistakes between them. After everything they went through, it was nice to see them find some measure of solace in their friendship with each other.

8. Aang & Toph Bei Fong (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

I don’t really have a deep or moving explanation here. I just really liked them? It might not have been quite as bad as Toph and Katara, but their differences in personalities and moral philosophies made them clash pretty badly at first. However, they also weren’t too dissimilar at their core - two children bound by societal expectations who wished to be free. It was nice seeing them learn to get along.

7. Narancia Ghirga & Trish Una (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind)

Fuck, man. Just fuck me up. All of their little interactions over the course of the series were great, but the thing that really earned them their place on the list? This scene, right here. (Gold Wind spoilers ahoy) Seeing Narancia emphasize with Trish so strongly and go on to fight for her so fiercely, and then seeing how much he clearly meant to her in the end… my heart is in ribbons.

6. Tsukiyama Shuu & Hori Chie | Touka Kirishima & Amon Koutaru (Tokyo Ghoul)

Yes, I’m cheating and doing a tie for number six. My first impulse was to give the slot to Amon and Touka. They’re a pair of characters with a lot of bad blood between them who both let themselves get deeply entrenched in the cycle of revenge. Not only was their conversation a powerful piece of wish-fulfillment moment for me, but actually seeing them bury the hatchet and become something like friends was even better. However, it was only one chapter, and Amon and Akira’s ambiguous ending means that we don’t know if they kept in touch and pursued a friendship or that was it for them. 

For that reason, I am also shining the spotlight on Tsukiyama Shuu and Hori Chie. He is a murderous ghoul and picky eater, the infamous gourmet. She is a reckless human photographer, doing whatever it takes to feel alive. Together, they are unapologetic degenerates. Their relationship is actually very sweet and wholesome in :re as well, but this paragraph is reserved for degeneracy. Have you read the Days light novel? If not, buy it, read it, and be amazed.

Note: I did consider using Saiko and Mutsuki, but decided not to because the amount of discourse surrounding Mutsuki while the manga was being published thoroughly prevented me from enjoying his character whatsoever. It wasn't anything to do with the actual content of the manga or how the character was written. He was my least favorite character in the series for a good long while purely because of the fan wank surrounding him, which was incredibly obnoxious and neigh-unavoidable for a time. Although I appreciate and enjoy the character now, it felt dishonest to put Mutsuki and Saiko on the list when I wanted nothing more than for him to disappear from the manga for so long. 

On a semi-similar note, I also considered doing Saiko and Urie! However, I decided not to since I do ship Urisai romantically as well. 

5. Erza Scarlet & Gray Fullbuster (Fairy Tail)

Like I said in my last list, Fairy Tail didn’t draw me for the plot, but its character dynamics. Although the romantic relationships are my personal highlight, there is no denying that it also has some spectacular platonic dynamics. Gray and Erza are one of them. Erza started the series as intimidating and bold, yet closed-off and reserved when it came to her personal feelings. Gray was one of the only characters who knew that she wasn’t absolutely untouchable. When she first showed up at Fairy Tail, he was intrigued by this ridiculously strong girl and kept pushing her to fight him (and getting absolutely trounced). One day, he went to confront her again, only to find her crying and come to the staggering realization that she is not only just a human being, but a hella traumatized one at that. After that, he swore not to let anything make her cry again. Come the Tower of Heaven arc, he fails, which is what triggers this flashback. Character development saw Erza open up more and Gray’s own list of important people expand, but this particular friendship still holds a special place in my heart. (Erza’s interactions with Gray and Natsu are also just really entertaining in general.)

4. Sasha Braus & Connie Springer (Attack on Titan)

(This segment contains spoilers for the final season of Attack on Titan)

Sasha and Connie's interactions were always a delight in this series. For a long time, I wasn't sure if I preferred them as a platonic or romantic couple, so I was surprised by how relieved I was when Isayama gave Sasha a different love interest and allowed her relationship with Connie to remain strictly platonic. This is probably because it did not undermine the strength of their relationship in any way. Sasha and Connie are a good example of how platonic relationships can really be your strongest bond, and when she died, you felt it. Connie and Jean were devastated, with Connie in particular going in a spiral in which he almost crossed a point of no return. It hurt like hell, but it was a good hurt. 

3. Ebisu & Fujita (Dorohedoro)

I loved these two dumbasses? So much? Which is kinda unusual, since I found both of the characters pretty annoying on their own, but they grew on me through their interactions with each other. Also, look at this scene from the blue night arc. Superb. How can you not love them? 

Note: I'll admit that I did seriously consider Nikaido and Kamen for this slot. They probably would have gotten number two if I went with them. However, as I'm an anime-only and suspect that their relationship may turn romantic before the series is over, I decided to eer on the edge of caution. Of course, the same risk theoretically exists for Fujita and Ebisu, but it feels less likely. 

2. Donna Noble & 10 (Doctor Who)

Yes, I love them. Yes, that is all that I can say about that without crying. Seriously. Seek out any Davies era Doctor Who fan - they'll probably do a better job of explaining why they're so brilliant than my inelegant blubbering. 

Thematically dedicating a whole-ass season to Donna Noble was one of the only good choices Moffat made, fight me

1. Xander Harris & Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Willow and Xander were close childhood friends whose relationship was featured again and again over the course of the series. I knew from the moment I received this prompt that they were going to be my number one. But the reason they got my number one slot specifically? 

(Major spoilers for season six of BtVS ahead) 

The yellow crayon speech. 

Season six was flawed, both on a story level and on a more intentional in-universe level. Xander and Willow were at their worst for the majority of it. When the finale came, Willow took that to the next level, lashing out at the people she loves and eventually trying to destroy the world in her grief. Xander was no exception to that, as the above clip shows. But after a season where he was most memorable for getting scared and running away, he saved the world by refusing to leave his best friend. Watching the fight drain out of Willow as Xander starts to get through to her, until she eventually breaks down crying in his arms, still brings me to tears. After a generally shoddy season, it reminded me what I love about the show, which wouldn't have worked if Willow and Xander's friendship wasn't strong enough that this cheesy "save the world by talking" ending felt genuinely earned.