#i frequently obsess over my own characters

[mydotguy]

A motion of LOVE!!!

[asunsetgrace16]

Johnny Gaudreau: A Tribute

Johnny Gaudreau was born in Salem, New Jersey.

He was drafted by the Calgary Flames 104th overall in the 4th round of the 2011 NHL Entry Draft. He played hockey for Boston College for 3 seasons, from 2011-2014. He won the National Chapionship title in 2011, and the Hobey Baker Memorial Award as college hockey's best player in 2014.

Johnny spent 9 seasons with the Calgary Flames and 2 with the Columbus Blue Jackets. During his first full season with Calgary, he was selected to go to the 2015 All Star Game and was a Calder Memorial Trophy, and won the Lady Byng Memorial Trophy as the NHL's most gentlemanly player in 2017. He was a 7-time NHL All Star through his career. Johnny was known as "Johnny Hockey" and had incredible skill and success on the ice, despite his size. He played for the Columbus Blue Jackets for the past two seasons and quickly became a favourite.

This is a tribute to our beloved player, may Johnny and Matthew forever rest in peace.

For Johnny...

from me

I am forever going to be sad over losing Johnny, but I am also angry. Two amazing people would still be here if that driver simply decided not to get behind the wheel yesterday night. I wasn't a hockey fan when he was still playing for the Flames, but he was one of four players I knew. He always made me smile when he was shown on camera, and his memory will live on forever in Calgary. His positivity and kindness, his electric game. Johnny was so much more than a hockey player. He was a husband, a father. A son, a brother, a friend, a teammate. My heart and prayers go to his wife and children, parents, sisters, and family. And please, please, take time to grieve. Take time to remember Johnny and what he meant to you, and to the game. Rest in peace, Johnny Hockey, fly high.

I believe that it is a testament to a person's character that when tragedy strikes, there are hundreds or thousands of people mourning for them, regardless of whether they knew each other or not. That is what Johnny has done for the hockey community. His infectious excitement and passion has moved people in ways he probably never imagined. We may never hear Johnny Hockey echo through an arena in celebration of a goal, but we will hear it in celebration of his life, of his game. We will keep his legacy alive. Forever.

Here's to #13

from @chukys-mouthguard

Johnny was never mentioned on my blog prior to this news. And while I know I don’t need to explain or justify my sudden sadness, I’d just like to reiterate this point above. We don’t have to post about someone or obsess over them online to love them. Johnny was never a player I would’ve written fanfiction about or shared unhinged thoughts. I’d loved him and admired him from my time playing hockey, and he was unlike anyone else. I frequently explained that compared to all the other players I love or “obsess” over, Johnny is in a league of his own. The sheer love and admiration I had for what an amazing hockey player, but an even more amazing person he was is something I can’t put into words. Rarely do athletes or celebrities have an impact on me, but Johnny did. The idea that I won’t get to see him take the ice again in Nationwide Arena, I don’t get to hear commentators call him Johnny Hockey anymore, and most importantly the fact that this heartbreaking tragedy is undoubtedly sending shockwaves through a family that was looking forward to a weekend of celebration of love and togetherness at their sister’s wedding. It all hurts. And there are no words right now. I want to blink my eyes and have someone tell me I’m dreaming. My own mother called me on my way to work to tell me the news because she didn’t want me to find out through social media, that’s the impact this man had on me and I’m sure so many fans across the hockey community. My sister even reached out to make sure I was okay. So yeah, people can say “they are just an athlete” or “why are you so upset over someone you don’t know?” And I respect people having those opinions, but when players truly make a mark on the sport and the fans, it resonates with you. Because you feel like you know them, like they invite you into their world and give you a chance to look at them in new ways. My thoughts are with the entire hockey community that knew johnny, and most importantly his family as they endure this terrible loss of Johnny and Matthew 💔

johnny gaudreau has been my favorite nhl player since his college days, and I have no words right now. I have multiple jerseys of his, signed memorabilia, but I sadly never got to meet him and tell him how much i loved him as a person and a player. My love for him, if you know me offline, s was unmatched compared to any other player I obsess over online. This world is so cruel and I’m heartbroken. I’m so thankful to have seen him play on multiple occasions, but blue jackets games will not be the same without his #13 on the ice 💔😞

from @perfectlysaltycat32

I just want to say the passing of Johnny and Matty Gaudreau is such a sad and unfortunate moment. Every time I looked through social media and saw more snippets of what happened and how he is remembered it just gets so much more sadder. It's really tragic how this happened *the day before* their sisters wedding. A time where the whole family is sharing one of their happiest moments, and now it's going to be a time of grief. I think it is absolutely gorgeous how all the Calgary fans came together in memory of them with their memorial. They are truly loved everywhere in the hockey community. I hope that every player has access to good therapy and counseling because this is such a rough way to start the season, but I am glad with how positive all of their friends, family, and teammates are. It really just once again shows how loved both of them are. They had a great life, were amazing people, and it deserved to be longer. But now they can watch over their families, teammates, and friends. I'm sending my condolences to everyone affected. Johnny was an amazing father, husband, son, brother, friend, captain, and teammate. He is and always will be Johnny Hockey. Matty was also an amazing husband, son, brother, teammate, and friend. It is deeply saddening that his wife has to raise her expecting baby without him. I hope everything goes smoothly as they can for her, and she and the baby can be healthy. Everyone loves you both, Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. You will be loved and missed. 🕊️❤️

from @wehaveagathering

When I first got into hockey I heard about a guy named "johnny hockey" and I thought that this was like, a legend — someone like Gretzky or Lemieux, who had been so good that he'd had the game incorporated into his name forever. Imagine my surprise when I learned that this dude was just Johnny Gaudreau, not just a legend but an active one too, one still playing. I thought that was really cool. I figured he must have done something really special to earn that nickname. Turns out it wasn't just what he did — it was who he was. Rest easy, Johnny Hockey. You built a legacy that will live for a long time.

from @traiteursroe

I want to take a moment to talk about Johnny and Matty Gaudreau today. Absolute icons. “Johnny Hockey” has been a name that has been recognizable in sport since 2014. He was a gentleman and a fast fucking skater. His brother Matty was smart and talented. The fact that they’ve been taken away from their families by a drunk driver is heartbreaking and inexcusable. Spare a thought and a prayer for them today.

from @crow-the-unknown

just saw the news about johnny gaudreau and his brother's death and i'm honestly at a loss for words. my heart aches for his family and all the friends he's made throughout his career. i can't even put into words how horrible and devastating this is for everyone in the hockey community. sending my prayers their way. i'm fucking wrecked about this. if i could say more i would but. i don't even know. it doesn't even feel real.

from @callsign-denmark

Rest in Peace Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. This was a horrible and tragic loss to the hockey community but more importantly a tragedy to your families. My prayers go out to them all. The hockey community has woken up today to the tragic knew of the passing of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau who were killed last night while riding their bikes in their hometown by a drunk driver who was speeding while trying to pass other vehicles who were going slow to pass the brothers safely. Both brothers were hit from behind, and died due to their injuries. They were in their home town for their sister Katie's wedding which was set to take place today. Johnny and Matthew were not just hockey players, but brothers, sons, husbands, fathers, uncles and friends to many people who are now without their loved ones on a day that was supposed to be filled with joy and love. Please let all of us in the hockey community, as fans, to take a moment of silence no matter what team you cheer for, and send out a silent prayer to the family who will no longer get to hold Johnny and Matthew in their arms, who will no longer get to watch them grow old playing the game they loved, and to the children growing up without a father and uncle to guide them throughout life and love them. While we feel sorrow and sadness over this lose, it's nothing compared to their families who will have to live this life without them.

from @19mercer

all of the insta story posts from many hockey players, teams, and other sport leagues for johnny and matthew gaudreau make me cry. all of the support for their families is genuinely so sweet. i wish nothing but the best for their families during this hard time. i will forever be grateful that i was able to watch him play in the nationwide arena. i am forever grateful for johnny and his time as a blue jacket. and his time with us. thank you for everything 13. rest easy johnny and matthew.

from @bibliomoth

I adored Johnny because he was a such a small streak of lightning in a game full of huge dudes who were regularly a whole foot taller than him. His skills were just fucking phenomenal and he was so exciting to watch. I screamed with joy and cheered him on so loudly I lost my voice on many occasions. He represented his country for International Competitions and is the highest US point scorer. I could get technical and talk about my favourite goals of his, his stickhandling, dangles, on ice spatial awareness etc but it is all on film for anyone to see, just too much to choose from. Nobody moved like Johnny Hockey. As a person he was a sweet, kind guy who was universally liked in the sport and beyond. I do not follow celebrities on social media, but on hockey forums there are endless stories of his voracious love of mac and cheese (so much so Kraft put him in a TV ad) and skittles candies that he had a hockey stick covered in them and auctioned for charity. In interviews he always talked hockey and his family. Whenever asked about new contracts and paycheques he would just shrug and say ‘yeah I bought my dad a boat so we can go fishing’ or ‘I just got a cool new wheelchair lift installed in my holiday home so my cousin can come and spend time with me’, or change the subject and talk about his dog, his wife and kids or The Birds. He was a real gem of a gentleman, modest and always ready to give credit to his team and dad (legendary NJ coach Guy Gaudreau) who motivated Johnny to skate as a toddler by placing skittles candies on the ice for him to fetch. I’m am so sad for him, his family. This is just a blurb of feels about someone I counted down the days for until I could see them make magic on ice. I wish I could write a good tribute, dammit. Thank you Johnny Hockey.

from @blusical

Johnny was more than a hockey player. He was a friend, father, son, brother, whatever you say. And please, don't forget about Matthew too. In fact, don't forget about any of the Gaudreau family, they're struggling too.

from @slavet0thegrind

Man, the news about Johnny Gaudreau's passing has shaken this entire city. I've never cried over the death of an athlete before. Until today. He may have been traded, but everyone in Calgary loved that man so much. The fact that right now the steps of our arena are covered in purple Gatorade and flowers on honor of him says so much. I have also heard that people are flocking to what we refer to as "the Red Mile" tonight to honor him, which is a street downtown that turns into one big party whenever the Flames play a game during playoffs. Everyone pours out of the arena and heads down there to celebrate, or watches the game at bars on that street if they're not at the game. Johnny reignited the Flames when they were starting to burn out, he led that team for so long. We didn't call him Johnny Hockey for no reason. And for him and his brother to be tragically killed the day before their sister's wedding by a fucking drunk driver... It's unbelievably heartbreaking. Rest in Peace Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau 💔😭

from @areyoutherelarry

There are not any words to express how deeply sad and awful it is to hear about the killing of the Gaudreau brothers. They seemed like wonderful humans who positively impacted those around them. They had families who were clearly ripped through by this horrific tragedy. There are wives who will have to raise kiddos without their partners, and kiddos who won't have their dads around. Parents who outlived their kids. A sister who didn't get married. It's bleak shit. There's also a team that has faced so much tragedy. Boone Jenner has had to support the team through two tragic deaths (and faced his own personal loss this year), anyone who was around when Matiss Kivlenieks died, and Sean Monahan who was so excited to be reunited with Gaudreau. This is just heavy shit.

from @brb-counting-stars

today is such a hard day, but take inspiration from johnny to live life by being the kindest and generous person you can. take inspiration from the way he didn’t know if he would be able to make it into the show and pushed on anyways. take inspiration from the kind of brother he was. take inspiration from all the stories of what he would do for fans he spent mere moments with but those memories stayed with them for years, the philanthropic work he would do all throughout his career. take inspiration from the guy that grinned as brad marchand yapped at him from the opposite penalty box and then went on to score a hat trick, the teammate that was so beloved he inspired his buddy to sign with a team so that they could play together again. take inspiration from the nine-year-old kid that earned the nickname “love machine”, the twenty-seven-year-old man who finished his bachelor’s degree nine years later because he made a promise to his mom. and of course, you can’t forget the stories of him taping pucks to himself for weighing in at the combine, or writing a paper in college on how to make a ham and cheese sandwich, or how he would wipe red sauce off his meatballs, or how he got sick from mainlining nutella to gain weight for the season, or how he tried to cash his first paycheck at a random bar atm, or how he wore yeezys to ride a horse at the calgary stampede. live life to the fullest and remember johnny’s kindheartedness, humility, and positivity. his presence and spirit will really be missed throughout the hockey community.

from @hufflepuffhabs

Ever since seeing the devastating news yesterday afternoon while at work, I've been thinking of what the right words are in a situation as hopeless as this. There is no return button, no undo. In Memory of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau Ever since seeing the devastating news yesterday afternoon while at work, I've been thinking of what the right words are in a situation as hopeless as this. There is no return button, no undo. A family, a community left with empty spots. All the circumstances make it only sadder and more tragic. There are no right words, but there are tokens of hope, showing up and lighting a candle in memory and remembrance for not only two incredible hockey players but humans. When I was a little tween hockey fan, I really liked the Calgary Flames. Mostly because they drafted a Swiss guy 1st round, but they had many other young prospects, Johnny being probably the brightest. But as for many, it was his character that impressed me most, a Skittle loving child-at-heart guy that left it all on the ice. I will always remember how disappointed he was when they did not all him to do a stunt with a burning stick at the All-Star Game. May Johnny and Matthew rest in peace. And may we think of their family and of all families that have lost loved ones in this tragic way.

from @tattoed-and-toothless

Fly high and rest easy Johnny and Matthew 🕊 You left behind a lot of amazing memories to be remembered by. The hockey world is rallying around your family, they'll be well taken care of ♥️

from @sportspuckball

I've driven that road. Fuck that driver for literally ever. May Matthew and Johnny's memories forever be a blessing to all who loved them, knew them, and were impacted by them. So many of us knew Johnny, but I'm also thinking a lot about the high school kiddos that Matthew coached. Every aching moment of this fucking sucks. Don't let anyone tell you that grieving someone you don't know personally is stupid -- grief is grief and it is yours. Do what you need to process it as you see fit. The only thing any of us *need* to do is respect the family's privacy as they grieve, too.

from the Columbus Blue Jackets

The Columbus Blue Jackets are shocked and devastated by this unimaginable tragedy. Johnny was not only a great hockey player, but more significantly a loving husband, father, son, brother and friend. We extend our heartfelt sympathies to his wife, Meredith, his children, Noa and Johnny, his parents, their family and friends on the sudden loss of Johnny and Matthew. Johnny played the game with great joy which was felt by everyone that saw him on the ice. He brought a genuine love for hockey with him everywhere he played from Boston College to the Calgary Flames to Team USA to the Blue Jackets. He thrilled fans in a way only Johnny Hockey could. The impact he had on our organization and our sport was profound, but pales in comparison to the indelible impression he made on everyone who knew him. Johnny embraced our community when he arrived two years ago, and Columbus welcomed him with open arms. We will miss him terribly and do everything that we can to support his family and each other through this tragedy. At this time, we ask for prayers for the Gaudreau family and that their privacy be respected as they grieve.

from the Calgary Flames

It is with great sadness, we mourn the tragic deaths of our friend Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew Gaudreau. Our hearts are broken by this devastating loss. Johnny was and always will be a member of the Flames family and loved by all of Calgary. It was our privilege to call Johnny our teammate for nine amazing years in Calgary. He came to Calgary as a young man and grew up here, not only as a superstar on the ice, but also a beloved member of our community. The pain we feel for Johnny's wife Meredith, children No and Johnny, parents Jane and Guy, sisters Kristen and Katie, and the entire Gaudreau family is immense. Ownership, management, players, and staff of the Calgary Flames express our heartfelt spates during their time of sorrow. You are in our thoughts and prayers ❤️

from Brad Treliving

I am absolutely devastated by the news of Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew's passing. John was truly a special player, dazzling on the ice with his incredible talent, but what made him truly special was the person he was off the ice. His thousand-watt smiles and infectious personality were matched only by his love for his family, friends, and those close to him. He brought joy to everyone around him and to the many who never knew him but marvelled at his excellence on the ice. John was a beloved teammate and a friend to so many in the hockey community, and he will be deeply missed by all of us who had the privilege of knowing him. My heart goes out to the entire Gaudreau family - to his mom and dad, Jane and Guy; his sisters, Kristen and Kate; his loving wife, Meredith; his precious children, Noa and Johnny; and everyone affected by his unimaginable loss. Family was everything to John, and in his memory, please hug those close to you tighter and longer today and every day.

from Gary Bettman

(paraphrased)...While Johnny's infections spirit for the game and show-stopping skills on the ice earned him the nickname "Johnny Hockey", he was more than just a dazzling hockey player; he was a doting father and beloved husband, son, brother, and teammate who endears himself to every person fortunate enough to have crossed his path... ...He will be remembered fondly in Calgary, where he played his first nine seasons with the Flames form 2013-14 to 2021-22, emerging as one of our League's brightest young stars while compiling the franchise's fits-highest career points total. His loss also will be felt profoundly in Columbus, the city in which he chose to settle his family and where he was one of the respected, veteran leaders of a club building toward the playoffs. And both Johnny and Matthew will be mourned at Boston College, where they were teammates the year Johnny won the Honey Baker Award in 2013-14, and at Gloucester Catholic High School in New Jersey, where both played and where Matthew was the head coach following his own five-year pro playing career. We send our most heartfelt condolences to his wife Meredith; their children, Noa and Johnny; his parents, Guy and Jane; and sisters Kristen and Katie. And we grieve alongside his teammates, members of the Columbus and Calgary organizations, his many friends hockey and countless fans around the world for whom he created incredible memories on and off the ice.

from Pascal Vincent

I want to extend my deepest condolences to the family of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. This tragedy has left me speechless and in shock. Over the years, I had the privilege of getting to know the real Johnny Gaudreau - the person behind the hockey player. He was a humble and unassuming young man with extraordinary talent, who never sought to be in the spotlight. Instead, he enjoyed life's simple pleasures and possessed a quiet strength of character. His passion for the game and exceptional hockey sense allowed him to achieve greatness, yet he remained grounded and true to himself. I had the pleasure of meeting his wonderful family, including his wife, children, and parents. My thoughts are with them today. It's an honor to have known not only the incredible hockey player but also the kind and beloved person Johnny was to everyone he met. Wherever we went, people admired him on and off the ice. Despite his success, he remained humble and genuine. Johnny, you toughed so many lives with your kindness and contagious smile. I feel fortunate to have known you so closely. Your memory will stay with me forever. Rest in peace Johnny.

from @love-youu-softly

When I first got into hockey, I was feeling really lost. The flames were one of the first teams I became a fan of, and so many nights were spent alone in my room at 20 years old watching the flames and Johnny hockey. Will forever be important to me.

from @primakira

johnny gaudreau was the first player i ever learned about when i was trying to get into hockey. he was a spitfire on the ice and an even greater person off of it. i'll probably write something longer later since i can't even type this through my tears, but for now, thank you so much for everything, johnny. 💙 rest in peace to his brother matthew as well. such an unimaginable tragedy. my heart goes out to the entire gaudreau family and to everyone that loved them.

out of all the players i like in the nhl, johnny has a special place in my heart because he was the first player i ever knew. he's the reason i got into the sport during the pandemic. even before connor mcdavid or sidney crosby, there was johnny hockey. as soon as i saw his small stature and big smile, i was hooked. his smile was infectious, his hands were amazing, his skating was mesmerizing (his lil strides were so cute too), and his heart was all-encompassing. every night, you couldn't believe the things he could do. he was a spitfire on the ice - constantly underestimated but tenacious as hell. furthermore, he was kind, humble, funny, and down to earth. there's a reason everyone loved him. hell, his team would wage a war for him (matty tkachuk i'm looking at your penalties during that stars series). off the ice, he was a family man through and through. he loved his family so fucking much and he loved his community so much. all he wanted was the perfect place to call home for his kids and he found it. johnny encapsulated the joy of hockey, and he took that joy with him today. my heart goes out to everyone who loved him and matthew, especially their family and friends. the world lost two bright stars in a heartbreaking and senseless tragedy. thanks for everything, johnny. may you and matthew rest in peace. 🕊

from @bedsyandco

so shocked and saddened by the news of johnny and matthew gaudreau’s passing. this is such horrible news and I can’t even fathom the grief and loss that everyone who knew them is feeling right now. I truly hope that their family and friends have the utmost support and love right now. sending love and prayers to everyone affected by this loss 🩷

from @soffsh

Truthfully what is there to say, I knew getting on here would be so utterly painful. Seeing all these black and white pictures of Johnny and Matthew doesn’t seem real. The world has lost an incredible hockey player, father, husband and person in Johnny Gaudreau. I was hoping and praying last night that we wouldn’t be making these posts today, but we weren’t that fortunate. My deepest and sincerest condolences to the family and friends of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau. As well as the whole fan base of not only the Columbus Blue Jackets but the Calgary Flames who have lost a friend and a family member. Johnny and Matthew you will be missed so dearly amongst the hockey community, but not nearly as much as by your family. Rest in Peace, boys.

from @alexandretexiers

Only a few days ago, Kivi would have been 28. Just for another unimaginable tragedy happening only days later, took the lives of Johnny Gaudreau and his brother Matthew. Both brothers were taken from their mother and father, sisters, wives and children. Children who are all under two, with one not even born yet. I’ve been crying most of today, and I can’t even imagine the pain their families are in. One of their sisters was supposed to get married today, with her brothers by her side as groomsmen. And the bastard that killed them doesn’t even feel any remorse. Rest easy, Johnny and Matthew. You both will be dearly missed

from @rumandwhine

Had to take a day before I could even try to articulate any of this; I've never been this genuinely devastated by the loss of a public figure before. I can't express enough of my heartbreak and condolences for the entire Gaudreau family, I can't even imagine their loss and I won't insult their grief by trying. All I can do is thank them for letting us, the fans, get to know their amazing son, brother, husband, father for a while - it was truly a joy to watch and root for him. And to everyone else - the other fans in mourning or shock or whatever indescribable emotion you're feeling right now - all I can do is remind you that time is precious. Hug your parents, call your siblings, tell your partner you love them. I've already gotten years more than Johnny and Matthew will ever have; I intend to try and make the rest of the ones I'm allowed to mean more then the ones before them. I think that's the only way any of us can really honor their lives. Stay safe. And take care of yourselves.

from @wannabehockeygf

I wish I had all the words, but I don’t. They were so incredibly loved, and so young. My heart goes out to their family and friends. RIP Johnny Hockey & Matthew Gaudreau. Life is so fucking precious.

from @sweetestdesire

The Columbus Blue Jackets have unfortunately lost a few too many, and my heart is aching so bad for Johnny Gaudreau and his family. I can’t even begin to imagine how the team, his wife and children, and his family must be feeling right now. It’s times like this when we realize just how precious life really is. A life that touches others goes on forever. May Johnny and his brother, Matthew rest in peace.

from anonymous

this whole situation is so incredibly devastating. i’ll always remember johnny being afraid of both the CBJ cannon and the penguins at the calgary zoo 😔. while everyone should mourn and grieve as they do, please take the time to remember the happy moments and wonderful memories! seeing the outpour of love from brings me comfort and i can only wish the same for the gaudreau family.

from @bitchinbarzal

Dogs loved him, penguins startled him He was an amazing guy! I met him in Ohio, nicest guy - he deserves to be remembered that way 💙

from @mikkomacko

The first hockey jersey I ever bought was a #13 flames jersey I didn’t grow up in a hockey state, don’t have any friends or family that watch or follow the sport. Every time I asked for a jersey on a holiday or birthday I never got one. No one here knew what to get, where to look for one. I found the jersey for resale and used scholarship money my freshman year of college to buy it. I’m an Avs fan. I went to school in Colorado. But Johnny was one of the first players I ever saw on the tv and I liked his name and number. And I loved how he carried himself on and off the ice. I loved his love for the game and the way he played it. No matter the team, the number, the jersey, whatever I always wanted him to win. Today has been tough for so many and while it’s heartbreaking it’s so heartwarming to see how many players, fans, athletes, and people in general loved and cheered for not just Johnny but his brother too. Sending healing thoughts to his friends, family, and teammates. And to everyone else that was a fan of him like me.

from @strangelymint

I didn't watch much hockey growing up, I've only really started to consistently watch it and keep up with it since the playoffs of the 2021-2022 nhl season. However, the few times I did watch it growing up and starting to keep up with hockey, I remember watching Johnny Gaudreau so well. He was one of the players that made hockey and the Flames so fun, and he had such a huge positive impact on Calgary that I felt even before I watched those playoffs. I wish I got to watch him play more. Rest in peace to Matthew and Johnny Gaudreau and my heart goes out to their family and friends.

from @richards-mike

30/08 - dear johnny hockey, everyone knew your name. i knew it as well. it's difficult to put everything that i'm feeling into words & you kept being in my mind since i opened instagram at work today and that the first post that i saw was the devastating news that you passed away in some deeply disturbing and disgusting circumstances. you were the kind of player that was unique. you had a great talent on the ice, there is no doubt about it, but most importantly a you had the biggest and greatest heart of gold out there. you were the kind of player that everyone could cheer for and that we could admire in silent. you were our ✨special little guy✨ hockey was part of it. but the human part was the most important as well. we never know how much we can lose before we do. your remind us all today that life is fragile. but you reminded me that the world is still a good place. that people still can come together to remember the impact that a simple human can have when they choose kindness. you may be gone today, johnny but you will never be forgotten <13

from @annieqattheperipheral

(paraphrased) I keep getting waves of omg he's really gone. Like really really. We know there are going to be a lot of pregame tributes but like how you gonna do that and then expect anyone to do their jobs after without the entire arena from fans to teams to staff erupting in tears, times 32 rinks across the continent and probably flames and cbj's ahl teams and other teams too. agh. Grieving is so much. I'm glad we have our supports here with each other. Whenever i need to let something out i might post here (always tagging so you can step away, filter if you ever need to knowing what you can or can't handle that day). And so when johnny and matty's spouses each posted about their husbands this weekend.. i was amazed. And happy. I mean as i could be. Because it meant that they were being taken care of, they were supported so well they had no inclination of going inward and isolating. (I mean i withdrew so hard after i hit so many blocks with my family. I didn't post until a month later, informing so many ppl in my life.) Instead the gaudreaus were so open and sharing and that filled me with so much awe of the love and care within their family. Johnny and matty were so . well . loved. Matthew Tkachuk is one of the few players i keep notif on for and he was the one i learned the news from and every time he posts he proves yet again how incredible his family is, that he is being taken care of as well. That's a guy who has let us into his grief and i can't thank him and other players posting enough, that it's not radio silence. That we're sharing in this pain. Incredibly grateful.

from Matthew Tkachuck

Absolutely devastated. I will miss seeing that smile! RIP Hockey! love you bro 💔

from Rasmus Andersson

Trying to find the right words today is not easy. You were a hell of a hockey player but it's the person Johnny that was always is going to be with me, one of my closest friends, it didn't matter if we hadn't spoken in a day or a week we always knew where we had each other! There hasn't been a dry eye in the Andersson house today we all love you Johnny. Looking back at this picture with a smile and a tear, we were very hungover laughing about this the next morning... To Meredith Noa and Johnny Jr we're always here for you and we love you ❤️ Rest in peace uncle Johnny and Matty 🕊️

from Mikael Backlund

I can't believe it's true... I'm gutted. I'm going to miss you buddy. My thoughts are with the entire Gaudreau family. 💔

from Blake Coleman

It's hard to find the words so I'll keep it short. One of the best guys to be around, always had that big smile on your face and never passed up a good time. A great dad and husband to that beautiful family of yours. You will be missed by so many. Praying for your entire family in this incredibly difficult time. Thanks for the memories Johnny, you won't be forgotten. Rest easy #13

from Elias Lindholm

Completely heartbroken. Gonna miss you my friend. Sending all our love to the Gaudreau family. Rest in peace Johnny and Matthew 🕊️❤️

from Cole Caufield

We all lost an amazing person, both on and off the ice, in last week’s tragedy. My deepest condolences go to the entire Gaudreau family, especially Johnny’s wife and two kids, who I had the pleasure of meeting. Nothing will be able to fill the void in their families and loved ones hearts, but I hope it provides some comfort to know how these two positively impacted the lives of so many. They will truly be missed.  Getting to play with your hero is something that most people only dream of. I was lucky enough to be Johnny’s teammate this past summer and it didn’t take long to realize how great of a person he was. He was the most welcoming, genuine, and funniest guy I have ever met. He was someone everyone gravitated towards and I took every chance I could to be around him. Not only was he an amazing hockey player and teammate, but he was down to earth and truly cared about every person he encountered. The last few years playing as #22 have been some of the best years of my life. It truly has been a dream come true and I will forever hold those memories and that number close to me. I wore #13 at a point in my career because of Johnny and now I will be wearing it again to honor him. He paved the way for smaller players and proved we had a future in this game at the highest level. I will forever be grateful to him for inspiring me and others.  Rest in Peace, Johnny hockey.

from Boone Jenner

I'm absolutely heartbroken to be posting this but John deserves to be honoured, today and always. Take the hockey out of Johnny. You have one of the best friends, teammates, sons, brothers, husbands, and above all, fathers out there. It's impossible to put into words how much we will miss you man. I'll miss the backdoor tap ins, our battles at the card table, our gold matches, but most of all I'll miss you wearing black dress shoes with shorts on every Florida trip. Our thoughts and prayers are with eh Gaudreau and Morris family and everyone affected by this unimaginable tragedy and loss. I love you buddy. May Johnny and Matthew rest in peace.

from Jarome Iginla

While I never had the privilege to play with Johnny, the times we met or played together, I could feel how special he was. Johnny hockey made our sport better in many special ways. My family and I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to have spent time with Wim, and we will always be his fans. With broken hearts, we pray for the Gaudreau family and friends during this devastating time.

from Lanny MacDonald

You were magic, Johnny Hockey

I was in the 'Dome the night he scored in overtime to send the Flames to the second round of the playoffs in 2022. I swear the foundation of that old building was shaking, the eruption from the crowd was so violently joyous. It was the outpouring of love, awe, and gratitude for our fiery hero...watching the passion and fervour Johnny Hockey played with felt electric. There are no words that can match the tragedy of what has happened. Waking up to the news of Johnny and Matthew's passing hit my family like a ton of bricks, not only for their senseless deaths, but the gripping heartbreak for their loved ones who face the unimaginable. Let the hockey world rally around the Gaudreaus, their families and friends, and although we can't even start to understand the depth of their shock and pain, I hope they are overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support. Go easy on those legends up there in heaven's hockey rink, boys. You're getting there earlier than expected, but they'll take good care of you. Godspeed Johnny and Matthew, Godspeed ❤️

from Jaromir Jagr

I honestly never thought I'd write a text like this to a post. Yea that goal was my last NHL goal. Yes, that's a pretty nice goal. Yes, it was a beautiful pass above all. Unfortunately, life can sometimes be incredibly cruel. Thank you Johnny for being there and giving hope to all the guys with your incredible performances, that though they are not the biggest and toughest, they can succeed at the NHL world class just like you did. My condolences to the whole family. R.I.P to you and your brother

from Wayne Gretzky

Janet, myself and our entire family are devastated as this senseless tragedy. We are sending our love, thoughts, and prayers to the Gaudreau family. We lost two young men who were loved and a huge presence both on and off the ice. Johnny and Matthew, you will always be remembered and missed.

[rosabell14]

The hunters of Artemis, Reyna, and Asexuality in Riordan's writing

I kinda started thinking about this since Reyna became a hunter. I could never articulate why I hated this Choice. I was asexual after all. Shouldn't I be happy about this rep? We Ace people barely get any after all. Then I realized that it's because I just didn't like the hunters as ace representation. And I didn't need to be grateful for mediocrity.

You want to know why the hunters of Artemis suck in general? And as Ace rep specifically? Because Riordan did not write them with that mindset.

Like people are so busy hailing this man as the king of representation in literature(blegh) that they forgot how heteronormative and white(sometimes racist) the original series was. Y'all really think this man was thinking about writing asexuals in the year 2007? Get real. What Riordan was doing was a white man trying to write feminism and failing (there's a reason most of his female characterization of female characters boils down to tough "not like other girls" characters who are dicks to the boys around them yet also to the girls around them if they're jealous)

Now onto the hunters.

The hunters when first presented in TTC are not a group of asexuals but rather religious celibates. Fantasy Pegan nuns if you may. The first problem arises when their ages are brought up.

"Then the archers came from the woods. They were girls, about a dozen of them. The youngest was maybe ten. The oldest, about fourteen..."

Remember, before ToA gave us Emmie and Jo, the hunters WERE all young girls. Now why in the world are they so young? Especially when in the actual myths, the hunters could come from any age whatsoever? Well the reason is a doozy.

"Are you surprised by my age?" she asked.

"Uh… a little."

"I could appear as a grown woman, or a blazing fire, or anything else I want, but this is what I prefer. This is the average age of my Hunters, and all young maidens for whom I am patron, before they go astray."

"Go astray?" I asked.

"Grow up. Become smitten with boys. Become silly, preoccupied, insecure. Forget themselves."

Hooo boy. What a way to phrase it. Going astray. Losing themselves. This kinda confirms that the reason why Artemis goes after young girls specifically is because she only wants girls who have yet to finish puberty. Girls have yet to discover their own sexuality. Now I'm not a representative of Asexuals everywhere, but I'm pretty sure most of us don't discover our sexuality at the age of ten. Let alone have the maturity to decide to become celibates about it. And let me reiterate: celibacy is not sexuality. Sure asexual people CAN choose to be celibates but it's not the same thing at all. In fact Zoe and Thalia are big cases for this. Both of them had liked men before(herakles and luke) but joined for their own reasons. Thalia to escape the prophecy and Zoe out of heartbreak. Hell, Bianca herself is mostly swayed by the idea of having no responsibility and a new family.

Now Rick does another thing that goes against the myths. The exclusion of make hunters. Artemis frequently hung around or taught male hunters who respected her. Daphnis, Scamandrius, freaking Hippolytus whom Artemis greatly cared about. Oh but we need to come up with bullshit reasons why Nico can't just join the hunt with his sisters so the hunters of Artemis are all: Ewww men. Also note how at no point does Riordan mention people who fall in love with women.

Now the next point is the oath itself. Artemis says this:

"What oath?" I said.

"To forswear romantic love forever," Artemis said. "To never grow up, never get married. To be a maiden eternally."

When I tell you that Emmy and Joe were retcons . Rick was freaking INSISTENT on the hunters being kids. Also note the three points: to never fall in love, to never get married, to stay a maiden.

I mean I think I don't need to explain why obsessing over the virginity of young girls is creepy. Does Riordan think girls older than fourteen can't keep it in their pants? And let me be adamant here Riordan only cares about the virginity Clause here. He mentions falling in love and marriage because he sees them inherently intertwined with sex.

Now onto the wording of the oath itself:

'I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.'

I mean you might be able to interpret men here as mankind and therefore excluding women as well. But I have many reasons to believe that Riordan didn't even CONSIDER women as a possibility(someone inform this man that lesbians existed smh 😞). Also note that falling in love is not mentioned in the actual oath but maidenhood is.

Now onto the next big issue. Percy Jackson's Greek gods and its chapter on Artemis. It basically confirms all of my problems.

"IT’S NOT THAT ARTEMIS HATED ALL MEN, just most of them. From the moment she was born, she knew one critical fact: Guys are kinda gross."

No mention of girls. In this chapter Percy(Rick) brings up Artemis' disdain for dudes over and over again.

“Let me be a maiden forever, Father,” Artemis said, twirling her finger in Zeus’s beard. “I never want to get married.---- But you can grant me a bunch of followers: ocean nymphs, river nymphs, wood nymphs—what the heck, how about mortal girls, too? Any girls who want to join me can become my followers, as long as they remain maidens like me. They should probably make the decision when they’re about nine years old, before they get interested in boys, because after that, they’ll be all distracted and of no use to me.”

Yikes yikes yikes. Ladies and gentlemen the age has been lowered to 9. Freaking 9. Also I guess girls older than that don't need Artemis' protection then? (the real problem is that older/married girls should be out of Artemis's jurisdiction and under the protection of other gods like Hera, Hestia, and Ares. But Hestia is barely there. Hera is terrible and the Amazons also suck)

Now when I tell you that Artemis' big point was about virginity, I mean it. This actually has mythological evidence.

The myths actually DO mention what happens when female hunters fall in love. Rhodopis and Euthynicus were two hunters who offended Aphrodite by choosing a chaste life so she had Eros make them fall in love. However note that they weren't booted out of the hunters for falling in love, but rather after having sex in a cave. THAT was what Artemis took offense to.

Another myth is the story of Aura. A huntress who offended Artemis by comparing their breasts(Greek mythology am I right?). Saying that her breast were better than Artemis' because they were smaller and hey maybe that means that Artemis isn't actually a maiden. Artemis punishes her by making her lose her VIRGINITY. She goes to nemesis for revenge. Nemesis goes to Eros who makes Dionysus fall in love with Aura and when Aura refuses his advances he ties her up and... Yeah you can guess where I'm going with this.

But hey! Those myths aren't in the Greek gods book. You know which myth is? The myth of C(K)allisto. And this one angers me so much I want to chew on the drywall.

The way Riordan writes it. Zeus turns himself into Artemis, brings Kallisto's guards down with the disguise, gets close to her and then when Kallisto REJECTS Artemis' supposed advances, forces himself on her. I need to say this again. Kallisto does not fall in love, she isn't seduced, she does not break her oath. But we still need a reason for her to be yeeted out of the hunters so her lack of maidenhood it is

“You were my favorite,” Artemis said. “If you had come to me immediately, I could have helped you. I would have found you a rich, handsome husband and let you settle into a new life in the city of your choice. I would have allowed you to retire from the Hunt with honor. You could have gone in peace. Zeus’s assault was not your fault.”

Kallisto sobbed. “But I didn’t want to lose you! I wanted to stay!”

Artemis felt like her heart was breaking, but she couldn’t show it. She had rules about her followers. She couldn’t allow those rules to be broken, not even by her best friend. “Kallisto, your crime was keeping the secret from me. You dishonored me, and your sisters of the Hunt, by not being honest. You defiled our company of maidens when you were not a maiden yourself. That I cannot forgive.”

I want to slap this man so hard he flies to the opposite side of the universe. We are not here to blame victims of assault guys! Except we are! But with extra steps. If you get attacked, it's not your fault, but If you are too scared to admit the truth then you deserve to lose your only safe space and turn into a bear. Oh nooooo Kallisto DEFILED Artemis' company by being an icky non virgin. The moment you lose your virginity even if it's not your fault you get punished. But not because I'm gross but because YOU lied. How terrible! And he expects us to feel for ARTEMIS???

But rosabell! This is how things go in the myths. What was uncle Rick (bleghhhh) supposed to do? I don't know... Choose a different version of the story? There are versions were Zeus/Hera are the ones who transform Kallisto into a bear. There are versions where Kallisto actively CHOOSES to sleep with Artemis. Granted it's still assault because she's being lied to but at least then, she'd have a degree of autonomy in the events. At least Artemis could rightfully accuse her of breaking her oath. But noooo, Riordan doesn't know lesbians exist. He actively makes Zeus into a canonical Ra*ist. Why is he on the throne again?

(the fact that this book came out AFTER HoH y'all 😭)

Once again, Riordan sees maidenhood(virginity)/love/marriage as intertwined. This is NOT what being on the aroace spectrum means. You can fall in love but not have sex. You can have sex but not fall in love. You can have sex AND still be an asexual. You can be married and still be a "maiden". Riordan doesn't get to claim to be such a progressive ally for retconning the hunters in 2017, TEN years after he first introduced the hunters because he suddenly remembered that lesbians exist.

Or more like because he doesn't know what to do with his female characters. The hunters more than anything are Riordan's heroine dumping ground. If you don't want it put them in relationships, either kill them(Bianca whose main purpose is to die) or make them eternal virgins(the hunters, Rachel). The fact that some people genuinely think that Calypso should have joined the hunters astound me. Girl suffered for years because of the gods and you all think that the best thing outside of Leo for her(not that I like Caleo) is to become a servant to the gods? Because you can't perceive a female character doing anything else if she's not in a relationship. Like with Thalia, this at least made sense on a strategic level because she didn't want to reach sixteen. Oh but we also don't know what else to do with her so she needs to want to be a hunter after the war is over so we give her a half-assed argument with Luke and now she can be all: wah wah Zoe you were totally right about boys. And the cherry on the cake is that she doesn't even get to be in the final confrontation with Luke or say goodbye to him because of a freaking STATUE. And after pjo her personality becomes Zoe 2.0 and her and Jason get ONE measly meeting.

When I first spoke of not liking Renya joining the hunters this is what I mean. Riordan had so many options with Reyna. Why did she have to leave her esteemed position which she worked so hard for? Two boys rejected her? Why couldn't she go reconnect with her sister more then? She could have joined the Amazons. But nooo Riordan was so allergic to the fans asking him wether she could be Bi or a lesbian. For the stupidest reasons too? Oh Reyna being a lesbian would come off as stereotypical because she got rejected by two guys beforehand! My dude, do you think people don't say the same thing about us who are on the aroace spectrum? That we say we are aro/ace because we got rejected before? Come up with a better excuse next time.

My brother in Christ couldn't even allow Reyna to talk about her sexuality and whatnot. It couldn't even be fully about her. No. He had to turn Reyna into his own mouthpiece admonishing the EVILLLL fans who may have shipped Thalia and Renya. He literally had her say the word "shipping". How cringe can you get? And then he had the audacity to admonish the fans by saying: Why does a strong friendship always have to progress to romance?

It's a sentiment I agree with but coming from this man, it's extremely hypocritical? I don't know Richard maybe because YOU are obsessed with shipping? No character can escape your shipping hands unless they're eternal virgins or dead. You literally turned the Argo2 into Noah's ark2. So much attention focused on shipping that the seven barely felt like friends.

Why does Reyna need to join the hunters? She can choose to not relationship without having to become a servant to female Peter pan.

This is actually a really adequate metaphor when you consider that Emmie and Jo say that they have not met Artemis in YEARS and Apollo mentions that the two of them were lucky she let them LIVE. god can you imagine joining Artemis when you are 9? At an age when you have still not finished maturimg cognitively and therefore shouldn't be trusted on taking a freaking celibacy vow(were you even given the talk yet that age) and after 70 years you decide you want to leave? If you're lucky Artemis will part with you on good terms but SIKES every person you probably knew before joining is now dead. Where is THAT angsty Bianca fic?

Speaking of Bianca. How she was handled also angers me. In another post, I've already talked about how the hunters barely gave her adequate information before letting her join.

How Zoe was the main reason for her death. Zoe KNEW that at least 2 people might die in the quest she was given and yet she decided to bring the least experienced girl to the quest and couldn't even watch her properly.

But you know what else pisses me off? The fact that THEY should have been the one to tell Nico about his sister's death. I've always hated how Chiron made Percy the CHILD tell Nico the other CHILD about his sister dying. But more than anyone, it should have been the hunters' responsibility. Bianca was THEIR responsibility. She died in a quest to save Artemis. The least they could do was tell her remaining family of her fate. The Doylist reason of course is that we need to kickstart Nico and Percy's complicated relationship and have Percy discover that Nico is a son of Hades. But in universe, the fact that they immediately fuck off from the camp upon regrouping makes them come off as extremely selfish. We don't even know if Bianca was given a funeral by them or not. We see Artemis being upset about Zoe but we never see her react to the news of losing Bianca.

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

m’no good

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which honey gets the call from johnny that benny’s in the hospital :( cal takes her to him. :’)

warnings: talks of being beaten, descriptions of injury, cursing, lying, crying, being judgy again. it’s an emotional one to say the least, but there’s some sweet moments & a happy ending :)

author’s note: this is NOT in order with the last two parts posted. instead, it’s a future installment in “bein’ married.” you can find the timeline in da main hive masterlist. this is heavily based on the events of the bikeriders movie of benny getting beat up & hospitalized. of course this is my own made-up spin on the situation at hand. idk this idea struck me at 3am & i wrote it in less than a day, so i figured i’d just release it now. you can find a mention of this scenario in session 1 of from the hive 🎙️🐝 this can be read alone if you like, but the interview context could help for sure! x

+ also if you were wondering, i personally picture honey as brittany murphy’s character in uptown girl’s molly gunn! i’ve been obsessing over her style in it & that’s what inspired honey’s style in my writing — especially with the embroidered overalls. you can picture her however you please, & i hope you continue to do as yourself ofc <3

word count: 4.7k (2x longer than the other parts, yay!)

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were in the midst of Sunday dinner with your parents when you got the news. News that would leave you scrambling out of the house in an instant with no thoughts behind your honeydew drop eyes besides him — besides Benny.

Your Pa was comfortable at the head of the table, a cigarette between his lips as he scanned the paper under reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Your Ma had just taken her seat at the table, a forkful stabbing into her salad. So when the phone rang your Pa didn’t even flinch. A result of him being too engrossed in his paper. On the other hand, your Ma sighed in a way that made you know she was evidently too tired to be on her feet again. This led you to announce that you’d get the phone. And you did, pulling it off the reciever and twisting your little finger around the warm yellow chord.

“Hi, you’ve reached The BeeHive. Honey speaking!” You chirped into the phone in your usual honey coated tone. Between your family business that consisted of beekeeping and honey jarring, answering the phone in such a way became rather customary and oddly normal. So much so that no one seemed to bat an eye besides your cousins who laughed every time they called. Absolute menaces indeed.

“Honey?” It was Johnny’s drawl on the line, rough and edgy with a twinge of something you couldn’t catch.

“Oh hi Joh— Mr. Davis!” You cleared your throat and corrected yourself. Trying to remain formal. Trying to remain respectable. Sure, you and Johnny were far from past that. Calling him Johnny instead of Mr. Davis was an entirely different respect that only you, Benny, the wives, and the rest of the guys would ever understand. So your parents? Well, they wouldn’t get that, and besides his kids were still your students after all. “How’s it goin’? Y’need to speak to my Pa? He’s right ‘ere.” You asked, your father’s demeanor easily shifting at the mention, his paper going flat against the table. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to call your house. No — Johnny was a consistent buyer of your family’s honey. He incorporated it into the Club, handing the guys out honey beers during picnics and meetings. He learned of it from those community events you frequented with your parents, always having some sort of incorporation when catering was involved.

“Nah — nah.” He brushed that idea away rather quickly and your brows furrowed in confusion. “Gotta speak to yuh. Look I — I needa tell y’something, but if your Pa’s overhearin’ I need yuh to pretend we’re talking about the girls, alright?”

“I —“ you began but stopped short trying to compartmentalize what he was saying without reacting. “Oh, right I remember we were gonna talk about the girls' grades, yeah?” You rambled out, your words feeling far too thick coming out of your mouth, it almost didn’t sound like you. You feared your parents would catch on instantly, but instead their interest deflated as soon as nothing you said resembled anything to do with their business. It only took a second for your father to go back to his paper and beer and your mother to her salad.

“That’a good, Honey. Very good.” Johnny praised as you motioned with your hand that you were gonna step out of a sec, which really meant you were gonna pull the chord as far as you could into the other room. The distance — well it wasn’t much. The open archway from your parent’s kitchen to the living room wasn’t sound proof, so they could still technically hear every word you said, but your volume would be at lower frequency for sure, and your reactions practically undefinable.

“They’re doing real good, Mr. Davis. Bright girls you got there.” You muttered out so Johnny would know you were still there. You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you paced the short distance available you could in restraint of the phone.

“I know. I know. They love ya, Honey, and they’re just fine. No need to worry ‘ere.” He reassured you, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The last thing you needed to hear was something bad about those babies. It would absolutely break your heart. But what you weren’t expecting to hear was something that would shatter it into a million little pieces. “It’s uh — it’s Benny.” Johnny said, and every fiber of your being went on fire, burning to ash. “He’s — he’s banged up, Honey. Got ‘im in the hospital and everything. ‘parently some jackasses got ‘im real good at some pub not too far from us. Beat him the fuck up, and broke his foot. Could’a lost the damn thing over his colors.”

A gasp left your lips in an instant, and you almost choked as you swallowed down a whimper to conceal the sudden volcano of tears bound to erupt. Now you understood why Johnny wanted — no needed this conversation to be under wraps. Your parents were already nervous about your ridin’ and to hear about some guys jumping your husband for bein’ part of the Club 'would have your parents in a frenzy. “I’m — I’m so sorry t—to hear that, J — Mr. Davis.” You continued the facade, a facade that pained you even more now as you tied back your emotions so forcfully wanting to rip from the seams. “Is your l-little girl okay?”

“He’s fine. They’re takin’ good care of him last I heard from Cockroach. He’s up and talkin’. Took ‘im to the hospital on the West End.” Johnny explained and little by little, piece by piece the fragments of your heart were starting to come back together, but you knew for certain, they wouldn’t be mended until you saw him. Until you got to touch him. Inspect him. Coddle him. Got to know who the fuck messed with him. “Go ‘n see ‘im. He needs his wife, alright?”

“I will.” You assured him, stepping back to peek through the archway at your parents who were still eating. Thankfully nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll be over soon with the homework she’s gonna miss for the week. Does she need anything else from me? Need a friend to bring her books home tomorrow?” You added in code. Code for ‘Who the fuck did this to him, and how could you help make sure those fuckers never got as close as a mile away from Benny again?’

“Nah. Don’t you be worryin’ now, Honey. The guys and I are on it. We’ll take care of ‘em. You take care of ‘im.” He settled on the plan. “Capisce?”

A wave of relief washed over you then. A relief that could only come from Johnny’s word alone. Cause you knew he’d take care of it. He always did. “Capisce.” You sniffled, not caring anymore if your parents caught on.

“Cal’s already on the way to pick ya up at your Ma’s.” He informed you. “Told ‘em to park around the corner so there’s no suspicion. You can tell ‘em you're stoppin’ by the house.” You never thought a time like this would leave you feeling extra grateful that Johnny and his family only lived a block away from your parents. But here you were, feeling just that.

You wanted to thank him then. The words were resting against your tongue heavily, so you made do with what you could. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘ello. Please send my parents regards to your wife and the girls. I’ll be there soon.”

“Anything for ya n’ Benny. Y’know that. Yuh take care of y’self now, o—kay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, itching to run out of your house and into Benny’s arms already. If you could. God, you sure hoped he wasn’t too banged up for a cuddle or two. Makin’ him feel a whole lot better was your main concern. “Bye Mr. Davis. See ya soon,” you spoke into the line before stepping heavily across the threshold and accidently putting the phone back on the hook with a little more aggression than you anticipated.

“Sorry,” you tensed and broke out in an innocent smile, “I gotta go to Mr. Davis’s. His girl is sick real bad with the Flu. Doctors says she’ll be out of school for a week and of course there’s all this important testin’ going on. Gotta keep ‘er on track, y’know? Such a good cookie. Get in a fit if she misses one lick of school.” You rambled on, adding more and more to lie you rather not tell, but knew it was for their own good. For your own good. For Benny’s. Your marriage. Your future. What you’d hope would become a bundle of joy or two with his pretty blue eyes and freckled face to match.

“‘Course she does. She’s a Davis after all.” Your father added, a fond smile stretching across his face.

“Oh that’s too bad,” your mother frowned, and then stood unexpectedly, her chair scraping against the kitchen flooring. “Here, I’ll pack ya some honey buns to take to ‘er.” Before you could protest your Ma was already piling some of her homemade buns into a metal cookie container and passing them to you.

“Real sweet, Mama.” You could feel your eyes startin’ to tear up again, that familiar wave of remembrance coming back to remind you what you were really leaving for. A wave of impatience that made your anxieties spike higher and higher at the prospect of more minutes ticking away without you being next to Benny. “M’sure it’ll make ‘er feel so much better in no time.” You kissed your Ma on the cheek in appreciaton and turned to head out.

“Wait,” your Ma said right when you were about to exit the front door with your backpack in tow. Thankfully she didn’t see you mouth a curse into the air with your back towards her. “Y’didn’t even get to touch your dinner. Will ya be back to finish it or should I wrap it up?”

“Nah. That’s ‘ight.” You declined. “I still got leftovers in the fridge for me and Benny from Rosie’s. Heat it up when I get home, but thanks Mama. Save it for yuh and Pa.”

“‘ight. Get’ome safe, Honey.” She called out. Safe. Safe. Benny didn’t get home safe, but he was safe now. Safe in the hospital that is, but was he really safe?

Your fingers gripped the doorhand, knuckles burning white as you took a breath to calm yourself. “I will, Mama. Love ya. Bye!” And then you were out the door, trying to keep your composure as long as you could, until you were out of eyeshot of your Ma and Pa’s. Your ballet flat feet banged against the pavement as you went on running down the rest, a sharp turn at the corner showing Cal by his bike, waiting and ready for you. A fresh cigarette between his lips, just ‘bout to be lit, long forgotten once his eyes landed on you.

It only took one look at him. One frown on those deep set features of his for you to be barrelling at him, strong arms encircling you in a hug.

“Oh Cal!” You cried into his tattered shirt, the dame of tears breaking out of you uncontrollably. Too uncontrollably. But you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was Cal after all. The brother you never had. The brother you should have had. The family you now had because of Benny. Because of Johnny. And it wasn’t that you didn’t love your parents — you loved and appreciated them of course, but you never felt fully accepted by them. So being in Cal’s arms was far more comforting than being in the arms of your parents because you could be yourself with Cal, without judgment.

“M’so sorry, Honey. So sorry.” He mumbled into your sun kissed up-do, smelling of fresh vanilla and honey scented soap.

You were crying so hard. Too hard. You’d become a total mess of hiccups and hard breathes. Of course, Cal accessed you accordingly, pulling you from his chest to take a good look at ya. And boy did your rosey cheeks and red rimmed glossy coated eyes destroy him. They really did. He hated seein’ you like this. All the guys did. They loved you far too much.

Cal’s warm calloused fingers circled the apples of your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks that resided. “It’s gonna be ‘ight. ‘erything gonna be okay.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. “Gotta stay strong for ‘im so he can get betta. Can’t take ya like this. It’ll break ‘im, Honey.”

“I — I know. I know.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wet lashes bowing down. You took a breath. Then another. And another until you felt somewhat better. More calm that is.

“Ready t’go?” Cal asked carefully when he noticed your breaths evening out.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding your head.

Cal helped you onto his bike and you clung onto him as you rode. The weight of his jacket felt oddly comforting in your hold. Even though the circumstances of such colors were alarming in such a time, it didn’t leave you on edge by any means. Before you knew it, you were pulling up in the West End. Cal parked his bike, leading you to the front desk and of course the receptionist looked at the two of you kind-of funny.

“Family only.” She said to Cal, immediately putting two-and-two together who he was here for before turning to you, a big smile gracing her features. “How can I help ya, Miss?”

Your emotions were all over the place. Anger bubbling up inside you in an instant, ready to burst at the assumption of such a thing. Sure, it was a common mistake. To be misplaced next to one of the guys in your floral knitted cardigan and patterned jeans to match. But now — now, of all times. It was your last straw.

“That’s ‘is wife. Uh — Honey Cross.” Cal motioned to you, explaining who you were before your rage could ensue.

“Hm — I don’t see a Honey here,” the receptionist said, amusement crossing her features. Clearly pleased by shooting Cal’s advances in an instant. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” She pushed, and you were already ripping off your backpack before she could even finish the sentence.

Cal’s hands materialized around the straps without a second thought, helping you out of the thing but also holding it up for you while you fished for your bedazzled wallet. It was in the deep depths of the thing, mushed around with all your work sheets and lesson plans for the week. You were always equipped and extra prepared, making your supposed trip to the Davis’s for his little girl not amiss one bit. Your cutesy keychain clipped to the end flung about as you finally uncovered it, whipping out your ID with ease. This wasn’t your first rodeo in such a situation, learning from the last time Benny was tossed in a jail cell to get your ID updated with your new last name as soon as humanly possible.

The receptionist looked between you, Benny’s paperwork, and your ID for longer than necessary. “Hmmm, okay. Second floor room twelve, Mrs. Cross.” She finally gave in. “But you’ll have to stay here, Mister.” She told Cal.

He raised his hands up in the air like he was bound to be incarcerated, and the sight almost got a laugh out of you. Almost. “Fine. I’ll be out front when y’ready, Honey.” He informed you, and you nodded.

He helped you put your things back together, and when he caught wind of your name etched into your ID, his eyes widened. “Huh? So that’s y’real name then.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wedging the thing back into your wallet, snapping it close. And if you thought the receptionist was suspicious earlier, she was far more suspicious now.

His features scrunched up in an innocent way, that long earring of his shaking as he shook his head. “S’cute, but I can’t see ya as anything else but Honey. Be weird if I called y’anything else.”

“I get it,” the edge of your clip curled up in a faint smile then. Your first smile in what felt like ages. You couldn’t help it with Cal. It was hard not to smile around him. “Feels weird calling you Calvin, Caleb, or Calum or whatever. Which is it anyways?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought as you zipped your bag closed.

“Don’t matter now.” He patted your shoulders once your backpack was shelled around you. “Time to go see y’man, anyways.”

Turning on your heel, you nodded when you faced him, thanking him profusely and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as you gave him a tight hug. Once you let him go, you were off. Darting across the halls and climbing up the stairs, you weaved around the patients in their hospital beds being pushed by nurses and doctors in their lab coats until you made it to room twelve. For a moment, you stopped in your tracks, attempting a warm honey smile to grace your hubby with. To distract him from the evident pain he was having and the deep rooted distraught you felt inside.

But once you turned the corner, oh — you were a goner. There was Benny with a blue blooming zygoma, a swollen and bandaged eye, and his right foot propped up in a form fitted cast. Your heart shattered all over again without your control. Your hubby looked like a beat up puppy dog, and you couldn’t help but frown at the sight.

His blues — well his good one that is — caught your eye immediately. It was hard not to when you came waltzing in like that, all dolled up in a swarming buzz of color and sweet honey perfume. It wafted across the room and the smell touched his nose, warming him up for the first time since he’s been placed in this cold sterile room.

“Honey?” He blinked. Once. Twice. Wondering if your sweet face was an apparition. He told Cockroach not to tell you. Didn’t want you to see ‘im like this. Not until he was out and the brusin’ subsided at least, but he guessed Roach forgot to relay the message to Johnny and the rest of the guys when he told ‘em.

“Oh — my poor baby!” You cooed, racing across the room as soon as his gravelly voice hit your ears. You dotted on him in an instant. Fitting your form on the small empty space at the edge of the bed near his hip, you didn’t even bother pulling over the chair adjacent to his bed. And Benny didn’t mind no.

Even though he wasn’t too happy to see you here, he was happy to feel you here.

Your hand brushed through his hair and caressed the good side of his face, sweet and delicate. Benny couldn’t help but lean his cheek into your comforting touch. For the very first time you watched as a hot warm tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your hand.

“Please don’t let’em take my foot,” he begged, his large warm hands circling around both of yours and dropping them in his lap. “If — If they take my foot then I can’t ride again, and — and then how will I-I take y’to school?”

His sweep of emotions took you by surprise. You’d never seen him cry. Not when he was beaten and bruised in a bar fight. Not when a shard of glass wedged itself into his skin after punching through a car window. Not when you were applying alcohol to his cuts or when he was gettin’ stitches. No Benny never cried. And here he was now. Crying in front of you. In front of his wife. God, of course that just wrecked you.

Sure, maybe someone else would have made a stink. Would have told him that there were bigger things to worry about then his riding. But you wouldn’t do that — no. Besides you, ridin’ was Benny’s biggest passion. And both showed in the way he was most concerned about you. Concerned about taking care of you. How’d he do that if they took his foot and couldn’t take you to work every day. You couldn’t drive. Didn’t know how. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just never had the time to go get your driver’s license. Not between working at the local diner while you were studying and getting your degree. And now that you had it and Benny well — you had all that you really needed.

“I won’t let ‘em, baby. I promise. I promise.” You assured, pulling his strong hands up with yours and kissing each and every rough rimmed knuckle of his. “As for takin’ me to school. Don’t you worry about that. Took the bus before I met y’anyways. Doesn’t make a difference. I’ll do it until you’re better again, alright?”

But it did make a difference. It did to him. He adored those mornings and afternoons when he had you on the back of his bike, taking you to and from school. He especially loved it when you were still living with your Ma and Pa. It was the little things like that that not only got him through his day, but also made him feel like he was doing something good. Doing something good by you. Makin’ himself seem responsible enough to your parents for being on time and prompt, to marry you. And it worked after a while. He had you now as his wife. In the apartment you shared. In his home. In his bed. While that was all good and great, he couldn’t help but wonder if something like this would set them off.

He grimaced, the thoughts gnawing at him and makin’ him ask you, “do y’parents know?”

“No, no. They don’t. Think I’m at Johnny’s dropping off homework for his sick little girl. Think you’re at work. ‘Member I told ‘em you were working today so you didn’t have to come?” You reminded him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to throw a little white lie around here and there to your parents about Benny. Sure, he was on good terms with them now thanks to Johnny. Thanks to the fact that their little girl had him as her husband, and they didn’t have too much of a choice. But, that didn’t mean things were perfect. Benny wasn’t much of a fan at the way they treated you from time to time. Especially when they made comments about your decisions. About the way you dressed. He thought you were perfect as is, and it boiled his blood whenever he heard them goin’ on and on about it, especially at Sunday dinners. So sometimes he just didn’t come. Sometimes you didn’t go either. But of course you did today cause you felt bad you hadn’t been in awhile and felt like you needed to see ‘em. They were your parents after all. Now you were regretting not going with him instead. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had never gone to your parents in the first place.

“Hm, right,” he sighed, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “How was it anyways? Did they give ya a hard time?”

“No. Not today,” you replied. “Didn’t have time to. Didn’t even get t’sit down. I should’ve been with y’anyways.”

“No y’shouldn’t of.” He shook his head in disagreement, and then revealed, “m’no good for ya, baby.”

“What?!” You gasped, absolutely baffled by what he was sayin’. “What you goin’ on about?” He hadn’t just really said that? Had he? He did! “S’not true. Not true at all.” Your cute little bee earrings shook as you moved your head back and forth in earnest. “You’re too good t’me —“ He bowed his head down in a silent no. “Far too good,” you repeated, trying to search his eye so he could see you. Really see that you meant every word you were sayin’. “Y’loyal to Johnny and the guys. To me.” You reminded him, but his gaze was still downwards, trained on your conjoined hands in his lap. You brushed your thumb back and forth against his skin. “Lemme ask you somethin’..” you began, “What did y’do when those guys came up to ya, huh?”

“Told ‘em they’d have to kill me to get my jacket off,” he revealed, his response making your lips curl up soundly. That was your Benny right there, your loyal Benny.

“And why’s that?” You asked, pushing on. Trying to get him to the root of his decision.

“Cause…” he shrugged, taking a moment to think about it. “It represents my family….represents you. Hell, I got your patches on it!” His voice was slowly rising in defense, in bits of anger. “Got your name sewed over my heart bigger than a goddamn weddin’ ring will ever be and those fuckers laughed about it!”

A full, bright toothed smile had your dimples peaked like two pretty mountains, and when Benny’s eyes finally found your sweet honey speckled ones — well his anger dissipated. “Ah, c’mere.”

“I don’t wanna crush y—“ you began, worrying about hurting him, but he cut you off immediately.

“C’mere,” he cooed, scooting over just a tad so you could lay next to ‘em. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. Could never ever. Not when he wanted y’so bad. “Need my girl.”

“Alright, alright,” you hummed, rolling your eyes playfully as you curled yourself next to ‘em. A comfortable silence landed over the two of you, one that you were thankful for after everything. After all the fuss of the day. You just wished you could be just like this with him at home in your own bed. His strong arm wrapped around your back, hand cupping your shoulder and you tilted your head onto his own. His lips found your forehead quickly, feeling more pillowy than usual from the impact on his face and your eyes fluttered at the contact. “Oh that reminds me. Did ya eat?”

“Huh?” He hummed confused.

“Did they feed y’here yet?” You tried again.

“Nah,” he replied.

“Fuckin’ hell. Got y’propped up, but can’t feed ya…” you shook your head in disappointment, and your concern for him over something so miniscule within the swarm of everything warmed his heart tenfold.

You moved to get up, but he stopped you short with his hand that was once on your shoulder now materializing on your waist. “Where y’going?” He pouted.

“Nowhere, baby.” You assured him, fingers curling under the good side of his chin so you could leave a soft kiss on his lips which he relaxed in as soon as it came. “Just grabbin’ my bag from the floor. Got some grub — well…” you trailed off, a laugh escaping you as you unzipped your bag and took out the tin your mother gave you. “I know it ain’t dinner, but I say dessert won’t hurt. Doctor’s orders, y’know?” You opened the tin to reveal the fresh honey buns your Mama made then, and God did Benny wanna just eat you up instead. “Y’want?”

He nodded, so you didn’t hesitate in passing one over to him. Both of you enjoyed the sweet treat. So much so, that when a crumb or two fell on your chest, Benny dived right in to access it — and well who were you to protest when his soft lips met your warm skin? When his lips continued their assault around your fingers, cleaning off the sugary residue that remained. And you were happy. So happy and giddy because you were with your Benny. You knew no matter what happened. No matter what came next, the two of you would be alright. Cause that was what marriage was all about, signing up for the good, the bad, and the ugly, being there for each other in sickness and in health.

And in that short hour or so that remained in visiting hours, before the nurse flagged you down to kick you out, you laughed and giggled more than you had in days, and even when you scolded him, warning that a nurse may catch him licking down your chest or sucking your fingers, a smile graced your sweet features the entire time and Benny ate up every single second soundly.

“I fuckin’ love ya, y’know that Mrs. Cross?” He said to you at some point, in the midst of everything.

“I fuckin’ love ya too, Mr. Cross. Always and forever.”

And always and forever it was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

additional author’s note: AH I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. PWETTY PLZ DON’T BE MAD AT ME FOR JUMPING OUT OF ORDER. (with a cherry on top 🍒)

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@harryandhishairclip

@themorriganisamonster

@alexa4040

@returntopresley

@imladrisofabookdragon

@madisonmontgomeryxoxo

@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@slowsweetlove

@artlover8992

@austinswhitewolf

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (35)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, swearing and being a bitch ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she felt so fulfilled, so free, as in the fortress of which she was now lady. Harrenhal, though at first grim and grey, when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds seemed to her to be some ancient keep. By her and her husband's orders, their belongings from King's Landing and Dragonstone were brought to the stronghold in great carts.

She ordered new furniture made of wood for them − great ornate oak bookcases to fill with their books, desks and chests for their garments, and something that filled her with particular joy − a cradle for their child, something that reminded her and her husband every day that they were expecting their offspring.

To her delight, she found that although in the company of Baela, the guards and the servants, her husband was harsh, the moment they were left alone in his quarters his demeanour and voice softened.

He no longer closed his mind, exchanging his thoughts with her as he had when they were children, discussing with her current affairs.

She felt that at last there was no resentment between them − their frequent and intense intimacy was proof to her that they both wanted this marriage and what it brought with it, that being next to each other was in itself an aim for them.

Her husband began to see the pleasurable value of her achieving fulfilment − he took delight and satisfaction in her moans, in driving her to the brink of madness, in knowing every bit of her naked body perfectly.

His closeness, him deep inside her, his mouth licking and sucking her puffy bud, his fingers invading between her tight slit had become something natural to her, something craved, and each fulfilment in his arms calmed her.

Encouraged by his openness in these matters and the fact that his attentive approach was helping her to discover her own femininity, she decided not to remain indebted to him, wanting to know that she appreciated his efforts and was able to repay him.

The echoes of Alys' words about what men desire deep down had taken root in her heart as a significant piece of advice. She decided to slowly explore how her husband and his body would respond to her touch, to her caresses, to her involvement.

At first, she merely brushed and sucked the skin of his neck as he lay on top of her in the tight embrace of their bodies, moving lazily inside her with his face snuggled into her hair. She felt a shudder run through his body, his breath became heavier, his cock pulsed inside her greedily betraying what he was thinking.

"− ah −" He breathed out, sinking his fingers into her cheek, pressing her closer, encouraging her not to stop, her hands squeezing his firm buttocks making goosebumps appear on his skin.

She discovered, to her amazement, that his nipples were also very sensitive − the first time she licked them and clung to them, sucking on them with a hum, letting him pound into her with deep, sloppy thrusts, she heard him gasp, surprised and bewildered.

"− what − mghm − fuck −" He muttered, a helpless, low groan of pleasure escaping his throat as the tip of her tongue swirled around it. He became more vocal, panting hard, clenching his fingers in her hair, pressing her to his chest as his painfully swollen cock opened her little cunt with the impatient, sharp pushes of his hips.

His fulfillments were longer and stronger than ever before − he moaned and panted exactly as she did, ashamed in a way of his helplessness and what he was letting her do to him.

He pretended when it was all over that nothing had happened, and she didn't discuss it with him, letting him keep up the pretence that everything was as it had been before.

Their intimacy was simply pleasurable and natural to them, so they each pursued it relentlessly, treating it as a wordless expression of their affection, the eternal longing and closeness they needed.

Much to her husband's displeasure, Baela decided to stay in Harrenhal longer after what had happened.

"I sent a letter to Dragonstone. I described to father what had happened." She said, looking at her fingers thoughtfully − the two of them were sitting under one of the trees near the fortress, wanting to get some fresh air during the sunny day.

While her husband did not approve of her leaving their chamber in his absence, fearing for her and their child, he did agree that she should do so in the company of Baela, which she did.

She looked at her cousin, horrified.

"What? Gods, was that necessary?" She muttered, imagining in the back of her mind how horrified her mother would be at the word that someone had tried to poison her, and that she would surely insist that she return to Dragonstone. Baela sighed heavily.

"I promised my father that I would be there for you and I will keep him informed of what is happening here." She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

She looked at her with a smirk, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen with her palm.

"Are you his spy?"

The corner of Baela's mouth lifted in a smile.

"Yes. He told me to watch how your uncle treats you, and though I have no sympathy for him, only a fool would fail to see that his intentions towards you are sincere." She replied, her face sad and tired. She blinked, seeing that something had been bothering her for some time.

She figured she wasn't returning to Dragonstone for more than just her reason.

"Has something happened? You can tell me."

"Should I complain to you about your brother? That doesn't sound fair." She muttered, taking a small white stone from the ground, turning it between her fingers.

"He's my brother, but I know his nature. You can tell me what troubles you. I will not judge you." She assured her, wanting her to know that she had no bad intentions.

Baela pressed her lips together and nodded − her eyes reddened as she swallowed hard and looked away, shrugging her shoulders.

"I have a lover here. One of the guards."

She blinked, looking at her in disbelief, not knowing for a moment what to say.

"Oh."

"We promised each other we'd both stop doing this before I came here. But I can't. I don't love him. Not in that way. I mean −" She choked out and fell silent, swallowing hard, trying with all her might to stay calm and not cry.

"− I mean − we don't fit together − he's important to me, close to my heart, but − I've only now realised, looking at you, that it's impossible to change a man's nature −" She said and clenched her eyelids, bitter, hot tears of shame running down her face, which she covered with her hands, as if she was terrified by what had just come out of her mouth.

"− gods, what have I done −" She mumbled out, whooping with her crying − her hand quickly rose to her back, stroking it reassuringly.

She didn't know what to say, what to do, what she could advise her in such a situation.

She swallowed hard, feeling the discomfort and pain, understanding in a way what she meant, yet feeling pity in her heart for her brother, not knowing if he would be able to take any more rejection.

"− did − did Jace −"

"− he did the same thing − in Winterfell, with that Snow girl, that whore, that fucking bastard −" She hissed, wiping her cheeks hot with rage.

"− I lied at the time that I was also having an affair with a guard to hurt him − to make him feel what it's like when someone fucks someone else behind your back −"

She only blinked at her words, horrified at how it looked like, that neither of them were faithful to each other.

Baela looked at her quickly and shook her head, as if she only now realised what she had said.

"− forgive me − I didn't mean − I didn't mean to offend you −" She muttered quickly, looking at her with big eyes.

"− no, no − I just − you surprised me − I mean − I didn't suspect it was that bad −"

"− me too − until I flew here and was left alone with my doubts and thoughts −" She stated after a moment of thoughtfulness, wiping her nose with the top of her hand, trying to calm her breathing.

"− I realised − watching you throw yourself into his arms when we arrived here − he didn't even see me − your husband − it was your moment, your reconciliation − and I don't even miss him − I don't think about him, even though I should − I feel really free and lonely here at the same time − I just would like to love and be loved like you −"

Her cousin whispered, and she embraced her and hugged her forehead to her temple, stroking her back reassuringly − Baela broke into tears and cuddled her face into her neck, trying to hide from her thoughts and what she herself was feeling.

For some reason, her words had ripped her heart apart.

Her thoughtfulness and despondency did not escape her uncle's attention when they were left alone after their supper together. Finally only in her nightgown, she lay down on the bed and sighed − his gaze immediately followed her.

"What is it?"

She looked up at him, snapped out of her reverie.

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"About Baela."

He blinked and hummed under his breath, looking towards the fire, spreading himself comfortably in his chair.

"Why?"

She didn't know how much she should tell him, but she needed advice.

She had no idea what to do.

"She doesn't love my brother and I don't think he loves her. Not the way one loves a wife or a husband."

"Mmm."

"I don't know what to advise her."

"Don't advise her anything. Don't interfere in their affairs. Your intervention will only make things worse. Let them resolve it between themselves. In your condition, you should not focus on such matters and take on someone else's infidelity." He replied dryly, and she looked at him surprised, furrowing her brows.

"How do you know about infidelity?" She muttered, and he threw her a long, bored look.

"I caught them in the act. He fucked her instead of guarding your chamber in my absence. I wanted to shame him and reprimand him, but when I saw Baela, I gave up. The humiliation was punishment enough for both of them." He sneered, tapping his index finger against the armrest, sitting in profile to her.

She felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck at the thought that he had not shared this knowledge with her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her husband looked at her sternly.

"Because I don't play in spreading rumours in the court. Other people's promiscuity is not worth burdening my wife, who is expecting my child, with it. She is a grown woman. If her father or her mother couldn't raise her properly, you won't be able to either."

"Do not speak of her like this. She is suffering deeply."

"And she is finding comfort." He replied coldly. "I don't want to hear it."

"If your mother had forced you to marry Maris Baratheon instead of me. Would you have taken me into your bed?" She asked, looking at him expectantly.

He threw her a quick, surprised look, not expecting this question completely.

"− I −"

"− answer honestly −"

"− I don't know the answer to that question −"

"− your answer according to good manners should be: no −"

"− it's not the same thing −"

"− it's exactly the same, Aemond − I understand what you mean, but judgements have no power when we can't judge ourselves as harshly −"

"− I wouldn't be fucking proud of it or brag about it to my cousins −"

"− she didn't brag, she despaired − she regrets it but doesn't know what to do −"

Her husband clenched his jaw and bowed his head, burying his face in his hand.

"− I will not concern myself with her betrothal and I expect her to stay away from my marriage − I advise you to do the same −" He said dryly, rising from his seat, undoing the buckles of his emerald tunic with an impatient motion.

She swallowed hard, playing with her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her stomach clenched in discomfort.

She knew that part of her heart was agreeing with him, but she didn't want to admit it.

When he finally lay down beside her, putting his eye patch down on the table beside the bed, they were both silent for a long moment. She didn't push him away, however, when his hand went to her lower abdomen, a tender, calm, circular motion of his fingers stroking the place. She sighed quietly, placing her hand over his, feeling her anger slowly begin to leave her.

"− isn't that what you expect from me? − honesty? −" He asked in a hoarse voice. She looked up at him, meeting the calm, warm yet dark gaze of his healthy eye. She nodded and moved closer to him, their foreheads touching.

"− yes −" She whispered. As his hand slid to her waist she let him to embrace her, his arms snuggling her into his body, allowing her to take refuge at his side from the gloomy thoughts that flitted through her head.

However, the next day something happened that she had not anticipated.

Her brother arrived in Harrenhal at the behest of their mother.

The mood was tense, to put it mildly. The distance between Baela and Jace was palpable and, as they were not married, her uncle had assigned them separate quarters.

He was furious.

"I don't want him here. Let him take his betrothed and get the fuck back to Dragonstone." He hissed in her direction, walking around their chamber like an enraged lion, breathing heavily.

She stood watching him with her heart in her throat not knowing what to do.

"We can't just send him away, my mother might become suspicious. Let him stay a day or two and then…"

"− good gods −" He breathed out, burying his face in his hands at her words, as if trying not to explode. He finally sat down in the chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staying in that position for a moment.

She approached him slowly and knelt in front of him with a quiet rustling of her gown, grabbing his upper arm, exposing his face − she met the look of his eye, frustrated and tired.

"− I know − I know, my love − I'll try to resolve it somehow, but give me time to think −" She muttered, wanting him to understand that all this was not her desire, that also all she dreamt of was holy peace for them and their child.

Her uncle sighed heavily, looking away, clearly inconsolable by her words. She knew he wanted to add something else, but fell silent when he felt her hand on his knee, traveling up to his thigh. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, tense, his lips parted slightly.

He shuddered as her fingers slid between his legs, stroking gently and teasing what was beneath them. His manhood pulsed hard in his breeches under her touch, and then again and again, swelling and hardening from those gentle, innocent caresses.

She heard his breath become heavier, his hand slipped into her hair, stroking her head, betraying what he was thinking about what was about to happen.

How she wanted to compensate him.

Her nimble fingers untied the material of his breeches, spreading it to the side, revealing his half-hard, throbbing erection. She leaned down, stroking it in her palm, placing soft, butterfly kisses on the area where his veins were clearly outlined, barely brushing his bare skin.

She heard an exasperated sigh escape his lips, his hips involuntarily bucked towards her, pressing his twitching, long cock against her face, searching for the source of the rubbing.

She knew he was looking at her, and that he derived an unspeakable satisfaction from the sight before him.

She gasped at the thought, wanting to give him everything he could possibly want, and following Alys' instructions, she decided to take her time − the tip of her tongue traveled from the base of it to the very tip of his length, swelling more and more in her hand, she heard him tilt his head back, feeling and seeing it.

"− fuck −"

Her hand clamped down on the base of his root, giving him a few encouraging, soft squeezes, meant only to tease him, its tip turning all pink and hard, moist from his own wetness.

"− warm me up −" He muttered. "− it's a chilly evening −"

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at his words, sticky from her moisture, knowing what he wanted.

She directed the fat, glistening head of his cock against her lips, sliding it in a little, licking it encouragingly − his two hands clamped down on her hair, the soft, gentle thrust of his hips sliding it deep into her mouth, its tip bumping against the back wall of her throat.

"− so eager to taste my seed − ah − barely fits −" He exhaled, keeping his fingers clenched in her hair, thrusting between her lips as he saw fit, slowly and reverently, making her feel safe even though he was in complete control of what was happening.

Each time he slid deep into her throat again with a lewd click of her saliva, she teased his entire length with her moist tongue, licking it and sucking it inside, squeezing it so that a low, throaty moan came out of him again and again.

"− I could watch it all day − your pretty mouth full of my cock −" He gasped, and she hummed, squeezing the base of his erection that didn't fit in her mouth with her hand.

She moved her head up and down, feeling the tears of exertion begin to run down her cheeks each time the tip of his manhood hit the back of her throat, making her gag, breathing loudly through her nose to keep from suffocating.

"− fuck, you are too good at this −" He mumbled as if he were in pain, the chair he was sitting on began to creak loudly as his hips quickened their pace, his breath raspy and shallow. His manhood began to twitch and throb between her lips betraying that he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment as her hot tears rolled down her cheeks one by one.

"− don't stop − please, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop −" He panted, gripping her hair tightly in his hands, not letting her escape the deep, greedy thrusts of his hips, making her whimper with exertion.

Something in the sounds he was making, boyish and charming, in his helplessness, in how much he wanted to feel vulnerable at least for a moment, made her feel her sticky wetness running down her thigh, her swollen slit pulsing around nothing.

"− I know − I know, please, I know − uh,gods,fuckkk −" He gasped, a low groan mixed with a sigh of relief broke from his lips as his body went breathless all over and his warm spend spilled deep into her warm throat. She swallowed the first wave with difficulty and jumped up along with him as the door to his chamber opened suddenly, startling them.

She slid his manhood out of her mouth with a loud splat, covering her face to avoid screaming and choking at the same time, some of his seed staining his breeches.

Her figure kneeling before him was covered only by the ornate oak desk standing before her.

"Your Grace. Shall supper be prepared in this chamber with Prince Jacaerys and Lady Baela included?" The servant asked, and she swallowed loudly, trying not to make a sound, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"− I − yes −" Her uncle muttered in a shaky voice, trying to keep his voice cool and hide the fact that he had just came, and his wife was kneeling in front of his untied breeches.

When the servant left her husband closed his eye and breathed out loud, leaning his head against the backrest, pale. She pressed her lips together at the sight, wiping her cheeks wet with tears of exertion, trying not to laugh.

He looked at her after a moment with resentment, as if it was her fault and sighed through his nose, frustrated to see the look on her face.

"− you and your wise ideas −"

"− don't you wish your wife to reassure you in this way? −" She asked softly, placing her chin on his knee, smiling contentedly. Her uncle sighed heavily − clearly something about the sight he saw before him made him content, because his hand rose to her head and stroked her soft hair in a lazy manner.

"− make sure the door from my chamber is locked next time −"

Even though she knew he was still unhappy about her brother's arrival, her treatments, whatever he thought of them, calmed him and made him accept his presence temporarily.

Baela and Jace walked into the chamber in silence and took their seats at a distance from each other − Baela sat opposite her as usual, with her uncle to her left, but her brother did not take the seat next to her − he sat on the opposite top of the table, facing her husband.

She knew this was some kind of challenge to him, her uncle's lips pressed together in a thin line, in his gaze something she knew perfectly well.

Impatience.

The servants tasted all the food and drink in their presence before the table was set. Her husband let them go when everything was ready, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"How are you feeling, sister?" Jace asked, putting the roast on his plate and tearing a piece of bread, but not giving it to Baela, who held out her hand to him.

She threw a quick glance at her uncle, who was watching her with a look that told her he was thinking the same thing she was.

Something was about to happen.

She swallowed loudly at the piece of pate she had just had in her mouth and sipped it with the apple juice the maester had prepared for her, telling her that she should avoid wine until after the birth.

She grunted, correcting herself in her seat.

"I am well, brother." She replied softly.

"I hope your daughter is born healthy." He said lowly, taking a sip of wine from his goblet.

She felt a cold sweat on her back at his words, looking up at her husband in horror, seeing on his face exactly what she had feared − a wide, dangerous grin not reaching his eye, his gaze cold and frightening.

"− Jace −" Baela hissed.

Her brother shook his head, frowning his eyebrows, feigning surprise, taking a bite of the roast into his mouth.

"− what is it, my love? − wouldn't my uncle love his daughter? − or would he be afraid that he would do to her what he did to his own niece? −"

"− how dare you −" She asked in disbelief, wanting to tell her brother that he was an insolent fool and that he should leave at once, however, her husband forestalled her.

"− your betrothed told you that she fucked one of my guards? − is that why you are acting like a cunt? −" He chuckled in a way from which a cold shiver ran through her, her heart in her throat. She glanced at Baela, who froze, staring dully into her plate, breathing heavily.

A terrible, uncomfortable silence fell around them that seemed to last an eternity − she didn't even know when she clenched her hands into fists.

"− yes, she did − but how could you know this, uncle? − did she lie in bed with you too? −" He asked mockingly, she and Baela cast quick, terrified glances at each other.

"− that's enough −" She hissed.

"− no − my nephew deserves the truth −" He grinned, and Baela rose from her seat, knowing what he wanted to say.

"− SIT THE FUCK DOWN −" Her husband growled in her direction. They both threw him shocked glances, his gaze expressing, however, that he was completely serious and if she left, blood would be shed.

Baela sat back in her seat, all quivering.

"− I caught her in the act − she was so preoccupied with him, or, I beg your pardon, with what he was putting into her, that she didn't notice me at first − I just wished to reprimand my guard − he was supposed to keep my wife safe, not −"

"− I said enough, husband −" She said, looking at him warningly.

He knew that look and what it meant.

That one more word out of his mouth and he would spend the night in his chamber alone.

He turned his head and fell silent, looking involuntarily at her brother with a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

"− did you know? −" She heard Jace's voice pointed in her direction and she looked at him, surprised.

Her brother was looking at her all red, something in his gaze that surprised her.

"− did you know about this? −"

She felt an overpowering, deep, hot shame at the thought that she could not deny.

"− you're my sister − we promised each other we'd both end this − she deceived me − why do you forever let to make a fool of me? − why do you never stand up for me? −" He muttered in a voice filled with regret.

She was horrified by the realisation, which came upon her suddenly, that he was partly right.

If her husband had betrayed her with another woman, wouldn't she expect her brother to tell her?

That he would have shown her concern, warned her, protected her from the pain?

She lowered her gaze to her plate, feeling tears under her eyelids herself. Jace got up and walked out, followed by Baela, who only muttered a brief, tentative apology.

One by one, tears began to run down her cheeks as soon as the door closed behind them − she had to hide her face in her hands to keep from bursting into sobs.

She heard her husband sigh heavily, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the pleasant sizzle of a fire burning in the fireplace behind him. She heard him pick something up and move it towards her − when she lowered her hands she noticed it was a tray of lemon cakes.

That summer day when she came to comfort him, a lemon cake tucked into the pocket of her skirt.

"− eat −"

"− I don't want to −"

"− eat − these are your favourites − I ordered them to be prepared with you in mind −"

"− I don't want to eat lemon cakes now, Aemond − I −"

"− it's easier for him to blame you than himself − to accuse you in his mind instead of taking responsibility for his actions −"

She snorted, shaking her head, looking at him with regret.

"− didn't you also behave similarly to him until recently, uncle? −" She asked in a trembling voice. Her husband swallowed hard and closed his eye, remaining silent for a moment. When his eyelid opened, his gaze was already calmer.

"− I did −"

As he placed his hand on the table top, extending it towards her she felt a squeeze in her heart, because even though he had made so many mistakes and hurt her so much, for her he had truly made an effort.

There was no reason for her to pretend otherwise.

She lifted her hand uncertainly and placed it on his. Her husband hummed under his breath, stroking her skin with his thumb, pleased apparently that she had not rejected him, that after moments of anger they were able to calm and speak with each other.

Something in that thought touched her.

"I love you." She muttered, looking up at him from under her lashes on which her tears shone.

Her uncle looked at her with wide-open eye, as if snapped out of his reverie, shocked even though he had heard these words from her mouth before.

"I mean it. I really do. I'm not speaking of the cloying affection described in the books I read as a child. What I feel is painfully real."

She saw his nostrils twitch at her words, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows arched in a way as if he was trying to fight what he had just felt.

His lips parted, but nothing came out of them for a long time.

"− I didn't reply to your letters because I didn't want you to move on − because I didn't want you to forgive yourself − because I didn't want you to forget about me − because I couldn't move on − because I couldn't forgive myself − because I couldn't forget about you −"

He said, looking at their hands, stroking her soft, warm skin with his fingers, at the same time being somewhere far away, as if he had returned with his thoughts to that evenings when he had read her letters.

Her heart filled with heat and pain at his words, at his confession, which was proof to her that both of them had only been pretending all along, trying to preserve their dignity by not accepting their longing, grief and desires all these years.

Only when they were left in the darkness of his chamber could their true reconciliation have happened.

There was something beautiful to her in the fact that they only hugged each other that night. Her husband, lying behind her, embraced her waist, their fingers entwined together lying on her womb. She felt safe sensing closeness of his body, his warm breath enveloping her bare neck.

Though with others he remained the same cold, cruel, mocking man, with her he became who he had been eight years ago, being the husband and companion she had always seen in him.

Baela set off on her way back to Dragonstone the next morning, informing her that she and Jace had broken off their betrothal. She wished to inform her grandmother and father about it, knowing that they would not force her to do anything against her will.

They said goodbye as if they were friends, hugging each other tightly, however, apart from her, neither her husband nor her brother came out to bid her farewell.

To her husband's frustration, her brother remained in their fortress. He ate his suppers separately and hardly left his chamber, but his mere presence made her uncle lose patience.

Although she didn't want to do it, she had to act.

With a heavy heart and trepidation, she went to his quarters, however, to her surprise, she did not find him there. She left, looking around the corridor and stopped one of the servants.

"Where is my brother?" She asked, the young boy turned behind and pointed his finger at the other, less frequented part of the stronghold.

"In Alys Rivers’ chamber, Your Grace."

She looked at this young boy wondering if she had misheard herself.

What?

"By what right does anyone visit Alys Rivers without my knowledge?' She hissed, feeling a squeeze in her throat at the thought that, apart from her guards, no one was to cross the threshold of her quarters until she left Harrenhal.

Her cousin had delayed answering her letter, surely still feeling humiliated after the way he had learned that their betrothal was not in force.

However, she knew he would eventually succumb and intended to send Alys away to the Eyrie anyway.

The boy swallowed hard at her words, surprised.

"− I − the Prince said you personally gave your consent, Your Grace − how would I question his words? −" He muttered, and she clenched her eyelids and nodded.

"− go for him and bring him to his chamber − tell him that I will be waiting for him there −"

Indeed, not long after, her brother joined her in his rooms, closing the door behind him, looking at her uncertainly, his brow furrowed.

"− what's it? −"

She stood up from her chair, turning her face towards the window, trying to calm her breath, her hand on her womb.

"− Alys Rivers − I didn't allow you to see her −"

"− she's my aunt − I don't need your permission, sister −" He replied dryly.

She looked at him angrily, walking up to him, looking him straight in the eye.

His gaze seemed distant and empty to her, filled with bitterness, sadness and pride.

She knew that look because she had seen it sometimes in their uncle's eyes.

He was broken.

Something in that thought made her close her eyes, trying to regain her composure.

"− she's a dangerous woman − I value her, but she manipulates others easily −"

"− I know I am easily manipulated − I have found that out painfully on my own −" He said calmly. "− is that all? −"

"− is that why you are not returning to Dragonstone? − because of her? −" She asked, turning to follow him as he moved ahead of her and spread out comfortably on his bed, taking an apple in his hand from a silver bowl standing on the table, tossing it thoughtlessly.

"− maybe −"

"− why? −"

"− she tells me about our father − about Harrenhal − about her dreams −" He muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling, playing with the fruit between his fingers, thoughtful.

Something in his words, in the fact that, like her, he longed deep down to understand where he came from, made her heart fill with compassion and empathy towards him again.

She approached him slowly and sat beside him on the bed, bowing her head. For a moment they remained in complete silence.

"− forgive me − for not telling you − Baela despaired greatly and regretted what she had done, but it could no longer be taken back − I am not going to defend her − she did, however, tell me that you had not remained faithful to her either − that you had lain in bed with another woman in Winterfell −"

Jace pressed his lips into a thin line at her words, tossing the apple high into the air, catching it in his hand again with a loud smack.

"− did she also tell you that she had a lover herself at the time? −"

"− she told me that she lied to you at the time so that you wouldn't see how much you hurt her −" She whispered, her brother throwing her a quick, horrified look. She saw him swallow hard and close his eyes.

"− it doesn't matter anymore −"

Silence fell between them again.

"− I want to admit, however, that there was a grain of truth in your words − I want to support you, but I feel that whatever I don't do, you will reject me −" She muttered.

"− you are the one who has always rejected me −"

His words stabbed into her heart like a dagger.

"− forgive me −" She said.

Her brother let out a loud breath, his eyes red.

"− I want to take her to Dragonstone −"

"− who? −"

"− Alys Rivers − I want her to see something beyond Harrenhal −"

His words surprised her so much that the obvious question crossed her mind.

"− Jace − did you and her −"

"− if you desire the truth so much, let's call a spade a spade − I'm a bastard, just like her − I live in a great fortress, eating from silver trays, while she is locked up here like some prisoner − how is she different from us? − what did she do to deserve a fate so worse than mine or yours? −"

He asked with a fury that startled her, his words, so direct and bold, made her feel overwhelming shame.

How is she different from us?

What did she do to deserve a fate so worse than mine or yours?

She swallowed hard, not knowing what to answer, how to react to his words.

"− but what will our mother say? −"

"− I will gladly introduce our father's sister to her −"

"− Jace −"

"− I've decided − I, not you − I take responsibility for this −"

She lowered her gaze, feeling that her hands were trembling all over with terror, her brother, however, seemed confident in his decision.

"− I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm taking our aunt with me −"

______

Author's note: No, Jace did not sleep with Alys, lol. In case this is not clear from the chapter, I would like to add it so that you do not panic unnecessarily. The next chapter will be Alys' POV, so you'll find out everything there!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Could you write a possessive flavored yandere Erron black?

“Sweetheart…where are you hidin’? I know you’re here. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

A/N: yes sirrrrr. I’m sorry I realized I got a little bit distracted while writing and didn’t follow the request exactlyyyy…oopsies. I’ve never written Erron so I do hope he’s in character enough. Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy. Just request again if you want a specific scenario.

Warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, kidnapping, talks of murder, threats, obsession

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Being tracked down by a bounty hunter-cowboy was definitely not on this year's bingo card.

You had no clue you were putting yourself in the middle of something far greater than anything you could imagine. That a little celebratory trip down to the local pub would turn into you hiding for your life.

“Sweetheart…where are you hidin’? I know you’re here. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” A deep husky, southern voice taunted

You remained stiff, curled into a tight ball, silently praying for a way out of this nightmare.

How could you be so damn stupid. How did you not notice something off about the man? Why didn’t the alarm bells go off for you the second he walked in? And why were you just now putting the pieces together ?

~~~

From the way he had dressed to the way the atmosphere changed from the second he walked in…you were so oblivious.

Tipsy and blissful you had thought his outfit was the coolest thing since sliced bread. Unknowingly, you thought he was a part of one of the larp groups in the area. gleefully, you struck up a conversation with the fella.

“You know, you are one, if not the coolest motherfucker I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I wish I had a cowboy hat like that.”

Amused, the man had decided to take a seat next to you and indulge in the conversation.

“Well a mighty thank you, princess. You know you are one, if not the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Names’ Erron, what brings someone like you to a place like this?”

“Haha I’m y/n and thank you! I’m here to celebrate a bonus I finally got from my boss. I’ve been hounding her about it for months and I’m so happy to finally get it,. Times been rough, y’know?”

“Oh don’t I know it, baby doll.”

From there you guys chatted it up, flirted back and forth, and shared a few drinks. Not even realizing the staleness of the rest of the Pub.

Everyone, except for you, seemed to know exactly who Erron was. They recognized that man wasn’t just here to socialize, he was there to collect.

~~~

You had found the perfect hiding space, just under the performance stage, behind the small curtains.

Luckily, no one noticed you crawling over to it, seemingly not even the cowboy. Everyone was far too busy with their own business to care about you in the heat of the moment.

It kept you safe enough from all the commotion that went down, just moments earlier, protecting you from all the stray bullets that unfortunately caught a few others.

The cowboy had a hefty bounty to collect if he successfully killed the man he was after…which also happened to be a frequent patron of the pub.

The man that everyone turned their heads to look at when he arrived, the man that turned Erron Black from a fun-loving conversationalist to a bloodthirsty monster.

You could hear the heavy thudding of his thick metal boots, treading the wooden floor as he tried to find you.

“I’m so sorry about all that, doll. Erron had some business to take care of…I hope you understand.” He had tried to make his voice sweet to make you feel safe enough to come out. Like he hadn’t just murdered the entire bar.

The sound of chairs and tables being thrown, and cabinets being searched sent a sharp fear down your throat and into your stomach.

You couldn’t see it but you could hear just how erratic he was becoming searching for you.

“I know you’re a little frightened but don’t worry I’m not gunna hurt ya darlin’…I think we have something special going on. Wouldn’t ya’ agree?”

Erron wasn’t leaving that place without you. You’ve charmed the dangerous cowboy enough to win him over so like hell he would leave you here! He’s not done with you just yet. Besides you’ve seen too much, either way he’d still have to find you to kill you.

“You looked mighty fine tonight…why don’t ya say’, we go back to my place. Not like there’s any other men here to take you home…”

You could hear his boots pick up pace on the hard wood as he walked over to the bar before they stopped. Clinking of a glass could be heard before the pouring of a drink.

“Come on pretty please.” The irritation in his voice began to rise, his patience with you wavering

Erron usually isn’t this patient, and for a moment he’d thought about just setting the place ablaze and just letting you die like that. But Erron knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself for a while. Something about you just couldn’t escape his mind. He needed to see that precious little face again.

A deep sigh filled the air before it became completely silent. It lasted quite some time, far longer than just a beat. Nearly ten minutes had passed and curiosity started to get the better of you.

What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t of left. Not that silently at least. You hadn’t heard a single sound, not even the sound of him drinking…was he just sitting there?

You wanted to get a good look, maybe he was distracted enough to sneak past?

Carefully, you leaned forward enough to grab a little bit of the curtain that lined the front of the platform, gently pushing it aside…only enough to see him. He sat haphazardly on the bar stool, with one leg planted on the ground to keep his balance and the other placed on the leg rest. His head face downwards and his hat hung low, shadowing his face and in his hands he still held the glass he earlier had drank from.

As if he could feel the gentle wind of the curtain being moved, Erron suddenly shattered the glass he was holding, causing it to catch you off guard and send you falling forward onto the cold, hardwood floor.

The cowboy released a chilling chuckle, one just as violent and twisted as he was.

You had fell right into his trap, there wasn’t any time to escape or run and hide again before he was removing that curtain and pulling you out from under the stage

“Darlin’, my job is catching people. You really thought that I wouldn’t find you? Truthfully, I knew exactly where you were the whole time. I just wanted to see if you’d come out for me if I’d ask~.”

“P-please…let me go. I-I didn’t do anything to you please—“ you squirmed tremendously as you tried your best to free your limbs from his grasp.

He shook his head and tsk’ed

“I would’ve let you go if you’d been good for me…you made me wait so long for you. Love is patient, I however, am not.”

“I’m so sorry-I was sca—“

“Shh it’s okay. I’ll teach ya how to reaaal be obedient.”

“Are you going to kill me..please—I don’t wanna die. I’m sorry please—.“

He let out another chilling laugh, this time a bit more dry.

“Oh i'm not going to kill you…I like you enough not to.—“ taking out and unwind I the rope from his hip, he continued

“You’re comin’ with me, Y/N. You’re gunna my new lil’ pet.”

[amethystarachnid]

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part III

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: Your life with Logan was going just fine, but fine doesn't last long in celebrities' world: first rumors of a break up, then of him having an affair, Logan can't stand to see you so upset and decides to take matter into his own hands with a livestream.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of cheating

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies

ᯓ★ Request: I would love to read more of this. Can you imagine Logan's reaction if the tabloids spread crazy rumors of a breakup or an affair like they do to celebrities all of the time (especially if it's about him). He'd be so confused and probably annoyed if the reader teased him about it (@needz1nk)

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

In the weeks following the premiere and the much-talked-about bathroom incident, the media whirlwind surrounding you and Logan only intensified. What started as a curious whisper in celebrity news quickly exploded into a full-blown frenzy, with headlines splashing your relationship across screens and magazine covers everywhere. The story of an A-list actress and her bodyguard falling in love had the public hooked, and as the details trickled out, interest only grew. Some saw it as the ultimate fairytale romance; others found reasons to criticize. But the one thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that they couldn't look away.

To your surprise, the publicity sparked an unexpected wave of support from fans, old and new. Overnight, you gained a whole new group of followers who adored the idea of a love story that defied Hollywood norms. Your existing fans were thrilled to see a new side of you, one that was raw and authentic, and they rallied around you, excited to see you so visibly happy. They shared clips from interviews, fan edits of you and Logan on the red carpet, and screenshots from the infamous bathroom encounter. The comments flooded your social media: "Finally! She's found someone who treats her like a queen!" "They are SO cute together, I’m obsessed!" "This is real love. Logan’s the best thing to happen to her!" These fans painted your timeline with heart emojis, hashtags about true love, and affirmations that they’d “ship” you and Logan forever.

But it wasn’t just your fans who were excited; Logan found himself with an entirely new fan base of his own. Almost overnight, he was propelled from being a low-key presence in your life to a reluctant but undeniable celebrity in his own right. Fan pages popped up dedicated entirely to him, featuring candid photos of Logan at events, his brooding glances at premieres, and, most frequently, the rare, disarming smile that he would flash only at you. Girls who had likely never noticed Logan’s existence before were now obsessing over his rugged looks and quiet confidence. They analyzed his style, dissected his every movement, and swapped theories about his background. Despite his straightforward nature, Logan was an enigma to them, a new kind of celebrity who neither wanted the fame nor cared about the public adulation. The mystery only added to his appeal.

Social media was brimming with Logan-related content, much of it filled with admiration and even longing. Comments like, “If I can’t have a man like Logan, what’s the point?” and “Forget actors—I want a real man like him!” filled his unofficial fan pages. People shared photoshopped images of themselves with him, fan fiction imagining scenarios where they were in your place, and “Logan appreciation” threads discussing every aspect of his appeal. Some even went so far as to analyze the subtle possessiveness he had towards you, swooning over how protective he seemed. To many, he was the embodiment of an old-school romance hero, a modern knight who had swept in to protect and claim his woman in a world where that felt rare.

But as with anything that reached this level of fame, not all of the attention was positive. Alongside the supportive comments and fan accounts, there were plenty of harsh, critical voices determined to tear you down. Many people were quick to question what a successful actress like you was doing with someone like Logan, a bodyguard whose life had previously been so removed from the glitz of Hollywood. They called you names, some implying that your relationship was a publicity stunt, a bid for attention rather than a genuine connection. Others criticized Logan, saying he was just another “bodyguard boyfriend” trying to capitalize on your fame and insinuating that he was only with you for personal gain.

The hate was worst on social media, where anonymity often emboldened people to say things they wouldn’t dare voice in person. Comments like “What does she even see in him?” or “She’s just desperate for attention” littered your posts. Some were even more malicious, accusing you of “using Logan to stay relevant” or “replacing real talent with a guy she pays to protect her.” A few particularly harsh ones left a bitter taste in your mouth, claiming things like, “He’s way too good for her. She’ll chew him up and spit him out like every other guy.” Or, “This relationship won’t last—she’ll move on when something better comes along.”

As more and more of these comments appeared, you found yourself drawn to reading them, almost obsessively. Logan noticed, of course. He was perceptive enough to catch the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you looked at your phone, and he’d quietly reach over, pulling you close or brushing his hand along your back, grounding you in the simplicity of his presence. He didn't bother with comments himself, brushing them off like flies, reminding you time and again that the opinions of strangers meant nothing to him. But for you, it was harder to ignore. You were used to some degree of online criticism as an actress, but this—people questioning your worth as a person, as Logan’s partner—felt different. More personal.

Logan’s attitude was almost infuriating in its calm. "Why are you letting this get to you?" he’d ask in his straightforward way, his tone gruff yet gentle as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "We know what’s real here. We know us." And, for the most part, you tried to hold onto that—his certainty in the face of so much noise. But as the relationship continued to grow in the public eye, so did the backlash, and it felt relentless.

One evening, after a particularly long day filled with work obligations and negative comments online, you finally snapped. You were sitting on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the endless barrage of insults, unable to look away. “I just don’t get it, Logan,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “Why do people hate that we’re together? Why does it matter so much to them?”

Logan took a seat beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch as he looked at you with that steady gaze. “Because it’s easier for them to tear down what they don’t understand. They don’t know us—they only know what they see through a screen. And that’s their problem, not ours.”

He took the phone from your hand, setting it aside. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “We don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not them, not the press, no one.”

You looked into his eyes, and something inside you calmed. There, in his gaze, you saw a reminder of why this was worth it—why he was worth it. Logan’s love was fierce, unwavering, unbothered by the noise of the outside world. His grip on you was steady, grounding, reminding you that while the world might be relentless in its opinions, your relationship was a world in itself, untouched by the chaos outside.

In the following weeks, you began to focus more on the people who supported you, on those who cheered you on. Fan art, letters, and messages poured in from people who felt inspired by your relationship. There were stories from fans who saw your romance as proof that love could be found in unexpected places, that there were still people in the world who loved fully, openly, and without pretense. You shared little glimpses of your life with Logan—a cozy coffee date, a lazy Sunday spent reading together, the way he cooked you breakfast, often burning the toast but always insisting on making it himself.

The support grew, and eventually, it drowned out the negativity. You learned to scroll past the hateful comments, ignoring them in favor of the warm messages of encouragement and love. Fans sent you photos of their own relationships, shared stories of how they met their partners, and thanked you for showing a love story that felt real and grounded. You and Logan became symbols of something rare, a reminder that even in the glamorous world of Hollywood, love could be simple, honest, and unbreakable.

And though Logan still brushed off his fame with a gruff indifference, even he couldn’t ignore the sheer number of fans who now adored him. He’d laugh and shake his head at the fan edits, the swooning comments, and the declarations of love from girls around the world. It was amusing to him, in a way, but he never let it distract from what mattered most to him—you.

On one of the quieter nights, after the frenzy had calmed a bit and life had settled into a new rhythm, Logan pulled you into his arms, his gaze soft and tender. “They can say what they want,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your hand. “I don’t care about the fans, the reporters, the hate. I care about you. Just you.”

In that moment, you knew that nothing could shake the foundation you had built together. You’d face the public scrutiny, the fan obsessions, and the media circus as long as you had Logan by your side. His love was your safe haven, an anchor in the storm. No matter what the world threw your way, you’d face it together, knowing that what you had was stronger than any headline, truer than any rumor, and more resilient than the relentless opinions of the world outside. And with that knowledge, you finally felt at peace.

But peace never lasts long.

The morning sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You blinked awake, still heavy with sleep, finding yourself entangled with Logan, both of you cocooned in the soft sheets, the remnants of the previous night still lingering in the gentle aches and comfortable mess you lay in. Logan was tucked against you, his face nestled against your chest, arms wrapped securely around your waist. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where his usual stoic, protective demeanor softened completely, replaced with something vulnerable and at peace.

You reached up, gently running your fingers through his messy hair, savoring the way he leaned into your touch, almost nuzzling closer with a content sigh. He was still half-asleep, his breathing steady and deep, and you took a quiet moment to simply enjoy the closeness, the peaceful warmth of his body pressed to yours.

Trying not to disturb him, you carefully reached over to the nightstand for your phone, scrolling through notifications and messages that had piled up overnight. A headline immediately caught your eye, its bold letters practically screaming back at you: “Hollywood It-Couple Split? Inside Sources Say Y/N and Logan Call It Quits.” Your mouth twisted in frustration as you read the so-called “insider scoop,” filled with baseless claims and invented reasons for your supposed breakup. There were even theories about a “rising actor” who had “come between you,” speculating wildly about drama that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The words clawed at you, stirring irritation—but then you looked down at Logan, blissfully unaware, relaxed and vulnerable in a way only you ever saw. A mischievous idea sparked, and you carefully angled your phone to capture the scene, framing his face nestled against you, his arm looped around your waist, both of you tangled together beneath the sheets. You barely stifled a laugh, sure that Logan would have rolled his eyes if he were awake.

After double-checking the photo, you typed out a quick caption: Woke up to some…interesting headlines this morning. We’re fine, thanks. Adding a winking emoji, you hit Post and set your phone aside, the grin still playing on your lips.

The post took off almost instantly, notifications flooding in as fans and friends alike chimed in. Most comments were thrilled reactions, with fans sending heart emojis and playfully chiding the tabloids for trying to mess with “the ultimate couple.” Others were friends and fellow actors tagging Logan, with messages like “Better watch out—she’s got the receipts!”

As the notifications rolled in, Logan stirred, blinking awake and looking up at you, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, as he stretched and tightened his arm around you. His eyes shifted to your phone, catching a glimpse of the notifications lighting up the screen. “What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, barely holding back a laugh as you handed him the phone. “Just correcting a few tabloid rumors.”

He squinted at the screen, his expression shifting from confusion to a smirk as he took in the post. “So…we’ve broken up, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t realize that’s how I spent my night.”

You snorted, shaking your head as he looked back at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Guess they think I dumped you or something,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But, you know, I figured I’d let them know I’m still kind of attached.”

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. “Good. Maybe now they’ll back off.” He nestled closer, resting his head back against your chest, his hand finding yours beneath the sheets. His thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, and he took a long, contented breath, settling back down beside you. “But if they keep it up…maybe I’ll give them a real reason to talk.”

You laughed, the two of you lingering in the warmth of each other and the morning, the world and its noise fading completely into the background.

The decision to go public that day felt more like a playful challenge than a chore. After the tabloid drama and breakup rumors, you and Logan wanted to make a statement—and what better way than a casual, romantic date in broad daylight? The plan was to keep it simple: a quiet brunch in one of the city’s more charming cafés, followed by a relaxed walk through a nearby park. It was your kind of day, one that would be easygoing… at least in theory.

As you strolled into the café, Logan’s hand resting firmly on your waist, you couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill at the curious glances that people threw your way. Some recognized you immediately, eyes widening as they connected the dots, their gazes shifting from you to Logan. There was something invigorating about the excitement, the quiet murmur of onlookers exchanging theories and tidbits of information about you two. Logan, however, seemed undeterred. He wore that calm, collected expression, the slightest smirk on his lips as he leaned down to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

You laughed, giving him a quick nudge with your shoulder. “Just relax. If we don’t play into it, maybe the rumors will die down, and everyone can go back to wondering who the next big rom-com couple is.”

Logan chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t mask the possessiveness in his gaze as he looked at you. “Let them look,” he muttered, his voice low and more serious than before. “They’ll get the message.”

You ordered your coffee and pastries, taking a seat by the large window, where sunlight poured in and gave the whole scene a warm glow. Logan stretched an arm along the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle circles on your shoulder. You leaned into him, savoring the intimacy. His touch was protective, almost territorial, a statement to anyone paying attention. And given the covert snaps you noticed from a couple of phones nearby, people were most definitely paying attention.

As you sipped your coffee, you felt the heat of his gaze on you, and when you looked up, his eyes were smoldering, hinting at the simmering tension between you both. His thumb traced light patterns on your skin, a touch that seemed innocent to anyone watching, but you knew better. You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face.

“Behave,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, grinning.

“Trying to,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re making it difficult.”

Just then, a group of young fans approached your table, their excitement barely contained. “Y/N, we’re so sorry to interrupt, but could we maybe get a picture with you?” one of them asked, her voice shaking slightly as she held out her phone.

You smiled warmly and stood up, nodding. “Of course! No need to apologize. It’s great to meet you all!”

Logan remained seated, watching with a mix of pride and amusement as you interacted with them. You could feel his eyes following you, as if even this brief separation was pushing the limits of his patience. When a few other fans spotted you, they hurried over, and you ended up signing a few autographs, sharing laughs, and answering quick questions. But all the while, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Logan’s gaze—protective, possessive—burning into you.

When you finally returned to your seat, you found him leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He reached out, taking your hand in his, but instead of his usual steady grip, he laced his fingers through yours, holding you close, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His thumb traced along your knuckles, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and heat. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low.

You bit your lip, the warmth in his touch sparking a subtle thrill. “I was only gone for a minute.”

“Yeah, well, felt like longer,” he replied, his gaze slipping down to your lips. And with that, he shifted closer, so close that his arm practically enveloped you.

As you exchanged glances, you noticed movement outside the café window. A few paparazzi were hovering, cameras clicking as they angled to get the best view of you two. You suppressed a sigh, your fingers giving his a light squeeze.

Logan noticed them too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “They’re going to have a field day,” he said, voice low, almost amused.

“Well,” you replied, leaning back in your seat and resting your hand on his leg, “let’s give them a reason to talk.”

Without hesitation, Logan slipped his arm fully around you, his fingers gently tracing up your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He pulled you in a bit closer, his other hand finding its way to your knee, sending sparks through you. His touch felt like a secret promise, an unspoken agreement that this day would end much differently than it started.

For a while, you both stayed there, the casual intimacy you shared made even more tantalizing by the audience beyond the glass. The café staff seemed oblivious, while the other patrons either pretended not to notice or tried unsuccessfully to hide their intrigue. But Logan’s focus was solely on you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he shifted his hand slightly, trailing his thumb along your thigh, you felt your breath catch. His fingertips pressed into your leg with a subtle possessiveness, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, drawn by the warmth radiating between you.

After what felt like an eternity of heightened tension, you finally looked up at him, the simmering heat between you both almost unbearable. “Maybe we should head back?” you suggested, your voice a little breathless.

Logan’s smirk widened, and he nodded, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Good idea.”

You left the café, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you outside. The paparazzi didn’t miss a beat, following as you both made your way down the street. Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch protective and intimate. You felt the heat of his body against yours, the silent promise in every gentle graze of his fingers, and it made your pulse quicken.

Once you were out of the immediate view of the photographers, Logan’s pace quickened, his hand firmly grasping yours as he practically guided you through the bustling street back toward your penthouse. The urgency in his touch sent a thrill through you, and you matched his steps, the excitement building with every block closer you got.

By the time you reached the front door, he was practically pressing into you, his hands slipping to your waist as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss. You fumbled with your keys, finally managing to open the door, and Logan wasted no time as he swept you inside, shutting it firmly behind you. His hands found your waist, drawing you close as he kissed you again, his touch heated and demanding, all traces of the earlier restraint gone.

In the elevator up to your penthouse, the air between you was charged, every glance and touch laced with unspoken desire. When the doors finally opened, he pulled you through the hallway, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. You finally reached the bedroom, and Logan wasted no time, pressing you gently against the door as he captured your mouth in a kiss that was fierce and full of promise. His hands roamed your body, drawing out every shiver and gasp as he reminded you exactly why you were his and no one else’s.

Hours later, the two of you lay tangled in bed, your skin still warm and hearts racing. Logan’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you traced lazy patterns on his chest, both of you basking in the afterglow. His fingers trailed along your back, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that followed the rush of your passion.

You looked up at him, finding his gaze soft and content as he watched you, the earlier fire replaced by a gentle warmth. “That was some date,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best one yet.” He wrapped his arm tighter around you, his hand resting on the small of your back as he held you close. “You think they got the message?”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him, savoring the way he responded, his touch possessive yet tender. “I’d say so. But even if they didn’t, I think I did.”

Logan’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazed at you. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And you believed him when he told you that, maybe it was a mistake.

Logan's departure that morning had been straightforward enough, or so you thought. He’d given you a warm kiss, his hand lingering at the small of your back before he told you he had to step out for a meeting with his boss at the security company. He looked over at you with a reassuring smile, promising to be back soon, and you smiled back, content to spend a few hours on your own, catching up on your script and maybe even indulging in a bath while he was away. But as soon as the door closed behind him, you felt a pang of loneliness tug at you, surprising you with its strength.

Settling into your routine, you tried to distract yourself. The penthouse was quiet, bathed in soft, early-morning sunlight, and you could almost convince yourself to relax as you flipped through the pages of your script. But then, only half an hour after Logan left, your phone buzzed with the first notification, and then another, and another.

With a quick glance, you saw a string of messages, each one loaded with concern—or worse, nosy excitement.

“Did you see?!” “Is it true? I can’t believe it!” “Are you okay, Y/N?”

A frown creased your brow as you scrolled, your stomach sinking. It wasn’t like you to entertain rumors, especially when they came from gossipy texts and half-informed messages. But curiosity, and a rising dread, got the better of you. Taking a deep breath, you tapped on one of the links a friend had sent, dreading what you might find.

The headline blared across the screen: "Hollywood Bodyguard Logan Hunter Seen Entering Hotel of Y/N's Onscreen Rival—Secret Affair?"

You felt a pang in your chest, an ache that spread like ice through your veins. The article went on to detail how Logan was supposedly spotted entering a high-end hotel known for housing out-of-town celebrities. It even specified that just last night, the actress playing your onscreen rival had checked into that very hotel, sparking an avalanche of speculation. Photographers had apparently captured Logan, his head down, wearing his usual serious expression as he slipped through the hotel doors.

Scrolling down, you were greeted with low-quality images that only seemed to confirm what the article suggested. Your stomach twisted as you looked at each one, desperately searching for anything that might tell you it wasn’t him or that this was just some ridiculous, elaborate misunderstanding. But there was no denying the figure in the pictures, no denying his familiar stance and his unmistakable gait.

The words blurred on the screen as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to dismiss it as another fabricated rumor, but you couldn’t shake the sick feeling churning inside. Why hadn’t he mentioned meeting anyone else? And why had he gone to a hotel—especially one that you knew was currently hosting the actress you’d been cast against?

Your phone buzzed again, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts. It was a text from your best friend:

“Are you okay? I’m here if you need to talk.”

The floodgates opened, and you wiped at a tear slipping down your cheek. The logical part of you wanted to believe there was some other explanation, that this was all just some twisted coincidence, but doubt gnawed at you. How many times had you seen stories of relationships torn apart by the pressures of Hollywood, of people you thought you knew falling for someone else?

The hours ticked by slowly, each minute dragging as you paced the penthouse, your mind replaying the images of Logan entering the hotel over and over. You tried distracting yourself, tried focusing on the work in front of you, but everything felt meaningless, drowned by a painful insecurity that left you feeling hollow. Every time your phone buzzed with another notification, you felt a jolt of dread, bracing yourself for more damning evidence, more messages laced with pity or curiosity.

By the time the sky had darkened, you’d grown exhausted from waiting, from the endless battle in your mind. Just when you were beginning to think you couldn’t handle it any longer, you heard the click of the front door. Logan stepped in, looking tired but offering you that familiar smile. But one look at you, and his expression softened, worry instantly replacing the calm he’d walked in with.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he crossed the room toward you, brow furrowed with concern.

You swallowed, the hurt in your chest making it hard to meet his eyes. But you forced yourself to look up, forcing out the words. “Where were you today, Logan?”

He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “I told you—I had a meeting with my boss. It was… it took a bit longer than expected.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why did I see pictures of you going into that hotel? The one where…” Your voice trailed off as you struggled to get the words out. “Where she’s staying?”

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he reached out, but you took a step back, needing space to breathe. The last thing you wanted was to let him see how deeply his absence had hurt you, but you couldn’t help the hurt and confusion that flashed across your face.

Logan’s gaze softened, his shoulders slumping as he realized the depth of your pain. “Y/N… I can explain everything. But please believe me, I would never hurt you. Never.”

His words were soft, sincere, and they tugged at your heart, urging you to believe him. But the images, the articles, and the words of everyone who’d reached out to you that day weighed heavily on your mind.

“Then tell me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan took a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I was at that hotel, yes, but it had nothing to do with her.” He took a step closer, hands raised in a calming gesture. “My boss, he’s in town for a security conference. He booked a suite there for some meetings, and that’s where we met. I didn’t even know she was staying there, Y/N. And if I had, I would’ve told you.”

Your heart ached as you listened, torn between relief and residual doubt. “But why didn’t you tell me you’d be going somewhere like that?” you asked, the words spilling out, carrying with them the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to hide.

Logan’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I should have. You’re right. I didn’t think twice about it because it was just a meeting. But I never meant to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t mean to give you any reason to doubt us.” His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, his touch grounding you, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his palm.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re the only one, Y/N. I don’t care who else is around, or what anyone else thinks. It’s you. Always.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it was from relief. His sincerity, the warmth in his eyes, and the quiet conviction in his voice slowly chipped away at the walls you’d built up over the course of the day. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as the tension in your shoulders began to dissolve.

“I was scared,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… seeing those pictures…”

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the ache that had settled in your heart. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I never wanted to put you through that. I should’ve thought it through, should’ve told you exactly where I was.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through damp lashes, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to having you here, with me, that even a few hours apart feels… different.”

He smiled softly, his fingers brushing along your cheek as he gazed down at you. “And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His voice was steady, and you felt the weight of his words settle over you, anchoring you in a newfound sense of security.

As the evening continued, the doubt that had clouded your mind all day finally began to dissipate, replaced by the reassurance of his presence. You knew there would always be whispers, rumors, and challenges that came with dating someone in the public eye, but standing there in his arms, you realized that together, you could weather anything.

For the rest of the evening, Logan held you close, his touches soft and gentle as if to make up for the strain you’d endured. You knew that while today had shaken you, it had also strengthened your bond, reinforcing the trust that lay at the heart of your relationship.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped securely in his arms, you knew that no matter what headlines the world threw your way, you and Logan would face them together, grounded in a love that was real, unwavering, and stronger than any rumor.

As the gentle rise and fall of your breathing softened into an even rhythm, Logan watched you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked so peaceful curled up beside him, your face nestled in the crook of his arm, completely unaware of the world—and of the storm of rumors that had swirled around you all day. The day had been rougher than he’d anticipated; the flood of doubt and worry on your face when he’d walked back into the penthouse had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. And now, with you safely sleeping, he wanted to reassure you and everyone else that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As his eyes drifted toward your phone on the nightstand, an idea crossed his mind, one he hadn’t considered before. Logan wasn’t exactly tech-savvy—social media wasn’t his thing—but he had watched you do enough Instagram lives that he thought he could probably figure it out, even if he wasn’t sure why people watched them. Maybe if he said something himself, directly to the people spreading rumors, they’d get the message. He carefully leaned over, stretching for your phone without disturbing you. Punching in the familiar digits of your anniversary date, the screen unlocked, revealing your Instagram feed. The notifications were relentless: messages, comments, and tags, all seemingly tied to today’s hotel incident.

Taking a deep breath, he found the camera icon, hesitating as he checked the lighting. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp, which cast a warm glow over your face as you slept soundly against his chest. He shifted the camera angle to show you snuggled against him, and after a moment of deliberation, he pressed Go Live.

The screen suddenly transformed, displaying a timer and a small notification telling him people were beginning to join the live stream. His brow furrowed as he stared at the screen, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves he wasn’t used to. Hundreds of comments began to flow in, and he squinted at them, trying to make sense of the tiny, fast-moving text.

“Alright, uh…” he began, his voice low and gruff, though he kept his volume low to avoid waking you. He fumbled for a moment, adjusting the angle so more of his face was visible, along with a glimpse of your peaceful form. “So, yeah… I’m not sure exactly how this works, but I think I’m doing it right. People are watching, right?” He squinted at the screen, realizing there were now thousands of people in the chat.

OMG, is that Logan? Is Y/N asleep?! This is so cute! What’s going on? He’s using her phone?!

“Okay, yeah, I see you guys commenting.” He cleared his throat, glancing down at you to make sure you were still fast asleep. “So… I’m here because there’s been some… well, garbage circulating today about me, and I didn’t want you—any of you—to get the wrong idea.”

He ran a hand over his face, clearly uncomfortable but determined. “Look, I’m not the kind of guy who does this ‘social media’ thing. I leave that up to her because she’s got that… influencer magic touch or whatever.” He let out a small huff, almost laughing at himself. “But there’s one thing I won’t tolerate, and that’s people thinking I’d do anything to hurt her. That’s not happening. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever.”

The comments poured in, filled with everything from declarations of support to playful teasing:

Protective Logan is everything. Never thought I’d see this man on IG live. Logan is going OFF and I’m here for it. Who else is already recording this?

Logan sighed, glancing down at you with an unmistakable softness in his gaze. “She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I know you all see us together on red carpets or in the news or whatever, but what you don’t see is this.” He adjusted the phone so it framed you perfectly, curled up in his arms, the corners of your lips turned up in a peaceful smile. “This is her. My girl. She’s got the softest heart in the world, and today… today she was hurting because of something stupid. Something that never even happened.”

He paused, as if collecting his thoughts, then let out a breath. “People are saying I’m seeing someone else. They got pictures of me going into some hotel, and yeah, I was there, but it was for a meeting with my boss. That’s it.” He emphasized the words, his eyes narrowing as if daring anyone watching to argue. “She knows now; I explained it to her, and she trusts me. That’s what matters. But just in case any of you want to keep talking about it… remember this.”

The camera shifted slightly as he moved his hand, gently running his fingers through your hair as he looked down at you. “This is the only place I want to be. Right here, with her.”

The comments exploded.

THIS IS THE CONTENT WE DESERVE Is he really doing this while she’s sleeping? Protect them at all costs, pls. Logan, you absolute legend.

Logan squinted again at the comments, clearly struggling to keep up. “There’s… a lot of words on here,” he muttered, looking slightly flustered. “Not sure I get how you guys read all this so fast. Anyway, I just wanted to set the record straight. I’m not seeing anyone else, I’m not cheating on her, and honestly, if you keep saying it… well, I’m not gonna be happy about it. And you don’t want to see me unhappy.”

There was a beat of silence as he scratched his head, visibly uncomfortable but pushing through, clearly determined to make his point. “Look, I don’t care about fame, or fans, or what any of you say about me. I’m here for her. I want to protect her, to take care of her. If any of you really care about her too, then… then don’t buy into this nonsense. Don’t let them tear us apart with stupid rumors.”

Another wave of comments flooded in, and he leaned forward, trying to read a few.

Can we talk about how soft he looks rn? Why is this the cutest thing ever? Logan’s angry rants are kinda romantic?!

“Yeah, yeah, I see some of you making jokes,” he grumbled, though his lips twitched as he read the reactions. “Think I’m soft, huh? Well, maybe I am—maybe I am a little bit soft when it comes to her.” He looked down at you, his features softening again. “She deserves it. She deserves everything.”

He paused, scratching his head again, then sighed in defeat. “Alright, how do I turn this thing off? Seriously, does anyone know?” He squinted at the screen, tapping at random buttons and muttering to himself. “I swear, I’m gonna break this thing if it doesn’t—”

The comments came to his rescue:

Top right, Logan! Hit the ‘X’! Someone help this man before he deletes her whole profile.

“Right, thanks,” he grumbled, following the instructions. “And if any of you save this video or… or make this into some kind of meme, I’m gonna find out. Got it?”

With one final glance at you, Logan ended the livestream, letting out a long exhale as he set the phone down. He looked down at you, his heart swelling with relief and affection as he watched you sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the emotional monologue he’d just delivered to thousands of fans.

Unbeknownst to him, the livestream was already gaining traction, clips of his soft, protective words flooding the internet. By morning, #LoganProtectsY/N and #SoftLogan were trending, with fans dissecting every second of his heartfelt speech. They praised his loyalty, laughed at his awkward attempts at using Instagram, and swooned over the way he’d looked at you, sleeping in his arms.

But for Logan, all that mattered was knowing that he’d done everything he could to protect you. He’d cleared the air, shut down the rumors, and, hopefully, sent a message to anyone who dared question his commitment.

When you woke up hours later, snuggled in his arms, you had no idea of the viral sensation that had taken place while you slept. Logan greeted you with a quiet kiss, a content smile on his face as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t until you reached for your phone and saw the thousands of notifications, trending hashtags, and tags of Logan’s accidental “love confession” that you looked up at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Logan… what did you do?” you asked, a mix of amusement and surprise in your voice.

He simply shrugged, his expression calm as he held you close. “Just told them the truth.”

It didn’t take long for Logan’s unexpected livestream to become a global sensation. In the days following, clips of his heartfelt speech continued to circulate, with fans clamoring for more of his accidental charm. The two of you were trending for days, fans flooding the comments with supportive messages, heart emojis, and endless excitement over Logan’s protectiveness and gruff sweetness. You couldn’t resist laughing when you saw the #SoftLogan hashtag popping up alongside video edits and reaction memes. And as soon as you showed Logan, his eyes rolled, but his cheeks flushed, a telltale sign that he secretly loved it.

So, when the holiday season rolled around and you suggested going live together—on purpose this time—Logan didn’t put up much of a fight. A Christmas-themed livestream, with baking and festive lights? He pretended to be indifferent, but you could tell he was secretly looking forward to it. The idea of spending the holidays together was already a dream, and now, getting to share a cozy, lighthearted moment with fans made it even better.

And so, a few days before Christmas, the two of you set up in your kitchen. The decorations were up, twinkling lights wrapping around the windows and mistletoe hung strategically above you—an idea Logan had teased you about at first but eventually grew fond of himself. The flour, sugar, butter, and other baking ingredients were all lined up on the counter as you set up your phone on a tripod.

You hit the Go Live button and waited as viewers began flooding in, the comments coming in almost immediately.

OMG they’re back together in a live! Are we getting a SoftLogan Christmas special?! Y/N, girl, blink twice if you’re safe with Logan in the kitchen! Does Logan even know how to bake?!

You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ingredients with a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. “Alright, everyone,” you began with a grin, addressing the growing audience. “We’re going to attempt to bake Christmas cookies today. And by ‘attempt,’ I mean Logan has promised to help, even though he has very limited experience in the kitchen.”

“Limited?” Logan scoffed, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at you. “I’m not that bad.”

“You burn toast,” you shot back, laughing. “So, yes, we’re going to attempt baking Christmas cookies, and I can already tell this is going to be… interesting.”

The comments were rolling in faster than you could read them:

Logan is definitely the guy who thinks ‘preheating’ is optional. We love to see Y/N dragging him; the dynamic is everything! CAN WE PLEASE SEE LOGAN IN A SANTA APRON?!

You grinned at the last comment and nudged Logan. “The fans want to know if you’re willing to wear the Santa apron.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you noticed the small smile on his lips. “No way am I wearing an apron with Santa on it,” he protested, but he reached for it, putting it on with exaggerated reluctance. “Only because it’s Christmas,” he muttered, the red apron looking unexpectedly charming on him.

As you got started, Logan reached for the flour, spilling an unnecessary amount onto the counter in his attempt to pour it into the mixing bowl. You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you tried to rein in his enthusiasm.

“Logan! We only need a cup of flour, not the entire bag,” you teased, wiping some of the flour off the counter.

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Can’t make cookies without flour. I’m just… being thorough.”

You shook your head, adjusting the camera slightly to catch both of you as you attempted to salvage the flour situation. Your fans were in hysterics in the comments:

We love a man who’s thorough, Y/N! Does Logan think flour is the only ingredient?! Imagine calling this thoroughness ‘baking skills.’

“Next is sugar,” you continued, holding the measuring cup out. “And we need half a cup, half, Logan. Not ‘one heaping mountain,’ just half.”

He gave you a look of pure innocence, his hand hovering over the sugar as he tried to pour it carefully. But his definition of “half” was still far more than necessary, and you bit back laughter, shaking your head. “We’re making cookies, not cement, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, a soft laugh that brought a twinkle to his eye. “Look, this is harder than it looks, alright? You just tell me what to do, and I’ll follow.”

You shot him a skeptical look but continued with the instructions, going step-by-step as he did his best to keep up. Between his overly generous measurements and your frequent corrections, the kitchen was quickly filled with laughter and playful banter.

When it came time to roll out the dough, Logan took the rolling pin in his hands, looking at it like it was an alien object. “How hard can this be?” he muttered, pressing down on the dough with way too much force, causing it to stick to the counter and flatten beyond recognition.

“Logan!” you cried out, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. “You’re supposed to be gentle with it, like… like when you’re putting your arm around me or something.”

“Oh, like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He softened his touch, rolling the dough more delicately, though it was still sticking in awkward patches. You tried to help him, guiding his hands, and by the end, the two of you were a flour-covered, laughing mess.

“Okay, now we’re going to use these cookie cutters,” you said, holding up a few shapes: a snowman, a reindeer, and a Christmas tree. “Pick your favorite.”

“Easy.” Logan grabbed the reindeer cutter, pressing it into the dough and proudly holding it up. “Reindeer cookies it is.”

The two of you cut out the rest of the shapes, arranging them on the baking sheet and finally putting them in the oven. As the cookies baked, you read through more fan comments, laughing with Logan at the endless string of humorous observations and questions.

Please tell me Logan won’t be in charge of frosting. This man is dangerously close to ruining Christmas cookies. But seriously, they look so cute together. I’m calling it now: Logan doesn’t even know how to use an oven timer.

Logan furrowed his brows at the last comment. “Wait, we need a timer?”

“Logan!” You let out a laugh, immediately setting the timer yourself. “Yes, we need a timer. Otherwise, we’ll just have burnt reindeer shapes instead of cookies.”

When the timer finally went off, you took the cookies out, laughing together over the misshapen but somehow adorable treats. The two of you set about decorating, Logan’s hands steady but not quite precise as he attempted to pipe frosting on a reindeer. The result was… less than impressive, and you both burst out laughing at his attempt.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment as the fans commented enthusiastically.

Logan’s reindeer is questionable, but we stan his effort. I’d still eat it! Best rom-com scene ever.

Finally, with the cookies decorated, you turned back to the camera, holding up a plate of your (very creatively decorated) creations. “Well, here you have it, folks. Our version of Christmas cookies! We may not be experts, but we had fun, right, Logan?”

“More fun than I expected,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Thanks for making me do this.”

You smiled up at him, and for a moment, you forgot all about the livestream. That was, until the comments started rolling in faster than ever:

OMG did he just look at her like that?! THE SOFT LOOK, I CAN’T. Guys, please tell me you saw that too. He’s going to propose. He has to.

Logan read the comments, his face shifting to something both nervous and determined. He glanced at you, taking a deep breath as he reached into his pocket, fingers grazing over something small and shiny. You looked at him, curious, as he took your hands in his.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly a little rough. “These last few months… they’ve been everything to me. I didn’t think I’d ever be the guy doing Christmas cookie livestreams or… any of this social media stuff. But I’d do it every day for you.”

Your heart was pounding as he knelt down on one knee, pulling a ring box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a beautiful, sparkling ring.

The comments erupted into chaos, but you barely noticed, your focus entirely on him as he held your gaze.

“I don’t know if this is the way you imagined it, but…” he smiled, that soft smile that had become your favorite. “Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You threw your arms around him, laughing through the tears as you whispered a quiet, “Yes.”

The fans went wild, and Logan chuckled, holding you close as you realized that the whole world had just witnessed your engagement. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were in his arms, right where you belonged. And as he slipped the ring onto your finger, both of you covered in flour and frosting, you couldn’t have imagined a more perfect, hilariously romantic proposal.

The comments from fans cheering and congratulating the two of you were endless, but Logan just looked at you, a gentle pride in his eyes as he whispered, “Merry Christmas, love.”

it's November so it's basically Christmas I don't make the rules I'm sorry, maybe at December I could start a new game where you can request any type of fanfics set in Christmas? Or something like that? let me know in the comments If you have other ideas! <3

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[backwardsbread]

Hello !!

Don’t mine me dropping in a request but I HAVE BECOME OBSESSED with your writing (it’s such a good way off letting off steam and the way you write the characters make it so bealive you can’t convince me u don’t work for vivziepop) ANYWAYS.

I was wondering if you could write headcannons for husk x oblivious!reader? Like basically EVERYONE in the hotel know that husk has a crush on the reader (even thought he keeps denying it) but reader is just oblivious to this. And like angel and alastor always tease him about this right in readers face and she just doesn’t get it which makes husk more flustered ? I HAVE FALLEN INTO THE RABBIT HOLE OF HUSKS DEEP VOICE 💔

(Reader could be gn or AFAB, really anything you are comfortable writing with :3!!)

Hope this reaches you in a good time :33 !!!!

You guys- everytime I open my inbox and see such sweet messages and AMAZING requests— MY HEART CANT HANDLE IT.

That being said, this prompt is GOLD. I hope I did it justice!

Hazbin Hotel:

Husk x Oblivious!Reader

Warnings‼️: none really? Light swearing, Lots of fluff, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N.

~Not proofread~

To me, Husk is almost insecure about his feelings.

He likes to keep things real and genuine, done get me wrong, but he’s constantly listening to other people’s drama and thoughts.

He’s a good source of comfort for the hotel guests, including you. Someone who will listen to you without judgement.

I think how he starts falling for you has to do with this. You’d stay up late nights with Husk while he closes the bar, often times turning the tables on him.

Asking him how he’s doing, what he did throughout the day, even something as simple as asking fun facts about him

Your guys’ game of 20 questions became a norm every night. Slowly you creeped over the walls Husk had put around himself. Something Husk didn’t realize you had done until it was far too late.

The warm feeling he gets in his chest after your guys’ interactions wells up into butterflies in his gut. It doesn’t take long for him to get feelings for you when you were always nothing short of perfect in his eyes.

Since he’s one to usually keep his feelings to himself, he tries to hide this from you and the other attendees of the hotel.

But once he actually realizes he has a crush on you, oh buddy, is he OBVIOUS.

His calm and cool demeanor shifting into anxiety whenever anyone brings the topic of you up or even dares to ask if you two are an item.

It doesn’t help that Alastor can read him like a book after many years of owning Husk’s soul.

Even so, Husk can’t help the way his voice and demeanor soften whenever interacting with you.

I can definitely see Angel noticing this next and making a SCENE about it. He didn’t mean to embarrass his friend, but he can’t help poking fun.

(Also, Angel was mildly upset that Husk hadn’t just told him about his feelings towards you. Angel would be the best wingman.)

Angel does try to set the two of you up frequently, trying to nudge you guys to make things official.

Except one teensy weensy issue.

You completely misunderstood Husk’s advancements towards you as friendly banter.

Confusing your own interest towards him as simple excitement to hang out with him.

Angel and Alastor find this hilarious

Both of them are able to openly tease Husk around you while you have no clue what they’re insinuating.

They just watch Husk panic as they outright call him out on his crush. While you just stare at them confused as if they’re telling an inside joke.

It drives Husk bonkers how you don’t seem to catch on to his flirting or feelings for you.

He honestly doesn’t know what was worst, you not realizing his feelings, or the fact you responded to his advances so nonchalantly.

Can you imagine Husk gets the courage to hold your hand or something, and you’re just like

‘Oh this is a thing now! Alright anyways-.’

And just move on as if nothing happened/changed.

He even asks you out on dates occasionally, but instead of it turning out as alone time, you end up inviting other hotel members.

And he just can’t say no to you so he’s left with joining a group dinner, with apologetic looks from Angel and amused grins from Alastor.

When Husks asks for it to just be the two of you, you assume he’s in an argument with the other hotel attendees.

“Oh are you in an argument with Angel right now? What happened?”

“Is Alastor pissing you off? I can talk to Charlie about it! She’ll get it handled.”

It drives Husk NUTS. Every innocent move you make leaves him even more flustered.

The fact that you don’t even seem phased by it leaves him feeling frustrated and kind of rejected.

Which was never your intent! You just didn’t understand your feelings for the ex overlord and his towards you.

————————————————————————

You were in Angel’s hotel room. He was picking out an outfit for you, throwing you in all different kinds of combinations. Different dresses with different styles, cute skirts and tops, jumpsuits, you name it. You enjoyed the little game of dress up he was playing with you, but you weren’t sure the exact reasoning for suddenly using you as a model.

“Okay okay, this one is so cute.” You walk out of Angel’s bathroom, a huge grin on your face. Angel looks over towards you, wolf whistling as he looks you up and down.

You were dolled up in a burnt orange dress that was bedazzled in rhinestones. The shiny stones making diamond patterns along the dress. It had puffy sleeves made of tool that fell off your shoulders. The dress hugged your waist and the skirt flowed out, reaching just past your knee.

You look at yourself in the full length mirror, doing a little spin to see yourself in full view. Angel approached you, making sure the zipper on the back of the dress was all the way up and secure.

“You look hot, toots! The color really suits you.” Angel compliment while you ruffled your hair to give it more volume. You giggle at his compliment, continuing to admire yourself in the mirror.

There was a timid knock on Angel’s door, making the spider demon grin and turn on his heel. You kept admiring your outfit in the mirror while Angel answered the knock.

“Right on time!” Angel said as he opened the door. You look in the mirror to see who was at the door behind you. Husk was there, grumbling a bit at Angel’s enthusiasm.

Your smile brightened, turning to look over at Husk. Once he got full view of you in that dress, he froze, his face flushing dark hues of magenta. Husk was also dressed nicely, more put together than usual. His hat not on its usually place between his ears, his hair done up nice, a burnt orange bow tie complimenting a new grey suit he was wearing.

“Hey, look, we match!” You exclaim, grinning ear to ear. Angel sighed while Husk blinked out of his tiny daydream.

“I- uh.. looks like we do.” Husk muttered, his embarrassment getting the better of him. You both stayed quiet for a bit, the anticipation absolutely killing Angel. After what felt like ages of silence, Angel went over to you, nudging you towards Husk.

“Ahem, (Y/N), Husk here was actually wondering if you would accompany him tonight. There’s this new place that he’s been dying to try. It’s got some real fancy food!” Angel gave Husk a look as he tried to get the ball rolling. Husk only blushed and looked towards you to see how you reacted to his- well Angel’s- proposal.

“Ooo! Sounds great! I’d love to. Are you coming too?” You questioned. The ask made Husk die a little inside.

“No, nope. I’ve got some uh..things to attend to! So just the two of you. A date, you could call it.” Angel clarified, giving a not so subtle wink towards Husk, who returned it with a glare.

You feel your face heat up and for some reason your heart seems to skip a beat. Just you and Husk? There was nothing wrong with that. But the idea excited you nonetheless. Now that you thought about it, it was rare you and Husk got time alone outside the hotel. Sure he had suggested going out often. But not on.. a date as Angel had suggested.

You smile, moving to link your arm with Husk���s, “Yeah! That sounds great actually.”

Husk looks surprised at your reaction, he was halfway expecting you to suggest inviting anyone else to the outing. He can’t help the grin that forms on his face.

“Well then.. let’s get out of here.” Husk says, guiding you out of Angel’s room. As the two of you are walking down the hallways, Angel calls out to the both of you.

“Have fun, lovebirds! Husk, don’t ruin that dress, it was expensive!” Angel shouts, making Husk flip him off, grumbling a bit.

“Are we eating messy food? I can change-..” You start, but Husk cuts you off.

“No- No, sweetheart, Angel is just a prick. Don’t worry.. let’s just focus on tonight.”

“Just us..”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

[kekeke32]

TOUCHSTARVED trailer theme theory??

Hi guys, hi everyone. Hope we’re doing well!

SO the full version of the trailer theme is finally out on YouTube and holy shit??? It goes so HARD!!! Give it a listen here.

After rewatching it over and over again, I noticed something so I’ll map out which lyrics appear with which character for y’all to see:

Wish I could’ve added more ss but I’m on the mobile app 🥲 Anyways, I really don’t think the dev team added the characters photos randomly ‘cause check this out:

In Ais’s part, the lyrics are about a certain weakness (ik the lyrics “my weakness” refer to a person but I chose to ignore that jskdksk) and survival. This may be a reach BUT doesn’t this reminds you of Ais’s official character description? Specifically of this part: “Ais seems capable of curing you...but a sick sense of dread surrounds him. He's beginning to suspect that he may not be as in control of his powers as he thought. Can you save each other, or will he drag you down to the abyss with him?" This so-called “weakness” could be his very own powers and he’ll need the player to help him, to “survive”.

Now, about Vere’s part, I don’t have much to say tbh other than the fact that the lyrics “Cause everytime we touch” appear for the first time in his part and I guess you could say it’s related to his frequenting at the brothel? (iykwim 😏) Oh! And you could also see him being touched by a lot of different hands in the trailer. Besides that, his part ends with the lyrics “need you by my side” sung softly by the singer hmm…

Kuras’s part on the other hand, starts strongly (I suck balls at describing music so pls listen 4 urselves, you’ll know what I mean😭) and at 1:59 mins the lyrics are “Cause everytime we touch” then his face darkens a little and it stars an instrumental interlude. I don’t know what that really means but he’s sus

Mhin’s part is sung very softly as well and the lyrics “We’ve been through them all. You make me rise when I fall” are so sweet more so because I think in their route they’ll open up more to the player after going together through incomprehensible horrors and we’ll learn how to support each other <33

Finally, Leander’s part!! Now, LISTEN. His part is the reason why I even made this post in the first place lmao This mf is way too sus but first of all, the building synth progression at 2:58???? oh my god I got CHILLS. literal chills. *ahem* Moving on, his part, starts strongly the same as Kuras’s part did. Their parts are the only ones sung like that… Weird, huh? Anyway, after the lyrics “I can’t let you go. Want you in my life” at 3:49, the song gets SUPER intense and starts sounding very desperate ig?? (kudos to Dan! love his voice frfr) and Leander’s part ends with “Need you by my side”. Okayy y'all… Y'ALL. THIS IS CRAZY. In his part we have both the lyrics "I can't let you go. Want you in my life" AND "I want this to last. Need you by my side". AHHHH Leander you obsessed little bitch (affectionate)

In conclusion, there’s no fucking way the red spring team didn’t assign the certain parts of the lyrics very and I mean VERY purposefully to each LI. The parts suit them specifically well so I highly doubt it’s random but it could also just be me reading too much into this

Whatever!!! Good morning/Good night to this fandom only ^_^

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @sunramzi @deobi0412 @kflixnet

[loveandlegacy]

the mutation must survive

singed, viktor, power, and progress

ok i said!! some while ago that i think the line 'the mutation must survive' is deeper and/or more sinister than it seems at first and talking with a few friends finally motivated me to articulate the whole. red-string board thing in my head about the themes of progress and power in arcane and specifically what singed and his estranged mentee, viktor, represent at the intersection of both.

ime most off the cuff responses take ‘the mutation must survive’ to mean something like ‘one must survive at all costs’, or that singed, the line’s speaker, believes that nature is brutal, and survival by any means necessary is always justified. i’ve always been kind of dissatisfied with that reading because there’s already a character who expresses this belief in so many words (silco), and it seems unnecessary and redundant for singed to have a world philosophy that's basically a duplicate of one of the major characters.

so what is he doing? what does ‘the mutation must survive’ mean and why is singed the one who says it? despite having quite a lot of influence on the story, singed is far from a major character, why have him say anything that feels Thematic at all?

there’s a lot going on in arcane, and conversations about power and progress recur frequently. characters approach the question of both from different positions, but the story makes the point that each begets the other. they're inextricably intertwined.

jayce, enchanted by magic, consistently reiterates that piltover should step into its destiny as the city of progress and embrace the arcane. he gets his way eventually and inadvertently creates tools of power - the atlas gauntlets and the mercury hammer - and uses them violently against the already downtrodden zaunite workers in a shimmer factory. heimerdinger opines about piltover’s legacy of progress, oblivious to the literal human cost of his idealism, and fearful of “a world that cannibalized itself over power and pride.” silco proclaims power as the avenue to revolutionary and liberatory progress.

on the fringes of these interwoven ideologies, we have singed. the story never presents him as an agent who cares about power in the same way that any other character does. granted we like have to pause here to define what 'power' is in the world of arcane, and that has a multifaceted answer. for the individuals seeking some kind of social control or liberation or domination, arcane outlines systemic power as some combination of wealth access, the ability to enact wide-scale violence without fear of retribution, and a willingness to use the first two to further one's own interest.

i imagine most people in piltover would follow heimerdinger’s example and say they don't care about having this kind of power, or that they think pursuing it is dangerous or kind of gauche, but implicitly piltover's whole existence is all about systemic control - and how power permits dominion over zaun in particular. this implicit disposition all comes out very explicitly in like. marcus. and the other enforcers and their brutality.

and then in the undercity there are varying attitudes about what to do with systemic power. vander gives up on the pursuit of power and liberation after the day of ash in the hopes that the enforcers will meet him halfway for a peace he’s never really granted. caitlyn’s statement that the people of zaun live in fear of “violent crimelords” implies that the chem barons deal in very direct acts of violence-as-power for the sake of amassing greater wealth. silco is obsessed with "real power" belonging to people who will fight for it (ie ruthlessness, the willingness to use violence and/or wealth to further his ends).

in a standout contrast to this, singed doesn't really express any interest in this type of systemic power. even in cases of violence, his behavior is framed as an almost personal interest compared to other characters. marcus, the chem barons, silco, vi, sevika, and even ekko and jinx all have intimate relationships to violence, but their intimacies are somewhat utilitarian. brutality is one act among many that a person might undertake in the interest of self defense, intimidation, protection of a loved one, or political domination. in other words, violence is a social tool and not a curiosity in and of itself.

by contrast, the story rarely confronts singed with circumstances that would require violence. he never needs to defend himself except in the one instance where silco threatens him after jinx’s shimmer infusion. and singed doesn’t physically fight with silco, he only states the obvious: that he saved jinx’s life.

he also never uses brute force to intimidate anyone. he has no loved ones to speak of, much less protect, and he never demonstrates any interest in organized violence for the sake of politics on the scale of silco’s vision or vander’s naive idealism. if anything, the story presents him as a man who was doing what he wanted to do long before he met silco and as a man who might continue to do what he wants to do with or without someone in political need of his skills. and what he wants to do could loosely be defined as scientific research but veers pretty wildly into the realm of malpractice and torture.

maybe the easiest thing to scan about singed is that he’s a solitary man with a sadistic interest in interpersonal power, primarily held over his patients and test subjects. he demonstrates some glee in condemning a cat to die by way of a shimmer-sickened mouse and he cheerfully informs jinx that the agony of her shimmer infusion will “only get worse.” so we could maybe say that violence comes easily to him, but an interest in political, social, financial, or military control is absent.

instead, he chases after progress.

out of the show's ~6.5ish hr runtime, singed has less than 10 total minutes on screen, and he spends most of that time talking about life, death, or survival ("will he live?" / "long enough"; "she's dying….the mutation must survive"; "rio will live"; "i thought you understood. the mutation must survive"; ”[shimmer] should provide everything one needs to survive a violent transition"; "i know the look of a doomed man"; "are you prepared to lose her?"; "sometimes death is a mercy"; "i saved her life").

he never abjures death and he doesn't glorify life. death is a mercy. a person can live ‘long enough’, which isn’t the same thing as living especially well. all these lines of dialogue frame him as the man who stands at the boundary between life and death and who views both things as obvious consequences of nature, equilibrium-like in their relationship if left undisturbed.

progress, though, requires one to contravene nature’s apparent life-death equilibrium, as he tells viktor repeatedly.

in his first meeting with viktor, singed describes rio as a "rare mutation that [he] cultivated" - presumably from some other genetic lineage that occurred by way of stochastic process. this selective breeding is his first intervention on life and death, on what genes are expressed and passed down through generations. he then goes on to say that rio is dying. i'm attempting to prevent that - another intervention.

everything dies, and there's no reason to believe singed takes issue with that fact in a general sense. a later scene even reveals that he isn’t trying to save rio’s life out of sentimental attachment to her, and in one of his culminating interactions, he tells silco sometimes death is a mercy, all of which suggests that even if “the mutation must survive”, survival isn’t always the better outcome for the subject in question.

looking at these two statements - ‘the mutation must survive’ and ‘sometimes death is a mercy’ - side by side, singed’s attitude highlights that there’s value in diverting what might have been the most obvious or best outcome for an organism if there's a chance the consequences will prove interesting by his metric. all well and good, if not for one problem:

nature has made us intolerant to change.

on the global level of arcane as a text, this statement seems to be true, particularly of people with access to systemic power. the piltovan council is incredibly inflexible and suspicious of change regardless of whether that change is likely to benefit them (hextech) or endanger their interests (zaun's liberation). zaun's most powerful figures, the chem barons, are similarly resistant to change. they would prefer to dispense with silco's vision for liberation because it destabilizes their present-moment interests. the underground's former leader, vander, had completely given up on the possibility of change before he died. silco even accuses him of this directly, in an observation that draws a circle around singed's point that real change is quite hard for most individual people to embrace: you'll die for the cause…but you won't fight for one.

despite his revolutionary ideology, even silco has a brittle attitude towards change. his liberatory strategy involves reproducing a violent, class-stratified regime within zaun where the chem barons comprise the ruling class in question, presumably doing as little for zaunites as the council of piltover. his aspirations are noble! but even for him, change involves retracing the boundaries of a known quantity.

whether or not change is necessarily always a good thing in arcane is a conversation of its own, but it's clearly a desirable thing to singed. after stating that an intolerance to change is common among [us], he adds: but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature (emphasis mine).

given this context, i think it’s worth returning to the note that power and progress are deeply intertwined in arcane, with different characters pursuing both in different ways. singed seems like an oddity at first in that he’s disinterested in systemic power but interested in progress, as outlined above. but his disinterest makes sense. his vision of progress requires a power mechanism that seems almost orthogonal to intercultural struggle. given everything described up to this point, singed’s ethics (or his cosmology, or whatever you want to call it) can be summed up as:

living things are resistant to change

change is desirable because it produces interesting, unexpected outcomes

being able to influence or alter the expected outcome of biological events is therefore also desirable, given the first two points

in this way, power and progress are not separate for singed any more than they are for any other character. but for most of the figures in arcane, power and progress have some attachment to society. through singed, certain forms of power take shape in the slippery alchemy of biology and chemistry.

shimmer is power because it drives living things off whatever course their natal biology set for them (it should provide everything one needs to survive a violent transition). genetic engineering is power because creates novelty (the mutation itself). manipulating the circumstances such that the mutation can survive (lol) is power too. arguably, creating those circumstances is the most influential force pervading all life, and the one that is most emblematic of progress: evolutionary power.

it’s easy to confound this. ‘evolution’ is pretty frequently conceptually misapplied irl in kind of shitty popsci and pseudoscientific texts. so i want to pause here and say: don’t take ‘evolutionary power’ to mean ‘the pursuit of optimization’ or ‘in search of an apotheosis’ in this case. singed doesn’t articulate an interest in specific end states for a mutation’s survival. even for rio, his interest is dispassionate. she must survive for the circular reason that he wants to know if she can survive by infusing her with the precursor to shimmer. he never opines about a subject’s teleology - that’s silco’s deal.

in other words, on the occasions where singed discusses survival, survival alone is the only qualifying criteria of interest - ‌[he’ll live] long enough; the mutation must survive; i saved her life. the quality of life for the subject or the general function of the mutation in a state of survival never comes up. when he tells viktor that shimmer should provide everything one needs to survive a violent transition, he also cautions him about the cost of said survival, implying that the other side of this rapidly-approaching event horizon might actually be the opposite of optimal.

if you take this path, they will despise you…

all this paints singed not as a man invested in the eugenic concept of survival of the fittest, but as the eerie steward of change itself. evolution drags all things along in its inexorable tide, mutations are the delimited space between what was and what will be, violent transitions are the catalysts for change, and whatever survives the fallout is the interesting data from which new truths about that change can be divined.

if you want to know what a mutation looks like on the other side of the catastrophic break between ‘before’ and ‘after’ - well. you’ll have to manipulate the circumstances such that the mutation survives. and if you succeed, and if you gather new, glittering fragments of truth out of the wreckage - if you’ve learned something novel - that’s progress.

but what does all this have to do with viktor?

taking everything together, singed’s presence in season 1 foreshadows quite a bit about viktor’s arc in season 2. i’m going to turn away from what i guess is pure analysis at this point and into the realm of theory-crafting from here on out, so…enjoy.

if viktor goes the way of league lore (and i assume he mostly will), his fate quite literally includes the word ‘evolution’. but in contrast to singed, viktor’s glorious evolution is all about a certain apotheosis. he is likely to become his former mentor’s obverse, leveraging an engineered evolution towards a specific telos, rather than dwelling at the threshold of change itself.

as an audience member, i hope the story doesn’t set viktor on a redemption arc. even if the narrative continues to build out his choices as understandable reactions to his circumstances, it's better to sit in the mire of people digging their own graves. and i do think viktor’s history with singed might make redemption impossible.

at the end of season 1, viktor tries to steer himself off the path he’s chosen, realizing too late that it involves the literal blood sacrifice of the woman who loved him. but we all know he won’t stay the course. he’s touched the void, the hexcore is hungry, and even if he escapes the hexcore’s direct influence, he’s about to witness the crumbling of what little good will exists between piltover and his home.

depending on which version of the lore you prefer, viktor’s eventual rise to accidental cult leader happens for one of two reasons. he either takes up his quasi-transhumanism because he comes to view his faith in human goodness as a product of emotional naivety (the new lore) or because he specifically wanted to carve out the jealous parts of himself that left him feeling broken after stanwick’s repeat betrayals (the old lore). in arcane, i think the story will change again.

in a last-ditch effort to cure his own terminal illness, viktor returns to his creepy former mentor for help. he claims to ‘understand, now’ what singed told him all those years ago about mutations and survival. knowing what comes next (sky’s death), one has to wonder if he really does. after all, before giving viktor the shimmer variant that might save his life, singed pauses to warn him that love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress.

it’s a leading line that invites a lot of questions. what love, whose love? sky’s maybe. or jayce’s. or heimerdinger’s, whose love is very flawed, but is arguably still love that viktor could lose. those are all compelling particulars or parts of the puzzle of viktor’s life, but i think singed is pointing viktor towards something more totalizing.

throughout season 1, viktor’s story has deviated from his league lore somewhat. he hasn't really been preoccupied with human error; instead, he has both desired and rejected different kinds of affection. rather than grappling with jealousy or heartbreak over stolen work, he wants to help the undercity - but ultimately mourns the fact that his illness will steal his opportunity to build a legacy, not his chance to make the world a better place.

summoned back into the role of necromantic mentor, singed seems to intuit this new emotional framework when he reminds viktor that progress has no room for love or legacy. those are the two sacrificial lambs required for progress to take place.

but if viktor truly believes what singed says (and it seems like he does at least a little bit), i don't think he’ll be able to abandon the want for either on his own. even in the wake of killing sky or in the wake of what we assume will be a very painful falling out with jayce, the story still frames him as a person with the basic human desire for closeness. he's afraid to tell jayce what he's done to sky, after all. if progress, otherwise known as the glorious evolution, is to proceed, he'll have to cut out his own heart not for the failings of jealousy or illogical inefficiency, but because the need for love and recognition has made him selfish.

he won't succeed, obviously. not the least in part because no need or feeling is entirely black or white. love brought him to his friendship with jayce. legacy made him brave enough to defy heimerdinger and chase magic. but pain, loss, and self-loathing distort all things, and i think that, in viktor's view of himself, the fragile yearnings of the human heart will become grotesque, the source of all his own wrongdoing.

in this way, singed’s unifying thesis has loaded the spring-trigger guiding viktor’s trajectory. if viktor hopes to forge a better way for the people of zaun, if he hopes to build something new in the world, he'll have to eviscerate himself first. such is the bloody price of progress, and so goes his evolution's apotheosis. it's not the man who matters. the mutation must survive.

[currentfandomkick]

Re-Making Ghost King function

Ghost King is a lot of OP!Danny and skipping other avenues to explore how that could work, so i have IdeasTM to add weight to the role and make it Worse For Ghost King or add costs to acting outside of the role.

Adding possible story ideas to each example i give, and up for grabs just tag me if you do anything :D

Ghost king is a curse and death sentence.

It drains your core and keeps you from your obsession. It is the realm’s denizens deciding ‘fuck this guy in particular’. The draining of the king’s core causes them to go insane (known problem) and the energy goes to sustaining a number of youngers and newly forming ghosts in the Ghost Nurseries.

Yes, Danny’s main area of the Ghost Zone is included in Nursery where ghosts of similar species and backgrounds intermingle with parents of neverborns, form firghts and later move deeper into realms, unless their obsession includes the living. Then they tend to gravitate to portal rich areas, and areas that spawn in their preferred time and regions of living world.

This means Danny? Is possibly going to deal with going insane if he’s crowned, especially as Pariah is around still. Realms are convening on if Danny’s a bigger threat than Pariah after defeating him. Go nuts on court and legal arguments between various ghosts. JLD may be called in by [character] to find a way to save Danny from this BS, while Danny is staging another prison break and probably forming another army on his side that he does not lead and like him enough to keep around but do not agree with him in terms of leadership. So his new friends are kidnapping him for his own good, while a trial is held over if a halfa can be given the cursed role of ghost king, and if Danny should be cursed to future madness

Go nuts on political drama, jail break fun and Danny debating if this makes him a McGuffin, and why his life is Like This

Team ups everywhere

Ghost king is the loosely diplomat between the Infinite Realms. And other realms sometimes.

Pariah decided war was the best way to get everyone to shut up and unite and maybe not make all their issues his problem for five minutes.

Danny is now expected to handle this as physically beating opponents to establish credentials is vital

Danny is shit at remembering his powers. Or how to switch between them outside his main ones…

Cue danny finding mentors to help and runs into hero of your choice for help (yes this means Batman isn’t the best to handle this, if he’s around have him shuffle Danny to another team or frequent meetings with a lot of heroes)

Feel free to unleash him onto Hero Team of Choice and make him their problem as ‘oh its me or the guy who’s main response is world domination! My mirror likes traveling and a few of my friends are activists. I dont want Conqueror McGee in charge of this stuff. I’m just here as the muscle/backup, and engineer. And space stuff. I am not the negotiator, i am the negotiator’s bodyguard.’

Danny is here to play Guard the Diplomat and act like he is not, in fact, the diplomat Legally.

Heroes? Doing their best to train danny up, likely bonding with him and his crew (tagalongs of your choice. But please let Val be there too, and calling Danny out on ‘crap tactics’ in a teasing manner.)

Ghost King is Extremely Limited in living world regardless of previous powers

Ghost Kings only have their full powers in the realms of the dead, and said powers vary by monarch and region they are present in

Yes this helps explain Danny’s weekly new powers if we include Clocky as a previous king who saw Dan become king and thought early intervention on powers might prevent Dan. Did not work as intended.

In the living realm danny acts more as a medium and can answer questions about the dead, but cannot use his powers anywhere but Amity as Amity is a Veil City (city that exists in both the IR and Living Realm) but is anchored more on living side… outside of the city wandering about as it pleases

Danny is mostly human in human word besides having an encyclopedic knowledge about the dead, burial sites, which death realm one resides in or returned from, ect.,

In the infinite Realms he is eldritch though. As a treat.

Danny is not able to be summoned unless he’s in the infinite realms. Pariah is the backup summon though. And he’s bitchy about it.

High crack, comedy and angst potential

Summons can be anyone, and danny is Done with Cultists and makes a point to tell them to fuck off with the power crap. He will take questions about the dead, and only if he gets a burger shake.

As King Phantom he’s basically a Glorified Realms Secretary in his opinion. He makes Pariah the King when he wants to be bitchy to people, and vice versa.

No rule against Pariah and Danny in a weird joint custody of the title as ‘i beat you, i won’ vs ‘you only meet the credentials half the time. We work in shifts’

Ghost King with Serious Limitations the way most monarchs have.

King Phantom cannot help you with… finding your missing friend. Danny Fenton can.

Fenton gets no access to his powers when going against what Phantom is allowed to do. Including his healing factor!

Much whump and angst potential

So many scenarios to put this in, especially if you have another person pissed at danny for not doing more with his own powers and get reality checked with danny seriously injured for Not Following the Ghost King Restrictions

Fenton making tech to help where he cant is highly applicable

I say engineer Danny working with Hero Of Choice as Gadget Guy and finding out powers afterwards and former hero status could be fun too!

And there’s all i got ATM, if anyone has other ideas to make Ghost King less OP or have other angles, let me know so we can circulate other ways this can work.

Tag whoever may be interested or have other ideas to rework the ghost king concept

[spaceumbredoggos]

There has been a criminal absence of recent Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader headcanons, so I made some. Also, the tumblr folks eat this shit up. It’s hilarious. No one cares about my Kenz fic that I pour my heart and soul into, but when it comes to Yandere Bill, you thirst for the man. I am currently only taking headcanon requests (will elaborate later) because art takes forever to make.

All these HC’s also apply to Bill’s Relationship with my self insert OC. Just if they didn’t exist, like tumblr thinks they don’t. Please give So Much for Stardust the love it deserves. I’ll appreciate it.

Bill is very touchy feely to a criminal degree. (That’s as far as I’m gonna go because I don’t wanna have to put a content warning, and I don’t wanna come across as triggering. In my mind, it’s in line with Bill’s character to be that free candy van uncle.)

Does Bill possess Y/N? Does grass grow? Does a bear shit in the woods? That’s one of his favorite things to do. And he’s really good at covering his tracks. You bet your ass Y/N will wake up fucking wounded and sore from frequent possessions.

If Y/N dies, which would be pretty rare given Bill’s obsession, they’re gonna end up as a sinner in hell with their soul owned by Bill. Bill is higher than god himself on the hierarchy of my headcanoned Hellaverse if he did exist (which would be fucking hilarious, but given how much I hate Vivzie for various reasons, I doubt Hirsch would accept a collab since Vivzie has a heinous track record. My recent hyperfixation of the Hellaverse is clearly showing.) Bill would act almost like an overlord this way, and it’ll be sorta like a Val and Angel Dust relationship that’s written better. (I’m skirting around the most taboo parts of this to avoid triggering people including myself.)

Odds are, Y/N wouldn’t die. Bill has plans for them after all. So good luck avoiding his agenda of building a portal. Also, he’ll probably leave Alex Hirsch alone a lot, which may or may not lead to a drought in his Gravity Falls content. Bill’s likely to start a cult at this point to hunt Y/N down, specifically out of all those down bad fankids who’d let him do unspeakable things to them.

Bill will resort to all sorts of psychological torture. Maybe even projecting himself into your video games and other media that you delve into, with various alternate versions of himself (I’m glaring at you, Volo from Pokemon Legends Arceus.)

With every single fandom you hold dear tainted (and he’s gonna do a lot of unspeakable things to fandoms), you will be molded into serving him. If his interpretation from character AI taught me anything (which I no longer support) it’s that he needs total obedience from a slave and would stop at nothing to have that.

Good luck going off the grid to avoid him, because that’s when shit gets 100 times worse. With no contact with those you care about, he’d start driving you crazy. And if you managed the injuries he did to your body when he possessed it successfully, you won’t be able to manage any further injury that happens from your eventual insanity.

Bill has a blood kink times 11. He’ll do anything to make you bleed, but not bleed out. Blood and pain is what he feeds on.

He’s going to be speaking in Y/N’s head all the fucking time. He’ll be mixing his voice directly into Y/N’s own thoughts, taking over their entire fantasies, and quite possibly drive them to the point of dissociating in a psych ward for any sort of relief if they don’t build a portal for him to cross over.

This isn’t a scenario where Y/N is blind to all the red flags, and if it were, there’d still be nothing they could really do. Y/N is powerless, riddled with fear, and trying to flee and fight at any turn. Bill truly has them trapped from the moment he laid his possessive eye on them.

[that-house]

can you tell us more about dronestrike & the campaign theyre from?

just read thhe post about it & immediately became obsessed

(context: Dronestrike is my warrior cats OC, an american imperialist robot cat the size of a horse and equipped with enough firepower to wipe out the clans if it seems like they're at risk of falling to communism. in the oneshot he accidentally fired a nuke at the city of LA and blamed "every other country" in a phone call with Bidenstar to avoid getting in trouble)

it wasn't a campaign, just an 11-person oneshot in the single most chaotic discord voice call I have ever been in. so i haven't played him since then, nor will i ever play him again

i can provide you a variety of facts about him i came up with after the fact though because he's a funny enough character that i can't stop thinking about him:

his brain is composed of three parts with an equal amount of control over his actions: the soul of a vietnam veteran, an AI replica of a cat, and every single super bowl halftime commercial

he comes armed with combat knives for claws, a machine gun in his mouth, a high caliber sniper rifle built into his spine, a pistol that he somehow uses with cat paws, and a douglas air-2 genie air-to-air unguided nuclear missile

transition could not save him because all trans people are godless communists who bully him on twitter

Dronestrike acknowledges every independence movement if only so that America has more countries to eventually colonize

he has read Marx so he can misuse quotes and flex on any marxists who haven't read theory

his greatest wish is for america to have won 'nam

doesn’t really have any physical possessions because he’s a cat who doesn’t have pockets or a permanent residence. he does however have $8.6 million in Shell oil stock

Dronestrike if he played League of Legends: only plays champs who have america-themed skins, but doesn’t actually own the skins because that would be giving money to a chinese company. plays all of them jungle to poor results. iron 4 two thousand games this season

has no mouth but wishes he did so he could taste the burgers that honest Americans have died to defend

Dronestrike's dream world is world war 3, with the stipulation that there is an american flag superimposed over EVERYONE'S vision instead of just his

if he had 24 hours to live he would start a “second american revolution” by attacking England

he isn't a good kisser: no lips, he's a cat, and also george washington famously said that romantic connections weaken your spiritual link with The State

response to being trapped in a maze of mirrors: breaks through the mirrors without noticing, but also can’t recognize his reflection. Thinks he has to fight these teleporting commie clones of himself to save the United States of America

he's on Santa's naughty list

on Halloween he dresses up as George Washington and “trick or disappears” journalists

Dronestrike hates the reds, the brits, women, and most importantly, himself

prefers fundamentals over schmovement

favorite board game is Monopoly because watching people go bankrupt or be imprisoned is one of his hobbies

his happiest memory is his first glimpse of an amazon packaging facility and the horrible conditions of the workers

favorite season is summer: 4th of July babey!!! the holiday where you're allowed to blow shit upppp!!! he also frequently sets off fireworks in the off season to scare dogs and people with anxiety

doesn’t date but he sends tech billionaires unethically farmed flowers sometimes

doesn’t play video games but he has a simulated CoD lobby’s chat going at all times in his head. they call him slurs whenever he misses a shot

relates strongly to Patrick Bateman

he was in ShadowClan. they picked which clan he would be deployed into by having him take the official "which clan are you" quiz

sometimes he doubts that he has the heart of a true warrior

[anemoiashifts]

how tiktok failed the shifting community

& how shiftok keeps you stuck idk what to call this. 🫶🏻

to make this clear, i do not hate tiktok. i dont hate people on tiktok who want to shift. i dont have a problem with people on tiktok talking about shifting.

this post is not about anyone specific. ive sold a shifting journal on amazon. which may seem hypocritical though ive never made a promise that it will make you shift & its not supposed to.

!! this post isn’t an excuse to push all the communities problems on shiftok. much like the animal crossing community pre-new horizons, as communities grow bigger, its expected to bring some toxicity with it. problems exist in all corners of the internet & in certain groups.

however, there is a specific issue within the shifting community that involves tiktok & that is the integration of money & profit being made off of people’s desperation.

shifting was / can be presented as this alternative “safe place” & escape for people with serious mental illness that consist of not wanting to be living this life anymore. & that’s fine on its own. everything we do is a form of escapism like readings or watching tv. as long as it’s healthy, it’s harmless. ive touched on permashifting & sv!c!d4l ideation before but id like to piggyback off of that point.

to clarify for everyone new: i am not against perma-shifting. i am against some of the langue that is used around it. you don’t need to k!ll yourself to shift. this is what im speaking about.

when you have an audience that is deteriorating & only going through the motions of life, when your only desire is to get out of the situation you are in, is it extremely easy to profit off of vulnerable people. this fact paired with tiktok — where you get paid & your income is dependent on engagement — it becomes overwhelmingly clear why pushing out content that keeps their audience within arms reach of actually shifting. it’s more profitable if you have an audience of people who can’t shift & want to as opposed to an audience of people who can shift & don’t need validation from exterior sources. it becomes easy to ignore people’s struggles if that’s what you’re making money off of. there is a lack of a healthy viewpoint & balance within some parts of the community.

calling back to 2020 when shiftok was in its infancy, there was a lot of “pov” & storytime style content. there is nothing wrong with wanting to share your experiences but making “entertainment” is arguably much, much easier & profitable. keeping that in mind, why i believe the practice of shifting is so seemingly popular amongst a younger demographic is because it brings fandom spaces together. it’s one thing to watch a show & obsess over fictional characters & read fan fiction but to live alongside your favorite character & be equal with those you idolize, it can sound very appealing. keeping shifting as entertainment style content, it makes it no different then fanfiction & oc’s. again !! i have no problem with people speaking about their experiences / wants for when they shift but the issue is when people only focus on that & it becomes a numbers game.

i hold no issue with people selling their labor in any community but when you sell something with the promise to “make you shift” is when it becomes problematic. when you sell false promises & empty hope, you are also banking that your audience is desperate enough to cling to anything that reminds them of what they want. it speaks to how the creator views their audience to an extent & id argue is aware of the dozens of (mostly) children expressing their negative worldview that displays an unhealthy mentality.

this is why i don’t do general readings as frequently & personal readings at all anymore. quite honestly, it’s easy engagement. while not my intention, people often change their perspective & “make” things fit their situation. i hate hate hate to say this but in desperation, you can make a sign out of anything. this is not me trying to take away the feeling of internal knowing. to give this thought weight, i remember a while ago i posted a reading that was & has been channeled from a person in my desired reality. the comments were flooded by “i know who this is from” & “this is from this person in my dr”. i clarified in the video — the very first slide — that this was from a specific person & everyone completely ignored that fact to fit their beliefs. if you find meaning in something that’s great but when something is explicitly stated as one thing don’t manipulate it to fit yourself if it’s not truly meant for you. not every reading is supposed to resonate. by forcing it to it removes the intimate aspects of what is truly just for you. if everything has meaning, nothing has meaning.

circling back to my idea before, readings & “this message was meant for you content” does open the floodgates to tell their audience what they want to hear for the sake of growth, profit, engagement. yes, there are some readings that don’t pander to a specific group of views but those “stop scrolling this was meant for you, he’s thinking about you, if you see this letter or number it’s a sign & you should be expecting a phone call or someone to reach out to you soon” readings that come up on your fyp are eight times out of ten for engagement purposes & to tell you what you want to hear by using generic langue to make profit. no, not all readings are set up this way and not everyone thinks like this. there are plenty of people who don’t do it for money or attention. even if people did it for money, some people hold issue with that while others don’t. the like it or not, just make sure you’re doing it in a way that’s not making peoples mental situation worse & giving others false hope.

while not reading based, this sounds familiar when we acknowledge “shifting symptoms”. early on, people seemed to take them as being close to shifting & literally feeling the process of you becoming apart of your desired reality. now we know, all those tingles & twitched are only your body checking to see if you’re asleep. the name becomes very mis-leading when you take into that content.

the tldr of this post was when you intertwine spirituality & profit in spaces where people are desperate for something that feels larger then them, people’s actions can put bad tastes in people’s mouths. looking at tiktok, views = money. when numbers are given to people who have shifted & deemed influencers (because that’s how tiktok was pretty much designed) it becomes easy to see why some idolize to be like these people’s — “they shifted & i didn’t, they seem to have everything figured out, they must be better at it then i am, they must be special & not like the rest of us.” it creates a cycle of self doubt, unfortunately, while keeping you in the same “i can’t shift” mindset while these same people are selling a piece of them that you seemingly “lack”.