#i know they’re like cameo mentions but they matter to me…

[neteyammeowmeow]

helllooo jay its me i am like a little bug and i am asking u ... for ... bloyd hcs.. bc u get me so hard.... only if its not too much troubl...

HAIII OOMF, I GOT YOU💯 Most of these are set in the Monastery btw :3

This is after the Merge and after they reunite, errm, Benthomaar’s really clingy in the morning, when Lloyd wakes up he finds out he’s being hugged like he’s going to get squeezed to death, and Bentho’s excuse is that it’s really cold up when it’s still sunrise and Lloyd’s really warm (he’s just attached). Bentho also likes to give Lloyd forehead kisses with it, like he’d just savor every second they get to spend with each other because they’re usually busy after.

Based on Lloyd’s leaked outfit for S2, Benthomaar helps Lloyd wear his clothes before he starts the day, it’s not that Lloyd’s outfit has so much accessories or anything but literally just for quality time (they’re the married couple that never gets married). Benthomaar would stand behind Lloyd and help him drape the outer over his shoulders, and fix the sash around his waist, but right after he hugs him with his arms wrapped around him and Lloyd tries to escape his clutches by saying that the kids are waiting for him (his face is actually really flustered but he doesn’t try to break from Bentho’s arms either way).

Lloyd’s the one that cooks in the relationship, he learned his skills from Zane (and surprisingly Cole (HE’S LITERALLY INDONESIAN!)) and from the massive stack of recipe books scattered in the kitchen. Benthomaar loves to accompany him whenever he can, though he’s not that interested and is picky about surface dweller food, he’s curious on how to make them using so many varying essentials. When Lloyd’s by the counter chopping a dish, Benthomaar would hug his waist from the back (he loves doing that because his head can rest on Lloyd’s head) and either Bentho asks what Lloyd’s doing, or they just stay in silence. Either way, if it’s raw fish that Lloyd’s cutting, he’d just grab a chunk and feeds it to Bentho. They sometimes share small talk about anything in the kitchen, like it’s just one of their favorite places to be.

Lloyd sometimes likes to fidget by touching Benthomaar’s fingers because his skin texture is different than humans, he usually does it while they’re talking or just out of the blue, if he’s really nervous or anxious about something he’d grab Bentho’s hand really hard, Bentho’s concerned for him and also his own hand because it feels like it could snap.

Benthomaar is royalty, and it’s definitely more usual for them to have servants that aid them around, such as preparing food, or cleaning their rooms, and so much more. However, there are no servants to help aid in the Monastery, Benthomaar is entirely on his own when it comes to such things. Lloyd was one of the Ninja that helped teach him how to do mundane, day to day tasks and chores, it’s not much — but it mattered enough for Benthomaar, he wasn’t treated like a King when he’s around Lloyd, Lloyd treats him as Benthomaar, like a friend, a lover, and a partner.

The servants had always kept the palace spotless and the shine of the marble floor was like how the light glittered upon the sea’s surface, Benthomaar never had to bother to clean them, because it was not his task there, but in the Monastery, he has to take care of it, his role played just the same as the Ninja. So there he was, in the hallways of his surface home, with Lloyd’s hand on his, trying to teach him how to sweep properly with a broom, and how to make sure he doesn’t scatter the dust and dirt he had gathered with it.

Food was always prepared by the hunters, and prepared in the dining room neatly and tidy. Benthomaar’s only duty was to finish the food of his plate and leave politely, following the etiquette his father had taught him. But in the Monastery, he finds himself helping Lloyd read the instructions from the recipe book, learning of the unique edible flora of the surface world, and the variety of their dishes and spices.

And after, he helps Lloyd clean the dishes. Lloyd tells him that there are two soaps, one in the glass bottle is to wash his hands, and the other in the plastic bottle, was to squeeze for the dirty kitchenware — there were also three different sponges all in different colors. The pink one was to wash the plates, forks, spoons, or knives, the other types of tools needed to cook that Benthomaar struggled to remember the names of. The blue one was to wash the drinks, specifically only drinks, Lloyd told him it was because Jay one day brought up how it felt weird that they used the same sponge for everything, and it might “Make the water taste weird”. The yellow one was to wash the entire sink and other things that weren’t used directly for cooking, just to make sure it’s extra sanitary. Lloyd also taught him to put cloth around the sink so that the water wouldn’t splatter all over the counter, at first, Bentho was confuse because he assumed washing the dishes wouldn’t be such a struggle, but in the end it was rather challenging, because the water did in fact, get everywhere. It was a humbling moment, but the laughter and the exasperated sigh Lloyd gave Bentho was funny and memorable.

6. After the Merge, Lloyd was genuinely worried for Benthomaar’s fate, he wasn’t sure if he was alive, or he was hurt, what if something had happened to him and he never knew about it? What if Benthomaar ended up on the other side of the earth? Will they ever see each other again? Here’s another thing to mention, Lloyd never had the chance to truly confess to Benthomaar about his feelings, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll get one at all. It gave him a lot of time to reflect, he questioned himself if he was going to move on, he didn’t realize how much Benthomaar’s presence impacted him just as much as his family had. He finds himself anticipating a figure that fell asleep on his desk due to overworking, having to carry them into the bed so they can properly rest, he finds himself waking up and missing the sight of the color blue laying beside him, he misses the fingers that would thread his hair for comfort whilst sharing conversations about so many topics, odd ones, funny ones, all of it. He missed it, he missed Benthomaar so much, it was a while that he last felt his heart thudding weird that somehow brought a smile to his face, just as the smile he saw on the face of his friend — it was so bright and gentle.

7. But what about Benthomaar? Does he carry the same sentiment? Of course he does. However, whilst Lloyd had more time to spend alone and think, Benthomaar was always surrounded by persons and crowds, his duties as a King had only put more of a burden upon him as Merlopia grows stronger and bigger as time passes, there was so much that overwhelmed him than he expected. Benthomaar wonders if he’ll ever get to share another moment with Lloyd, he wonders if Lloyd were there with him, what would he do, seeing Benthomaar buried within a flood of letters and papers? Would he scold him? Would he drag him away from his seat to rest? Would he try to create a distraction as Benthomaar suddenly finds himself laughing and hugging the one that he loved dearly, pushing his worries for his kingdom another day? Benthomaar would grip his head tightly, suddenly exhaling and looking out the windows of his chamber, perhaps, once he can finally break free from his tasks, he’ll find a way to meet Lloyd again.

8. They don’t admit how much they were yearning once they’ve reunited, they end up being very awkward. Because they’re really happy and glad that both of them are safe and sound, but there’s so much left unsaid — left to be said. Do they share the same feelings? Have they changed so much after the Merge? It takes a while, but slowly they start to reconnect, and they are back as they once were.

9. It’s actually funny how they got together, because it wasn’t through a confession or a proposal, it wasn’t through words said during a beautiful sunset or sunrise, or during a rainy day where everything felt comfortable and right, or even during the midst of battle. It was because of Sora and Arin.

“What??”

“Well, you know, me and Arin don’t mind if we get another dad.”

“What— what makes you say that? Who’s your other dad?”

“That guy you keep hanging out with, his name’s Bentho, right? I mean, he’s a really fun guy and he’s nice, as long as it’s not anyone evil, right?”

“Sora, what are you talking about???”

And later, once Kai heard, he laughs so loud and pats Sora on the back while snickering, saying, “he’s always been that bad, kid.” Nya only rolled her eyes because they all knew that their youngest brother was truly dumb when it came to himself.

Thank u… :3

[aemondsbabe]

Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince. 

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?” 

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.” 

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come. 

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers. 

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips. 

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk. 

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar. 

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon. 

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.” 

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all. 

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound. 

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands. 

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor. 

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you. 

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one. 

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. 

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp. 

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal. 

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you. 

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.” 

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed. 

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone. 

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it. 

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface. 

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye. 

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that. 

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true. 

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them. 

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt. 

“If… if I had n-not been at the…” 

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation. 

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt. 

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest. 

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his. 

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident. 

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know. 

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle. 

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart. 

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out. 

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother. 

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter. 

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself. 

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out. 

If only he could see himself as you do. 

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love. 

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none. 

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods. 

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung. 

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline. 

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse. 

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out. 

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare… 

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat. 

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin. 

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his. 

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind. 

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this. 

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest. 

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders. 

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him. 

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck. 

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse. 

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric. 

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching. 

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling. 

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this. 

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts. 

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively. 

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent. 

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint. 

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs. 

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries. 

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you. 

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust. 

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire. 

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on. 

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second. 

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. 

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest. 

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it. 

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you. 

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again. 

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you. 

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision. 

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock. 

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach. 

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return. 

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you. 

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. 

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily. 

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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[soraontop]

II. I WON’T SAY (I’M IN LOVE)

title i won’t say (i’m in love)

summary it’s that first “oh. oh.” moment for sora. chapter 2 to ‘10 things i hate about you’ series

genre fluff, angst, slice of life ???

characters jung sora (8th female member oc of enhypen), jake sim, brief cameos of other enhypen members xx

warnings poly ot7 enhypen au with 8th female member. sora is difficult and emotionally stunted. feelings realization. implications of sora’s not so great home life.

words 3,033

note sorry im a professional procrastinator thats why it took forever 😭 this just isnt my only focus sjfndjd i focus on so many things at once lmao. anyways, pls let me know what u guys think and if theres anything yall wanna see ?? like in the past or present time !!

PREVIOUS.

ISEULLIE: sora check out this video LOL it’s hilarious

ISEULLIE: [link]

Sora stares down at her phone, the YouTube video thumbnail staring back up at her. scorpioz being scorpioz, the title said with the thumbnail saying ‘sorajake being sorajake’. Her brows furrow, eyes darting between the picture of her and Jake mid-laugh, staring at one another over the heads of the other boys.

She curiously clicks the link, and it’s a matter of fifteen seconds before she’s giggling at her phone. She never responds to Iseul until later. In her head, she can’t even hear the bustling noise of Jay making lunch for the group and her members shouts— not that she paid much mind to it, anyway. She grew up as the only girl in a family full of boys, she could typically deal with the noise. The video sends her into a whole new world of Engene made videos of the group, mostly watching the ones concerning her. Almost every video she watches includes Jake. A lot.

She’s never realized how much she really talks to or about Jake. Yes, she’s thought about the ‘what if?’ question that Jake was never in her life and how she’d deal without him. (Her answer: She couldn’t.) But for there to be so many parts to a video series titled “Reasons to Ship JakeSora” was a bit ridiculous.

A knock on her door interrupts her watching, making her sit up in shock before she quickly swipes out of the app and clears her throat, glancing around her room for anything out of place— as if that would tell on her for watching fan made videos of her and her members. Oh, she thinks she’d genuinely die if she was caught. She can never do that again.

“Come in,” she says, hoping the person behind the door wouldn’t notice the waver in her voice. The knob turns and the door opens, revealing Jake standing with a cup of steaming hot ramen in hand. She blinks. Speak of the devil …

Jake grins that stupid crooked smile, kicking the door shut behind him gently. “You haven’t eaten all day, are you going on strike?” Amusement shines in his eyes and she rolls her eyes, an automatic response at this point. He’s almost as bad as Sunghoon, she swears. He holds out the ramen and a pair of chopsticks to her.

“Just too lazy to get up,” she manages to bite back a grin as her lips threaten to twitch. She takes it carefully, blowing on it gently and looks up at the older boy. “Thank you.” She tries not to spit the words out as if they’re poison, but old habits die hard.

Jake notices, but he doesn’t mention it. “Do you want to go watch a movie?” He asks instead, seemingly holding his breath for her reaction.

Sora smiles slightly, feeling her heart warming in her chest, “Yeah, what are we gonna watch?” She grabs her phone and ramen, shoving the phone in her pajama shorts for a free hand.

“I meant, like,” he waves his hand at her, fumbling for the words, “Outside. At a theater.” He then hastily clarifies, “With me.”

“In public?” Sora blinks, surprised. He wants to go out in public with her where it’s inevitable for a fan or some to catch them. Yes, they were seen in public all the time but that was when it was for a schedule. He nods silently.

Strangely enough, to her, it was more intimate to be seen out together without any staff or other members. It meant that he wanted to be seen with her in public.

For a brief, panicky moment, her heart stops at the thought.

Swallowing the taste in her mouth with a bite of ramen, she slowly nods, “Okay. What movie?”

Jake proceeds to ramble on about the movie, what it was about, who was starring in it, what he liked about the trailer. She tries to listen, she really does— but she suddenly finds his lips a lot more interesting. Without even meaning to, her eyes keep dropping from his eyes to his mouth, watching as he’d momentarily pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought about something before saying it.

Horror suddenly fills her chest once she realizes what she’s doing, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving her mouth. Jake, who hears, stops, looking at her in concern, “What? What is it?”

Sora’s face goes blank. “Nothing, the ramen just burned my tongue.”

Jake looks more concerned now, “Shit, I’m sorry, Sora.” He starts to lean forward and she tenses, looking at him with wide eyes as he … tries to inspect her mouth? What the hell was happening? Why was he so concerned? “Is your tongue OK? Let me see—”

Sora was already panicked with how close he was— imagine how much that tripled when he cupped her cheek and tried to urge her to open her mouth. Her heart pounding was so loud in her ears that it blocked out everything else Jake was saying. She didn't know what she was thinking, all she knew was that she had to get away from him and fast, preferably before her heart burst out of her chest.

In her haste to get away, she completely forgot about the cup of ramen in her lap and didn’t secure it before jolting up. With a painful gasp, the ramen tips over and spills over her clothes and bed. To prevent from letting out any other painful mutters, she bit down on her tongue— hard. It wasn’t as bad as she had previously said it was, but it was still warm— warm enough to hurt badly.

“Shit! Sora—” Jake bolts up after her, looking at her soaked clothes with wide eyes. “Fuck, fuck— are you OK?!” He doesn’t wait for her reply before he’s shouting out into the dorm, “Hyung! Jay! Jungwon! Sora’s hurt!”

Oh, don’t tell them that, Jake! A voice in her head groans. She never wants to worry them.

Sora faintly notices the lull of conversation from the boys outside, before she hears multiple loud footsteps rushing towards her room. She shakes her head as her door is pushed open, revealing the rest of her members crowded in the doorway. Jay pushed himself to the front, closely followed by Heeseung and Sunghoon with wide, frantic eyes.

She tries to reassure them that she’s OK, that it’s just a little spill, and a little of a burning, but nothing she’s never handled before. But their voices are overlapping, asking what happened, if she was OK, and Jungwon was rushing in with two towels, quickly wrapping one around her and putting one on the floor to clean up the ramen.

Sora blinks at the noise, getting tired of hearing the same questions so she huffs, raising her voice as she shouts, “Shut up!”

The boys shut up. Sunghoon, even in his worry, manages to raise his eyebrows and point a finger at him as if to ask, “Me?”

She breathes out, looking down at her now dirty clothes, “Thank you. I’m fine. It’s just a little spill.”

“A little spill?” Heeseung asks in disbelief, “Your skin’s red because of how hot it is, Sora.”

She looks down again, tilting her head to see the redness Heeseung claims to see. “Huh.” She murmurs, seeing how unusually red her skin was. “Well … It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“You’re going to feel it in a minute,” Jay quickly grabs her by the wrist gently, pulling her out of her room, passing by the concerned Sunoo and Niki. Her skin tingles where he grabs her, and she’s not so sure the redness on her skin is from the ramen anymore. “Hurry, go take a shower— No hot water. We’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

“Oh, no, really, I’m fine,” Sora laughs lightly, shaking her head, “Like, it’s really not even that bad—”

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother letting her finish her sentence, picking her up and basically dragging her to the bathroom. She can feel Jake’s apologetic and worried eyes on her as she’s dragged out of her own room. “Hey!” She quickly hits him lightly on the shoulder, “Let me go!”

“Alright,” he shrugs, letting Niki push open the bathroom door and quickly shoves her in. She whirls around just in time for the bathroom door to shut in her face.

Her mouth drops open, “Sunghoon!”

“Sunghoon Oppa,” he corrects.

“You earn that title!” Sora hits the door lightly, trying to wiggle the doorknob, but it doesn’t open, “Let me out! I’m OK, please don’t clean it up, I’ve got it!”

“Already started,” Niki’s voice comes through the door, “Too late. Get in the shower before it gets worse, noona, please.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Jungwon chastises her lightly next, “You know it’s the smart thing to do.” She can’t help but feel appalled, again.

“But—”

“No buts!” She can hear Heeseung shout from her room.

Sora resists the urge to throw a tantrum like she would have nearly six years ago. She sighs, the warmth now a dull ache. “I don’t even have clothes to change into!”

“We’ll get you new clothes,” Sunoo reassures her from outside the door now.

“Don’t go through my room!” She says loudly, starting off as a shriek before she forces herself to quieten down. It reminded her too much of her old self. “Just let me out and I’ll—”

“Let you out so you can lock yourself in another room?” Sunghoon sounds somehow both amused and serious now, and she has no idea how, “Get in the shower, Sora.”

“I’ll get you clothes, Sora,” Sunoo says gently, then there was a light thump on the door. She wonders if he’s resting his head on the door like she is. (He is.) “Don’t worry, I won’t snoop or anything.”

“I know, but …” Her voice is uncharacteristically weak, “Just … Get me a shirt and pants, please. I’ll get the rest …” She feels awkward saying it, her brothers were far too young to even want to help her with anything. She wasn’t used to this, being taken care of. She didn’t like it. She also just didn’t want any of the boys going through her room and finding things she never wanted them to see.

There’s a pause, and then footsteps walk away from the bathroom door, but she can tell one or two people are still on the opposite side.

“Sunoo’s getting your clothes,” Sunghoon murmurs, and there’s another pause, “Don’t be stubborn. You know we just want to help.” His footsteps then walk away, too, and she finally relaxes, swallowing as she turns to face the bathroom mirror. The mirror is slightly still fogged from whoever took a shower earlier, and she swipes at it with her hand to look at her body clearly.

She winces at the redness on her arms and thighs, knowing from experience that it would hurt way less later on. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to their managers.

“Sora,” she jumps when she heard Jake’s soft voice on the other side, turning as if she could see him. She slowly walks closer to the door as he says, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to spill on you.”

“It’s OK,” she shakes her head, frowning to herself. “It wasn’t your fault at all, I’m the one who spilled it.”

“But I brought it to you—”

“It should’ve been on the table,” Sora says it like it’s final, leaving no room for an argument. Jake doesn’t reply for a moment and she wonders if he left, but she didn’t hear him walk away.

“Still, it must’ve hurt a lot,” Jake insists.

“I’m used to it,” the words come out of her mouth before she can even think it through. She visibly recoils once she realizes, mouth parting in shock as she starts to frantically look around as if it’d give her an excuse on why she said that. “I— Uh—”

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, his tone being mixed of confusion and cautiousness, and she can imagine him standing on the other side with that cute confused look he gets. She curses herself for somehow managing to think about something like that in a situation like this. It’s just the videos getting to her, she knows it.

Sora sighs, “I just mean I’ve been cooking for a long time, remember? My mom taught me young.” Kind of, but this time she keeps the truth to herself.

“Oh, right,” Jake laughs, sounding relieved. “You know, I thought for a second …” Don’t say it, don’t say it. “You know what? Nevermind. Just … I’m sorry, OK?” Before they can get into another little argument over the same topic, she hears his footsteps walking away.

Sora wants to scream. Her face falls into her hands, slumping against the door. Her hand comes back and lightly smacks herself on the head, “Why, why, why …” So stupid of her to be so careless. They didn’t need to know anything in her home life. That was a mistake.

Why did she feel so compelled to just spill her guts out to Jake? That was the last thing she needed was for him to know anything in general. Sure, the basic stuff about her was fine, but he, nor the others, needed to know anything about her home life. She knew they’d overreact, and she just wanted life to slow down a bit so she could catch her breath.

Forcing herself off the door, she sighs loudly and starts the cold water.

Sora really can’t understand why she’s doing this to herself.

She really does try her best to not avoid Jake the next few days, she doesn’t want him thinking she blames him for the spill, but she also just … needs space. Every time he touches or jokingly flirts with her, even when he just talks to her or says her name, her heart starts pounding and her face gets warm. She’s tired of it, and needs a break. So if she stays close to Sunoo or Heeseung for the majority of the next week, he doesn’t think anything of it.

It’s the middle of the week, and ENHYPEN are at dance practice, already practicing for their first comeback despite still in the middle of promotions for Given-Taken. Sora is ever so unsuspecting, pushing her hair back up with a ponytail as the only sound in the room was her and her members’ loud out of breath panting. The choreographer claps once, “Good job, guys. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sora forces herself to respectfully bow as her members do, waving goodbye to the staff and choreographer that leave. The only people in the room now are the group and their managers, Wooseok and Hyosun, and she glances around to see that Wooseok is calling someone and Hyosun is texting. She turns to look for her water bottle that was no longer in the same place it was before, but is startled when two water bottles were presented to her at the same time.

Feeling a creeping sense of dread, she presses her lips together and looks up, finding both Jay and Jake holding out bottles of water to her. She glances between the two, who glance at her and then to the waters and then to each other. Both of their hands move like they’re going to take it back, but when they both catch what the other is doing, they freeze.

“Um,” Sora murmurs, feeling awkward as her face heats up, mostly out of embarrassment and slightly flustered. She doesn’t like the position she’s in, at all. She notices movement in the corner of her eye and turns her head to see Niki holding up her lilac water bottle in his hand slightly from his spot against the wall. “Yeah, thanks but …” She gestures to Niki, quickly grabbing it from him and starting to chug it down. Half because she really was thirsty, the other half because she wanted to ignore the situation.

Avoiding eye contact with the other members, who were watching the awkward moment, she sits in between Heeseung and Sunoo. Pressing the cool bottle against her cheek, she waits a few moments before looking back up to see if anyone was still staring at her.

Her eyes connect with Jay’s and she abruptly turns her head back to the floor, feeling her face get impossibly hot, even with the water bottle. She feels like she just got caught doing something she shouldn’t have done.

There had to be something seriously wrong with her.

“Your face is really red,” Heeseung whispers from beside her, and she turns her head to stare at him. He blinks. She blinks before turning her head back to the floor.

“Yeah, we just got done practicing,” she mutters, swallowing. She’s afraid if she stares any longer, he’ll be able to know what she’s thinking.

Here’s the thing— Sora isn’t dumb. She was placed in the top three of her class, and she was sure to get into any university she wanted. She’s also been in a relationship before, she’s had plenty of crushes— she knows. But she can’t.

Not when they’re her members.

If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t think much into it and would let it pan out.

And it wasn’t even just one of them. It was two. She really was proving netizens right. And she hated it. So what was she going to do?

Ignore it and hope it goes away. And if not, well … She was pretty sure that plan would work. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t.

As long as she remains strictly platonic with her members, everything would be fine. She’s worked too damn hard to get where she is now, she’s been through two survival shows, and she wasn’t going to go on another one again. She would succeed in her dream.

Still, she seems to forget that the heart wants what it wants.

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

TW - PTSD, mentions of abuse.

Summary - You realize that maybe working with a man as intimidating as Miguel O’Hara just isn’t for you… Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

six

You feel out of place. Stuffy, anxious, like a walking corpse with heavy eyes and an empty stomach. You’ve convinced yourself that once you waltz up those stairs, everyone is going to turn to you. Point and laugh as Mr. O’Hara rips you to tiny, pretty pieces with those awfully sharp teeth of his.

You took the stairs today because the glass elevator seems too dreadful. Each floor rising just getting you closer and closer to your demise, out in the open for the world to see.

You only have one flight left before you know it, though. The bittersweet stamina your body remembers from the times you used to twirl upon a silvered stage. You frown, maybe definitely purposely going slower up the final steps.

Your morning has been hectic. Your curls were in a battle with your hands and the straightener, reflecting the heat away like they were made of ice. Your hair is frizzy, and your ribbon has a tear in it. The sole of your boot is mere threads away from ripping apart and you’re terribly hungry. You had no time to eat, though.

The air constricts you as you reach the tip of the castle where the fanged creature with dark, unforgiving eyes dwells. Your body is overtaken with soft trembles yet you do your best to keep composed. Through the glass door and onto the shiny tiles.

The ambush doesn’t come… you ease.

Your eyes scan through the cold air that greets you. To your complete surprise, your Christmas tree still stands, covered in its pink bows and golden lights. You doubt you’ll ever be as confused as you are right now again at any other moment in your life.

Your eyes wander to the front desk where Cindy is seated, she smiles and nods and you swiftly make your way to her. Mary Jane wears glasses far too big for her petite face, clicking and clacking on her ivory keyboard.

“Hey!” She greets, handing you your bag of ribbons immediately.

It hasn’t been lit up to ash, it shocks you.

“Hey… is um…” thankfully she understands and you don’t have to say much more.

Christ, you’re treating him like he’s a monster tucked underneath your bed.

“Nope, he’s been out all morning… super weird between you and I, he’s never late!”

You believe her, but that doesn’t matter… all the tension in your body floats away like a cloud returning itself to the sky. The breath you’ve been holding since you conquered each step leaves you, and you finally feel as though you can breathe again.

“Uh oh, what’d you do?” Mary Jane inquires as she takes a sip of her peppermint tea.

You can only manage to shake your head, mumbling your gratitude softly and dragging the bag to the tree. The ladder still stands tall, taunting you with rusty screws.

“Hi pretty.” You whisper to the giant thing, hand burying itself in the tote to pluck out yet another pink ribbon. Knowing he’s gone, you work with ease. Gentle on the ladder, the ballerina in your heart still dances even though you cannot. Your balance is impeccable as you blanket the back of the tree now. It doesn’t take long.

Without him here, the office is alive. It’s happy. The women chat as they would while getting manicures at a salon. They giggle and swoon over Mr. O’Hara which is to be nothing more than expected. It makes you giggle. He must feel so high and mighty being surrounded by people bowing at the beck of his hand. Yet when his thumb doesn’t suffocate them, they blossom like roses.

They’re lovely, fun to listen to while you tinker with the tree. This is nice.

This is nice and the laughter and joy and “Santa, Baby” purring on the radio lasts all but an hour before dead silence and gasps soon flood your ears.

You chill, freezing up with your hand in the bag of bows. Your body is kneeling before the tree, the gold shining like starlight on your pretty features. Someone lowers the music quickly, and the man who simultaneously suffocates all the fun with just his presence alone walks through his elevator door.

You hear it ring, you hear the heavy clicks of his shoes and the adjust of his tie. Everyone is dead silent, now. Tense. Back to the normal that is known here.

You? You’re frozen, your head still bowed. You’re afraid of him, maybe. It is rare for you, you’re afraid of no one. Not anymore. Not after… well, it’s a promise you made to yourself.

Closer…

Closer..

Closer his boots near, until?

They stop.

They stop right beside you and god, it is right then in that moment that you’d rather run out and lay in the snow as you’re certain it would keep you warmer than you are in this moment, beneath him.

“You, come with me.” Is all he offers before marching forward on his path.

You gulp, maybe you misheard? A cautious glance at Cindy’s wide, sympathetic eyes and you know all you need to. This cruel, cruel man. He let you blanket his stupid, limp tree in ribbons, he let you get comfortable like a mouse under a warm lamp— not knowing there’s a serpent hiding away… ready to strike. Ready to tell you he’s letting you go.

Cindy raises her brows, as if rushing you to do something. To unfreeze. You dig your nails into your palm, hard enough to snap you back and you’re soon up on your feet. Each step you take, you look at nothing but your worn shoes.

The oak door is held open by him. They’re all staring, eyes like daggers stuck in your back.

“Time to actually do your work, ladies.” He commands, they comply immediately. Does he have a spy? Perhaps a meter that starts ringing when there’s too much fun…

The oak door slams, trapping you— the little mouse into his warm den. The sound startles you, making your eyes fall shut.

Keep it together…

He walks past you swiftly, scent of rich firewood and coffee intoxicating your body so much so that if you weren’t so horrified right now, your mouth would water.

“Sit.” He commands as he takes his place upon his leather throne.

You let out a shaky breath, making your way forward with all the force you have left within you. Maybe you should just blurt out an apology and book it straight for the highest hills you can find…

The zombie you are, dressed in clothes you used to wear for rehearsal as it’s all you have. Ivory tights and pom pom boots, a pink skirt and wrapped shirt. You rehearse the moves of walking and sitting like a dance you’ve danced before. The leather is cold when it engulfs you, unpleasant.

You clasp your hands in your lap, picking at the remnants of the French manicure Rio gave you last week. Waiting for it, expecting, remembering. Your head is hung in shame, in submission.

“You look nervous.” He observes.

You stay silent, reluctant to admit how true that really is.

You feel him, you feel him like fire on your skin. His eyes demanding your attention, but you can’t. You won’t. It isn’t good enough for him. He leans forward,

“You’re new here, but if you cared to ask my girls what my first rule is? You’d know that you look at me when I talk to you, do you understand?” He commands, and like a ballerina does, you mend and comply. Heated as your face as becomes, rapid as your heart flutters, and nervous as your being is… your eyes follow the order and shoot up to face his own.

They are dark, scorching into you like hellfire, an incomparable inferno. You want to shrink, but you won’t. You can’t give him the satisfaction.

“Rule two. Answer me.” He commands.

“Yes…” you whisper.

He’s satisfied, at least you hope. It certainly seems that way. He leans back in his leather chair and keeps his eyes locked on you. It is then you’re certain he’s a sadist. It’s obvious, obvious by the way you press your knees together and pick at your polish that you’re uncomfortable. He doesn’t care.

The silence is dreadful, heavy and suffocating. You try your best to hold it, stare into his eyes and ignore the fire burning your skin from the bone but god— it’s too much.

“I didn’t know!” You blurt out, half hoping he is deaf yet also half hoping he understands what you mean.

His eyes narrow and you’re certain you’ve made a fool of yourself again. You let your gaze fall and the subtle sound you hear under his breath makes you snap them right back up.

“I know. Keep it that way.” He forces through clenched, sharp teeth.

If he wasn’t so horrifying, so cruel, you’d feel sorry for him. His words, the subject, it’s painful for him to utter— to think of. You can tell.

The silence blankets the room again, and your eyes beg him to let you glance anywhere but at him. You’re desperate though, the bigger part of you. Desperate to suffer here, instead of home. Maybe he knows just how desperate you are, maybe he’s using it. Maybe he’s delaying the inevitable, maybe there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.

It seems like forever, but he eventually speaks.

“I want you to do something for me.”

Pack your shit and leave…

You finish his words within the confines of your mind, prepared for them. They never come, no… what follows only shocks you.

“I want a tree. A small one for my office. Red and blue ribbons, and soccer ornaments.”

What?

This man, this enigma of a man seems to be the most capable creature alive and able to make your head spin like a record. You shake your head, confused…

“What?” It’s a soft whisper, weak.

“Rule three, I don’t repeat myself. You heard me.”

You did. You did and you still don’t slightly believe it. You’re dreaming, that must be it. You fell on the stairs on the way up and you’ve been tucked away in a coma.

No. It can’t be true. Sure, if anyone on this earth would be intimidating enough to make you truly feel their gaze in a coma, it would be him… but it’s far too real, too intense to simply exist within your imagination.

“I— can do that, sir.”

He only nods, once. Voice louder now, commanding the room, commanding you.

“I want it done by tonight, on my desk before you leave.”

You nod, mind still jogging to keep up with this conversation, to understand it. Your brows are furrowed, eyes searching for an invisible answer around the room. They land back on him and it’s as if he was waiting for them to do just that. A raise of his brow and he gives you an expression you can’t quite understand.

“You’re dismissed.”

Oh.

He talks to you like you’re just a dull-brained creature, incapable of understanding a word he says, an idiot. You stand on your feet and then swiftly turn your back on him, which is somehow more frightening than looking him in the eyes.

That must be it, you suppose. You’re grateful. Baffled but, grateful. You won’t test your luck, you won’t question it. Perhaps Cindy was onto something with her analysis of him. He’s just not— soft.

No, he’s in control and commanding and intimidating and far far easier to deal with than the cavalry at home. Okay… okay, you can manage this.

Even so? You can’t walk quicker to the door, it seems— hurrying out like the inferno from his eyes is just behind you. It is. The oak creaks softly behind you, and you huff as you make it out to the other side, surviving to tell the story of how you evaded the beast. Mary Jane and Cindy’s eyes are wide and waiting.

You only offer a thumbs up and nod, then get straight to work.

You’re happy for the excuse to waltz the city during this lovely time of year. Especially when you’re not paying for the things you buy. The streets are lined with snowfall surrounding cobble pavement, brick roads and sparkling trees that reach the sky. There are smiling St. Nick’s on every street corner and employees dressed as elves in every small shop. It smells of coffee and chocolate chips.

You’re not at all dressed for December. Your check hasn’t come in just yet, you’ll buy warm clothes when it does. Jack Frost is a bite on your shoulder, cheeks and nose pink and chilled from the snow. You’re trembling.

That doesn’t matter though because you’re also dancing, right now. Dancing like you did as a ballerina; that equates to simply following orders. It isn’t until the warmth of the small gift shop nearby embraces you that you ease. Warmth crawls up your spine and burns Jack off of it. You can think, now. You can stop following orders, stop dancing.

Your trembling fingertips are numb, grazing over the snow globes, ribbons and ornaments. Hmm…

Soccer…

Perhaps he’s a fan…

Blue and red ribbon…

Your teeth chatter as you grab a wicker basket and collect each color. You find lights to compliment them and a dark, lonely little tree by the windowsill. Fitting. Ornaments, then. Soccer balls and goals, flags and tennis shoes. It becomes more apparent as you fill your basket that this is not for him.

Cautiously, you grab your cracked phone and find your watch history. The thumbnail, the picture from last night. Where the grinning ghost sits on his shoulders, she’s adorned in a socccer jersey. No, the tree is not for him at all…

It’s for her.

Sadness swells at the base of your throat but you force it down with a gulp. Gentle thing you are, always so empathetic with the world around you. Even the cruelest parts.

Yet, his words from earlier only echo in your mind.

Keep it that way.

Maybe you’re stupid or maybe you’ve just never been good at following orders when there’s not a wire hanger involved… but you just can’t.

Your eyes glaze over the wooden ornaments stand and land upon a dark oak frame with a vacant place for a picture. You know just what you’ll do…

Time passes quickly and you are back at the office soon. The tree is small, but you handle it with care and adoration. You tie the ribbons by hand and place them snugly upon the blossomed branches. The lights are a mixture of red, gold and blue. The star is gold too and it compliments the rest nicely. The ornaments are small, hanging like icicles from the tips of each branch. Overall? It’s perfect. Missing one, final touch though.

Everyone has left, the office lights dim. It’s just you and the grinch who’s steadily growing a heart. Maybe not three sizes bigger just yet, but you’ll take even a quarter. It’s big enough for him to keep you at least… for now.

You hurry over to the front desk where you print the picture, ink staining the colors vivid and bright.

Her smile was so pretty…

You cut the excess paper and grab the photo frame ornament, adorning it with the heart warming picture of him and his little girl. After you clean your mess, you place the final touch upon his tiny tree and revel in your masterpiece. Perfection, all you ever strive for.

But now? Back into the devil’s den.

You would be lying if you said your heart isn’t pounding as you approach the oak door, but as soon as you make it there— you steady yourself.

You remember who you are, what you have survived.

One cold man who you won’t know in a few months can’t take that. Your fire.

The tree is stable in your hands, but it needs both of them to balance upright. With your foot, you knock.

No answer.

You knock again…

And, no answer.

With a huff, you risk the possibility of angering the beast more than he usually is and use your bum to push the large thing open. You’re very much annoyed to find him alert and well, glasses resting on his face as he types away at a document on his laptop. The square thing looks like a toy compared to his hands.

Christ.

He doesn’t regard you, he doesn’t need to. He already gave his orders. You’re careful to maintain balance as you gently bring the tree to his desk and place it to the corner of him. A switch of a button and it glows. You catch him then, glancing just once at it before continuing his work. The lights reflect in his glasses.

You tidy up a few spots and ribbons that shifted from transfer and then step back to admire. You’re satisfied. You don’t bother saying goodbye, he’s immersed enough as is and you’d rather refrain from unnecessary interaction with the heatmiser.

You smooth your skirt as you make your way out, ribbons bouncing on your locks. The door shuts behind you, you’re safe again.

The tiles squeak as your boots kiss them, gathering your bag and phone— you get ready to leave. Near the stairs and then— oh, right. You forgot to unplug the tree.

You know well how much of a disaster it would be if you set the floor on fire. With a huff, you make your way back and check the moisture with two fingers. All is well. You bend over and unplug the golden shimmer to make the top floor even darker, hearing the oak door shut swiftly as you do. It makes you jump.

Just when you almost missed him.

His steps are heavy… heavier than usual. Quicker too.

He must be tired, anxious for his bed. He’s filthy rich. He probably has the biggest bed with dozens of pillows and the softest of sheets. You wish your bed was like that…

You turn.

Maybe one day you’ll have a bed just as— oh!

Two hands case you up against the wall beside your ribbon tree, and all you see in front of you is that look.

That. Look.

It’s back.

Monstrous, horrifying, furious with you.

The darkness, the redness in his eyes is clearer now. The veins in his neck and the tension in his shoulders and jaw.

He raises his hand, you flinch by habit. Grasped tightly in it is the picture, except now— the glass has been shattered and it’s cutting into his palms. Your eyes widen, hands reaching out to help him. He pulls his palm back before you can, moving his head so that his eyes are staring directly into yours.

That look.

You chill.

“¿Qué carajo es esto!? Huh!? Tell me!” He growls, voice guttural, loud, horrifying— and it is then that you realize now more than ever that you truly are the mouse. And he? He’s the serpent.

With a grunt, he throws the glass ornament with his smiling, pretty girl across the room. It shatters even more once the wall finds it. He cases you in again, and you know now just how trapped you truly are. Just you and him on this lonely floor. He’s angry. You’re shaking.

You’ve seen this anger before. In her… in Katerina.

A gulp, maybe you’re a fish because your mouth bobs open far too many times to explain and yet you can’t. speak. The words catch themselves on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes can’t take it, they fall shut as you slow your breathing. There’s panic on the horizon. Memories so familiar to this flood back like an ocean of poison in your mind.

His index and thumb move to grip your chin, so angry and yet his grip is only firm, not painful. He tugs your face enough so that your eyes shoot open again.

“Did I tell you to do this?” His voice, perhaps it’s scarier now. It’s dark, low, composed like a cap on shaken pop.

“You knew better, girl! You knew better!” Her voice now… Katerina’s. Echoing in your head.

You’re suffocating, the air around you is too thin. You can’t breathe, you can’t look at those eyes.

No, no no. You’re panicking. His features blur as tears pool in your sight. He tugs your chin again, they fall onto his fingertips.

“You already forgot my rules, huh? You stupid, stupid girl…” he spits.

“You ungrateful, stupid girl.” She screams against your skull.

“I told you to keep it that way, didn’t I? Díos mio! What’s the matter with you?” He’s exasperated. He’s asking, eyes commanding an answer from you. You don’t know.

What is the matter with you?

Like the mythology of Rogue, it’s like everything you touch withers by your hand.

After everything Katerina gave you… after he took a chance letting you work here.

Your throat constricts as you gaze into the serpent’s eyes. Your heart is a hummingbird’s then, fighting so hard to fill that clouded brain with oxygen. You’re dizzy. You’re remembering.

You can’t. You need to move you need—

You can’t stop yourself, hand shooting up to dig your nails into the skin of his wrist. His eyes shoot toward the spot and he hisses, pulling it back. You take the chance to escape.

Under his arm and you stumble forward, hugging your midsection with a gasp, desperate for a lick of oxygen to bless your burning lungs.

A sob takes over you, but a close of your eyes and a quick inhale of the firewood and coffee that intoxicates you and you remember just where you are. You’re in his office. You’re not with her. You’re here. You’re here and you don’t want to be, anymore.

No, no not with him. Not after this. All of it, all of him. It’s too much, it’s too far. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve home either but at least there you can save up and flee…

You’re so panicked, all your mind can do is run over the many ways you’re going to call home through the flashing images of her. Images of Katerina bloom like ivy in your mind as you plan out your next steps. You feel glued in place yet so desperate to leave.

You glance at the broken glass and jagged smile of the ghost girl, jumping when the warmth of his palm greets your shoulder.

“Mirame, look at me.” He commands, but softly. Rather, softer than usual.

You feel pathetic yet still, your hand shoots up to push his own away from behind you.

You’ve had enough.

You buried the devil in your past. Your life is far too valuable to dance with another one.

You’d rather be cased up at home forever, working a job around family that think of you as nothing more than scum than be around him for a day longer.

You know, now…

“I quit.” You force out through another sob, not daring to turn and face him. You’re hunched over, shaky and weak. On the verge of suffocating completely. You wipe at your eyes and don’t hear another sound from him before you snatch your bag and phone and practically run to the stairwell.

Two steps at a time, maybe three before December’s chill kisses you in icy greeting. You don’t need to whistle for a cab to brake. In you go, familiar as you’ve done this twice now because of him.

Only this time? You’ll never come back again…

🏷️ ‘s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield | chap 6 song 🎧:

[euphoricsunflowers]

until my lips turn blue — jeon wonwoo

a/n: thank you to @etherealyoungk for inspiring the confidence and motivation i needed for this! and thank u to @pusoatbuwan for being the best thank u bestie :) i hope you all like it !!

word count: 6.8k

content: fem!reader, mafia au, non idol au, mafia boss!reader, hacker!wonwoo, seungcheol is a bit of a dick i’m so sorry this is not representative of him irl, bestie mingyu, random monsta x kihyun cameo bc i needed a random idol lol, angst, mentions of food, murder, weapons, and drugs to varying degrees.

summary: to thank you for your gracious efforts in tracking down an attacker, seventeen offers to repay your favor. you ask for a date with the cute one with glasses.

“so,” you say, gazing at the fresh scar on seungcheol’s cheek. it hasn’t had a chance or any time to fade yet and you can tell by the fire in the eyes of his men that this was recent, “what happened?”

it’s hard to remember how you exactly got wrapped up in this mess. seungcheol ‘invited’ you over to discuss a certain issue, something vague like ‘internal matters’, but it felt off from the get-go. something was wrong.

and, clearly, you can tell something is wrong now.

he heaves out a sigh, letting his head fall into his hands before pushing his hair out of his face, “i don’t even know,” he says, “all i know is that my underboss in currently in the hospital, lying to every single medical personnel about why he has stab wounds on his thigh.”

your eyes wander around the room and they find a picture of seungcheol with another person, smiling like they were friends. you’d learn later that was him. yoon jeonghan. the underboss.

there’s 11 other people in this room besides you and seungcheol, which adds up in relation to your current knowledge of seventeen’s higher-ups. contrary to the name, there's 13 of them that are considered the most important to the seventeen organization, including their boss.

Seungcheol eyes burn into you, but you hold your ground, “well, that is unfortunate. i do send him my best regards, and i hope he recovers well and quickly, but i suppose…” you look around at all of the others, as if to calculate in your head the best move, “i don’t know what it is you want from me.”

“if i may be blunt,” he says as a proposition, but it’s more like a question. you nod, “i don’t know either,” he admits, “i don’t know what i expect you to be able to do, much less be willing to do. what i do know though, is that you have a reputation of being able to track people down like a hawk.”

you don’t acknowledge the compliment. he shifts, almost uncomfortably.

“all i am currently requesting is your assistance in finding the one who attacked us. should you help us, we will compensate you in whatever means you see fit,” he says almost desperately, you can’t see it in his face but you feel it, “i want revenge. i need your help to get it.”

“you’ll make sure i get something out of it?”

he sighs, “i’ll see to it that you get whatever you want out of this.”

“what do you know?” when you ask, one of the 11 other men steps up, handing a folder to you.

he doesn’t bother introducing himself, but you know of him. he’s incredibly well known for being able to gather information. he probably knows the street you grew up on and the color of your socks right now off the top of his head. his name is joshua, you remember. you’ve heard someone call his name before.

“these are stills from the security footages of the compound. this here—” he points to a spot on the first paper in the folder, “— is our guy. right here, he gets into a car. i ran the license plate, and it’s registered this individual here.” he points again, this time to a mugshot in the next page. there’s a list of charged and convicted crimes next to the picture, “but i don’t think they’re the same person. they have different builds.”

you agree, soon focusing on the name of the individual the car belonged to, “i know this man.”

seungcheol perks up at the good news, “you do? from where?”

“he’s the director of financial operations at a company an associate of mine owns. he’s very powerful, but he’s also had accusations of corruption and funding violence for years,” you say, “he responds to me directly, actually. it shouldn’t be too hard to get the info out of him.”

“well then,” seunghcheol says, “my men will assist you in any way required for the operation. feel free to ask for their assistance,” and with that, he leaves the conference room.

“is there anything required of any of us for you to investigate, miss?” one of them says after a moment. he’s tall, has too pretty a face for this kind of business. he kinda looks like a puppy.

“no, i should be able to go from here,” you make eye contact with another one. he’s wearing glasses, the thin frames complimenting his face well. he doesn’t acknowledge you more than just the brief eye contact, looking away as soon as it happens, “i’ll call the director now.”

“go right ahead,” joshua says, and you pull your phone out and call him, putting it on speaker.

the phone rings several times. there’s an unplaced tension in the room, and you’re not sure who exactly here is bubbling with anger, but you reconcile it with the fact that these are not just associates. they’re friends. and their buddy is in the hospital.

right before the last ring ends before it’ll stop trying, he picks up.

“hello?” he says.

“director lee, hello, thank you for taking my call,” you say, feeling eyes on you from all over the room.

he responds, “ah yes, hello boss. it’s my pleasure. what can i do for you?”

“well, i was hoping you could inform me on something,” you say, relaxing more into the chair, “you see, i’ve been looking for an individual who was found driving your car last night in unknown territory. did you know about this?”

he pauses. you can tell it’s to come up with a lie on the spot, “no, in fact. i had just assumed my car was stolen. i was almost about to alert the police, but i’m sure you understand why i did not.”

“i understand, director. i need you to cooperate with me,” you say.

“yes, boss. what can I do for you?” he asks.

you take in a deep breath, saying, “for reasons i am unable to disclose, i believe this individual is after us. also, the most recent sighting of your car after it was found so far away is in our territory, at the diner down the street from headquarters,” you fake a pause to hopefully show some hesitancy. you were far too good at playing scared, “i am… nervous, director. this individual stole your car, could have obtained the weapons we keep near the peer, there’s no telling what they’re up to or who sent them.”

the all watch you make a dramatic voice as you play up any potential worries. that’s the only way he’ll talk.

“i understand, miss. may i speak openly?” his question makes them all look up, and you almost have to mute yourself to silence your victory.

“yes, director. tell me,” you say with a hidden smirk on your face.

he pauses, and you worry for a second that he’s going to chicken out, but he doesn’t, “i sent the individual. my car was never stolen.”

bingo.

you ask, “who is it?”

“i’ll send over the information after this call,” he says. there’s a smile on joshua’s face as you look up, both silently understanding the victory you just won, “i wanted to send a message to seventeen, but he must have been attacked because he sent me a voice recording shortly after coming into contact with one of the higher-ups. something about accidentally hurting one of them before he got a chance to say something.”

you ask, trying to prompt more out of him, “what were you trying to say to them?” you only ask because you know they’d want you to.

“i do not have the best relationship with their leader. the reason is unrelated to our purposes in our group. i apologize for stressing you, boss.”

you respond with a simple, “i see, thank you, director.”

“of course, miss, should i send you the information right away?” he asks.

“yes, as soon as possible. have a good day, director,” you say and hang up. you look up at them as your phone pings. you show the notification to joshua.

“that’s him,” he says, pulling out a still from his folder, matching them up side-by-side, “this is our guy.”

“i can find him, leave that to me,” you say, “as a favor to seventeen, i’ll take care of him. you will all owe me, though. both for that phone call and for getting my hands dirty.”

“don’t get cocky,” another one says. he’s short, but he’s got this energy that screams ‘fuck with me, i dare you’, “let me know when you get it done.” he hands you a piece of paper with a string of numbers on it. lee jihoon.

you smile, almost like a smirk, “okay.”

and out the room you go.

he’s dead by the morning. you tell jihoon, and get no response, he simply hangs up as soon as he gets the news.

—

the letter is addressed from all of seventeen, but based on the formality of word choice, none of them had a hand in writing it. it was probably written by some subordinate, but it gets a simple message across.

seventeen’s acknowledgement that you were owed a favor. the, in writing, paper that guaranteed you something in return. it felt like solid gold.

you spend some time thinking about what it is exactly that you would like from them. there’s not many limits. if you wanted someone dead, they’d have it done by sunset. if you want illegal weapons for your own plans, they would provide them easily. anything you want, they could do.

that was what was so nice about your relationship with seventeen: you may not get along as people, but you get along as business partners. there is no worry that you will be attacked in their headquarters, and vice versa.

but did you need illegal weapons? not really. your casino heist plans were being made smoothly, and there were not many materials you could have requested to make it any easier. you had access to everything you would need, and then some.

did you need anyone dead? not particularly right now. there’s nothing you need help with right now, aside from maybe needing help with throwing a surprise birthday party for your niece. that, though, was doable on its own.

and then, the idea dawns on you.

—

the letter you return back is, on the contrary, written by you. seungcheol knows it’s you, because he’s seen your handwriting. you state your pleasure with working with them. you thank them for their assistance, especially joshua’s, in finding the first piece of evidence.

the moment you are done with formalities, you don’t hesitate to describe, in extreme, excruciating detail, the favor you would like back from them.

‘a date with the cute one that wears glasses’

you ask for a date. you couldn’t remember his name at the time of writing, so you describe him as the ‘one with the glasses’. you describe exactly what you want: a fancy restaurant dinner, him dressed in a suit with styled hair away from his eyes and maybe some jewelry, definitely wearing his precious specs. you’d pay, he’d walk you to your car, and the second the door shut and you were being driven away, seventeen will have paid their favor back.

your letter even reads:

‘there are no ulterior motives. should the favor be paid back successfully, SEVENTEEN will not be bothered over this matter again. should the favor not be paid back in this way, an alternative favor will not be provided unless sufficient reason is given.”

seungcheol almost laughs when he sees the letter, as he’s the first to read it. he wonders if you’re even being serious. it’s probably the most ridiculous request he’s ever gotten, but he can’t come up with a single reason as to why you’d play a prank like this, so he comes to the conclusion that you’re most likely serious.

a copy of the letter is sent over to wonwoo, the one with the glasses, and he reads it probably fifty times. maybe fifty-one.

nothing has ever made him so embarrassed, that’s the issue. not a single mistake he’s ever made or being chastised for not being good enough at his job has had the same effect. he feels the way mingyu’s eyes bore into him, knowing that wonwoo told him all about how he thought you were pretty, and that if you weren’t 1) a boss and 2) literally terrifying to speak to, he’d be down bad.

he feels awkward and clumsy for sticking out, for being the one pushed into the spotlight. he doesn’t particularly want to be the center of attention, but here he is, in his boss’s office, surrounded by his closest associates. he feels weirdly small as he sinks into the chair.

“i know this is… unconventional, wonwoo,” seungcheol says to him, leaning against his desk, “but you need to do this. it’s only dinner and we can’t owe her for much longer.”

“i know,” he says.

seungcheol continues, “there isn’t much of a choice, as well, you know that right?”

wonwoo recognizes the fading scar on seungcheol’s cheek as seungcheol talks to him. he remembers the moment it happened.

this was more than just giving you what you wanted so you were even as groups, but about genuinely thanking you for such a deed. he remembers watching jeonghan get stabbed in the thigh to protect chan. he remembers all the blood, that horrified look on chan’s face. that guy must have known he was a dead man the second he hurt jeonghan, that could have been why he ran. seungcheol is protective of all of them, but especially him.

“i know, i’ll do it,” he says, “i’ll do whatever is required of me. you know that, boss.”

“i know you will, it’s just that…” seungcheol looks uneasy, shifting his eyes away, “i don’t want this to become a bigger thing. don’t develop feelings, don’t do anything to make her develop feelings. just don’t make this messy. and don’t make it my problem.”

“i won’t,” wonwoo is, even in the best case scenario, slightly overestimating himself. he knows that, yet he still lies (not exactly but that’s what it feels like) through his teeth, “this won't become a problem.”

“it better not, now go,” seungcheol orders, trying to make it sound harsh. it doesn’t, though, not to wonwoo. it sounds more like ‘don’t fuck this up for yourself’.

—

wonwoo reads your letter for the fifty-second time. this time, he’s closely checking your instructions on how you wanted him to dress. it’s a little bit weird, but he supposes you’re going somewhere fancy, and maybe he has to match.

he sighs dramatically, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

why is he dressing up in a suit he never wears to come meet you, a literal mob boss that thought he was cute, at some restaurant he doesn’t even know exists, to have dinner with you and play along to make you happy but not enough for either of you to get too attached?

what does he even think he’s doing?

he has literally killed people before, but that was so much simpler than this. slicing someone’s throat is so much less complicated than picking out a tie to wear to your date. everything down to asking him to wear a little bit of gold jewelry— gold, not silver— was complicated. he doesn’t understand this at all.

he’s somewhat horrified that this will go wrong, but if he thinks about it as only ‘a pretty girl asked him on a date’ and forgets all the context, he can breathe slower.

He leaves the compound with mingyu to act as a body guard, and then to sit at the bar area during your date to be there in case something happened. mingyu had told him he had no plans of interrupting anything in case the date goes a little too well, but he did want to be there in case something worse happened and wonwoo wasn’t able to fight on his own.

mingyu enters before him, actually. wonwoo waits by the entrance, just as your letter requests, and he almost wonders for a second if this was all just an elaborate ploy of yours, something just to waste time as you’re comfortably doing whatever mob boss stuff you normally do.

that is until you’re in front of him, in the most stunning sapphire dress he’s ever seen in his life, and he sees why you requested a navy suit on him. you both match perfectly, and he can help but blush like a freaking anime girl when you walk in together. you’re so breathtaking, the kind that could kill.

you had made reservations apparently, and all he could do is watch and follow along cluelessly as you’re taken to the table, and you both sit down.

you take in a breath, and then really look into his eyes. you don’t say anything for a moment, so he tries to start.

“hey,” he says, a little bit breathless, “you look gorgeous, by the way.”

“oh, you don’t have to flatter me, dear. that’s not required of you,” you laugh, and god, it is so beautiful. he could faint right now.

he forgot, honestly, that he didn’t have to impress you. he berated himself for a second when he realizes that he complimented you of his own volition, because he wanted to. that was bad.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to act so nervous. i don’t have any intentions to hurt you,” you say, reaching out for his hand. his hand tremors really had to come at the worst times. your hand is so warm (and he’s such a cold person, he could get used to warm hands holding his cold ones), “is this where you start wondering why i asked you to come on date with me?”

“i’ve been wondering since i read the letter,” he responds. he’s fidgeting, nervous. you have such an intense stare that’s hard to match.

“i’m sure you have,” you say, “if i’m being honest, it didn’t feel like there was much i wanted to ask for. everything is alright— knock on wood— for the moment with me. and i,” you pause, and it catches his attention even more, “i wanted something like this. something normal.”

“i take it… mafia life isn’t really for you, huh?” he half-asks.

“i suppose it’s not too bad of a fit, actually. i think the heists and gambling and money-laundering isn’t too bad. that kind of stuff has been my whole life, so it’s kinda fun to me,” you say, “but it prevents you from living simply. there is no family, there’s no relationships, no house on the hill. i feel like i’m missing out on that aspect of life.”

“yeah, you’re right. i suppose it is sad,” he says. he’s not sure what else to say.

you just continue, “and i just… i wanted to experience something different tonight. maybe i shouldn’t have involved you in my attempt to feel that, or at least didn’t force you to be here.”

“i’m not forced to be here,” he says, even if it’s honestly not very true, “i think i want to be here, too. i’ll experience it with you.”

you smile, and this time it’s softer than he’s ever seen. he can’t seem to remember why your presence was so intimidating before, because in this moment, you are nothing but warm and inviting, “okay, then. it’s settled. let’s have a beautiful night.”

it was cheesy, sure, but it made his heart flutter all the same.

he sees mingyu out of the corner of his eye. he’s sitting at the bar, making small talk with the bartender. wonwoo and mingyu make eye contact, and it’s almost like a series of questions: ‘how is it going? are you alright? do you need me to step in?’

and wonwoo gives a small smile back at him, as if to say ‘i think i’m okay’.

he looks back at you, as you give your order to the server. he doesn’t see someone evil or done anything that is commonplace for his and your kind of life. he just sees you: someone aching for something different. something soft and sweet and normal.

dinner with him flies by, filled with pretty conversations about each other’s lives. you both skirt around conversations about your groups, instead choosing to focus on yourselves. he learn about your hobbies and passions, you learn about his friends and what he likes to do in his free time.

you tell him about the time you were robbing a bank when you were younger. maybe 17. you tell him about the restaurant that’s a front for high-up associates that you used to go to when you were younger. you tell him about how your dad’s assasination put you in the boss spot when you were 19 and stupid and too young for that kind of power. it went to your head and has barely worn off since.

he tells you about how mingyu and him have saved each other’s asses maybe 500 times each. he tells you about how he likes computer games, that if he was given a second shot at life, he’d be a pro-gamer for sure. he tells you about his cat, ranting about how cute it is (and he looks adorable doing it).

wonwoo realizes what’s happening while it’s happening; he’s not dumb or oblivious. he realizes that with every smile, every laugh, every time you get passionate about what you’re talking about and make these dramatic hand movements, and every time you unconsciously make that cute thinking face, he’s falling for you more and more.

and yet he doesn’t have it in himself to pull back; instead, he chooses to lean in. he smiles when you smile, laughs when you laughs, plays along when you tell him overly dramatic stories. he’s so mesmerized that he doesn’t notice the passage of time, how late it’s getting.

what he does notice is you reaching to grab the bill that was dropped off by the server. he snatches it before you can, and quickly puts the money in, catching the server’s attention and asking them to take it now.

you make a upset face at him, but it doesn’t hurt him in the slightest, “my treat.” he says simply.

“i was supposed to pay! you didn’t have to do that!” you argue, and he looks at you with a kind of vulnerability that is so raw, it’s almost infuriating.

“i wanted to. for you.”

you stand, so he stands too. you turn to walk away, but he grasps your wrist at the last second. he thinks you’re about to storm off, mad or something. why were you mad at him? he was trying to do something nice for you!

it’s until you groan and turn back around, getting so so close to him that the rest of the word fades out of view. for a moment it’s just like that. there’s no one else in the world except for you and him.

you’re looking into his eyes, reaching your hand up to lightly cup his cheek, letting your finger drag against his jaw, “can i?” you ask. you don’t even need to say it.

“yeah,” he breathes, shakily, “do whatever you want.”

you kiss him while his stomach does somersaults. his hands find your waist, letting you lead, and, funnily enough, only once he starts to relax, you’re pulling away.

“we should get out of here,” you say, and his heart rate picks up, which you seem to notice (his own heart betrayed him), “we don’t have to do anything, but it’s so loud and energetic in here. i want some peace and quiet.”

he couldn’t agree more. you both walk outside, and he shoots mingyu one last ‘i’m okay’ look, seeing the smirk on his friend’s face may annoy him, but he’s too happy to care.

once you reach your car, you pull him close. his hands rest on the same spot as before, gently on your waist. you ask him, “can i kiss you again?”

“yes,” he whispers back. something about asking the second time feels sweeter, “kiss me a little harder this time, please.”

you smile at his request, gently pressing your lips to his before you grasp the back of his neck to use as leverage when your kiss becomes more intense, giving him what he wants. he’ll always get what he wants now, you suppose. anything he asks for, you’ll give him.

you don’t pull away as fast this time, instead letting him savor the moment.

but you eventually do, pulling back to look at him. he’s so pretty in the moonlight.

“i don’t want this to end,” he says. you smile almost sadly at him.

“i’m sorry, baby, i wish it didn’t have to end so soon, but our agreement was only dinner,” you say, “and you need to go back. our night together has been fun, but this is it. we were only given tonight.”

“i don’t want to go back yet, i don’t want to leave you,” he whispers painfully. god, it was so easy to get comfortable in his arms.

you see that sadness in his eyes, the kind that kills any chance of ever getting over him, “i know, i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t think we would get so close so fast,” you can feel the shaking of his hands even as they rest steady on your hips, “when i asked for a date, i thought it would be a night that would end with no hard feelings about never seeing each other again.”

“well, look where that got us,” he makes himself chuckle, though it’s not out of actual humor.

there’s a pause where neither of you dare to make the next move. there’s a sinking feeling that one of these next kisses will be the last.

“i’ll tell you what: i’ll kiss you until my lips turn blue, so you can never forget what it feels like. not even if you tried,” you say, moving your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“okay,” he responds, “don’t let me forget. don’t ever let me.”

“you know i won’t,” you say, and your kisses are so passionate that for a second, he forgets that he’s jeon wonwoo, seventeen’s best hacker and technology expert, and only knows that he’s yours.

and for you, he’s so sweet, so kind and giving and reciprocative, kissing you back with just as much energy, it’s just as easy to get lost in him.

you stay there for as long as the night will allow, kissing him with feverish intensity, before you really have to send him on his way.

his eyes have that tragic look to them, like he’s sad in such a complicated way. it was never supposed to end like this, with him walking away from you as you get into your car, but the more he thinks about it, he’s wrong.

it was supposed to end like this. with him and you separated.

when he returns, he knows he probably shouldn’t, that he should lie and say it went well (but not too well) and this will not cause future problems, but he tells seungcheol afterwards that he 100% fucked this up for himself. he’s really, really into you.

his boss isn’t surprised.

—

it’s been two months— not exactly, maybe a month and three weeks or so, but close enough— since that night. not a word from seventeen, nor from wonwoo. it’s hard to not wonder what happened between him and his boss as soon as he returned, if he saw those feelings written out all over his associate’s face, or if it was the lipstick stain on his lips that gave it away.

in your world, nothing had changed (except for maybe everything about your soul). nothing about your mob boss life had been altered. seventeen never spoke a word about the favor, not to you or anyone else. even though word travels fast and very easily, it never got back to you that anyone besides you and seventeen knew about it.

maybe it’s a good thing that you haven’t seen or heard from him, that you probably never will again, but him having that much control over you is dangerous because you’re sure that seungcheol knows. he knows wonwoo likes you, he knows you like wonwoo, and everything in between. he has so much power that it’s incomprehensible what he could manipulate you into doing. he probably knows that. he revels in it.

so you made the point to not reach out, knowing there’d be a trade off next time. you assume that’s why it’s radio silence on his end too.

it only hurts a little bit.

—

the news hits you as you’re sitting in your office, drinking your coffee as an associate is detailing all possible back up plans for the casino heist planned for next week.

“hold on one minute,” you say to them, and they immediately shut up, letting you take a call that had come in as they were talking, “yes, kihyun? why are you calling? i thought i told you not to call my personal phone.”

he seems anxious on the other end, which is not pleasant to hear, “i tried, boss, but you weren’t answering. and i know i wasn’t supposed to, but i assumed you would want to hear the news as soon as possible.”

“what news?”

“jeon wonwoo of seventeen went missing three days ago. not even his own associates know where he is or if he’s even alive,” he says, and his words, especially the last few, hit particularly hard.

he’s not dead, right? he can’t be dead.

“i… see. thank you, kihyun,” you say.

“i’m here if you need anything, boss,” he says, but you don’t respond, only hanging up the phone and closing your eyes.

you remember there’s still someone else in the room, so you shoo them out, “we’ll go over these plans tomorrow,” you say, as if to tell them to go away. they catch on.

and you’re suddenly all alone in your office, with nothing but the thought of wonwoo being dead to occupy your thoughts. seventeen had enemies, of course they did, but why wonwoo of all of them? why was he the target? it was just impossible to rationalize why someone would choose him to be the one to take out. what would even be the motive?

it doesn’t seem real, the idea that he could be dead, even though it’s technically possible.

the idea dawns on you that maybe it was someone in his own group, maybe even the whole fucking mafia collectively decided to take him out.

and maybe it was because of you. the idea makes your stomach sick.

it’s impossible to know for sure, and you can’t spend your day getting lost in maybe or possibly. you assume the worst, that he’s probably dead, and give yourself a moment to grieve.

and then it’s back to work.

—

it’s late, so late it’s almost early again, at your residence. the sound of rain is constant and almost soothing as you drink your tea, giving a sense of peace and calm to your night. looking over documents from the casino, everything seems to be in order. last minute preparations for tomorrow are going smoothly, and all that needs to happen now is sleep before the big day.

there’s a ring at your doorbell. so, there goes a peaceful couple hours of sleep.

no one should know that this place exists or that you live here. this place was secret for your own safety and the fact that someone is here, ringing your doorbell at three in the morning is a terrible sign.

you grab the gun you keep under your coffee table as you approach the door. there’s no way to check who it was without letting them know you were there, you just had to open it.

“i’m so sorry i’m here right now!” you hear, barely able to make out the baritone voice over the heavy rain, “i’m sorry i didn’t say anything after that night, i was ordered to not contact you on my own! i’m sorry i’m here, bothering you at your house, but it was the only place i could go!”

when you open the door, the rain covers his frames, concealing his eyes, but it’s him.

not a single thought of ‘how the fuck did you get my address?’ or ‘why did you disappear?’ is more important than him at that moment. you open the screen door and yank him inside, tossing the gun somewhere onto the floor of your kitchen. you rush to grab him a towel, because he’s shivering and freezing and that’s scaring both of you.

you’re borderline yelling at him as you scold him for showing up, especially at this hour, “what were you even thinking? you could have gotten hypothermia! you could exposed this place to people who want me dead! you could have gotten us both killed!”

and yet all he could do is look at you with those beautiful, lovestruck eyes, “i’m so sorry,” he says with a smile.

you hug him, wet clothes and teary eyes and all, crouching down on the floor to meet where he is, curled up in a ball, covering himself up with that towel. he looks so small like this.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“don’t be, i’m glad you’re alive,” you whisper back, tightening your grip on him as if he’d whither away and disappear if you didn’t.

“i missed you, every single day i thought about you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“i did too,” you say, “what happened? why did you disappear? when did this become the only place you could go?”

“i-um,” he starts, hesitant and quietly, “i got into a fight with seungcheol. i told him i didn’t want to live like this anymore, and he said he’d… cut off my head if i ever left.”

“but you still left?”

“i had to, i was so unhappy that it was killing me,” he says with more confidence, still holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, “and, god, i’m so into you that it hurt so bad to never talk to you again. how the hell was i supposed to move on?”

“so what happened after you left? where did you go?”

“mingyu told me i could crash on the couch at his place out of town while i tried to find you, but seungcheol beat that information out of him,” he pulls away just a bit to look at you while he speaks, still holding on for what feels like dear life, “i found this place about a week ago, but it wasn’t until i was literally running for my life that i felt there was nowhere else i could go.”

his stomach rumbles, so you ignore his words for the present and ask, “oh my god, when’s the last time you ate? no, don’t even answer me, i’m making you ramen.”

“it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“don’t say another word, unless it’s to tell me you’re dying. you’re going to go take a nice, warm shower, and then eat some ramen before we even think about what to do about you going forward,” you cut him off, but your scolding tone is so filled with love and care that he doesn’t mind.

he showers, finally feeling the relief of warm water. he always hated being cold in any capacity, much less freezing to death.

he changes into the clothes you give him: an oversized crewneck and some sweatpants. when he walks back into the kitchen, where you are, he pulls the sleeves as far as they’ll go, giving himself cute little sweater paws.

he’s so adorable, so easy to fall for.

you place a bowl of ramen in front of a seat at the kitchen counter, “eat up, baby.”

baby. he could get used to being called something like that. easy. he sits at the counter, eating like a madman once he realizes how hungry he truly is.

you watch him tenderly, all the adrenaline having faded out and now he’s just here. what are you even gonna do with him? you can’t just kick him out, he’ll get found immediately. so long as no one else finds out about this place, you’re both safe.

he can’t return to seventeen, though. maybe that thought has sunken in for him too, because when he looks up at you and smiles when he sees you looking at him, he’s not smiling like how he did last time you saw him. his smile is smaller and more forced.

all his friends he left behind, all his past he left behind, and that comfortable life he left behind, all to be here, with you.

“what now?” you ask, and the depth of the question is not absent in his mind. he knows what you mean.

he frowns, playing with his chopsticks, “i… i don’t know. i can’t go back, but i’m unsure how to move forward.”

“do you want to give up this life completely? just start fresh?”

“i don’t think so. it’s all i know, all i feel competent at, and if i’m being honest, i don’t mind it. i just need something more,” he says with a chuckle, “i don’t think i could live a life of white picket fences and nuclear families.”

“then,” you say, sitting at the spot next to him at the counter, “consider joining me. i can’t give you a top position, but you can continue your work as a hacker under my group. as much as i want to give you choice, i'm gonna be honest with you: that’s your only good option.”

“i know,” he says.

it hurts a little bit, and he knows what you’re gonna say before you say it, “and i'm sorry i have to say it out loud, but… this will provide you protection against seventeen.”

which is the most miserable thing to think about: his own friends coming to kill him. he’s a traitor now, though. he knows he’s dead to seungcheol. it hurts him somewhere deep in his chest every time he thinks about it.

“okay,” he says, somewhat dully, “i guess i don’t have much of a choice.”

“it’s not that you don’t have a choice in the matter, but you only have one good one,” you say, matter-of-factly, “you won’t be safe anywhere else-”

“i’m sorry,” he says suddenly, and it’s heartbreaking how he just can’t stop saying it, “i’m just so sorry. i put you and mingyu in danger just so i could have a chance to escape. he even let me stay on his couch and then got hurt because of my selfishness.”

“it’s not fair to you to judge yourself so harshly like that. mingyu did that because he wanted to, for you. you couldn’t stop whatever hell came after,” you say, comfortingly, “it’s better to be selfish than unhappy. if mingyu knew you were safe with me, he’d see his efforts as worthwhile.”

“and what about you?” he asks.

“what about me?”

“i put you in danger,” he says.

“wonwoo, i’m a mob boss. and a woman one at that. i’m always in danger,” you say, “it’s nothing new.”

“but-”

“stop talking,” you order, and he complies. you sigh, “it’s not worth it to think about all the things you did wrong. where you are now is where you are; there’s no changing that.”

“i’m sorry,” he laughs breathlessly, “can you just kiss me if you need to shut me up?”

you look into his eyes once again, seeing nothing but beauty and honesty in them. your hand reaches to tilt his chin up as you lean in for a kiss, and all the passion of that night comes back in full force, except with so much more vulnerability and tenderness.

but he pulls away this time.

why is he about to cry?

he answers the question for you, “i’m sorry, i uhm- i’m sorry,” he whispers, his apologies stabbing you incessantly, “nothings wrong. i’m just… so happy. i’m so happy we ended up like this. nothing compares to you.”

i’m so happy we got the happy ending (somewhat).

tomorrow (well, more like later today. in a few hours) he’ll be jeon wonwoo, the best hacker in the area, known for being able to hack into power grids and major international banks. maybe he’ll be there with you, keeping track of the operation, taking down security cameras or disrupting communications.

but for tonight, he’s simply wonwoo. he holds you like he doesn’t want anything else from this life.

nothing compares to this.

[gremoria411]

Alright, given that I haven’t rewatched Gundam Narrative yet, let’s talk about something I did watch this week.

*Spoilers ahead*

Mobile Suit Gundam Twilight Axis: Red Blur, an 26 minute ova which adds new scenes to the original Twilight Axis, making it actually coherent in the process. The plot of Gundam Twilight Axis concerns three main characters:

Mehmet Merca - Earth Federation special forces commander, who’s been tasked to investigate the remains of the Axis Asteroid base to recover any evidence of psycho-frame or other newtype weaponry. IE the wreckage of the Sazabi. Despite what you may think, he’s actually a very nice and reasonable guy.

Arlette Almage - Formerly Char’s personal mobile suit mechanic throughout the One Year War and Char’s Counterattack (Second Neo Zeon War), though she did not join him in the AEUG. Also a Newtype from the Flanagan Institute (though apparently not a patch on Lahlah, the star pupil of the Flanagan Institute). Char personally handpicked her from Zeon’s Flanagan Institute when she was a young girl, so she views him as something approaching a father figure (honestly it’s a little unclear). This translates to her wanting to know what happened to him, which is the reason she helps Mehmet Merca to help navigate Axis.

Danton Hyleg - Formerly Char’s personal test pilot. Happily retired with Arlette, and is mostly along to support her. As he’s significantly older than her (at least ten years), he has a more realistic view of Char, outright telling him around the time of CCA it would’ve been better if he hadn’t come back to them. A very good pilot, but unable to actually pull the trigger and kill someone.

Overall, I’d say it’s pretty good, it does just enough with the time it’s got for you to be invested in these characters, and it’s got some good action scenes. It can’t disguise the fact that it’s got a very low budget (there’s a lot of scenes where you can’t see people’s faces, so they don’t have to animate lip movements), but it knows where to prioritise. I do like how even though it’s technically a set up for a later antagonist, it keeps focus on the actual characters first. Twilight Axis was originally a light novel and was adapted into an OVA and Manga. I have read a translation of the Light Novel and found it very good, since it fleshes out a lot of stuff missing from the OVA (IE Birnam’s motivations), to the point where I could honestly consider twilight axis a very good advert for it. The Manga adaptation, which I haven’t read, also looks very good. I’m given to understand that Arlette and Danton also cameo in MSV-R: the Return of Johnny Ridden, which is neat. The reason I’m pairing it with Narrative is that I view them both in similar lights - after unicorn showed off how utterly ridiculous psycho-frames can be in the right hands, we’re left with the question of what happens between now and F91 onwards for it never to be used or spoken of again. Both Narrative and Twilight Axis deal with the fallout of Psycho-frame mobile suits such that we can understand why it was sealed away and not further developed. Or, as I like to think of them, they’re curatorial works, made to answer some lingering questions.

However, I have two main non-ms design criticisms of the story - The First, and most forgivable, is that we’re not really given any information on the enemy pilots, the Fermo Brothers. I’m more forgiving of this because I think the manga fleshed them out more, and you don’t really need that much information. The Second criticism is both petty and bothersome to me, because it’s entirely likely it’s borne from my own assumptions. The Flanagan Institute, where Char headhunts Arlette, is shown to be performing inhumane experiments on children, with one of the bosses explicitly mentioning “disposal”. What bothers me about this is that to my knowledge this is basically the only piece of evidence that ever shows the Flanagan Institute to be abusive. Why does that matter? Because central to Zeon’s stated philosophy is that of the newtype, a new type of human adapted for space with the ability to sense, communicate and emphasise with others over long distances. The Federations’ refusal to recognise the newtype is synonymous to their refusal to recognise the autonomy of the colonies. The Federation refuses to recognise the capacity of mankind to evolve past it’s need for the Earth, since (as many characters are fond of saying) their souls are still bound down by gravity. So the revelation that the Flanagan institute, Zeon’s shining beacon of Newtype advancement, needed to resort to the mass death of children for its newtypes just completely undermines that. We know newtypes can naturally awaken in combat, but nowhere is it suggested that they *need* to, with both Challia Bull and Paptimus Scirocco basically just showing up, with no indication of harrowing battles beforehand. Furthermore, it also completely undercuts another notable organisation in Gundam, the Titans, who actually do resort to the kind of inhumane practices shown here. Why? Because they view Newtypes as nothing more than weapons, further demonstrating their utter contempt for spacenoids, having twisted one of the central facets of spacenoid independence into just another tool of oppression, with all the dehumanisation that implies. But if they’re just following off Zeon’s playbook for the “production” of newtypes, then it implies that newtypes aren’t actually a development for humanity at all, simply a reaction to large-scale trauma. I know Victory and other later UC shows went back on the Newtype philosophy a bit, but they (Zeon) knew from essentially day one that it wasn’t it? It just throws into question why a lot of the success stories of the Flanagan institute would even stay with Zeon, if that’s how they were treated (and it turns newtypes into the whole “super soldiers through trauma” thing, which…. I see a lot in fiction, and I bothers me a little that this is the route they decided to go for).

But enough quibbling about a whole 14 seconds of animation, what do I think of the mobile suit designs? These are arranged favourite to least favourite (though to be honest I’m not particularly crazy about most of the offerings here), and do not include the R-Jarja (I’ll cover it if I ever talk about Neo Zeon/Axis Zeon or the Gyan). Given that most of these suits are variations, I’ll typically discuss my feelings on their original counterparts as well. I’m using the Novel Artwork, since I generally prefer it (and image limits), but this applies to both versions of the designs.

First up, the AMX-011S Zaku III Custom. Straight-up my favourite mobile suit here (though that doesn’t mean a whole lot….) I like the Zaku III because it’s chunky, well armed and proof that even Neo Zeon is not immune to nostalgia. True, it gets outclassed during the First Neo Zeon War by all the 4th-Gen mobile suits running around, but it’s still a very solid design. I like how the Zaku II-to-Hizack-to-Zaku III-to Geara Doga-to-Geara Zulu line plays out too, with each one having slightly different characteristics. I have a very mixed views on Char’s custom mobile suits - which I like, because I enjoy judging the suits mostly on their own merits, rather than on who’s piloting them (key word being “mostly”). That said, occasionally one of Char’s suits can end up being a really baller design, which I just adore. Sadly, the Zaku III Custom shown here is not one such design, though I do like the idea of Char Piloting a Zaku III for whatever reason, hence it’s inclusion here. It’s actually quite nice, since it’s a relic of Char that the two characters attach value to, a momento of their time together, that nonetheless must be left behind on Axis. Just like Char.

Note: GB02’s decision to spit out a Byarlant Isolde at me is essentially the reason for this entire post, since I was forced to actually formulate an opinion on the blasted thing, having been utterly apathetic towards it until now.

The Original Byarlant is a suit I’ve gone back-and-forth on over time, disliking to tolerating to (generally) liking. It’s got a very unique silhouette to it, and I like how it essentially ended up a high-mobility suit with so much of its body devoted to thrust, and you can believe it’s high mobility, since it’s so many thrusters that can move and swivel to precisely direct the suit where it needs to go. The head’s pretty gorgeous and I like how inhuman it is, along with the Byarlants hands and feet. It’s got a very minimalist armament - just two beam sabers and beam guns (strong beam guns, mind), but I find this only adds to its sleek feel. It looks like someone wanted a war machine that was also a race car. The colours are both villainous, appropriate for a Titans machine, and eye-catching, with the yellow drawing your eye to the face, and the red highlighting either thrusters or limbs, again emphasising it’s mobility. I do like how the feet look both delicate and weighty at the same time - they’re both designed for high speed and yet don’t look like they’d struggle to hold up the suit itself.

The Byarlant Isolde takes several features from the later Byarlant Custom - chiefly the shoulder thrusters and back fuel tanks, creating the sense that Birnam was able to get their hands on some new parts, but not enough to fully upgrade the Byarlant. I will say that I absolutely adore the new colour scheme - I didn’t expect to like a lilac and white mobile suit this much, but somehow the Isolde makes it all work. I should note that the Byarlant is similarly outdated to the rest of the mobile suits present, however, The Titans and Neo Zeon didn’t have that much of a tech gap, chiefly since Neo Zeon declared war basically right after the Titans defeat. They undoubtedly had an edge in Newtype weaponry and heavily armed mobile suits, but from a practical standpoint, a high performance suit from the latter days of the Gryps War is probably going to stand a better chance than a Grunt unit from the Neo Zeon war. The Byarlant was always a fast suit, so this makes even more sense. This is why it slightly baffles me that the Tristan is considered Birnam’s best unit, but I’ll talk more about that later. Though I do like the original Byarlant’s head, I find the Isolde’s Gundam-style head to be growing on me. It’s likely a more advanced head than the original Byarlant, and likely better suited for its environment of a dense asteroid base (in UC, Monoeyes tend to be better at range, whereas Twin-eyes are better in close quarters (it’s to do with target tracking at differing ranges), though it’s not a large enough difference for it to get called out). It was likely also chosen for the lingering psychological effects it may have on any former Zeon or Neo-Zeon personnel they might run into while investigating axis - appropriate, since the Titans also dabbled in that. I will say that the new head gives the Isolde and absolutely wonderful silhouette - the sunken red-on-white eyes make it look very imposing and it reminds me of some of the head designs from Gundam Sentinel (the geometric nature of its V-fin also helps with the intimidation factor in my opinion, though I’m not really certain why).

The Ahava Azieru is a weird one. I know basically nothing about the design or it’s origin, and even it’s general form is unclear. It’s a mobile armour that I can only assume is patterned after the Neue Ziel, but when I first read the novel, I assumed it was some sort of prototype to the Alpha Azieru, so I’ve no idea what it could be a derivative of. It’s very well armed, and it seems to have at least some common design features of Late-UC Mobile Armours. I do like how it can essentially afford to sit back and throw beams at its opponents, but it seems remarkably slow for a MA (though that could be down to the pilot). It seems to have the design of a dragon, with its large winglike shields and funnel tail, which is an odd decision, since it’s ally, the R-Jarja is mentioned multiple times as being a “Knight”, an enemy of a dragon. Yet Arlette uses it to communicate with the enemy pilot, so they don’t come into conflict? It’s an odd thing. I do very much love the head (perhaps I have a thing for inhuman head designs in Gundam, though it’s awkward to see in relation to the rest of it).

The Jegan (Birnam Type). It’s a purple Jegan with a custom visor and rifle, used by Birnam. While it’s nice that it’s giving us a preview of what the Crossbone Vanguard’s suits will eventually look like (it’s rifle resembles a shot lancer somewhat), it honestly doesn’t do anything. It could have been replaced with any other grunt suit and it would have been the same (I’ve gone off the Jegan’s design a touch as of late, so forgive me if I’ve little to say on this one).

Finally, the Gundam AN-01 “Tristan” (typically just called the Tristan) and Kurwenal. Since the Kurwenal is an add-on to the Tristan, I figured I’d cover them together. This is also because although the Kurwenal is my least favourite design, I have more to say on the Tristan itself. I find the Kurwenal to just be boring honestly. It’s a bunch of missiles and Newtype tech bolted to the Tristan, relying on overwhelming firepower as opposed to anything else. I don’t like it’s colour scheme or it’s form at all, it feels too much like a toy with its blue and red colours and blocky psycommu claws. While it’s 5-tube beam pods make for a good visual, I can’t really appreciate them because they’re just a box that shoots scattering beams. There’s no design or artistry to them like there is with funnels, those agile and adaptable little attack drones. Lastly, when it gets broken up the Tristan just sits there. I’m not saying I expected it to leap out and continue the fight, it just looked so very goofy that I couldn’t take it seriously as a weapon. Onto the actual Tristan then. The novel art does help it a little but……. It’s just so boring. It’s the NT-1 Alex repaired with parts that make it look more like the MK-II. Performance-wise, the Byarlant Isolde was probably better-performing than it. It looks very generic, especially when compared to other Gundam-type mobile suits. Part of it might be that it exists at a time when 4th-Gen MS are all the range, while it’s only a 2nd gen at best. But the way it’s presented as Birnam’s big trump card is just silly when it’s roughly two wars out of date. It almost got taken out immediately by the Zaku III custom and only survived because the pilot couldn’t pull the trigger. I guess it’s supposed to represent the Gundam’s legacy in the same way that the Zaku represents Char’s legacy? But it’s basically the only Gundam that neither Char or Amuro had anything to do with, so that line of thinking falls a bit flat. It’s just overall dull.

Oddly so, even, because despite it changing very little, I find that I prefer its predecessor, the Gundam NT-1 “Alex” considerably. Part of it might be the older style of design, the well-defined place that the Alex has - it’s a nice piece of Late-OYW design, being cutting-edge and (spec-wise) able to give pretty much anything of the same time period a run for it’s money in the right hands. It feels like something between the RX-78 and the Gundam Development Project (Gp01, etc) and I like how elegant it feels, without losing any of that all-important weight. It feels like a space-specialist Gundam, counterbalancing the Gundam Ground Types from 08th MS team, with its extra ambac thrusters, compact and powerful backpack and general blue colourscheme. It’s well-used, since it shows the Federation moving to capitalise on their strengths and how desperate Zeon is at that stage of the war to stop things getting any worse. It also further demonstrates the massive power disparity between a Gundam and many of Zeon’s mobile suits, only being destroyed through great sacrifice and luck. That might just be it, the Tristan has too many recycled elements for me to look at it as it’s own thing, and it’s missing all those finer details from the Alex, so it just looks lesser by comparison. It’s little more than a charismatic grunt, compared to the absolute terrifying monster that was the Alex.

[eric-cartman-my-beloved]

why do you hate the post covid specials

  Well, anon, since you asked… Prepare yourself.

  If at any point during answering this I seem angry (I probably will) I promise it’s not because of you, only because of the subject matter.

  So far, the only South Park episode I have intensely disliked (not even hated) is “Make Love Not Warcraft”. But the Post Covid Specials…they just make my blood boil.

  Before starting, let me just mention that aside from a scene or two, I have only watched the specials once. (One time was already painful enough.) So if I make any mistakes plot-wise, you’re free to let me know.

  There are certain things I can appreciate about the Post Covid Specials – like Stan and Kyle’s interactions, for example – but for every thing I like there are about five I dislike. I wasn’t really satisfied with the direction they took Butters to, I didn’t like Kenny’s adult design, I didn’t like Randy, and Scott did not even make a cameo. However, I can tolerate these and they are more or less minor details when compared to the actual problem I have with these god-forsaken specials.

  Eric.

  In fact, I have such a huge problem with him that I think if Eric was completely absent from the specials, they’d be 10.000% better.

  Why I dislike this… iteration of him so much? Well, this can be split into two parts: a) design and b) characterization. And one last thing, for the most part I’ll be referring to Eric in the specials as “Rabbi Cartman”. I couldn’t call him “Eric” even if you paid me.

  Let’s address the elephant in the room first:

Design

  What is this.

  What. The. Devil. Is. This.

  I mean come on, really – what is that thing???

  Literally – and I mean literally – the only slightly positive thing I have to say about it is the suit. Everything else is just…ugh…

  What is wrong with his head? Everyone else gets a normal – for South Park standards – shaped head but his is just built like a ball?

  Scratch that, his entire body is shaped like a ball. What’s up with the short, stubby legs and the arms that barely reach his sides?

  And as if that wasn’t enough, look at his face again.

  That stubble…Why? It’s so ugly, so disgusting, so gross…

  Also, he’s the only one – out of the main four, at least – who looks like he has wrinkles around his mouth. Him! Not Kenny or Stan. Him.

  And why glasses of this shape specifically? Granted, I don’t think any other shape would have fitted that ball of a face, but still, they could have somehow been better than this! They make him look like a grandpa.

  Not to mention…the graying hair! Yeah, okay, I know, Stan and Kenny appear to have some graying hairs too, but they aren’t nearly as prominent or as much of an eyesore to look at. And look! His hairline seems to be receding, even! (And you’re telling me that Eric, who cared about his hair so much more than the rest of the boys, would just let that happen and walk around with gray hairs without doing anything about it.)

  Next up, we have his eyebrows. Remember how Eric is the only kid character with triangular – so presumably nicely-shaped – eyebrows? Yeah, not anymore. Now they’re thick and look unkempt.

  His nose… That’s not a nose. These are just two holes. No one else has a nose shaped like that. It just leads me to believe that it was made different and therefore ugly on purpose.

  Did I mention his voice? The cute little inflections he used to make in words are gone. Now his voice just sounds like the voice of every other adult character. If you close your eyes, there’s no way you’ll be able to tell it apart from others.

  But wait. We’re not done yet. There’s more.

  (The moment this had come on screen I regretted ever tapping on the play button.)

  Why. Why. Why? Oh god, why…?

  He’s so round and ugly… The hairs… On his chest, on his arms, on his freaking shoulders! The way his belly is shagging downwards… Eww…

  Now, because some might misinterpret this, I’m not saying his weight is the problem. Of course Eric will be heavy in adulthood as well – it would look weird (and OOC) if he got a six-pack out of nowhere – that’s not what I’m saying. It’s the way the weight is distributed that is the problem. And certainly the fact that he looks so greasy and old.

  But maybe…just maybe…I could have looked past all of that…

  If they hadn’t made him the shortest one out of the group.

  *Trying to contain rage* This picture infuriates me so much…

  Eric’s father was a football player. They’re tall. If you don’t believe me, all you have to do is a simple Google search.

  So then why – oh why – did Kyle, with the shortest mother out of the rest and what appears to be a father of average stature, turn out to be the tallest, and not Eric?

  “But nutrition and diet play a role too, not just genes-”

  I don’t care. That’s not always the case. Sometimes genes overpower nutrition. But even if it was, this is a show about fourth graders who travelled to space – now people wanna think about realism?

  “But Kyle and Stan’s designs are based on Matt and Trey”.

  So? That’s not an excuse not to give Kyle Matt’s height and make Eric taller than him.

  Overall, this is a design that I do not think fits Eric at all.

  But maybe…maybe…I could have excused all that. (Eric’s design is not what attracted me to him in the first place. I could have ignored how he looked entirely.)

  If Rabbi Cartman’s personality was anywhere near close to Eric’s.

  *Sigh* Let’s get to the second part.

2. Characterization

  Rabbi Cartman looks like someone who is kind to his family – loving, even – can get along with his friends, on the surface level, at least, but also has a darker, manipulative side.

  It was when we got to see that darker side that I could see some remnants of Eric’s usual personality. However, everything else about him is off.

  First off, Rabbi Cartman is, well, a rabbi.

  How? How did he leave all of his usual ideas he has been clinging onto for years and took up Judaism? When did this inane 180-degree turn happen in his life?

  Eric has never shown enough motivation to make a change in his life and try to be a better person. Besides, the whole point of his character is for him to be the most insufferable and terrible person he can be, all while being amusing for the viewer. With this drastic change of heart, his whole concept is essentially diminished.

  So no, I can’t just accept that Eric woke up one day, decided he wanted to be a Jew and left all of his racist/nazi tendencies behind. Perhaps if they’d shown us some snippets of his past and we could actually see how he developed, maybe I would have considered it. But now there is no way I can believe that Eric made a genuine change because he was unhappy with himself.

  Nor can I accept that he has found love.

  During both specials, he is not shown being rude towards Yentl even once, which comes in complete contrast with his behavior towards Heidi while they were dating. Does he love Yentl? Personally I cannot believe that. I do not believe that Eric is capable of love, and I certainly cannot believe it without any kind of explanation.

  Why does he love Yentl? What is it that he gains from her? How did he end up liking her enough to marry her?

  Love and marriage aside, Rabbi Cartman is a father. Not of one, not of two, but of three children.

  To me, Eric does not seem like the type to want kids. At all. Why would he want to take on responsibilities that do not directly benefit him in some kind of way? And yet, Rabbi Cartman tends to his kids, without complaining and occasionally even tries to “discipline” them. It makes absolutely no sense. Eric is an extremely selfish being. How can Rabbi Cartman care about his kids so unconditionally? Without personally benefitting whatsoever?

  The only part of his personality that has stayed somewhat similar to his canon one is his obvious dislike for Kyle. Which doesn’t even come into play until later.

  Rabbi Cartman has clearly been thinking about Kyle for quite some time now, and it’s that obsession of sorts that is reminiscent of his younger self. But that just isn’t enough. This is still not Eric, because Eric’s entire character is not based on obsessing over Kyle, it never was. Kyle is just a part of Eric’s character. Perhaps a large one when compared to some others, but still just a part.

  And as for those who say that he is able to change:

I do not/cannot believe that at all and

Again, we didn’t even see how exactly the change happened.

  You can’t expect me to believe that such a precious and fascinating character – a gift of a character, really – was butchered just because a random special that was only made for a deal with Paramount+ said so.

  Now that we’ve gotten Rabbi Cartman out of the way, let’s talk about Homeless Cartman for a bit (I can’t call that thing “Eric” either).

  Oh dear…

  This ending makes zero sense for him as well. It’s obvious that Eric has a self-destructive and dangerous personality, but his instinct of self-preservation is also quite elevated. He will do anything he can to survive and to save himself from hardship. And that means anything – that boy has no scruples of any kind. Combine that with the fact that he can be very smart, calculating, manipulative and innovative and you get a person who is simply too qualified to end up on the streets in the pathetic condition Homeless Cartman is seen in.

  There is always a way out for Eric. Even when he is leading a movement that is planning to eradicate all non-gingers and he re-discovers that he is not a ginger. Always.

  But even if he made some mistakes that led to him being homeless, it would be for a very short period of time. (Homeless Cartman looks like he’s been roaming the streets aimlessly for quite some time.) Eric would figure his way out of whatever tough situation he would be in.

  Conclusion:

  I cannot take the Post Covid Specials seriously when they do not take themselves seriously. (And I mean that in the context of South Park, which is, of course, a comedy.) I do not even consider them to be canon.

  The impression they give me is that Matt and Trey did not care about giving Eric the treatment he deserves, or a believable future. They just wanted him to be the punchline to a couple of jokes they had in their heads.

  “So you know how Cartman is a nazi? Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we turned him into a rabbi who’s happily married? No one’s gonna see it coming”.

  Which of course is their right – it is their show and their character, duh – and at the same time I have the right to hate it.

  Lastly, I do suppose I kind of hate the Post Covid Specials’ “heritage” in the fandom too. It just fueled more people to headcanon him as the shortest in the group and as the more submissive one in fics – namely, Kyman ones. I wholly disagree with both these depictions – without that meaning that I have a problem with people sharing their own opinions. Both of these things you wouldn’t see nearly as often before the specials came out.

  I think I’ve said this on Twitter, but I’ll say it again here:

  If I was somehow given the choice of either bringing Scott back to the show or forever erasing the Post Covid Specials, I would choose the latter no questions asked. (And this is coming from someone who loves Scott a lot, so it is a big deal.)

  I guess we’ve reached the end. If you’ve actually read this far, thank you!

  I’d say I’m sorry if I’ve made you bored, but you were warned.

  Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about this!

[magpiesmudpie]

i’m reading how to break in (it’s been on my marked for later for a while and i just now got around to it) and i noticed an yve cameo🤭

(i know how to break in was written before the snake in the sand but it’s lovely to see yve nonetheless)

also i love how you write leto and jessica. they’re so sweet <3

also² the difference between the snake in the sand paul and this paul is so interesting to me because you manage to write them so contrasting (with htbi paul being sharper and more hot-headed whereas tsits paul is a lot softer around the edges barring when he gets angry — at least how i perceived them) while also keeping the essence of the same character so that no matter what, we all know that both versions are two of the same paul. very admirable display of writing/characterization talent on your part, not to mention the complex cultures you’ve incorporated into both those works

Aw, I’m pleased you’re reading that too! I had a fab time writing HTBI, it was the first story I’d ever written, but I have mixed feelings about the ending. After SITS, I’d like to go back and rework it to bring more closure to their arcs.

Yes, I stole Yve and Osric from HTBI - even Frances has an honourable mention, if you can spot her later? Only Dana was a new character in SITS.

Angry, controlling Paul was SUCH fun to write - I did enjoy that. I’m much closer in personality to Callisto than Irulan, so that side was easy, but I found it hard to write a strong female lead with that dynamic. Anyway, I’d love to hear more about what you do l/don’t like and any ideas for rewriting the ending 👀

Excited for your Paul/Irulan fic to drop! How is it going?

[surrealsunday]

ahahahah don’t worry i didn’t take it personal, it happens to the best of us too, especially when life is here shsbdb

fr i really liked chap10 and the mix between these smexy and raw emotional moments was very good and it felt natural, very them i’d say. also glad you liked my memes ahah it’s a pleasure to provide every time 😌

ahahah poor idriss yeah he’s going through it in every universe lmao but hopefully he’s always got a manon to cheer him up <3

oooh i love how the minute by minute cameo wasn’t planned, it makes the moment even more true and natural (once again) between them! and yes they’re destined to have that moment no matter the universe 🤍

truly the shadow pic is one of the best (and one of my fav) all fics combined i think! your obsession with it made it looked perfectly them, in every way 😌

well we may be the best readers in the world but you are one of the best writers as well! you truly have a talent to make a fic alive and real! and i’m so glad our comments and thoughts on your elu fics are giving you the will to continue writing for that fandom (we’re really thankful for that 🤍). one of the best distraction <333

lmaoo i don’t know that julie but i love her ahah! she has all the right to be proud of herself, as she should 😌 so as she’s already begging you to write new stories, do we expect another fic in the future? 👀

anyways all the love to you too! it always is a pleasure reacting to you fics, always giving me a good time so lots of kuddos to you 💞💞💞

oh PS: the other day i realized i forgot another thing in my message 😭 (i blame uni for making me too tired to not connect my brain properly lmao) but it was abt axel and his moustache 🤣🤣 i wanted to say that i agree with you 100%! like it’s so shitty behavior to send a personal message just to say you don’t like it. i mean how do they think he’s gonna react? “aw you don’t like it..okay i’m gonna shave it so you’re happy abt it again and like me better again” this is bullshit lmao of course he had a good laugh abt it and plays with it🤣 he really seems to like it and that’s what matters (even if we think it’s meh). but yeah very lucas lallemant behavior dbdjdb

🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗

I love that YOU love the shadow pic that much! That made me think about what my fave edits are 🤔. Shadow pic is probably up there because I love the context of it too and Eliott's caption. It just felt like a perfect close to their story. Then I'd probably have a soft spot for some of the Lucas tattoo edits from Mood Tattoo. Or the baby Elu from Punzel 🥺. I do have fun with edits I must admit 😌.

As for future fics... Julie is keeping a list of the au's I have mentioned off hand and that she demands I write 😂. At the moment, I'm writing a fic for a different fandom (we'll see if I manage to complete it because it's a different one for me). And writing for other characters tends to be a brain break for me and it reenergizes me for Elu. So we'll see if that happens! At the end of the day I really have loved writing and it's become so a fun hobby for me, so as long as I'm having a good time doing it, I doubt I'll stop. And I'm so thankful for your words and your interest in reading more from me 🥹💞.

Omg the mustache aldkfjalsdkfj. Yes lmao. But Axel really is a shit disturber of the highest order and I just know that he loves the attention - good and bad. He is such a theatre kid lolol. Like, polar opposite personality from me, but I appreciate and stare in awe at the extrovert he is. So he can just keep doing him, and I will just shed a tear or two over the pics I can't use/ would have to edit due to that damn 'stache 😂.

[lavendertownsghost]

Earthspark opinions (spoilers under break)

Earthspark is pretty good! Like, it is a kids show and that’s fairly obvious at some points, but the plot and characters were all pretty solid. I’m not going to call them ‘plot holes’ but there are definitely some threads i hope season 2 answers (is season 2 confirmed?)

Dot and Megatron’s relationship is great, and that’s another thing i really hope season two goes into more. Alex is also a great character, we love good dads and just having parents be actual people.

the kids are also wonderful, and they actually act like kids! emotional moments, impulsive decisions and all.

now for spoilers;

I WOULD DIE AND KILL FOR NIGHTSHADE. I really hope they have a cat alt-mode, their headpiece looks kind of like cat ears but since they don’t have an alt-mode that could change. I saw a rumor that Jawbreaker is going to have a dinosaur alt-mode, so that would be interesting. I don’t know how I feel about Hashtag’s name, but she is very excitable and cute.

I find it interesting that Megatron was acting like the cassettes were unruly children, and even more interesting that after Optimus let them go, Frenzy acted like she didn’t want to follow Soundwave anymore. Really hoping she and Lazerbeak run into the kids and get forcibly added into the found family.

speaking of which, I love how Wheeljack was dragged into being Dad 2. Eventually every character is getting added into this family, it’s only a matter of time.

I liked how Megatron openly questioned everything GHOST does with the captured Decepticons, because that’s fucked up! At least they’re not experiment on them that we know of, but I really hope that’s addressed in season 2.

Loved the Screamer cameo, he’s in gay baby jail where he belongs. Where is Ratchet though? they have to have him somewhere in season 2.

Things I want / am looking forwards to in season 2;

like i said before, Frenzy and Lazerbeak meeting the kids. if they join back up with Soundwave after he presumably escapes, I really want a scenario where Soundwave has one of Dot’s kids hostage, and she has one of the cassettes hostage. And then at the same moment, I want them to realize that they’re threatening the other’s kids.

I really want to see what Alex and Megatron’s relationship is. they both care a lot about Dot, and I hope they get along.

I need to know how Dot and Megatron met. Was it before Megatron joined GHOST? Did they fight each other at some point? I really want Dot to have known him an an enemy first.

I really want Lost Light characters. I know that’s unlikely, but hear me out! Since we have a canon nonbinary character, having a gay couple would be a nice next step. Using one of the canon gay characters from IDW would be a good way to go, even if it’s just mentioning that the reason Ratchet isn’t there is that he’s on his honeymoon with his husband Drift.

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | 05 | kth

title ; the sun & the star pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 5.7k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then.  it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention.  sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

notes ; 

i cannot believe i still didn't manage to finish this out woops but here is part five, pls enjoy :) the next part will probably be just a short epilogue !

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, insecurity, brief mentions of infidelity, sun is a words of affirmation girlie, yoongi cameo!!

you don’t make it a habit to think about seokjin. but sometimes he sneaks in, slips past your defenses, and he floods you. 

the moment he first smiled at you, you knew it was game over. seokjin had you wrapped around his finger and you were too willing to let him play you like a puppet on strings. 

you suppose a dog on a leash would be a more accurate metaphor. you’d convinced yourself you’d follow him to the ends of the world and back, just to see that smile. you wanted a white picket fence home badly enough to settle for being the family pet. 

seokjin made you laugh, effortlessly. he never once looked at you the way others whispered about you, the beginnings of your reputation and the wildfire rumors that you didn’t care enough to put out. he treated you only as the way he saw you: defiant, childish, even a little bit shy. 

the truth is that if hoseok hadn’t told you what was happening between seokjin and sky, you never would’ve even noticed, so wrapped up in his pretty eyes and pretty smile and pretty words. 

you loved him. you did. 

you were just never going to choose him over sky, no matter how you loved him. 

whatever damage he left you with, you’ve refused to acknowledge. you admit to the hurt, but you don’t admit to its depth. how far it’s sunk into you, how the poison spreads to all the other wounds you have, slowly burning you to ash. 

because seokjin is a reminder that every possibility of the home you dream of is a lie. you don’t ever get to come home to someone. all those nights he fell asleep with you on the phone, the pseudo-concept of someone tucking you into bed, all of it was a mirage. 

you don’t get to have a family that’s there when you need them. you don’t get to have a family that hangs up holiday lights with you, or goes on vacations together, or helps you unpack at your freshman year college dorm. you know your parents work hard and try their best, but there’s no stepping around the fact that they weren’t there for you. they aren’t. they’re absent and you have no choice but to be grateful even if you feel resentful, too. you have to sit with the guilt of that resentment, knowing you don’t get to have what all the other kids around you have - you’re the outlier. you’re the one whose parents you can never find in the crowd. whose parents are never home. 

you used to think seokjin could sort of be like home. 

he wasn’t. turns out, what you knew all along was true: sky is your home. 

taehyung is your home. 

yet, even knowing this, they felt so far away. maybe it’s your fault, for watching too many shows and too many commercials about happy families with kids who get to live carefree childhoods. who don’t jump from one shift to another to class then back to work, who spend their afternoons in front of frozen yogurt counters, talking and laughing, instead of behind them, handing out change and cleaning up after they’ve gone. you’ve been working since before you were legally allowed to, paid under the counter just to stock up spare change. 

when you were younger, it was easier. kids don’t know any better. can’t tell the differences as easily. but the older you got, the more obvious it became. and the less you wanted anyone to notice. 

the jealousy doesn’t sit well with you. but it is there, and you never wanted sky and taehyung to know. you don’t think it’s fair. sky and taehyung are lucky to be so loved and protected, and you would never wish them any worse off kind of life, but the days add up and the nights pass and sometimes, when you were younger, you’d stare outside your window towards their house, and feel so, terribly, far away. 

envy is the monster living under your bed. loneliness is the one that sleeps next to you. 

.

.

.

it’s only been a couple days. but every time another sunset passes, taehyung feels himself grow more and more on edge, the anxiety gnawing away at him. 

he camps out by his window, trying to catch sight of you coming home from your shifts, but somehow you still manage to elude him. the fight lingers in his mind and it feels brutal, replays on a loop, taehyung’s own personal torture mechanism. 

sky can tell something’s shifted in taehyung’s mood. something larger than the fact that you still haven’t stopped by, with enough time passed that even their parents are asking about you. sky doesn’t push, though, only asks on occasion if he wants to join her whenever yoongi drops by to pick her up to visit hoseok. 

taehyung doesn’t join. the guilt is eating away at him, knowing that the reason you won’t come over now includes him and the careless things he said that night. 

you don’t pick up his calls. you don’t answer his texts. taehyung considers leaving a voicemail but knows it’d too quickly deteriorate and you don’t deserve taehyung’s messiness in your inbox. you continue to put up a front in the group chat instead, where it’s easy for you to not acknowledge him there, letting the conversation die or move on. 

you’ve never been angry with him before. maybe annoyed, but never angry. he can’t unsee the hurt in your expression, the shame and the utter anguish, the sense that you’re just… alone. taehyung made you feel alone. 

because he doesn’t understand you. you’re right. he has no idea what it’s like. everything he thought he was so clever for seeing and noticing about you - it was all surface level, the very peaks of the mountains you kept hidden behind the way that you chose to love your friends. 

taehyung buries his face in his hands. jimin had smacked him over the head and told him to apologize, but that would require being able to find you, and you’re not interested in being found. for someone who literally lives across the street, you do an excellent job dodging your neighbors. 

“look,” jimin had sighed when taehyung admitted what he’d said to his friend. “i know she doesn’t talk about the hard things with us, but none of us are stupid, right? it is hard on her, whether or not she says it. and she’s trying so hard to hide it, trying so hard to protect us, it feels wrong to not at least let her pretend we don’t know. to just let her have it. but that’s because that’s the kind of relationship i have with her. i don’t want to push her. but you, of all people -” jimin had cut off then, rubbing his head frustratedly. “just - go find her and apologize.”

taehyung sighs, staring out at your dark house across the street. every attempt he makes to find you is fruitless, and it looks like you have no intention of coming home to him. 

his heart aches in his chest, and he hates that he knows this feeling. 

he’s lost at sea, with no idea how to get home. 

.

.

.

“fucking finally.” 

you back snaps straight at the sound, mouth open to greet whoever came through, but you slump back down into your godawful posture when you realize it’s just yoongi. you probably should’ve known it was him based on the drawl in his voice, but hey, you’re tired. sue you. 

“how can i help you,” you say dryly, flinching back when yoongi tries to flick at the ridiculous cap that comes part and parcel with your froyo uniform. he smirks when you throw him an unamused look. 

“you’ve been mia,” he says, placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward slightly. you give a charming, sarcastic smile and gesture around the store. 

“i’ve been busy.” 

yoongi matches your sardonic smile. “you’ve also been ignoring my texts.”

“don’t take it personal,” you smile sweetly. “or do, actually. since when were you a double texter anyway?” 

yoongi exhales loudly. “well i have this friend,” he starts off, and you roll your eyes, knowing he’s about to get dramatic. “and i’ve been trying to get ahold of her for weeks now, because someone else told me that she’s been an avoidant little shit lately, so me, being the good friend i am, have been trying to figure out what’s going on. you’d think that my friend would text me back at least once, but instead, even though out of the goodness of my heart, i used to go out of my way to drive her to and from school, she seems to have completely forgotten how generous i am and forced me to go on this wild goose hunt bullshit to track her down so we can have one conversation-” 

“give it a rest, yoongi,” you groan, lolling your head back. yoongi grins. 

“and now i’m here,” he finally finishes. “waiting for an explanation. why are you giving sky a hard time?” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do i always feel like you like sky better than me?” 

“because i do. why are you giving sky a hard time?” 

you suck your teeth in annoyance but yoongi persists, staring you down, one eyebrow raising expectantly. 

“i’m not giving her a hard time, yoongi.” 

yoongi stares at you. you stare back. he stares harder. 

you resist the urge to toss your cap at him. when you don’t relent, he exhales a long sigh, running one hand through his hair. “why are you being so stubborn?” 

something anxious curls in your stomach, but you ignore it. “i’m just busy, yoongi.” 

“can you stop giving me bullshit answers, y/n?” he snaps back, patience waning, and you lower your head. you’re no longer talking to regular yoongi. you’re talking to protective yoongi, the same one who drove you back and forth from school just so you could avoid sky when you were in high school. this version of yoongi is no longer taking your side, though. 

he softens a little at the sight of your ducked head, the way your fingers curl against the countertops. “look,” he says, gentler this time. “whatever’s happening, you can’t keep running from it every time. i let you hide when you were in high school because you needed the time to process the shit seokjin put you through. but we’re not kids anymore, sun, and sky and taehyung are your best friends. they worry about you. everyone worries about you, because they care about you, and they want you around. so get that through your thick skull, would you?” 

you look up at him a bit petulantly when you hear his last sentence, but he just gives you a half-smile, eyes kind in spite of the somewhat rough way he delivers his words. he leans forward again, waiting for your answer. you lower your eyes. 

when you still fail to respond to him, yoongi sighs quietly. “y/n,” he says, and you return your gaze to him, a little more vulnerable than before. “let your friends in, kid. they can handle it. just give them a chance to.”

he lets you mull over what he’s said, watching you turn the words over in your head. they feel so much like a foreign concept, but you know he’s right. you can’t keep running from your friends. you can’t keep locking them out of your head just because you’re scared. 

you need to break your own worst habits, and trust that your friends will be there to catch you. 

when you finally look back up at him, a little teary-eyed, he lets out a scoff, but there’s no malice behind it, just fondness. he taps the top of your cap, then drags a chair over to sit across you at the counter, propping his chin against his hand. 

“now tell me,” he prompts. “what’s been going on in the life of sun?” 

.

.

.

despite yoongi’s intervention, you still haven’t stopped by sky and taehyung’s house. part of you is embarrassed, but another part of you simply isn’t ready. 

you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do, honestly. do you just show up, act like you haven’t been missing for like two weeks straight, or…? what does the handbook say about dodging your friends without explanation and then suddenly reappearing in their lives? 

you contemplate this as you sit in your driveway, staring at your dark house. it’s cold outside, but you don’t want to go in. your head feels too messy, too many things jumbled up that you can’t untangle. 

with a sigh, you heave yourself out of your car and lock it behind you, turning away from your house to walk down the street instead of through your front door. it’s dark, but the other houses on the street have their lights on, and combined with the street lamps, you can see well enough as you trudge down the sidewalk with your hands shoved into your pockets. 

you grew up on this street. the winding sidewalk is familiar to you, having talked off sky’s ears for a decade straight every morning and every afternoon on the way to and from the bus stop. you take pause only at the neighborhood park, smiling a little at the memory of a younger version of you and sky running around it, dangling from monkey bars and barreling down slides, screaming happily. 

you step onto the wood chips, running a hand over one of the spring riders. there’s two of them, a little dinosaur and a seahorse. sky always wondered who picked the creatures - “they don’t make any sense, sun,” - and you always countered that, “it’s not supposed to make sense, sky, it’s just supposed to be fun.”

you lean against the dinosaur, feeling it sway a little. you shift to slightly sit on it sideways, one hand on the handlebar but both feet still largely on the ground, so it takes most of your weight but doesn’t bounce forwards and back. 

when you were kids, the dinosaur was always yours, and the seahorse was sky’s. if you close your eyes and think for long enough, you can probably still hear sky laughing at your ridiculous explanation for why the dinosaur and the seahorse are best friends at the playground. 

you smile wryly. it makes you nostalgic. things were simpler back then. you don’t know when things started to get complicated. you don’t know when you learned to run away, instead of running straight to sky and taehyung. 

you suppose you just didn’t want to be the reason their lives were anything less than picture perfect. 

you feel like a stain in their lives. like someone filmed their movie and forgot to take you out of the scene, a misplaced prop left behind and memorialized in their reel. but maybe if you try hard enough, no one will notice that you were mistakenly left in view. maybe you’ll blend in enough and the audience will think it was intentional. 

you just don’t want to be the reason two adored and unconditionally loved kids, who have been shielded their whole lives, have to learn and understand what it means to be hurt. 

even if that means you have to bleed out alone. 

a scuffling noise has your head snapping in the direction of the sound, body tensing in preparation to either fight or (more likely) run for your life. but you relax at the sight of a familiar face, taehyung’s embarrassed expression as he rights himself, having just narrowly avoided letting his face meet the sidewalk when he tripped over… air, probably. 

you try to hide your amusement. you really do. 

but then it hits you that taehyung’s here, and it hits taehyung that you’re here, and now both of you are stiff again, staring at each other, unsure what to do or say. 

taehyung shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “i was just… on a walk,” he mumbles. 

you bite your lip. “...me too.” 

neither of you seem capable of looking at each other, instead staring at aimless spots further away, lingering in each other’s presence in silence. it’s painfully awkward, and you can’t stand how quiet it is, so with a shaky breath, you try, “why are you out so late?” 

taehyung’s eyes immediately fall to you, and you despise how easily your heart rate jolts up. taehyung always looks at you like you really are the sun. the center of his universe. 

he shrugs one shoulder, letting it rise and then fall. “just wanted some fresh air, i guess.” 

you eyes shift to the side as you think this over, brows drawing in. “...in the dead of winter?” 

he clears his throat. “well…” he trails off, then frowns. “why do you always question it when i’m out and about?” 

you stare at him. “because you’re always out and about at the weirdest times!” 

you watch him straighten a little, affronted. “you’re out too.” 

you sputter. this is ridiculous. you’re sitting on a dinosaur toy at a children’s playground arguing with taehyung about nonsense. you feel silly having this discussion while literally still perched on top of a wobbly spring rider so you clumsily slide off it, pushing back for leverage to stand up straight again. 

but taehyung takes this as you exiting the conversation, uninterested in even bickering with him about nothing. he panics. he’s not ready for you to leave. he just got here, just found a chance to talk to you again, and he’s wasting it squabbling over - over curfew, more or less. 

no. he can’t let you go like this. not without having the conversation he meant to have with you, the one you’ve been trying to avoid that he doesn’t want to avoid, no matter how hard it might get. 

but whatever eloquent bid for you to stay with him is exchanged in favor of the fear that’s been building in him for days, maybe even weeks. he blurts it out without thinking, “why are you always hiding from me?” 

it was supposed to come out frustrated but instead it came out desperate, begging to understand why you’re always running, why you won’t ever let all parts of you show, why there’s always one side hidden away, never once all of you standing in front of him. there’s always some part of you shadowed, like you don’t trust anyone enough to let them see all of you. 

he can’t read you. he’s realized he’s never been able to; you do so well putting up masks, like it comes naturally to you. maybe it does. maybe years of pretending like nothing’s wrong makes you feel like it could be possible, that everything is okay. 

but the longer he waits for your answer, the more the cracks begin to show. you can’t laugh this off, or distract him with something else. you weren’t trying to leave in the first place, but when he asks you so bluntly, you can only stand there, frozen in place. everything in you says to run, but your feet won’t move. your eyes shift away from him, and your jaw sets tight, like you’re trying not to cry. slowly, it dawns on him that maybe the front you spent years putting up is exactly what you need. for everything to be okay. 

he takes a cautious step closer. you don’t move away, but you do flinch a little, and it breaks his heart. he makes his way to you, slowly, carefully, and with every step, more and more of you reveals yourself to him. the slight tremble in your bottom lip, the tears that start to blur your vision, but they don’t fall, you just blink them away, out of habit. 

when he’s in front of you, you still don’t look up to meet his gaze. it’s like you’re paralyzed. 

gently, he places his hands on your arms, rubbing slow, soothing circles. he ducks down a little to look you in the eye, and finally your eyes flick to his. he hates how wounded you look. how completely helpless. 

your breaths are shaky, and your lips part to say something, but then you glance away from him again. he squeezes your arms a little, reassuring. “sun,” he murmurs, and when you look at him, everything falls apart. 

taehyung makes you feel a lot of things. things you’re not used to, things you don’t know if you could ever get used to. all the years growing up with him, he’s made you worry, he’s made you laugh, he’s made you feel shy. hell, he’s made your heart flutter a couple times, too. those are all still things you can handle, whisk away into a locked box in the corner of your mind. 

but he also makes you feel safe. he so easily takes away the weight on your shoulders, just by being near you, and that’s the part that you can’t stand. that’s the part you’re always running away from. 

because what if one day, the home you found in taehyung, isn’t there anymore, either? 

it’s so much easier to run away than it is to be left behind. 

he dismantles you, sheds off every layer of armor and distance you keep between you and the world. he does it quietly, delicately, with so much love. you can’t fight him. you don’t know how to. 

he lifts a hand to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, his touch soft and familiar. your eyes close from the soothing action, and when you open them again, taehyung has a small, yearning smile on his face. he’s still patiently waiting for you to let him in. 

your words come out as a whisper. if he wasn’t standing so close, you don’t think he would’ve heard them, “i’m sorry.” 

he shakes his head. “you don’t have to be sorry, sun.” just come back to me. 

the tears spill over silently, and he wipes them away with so much care, like you’re beloved. you stare up at him, wishing it wasn’t always so hard for you to just say what you’re thinking. but with every caress, the words feel less like sharp scrapes coming up your throat and more like deeply buried childhood kept secrets that can finally touch the air. 

“i only know how to be alone, taehyung,” you admit, and he nods, listening, eyes a bit sad as he brushes away your tears. “so it’s what i default to when i get scared. it’s what i know. so even when it hurts, it feels like protection. i’m used to it, so i just…” you trail off for a minute, and he uses the hand that’s not wiping your tears to thread through your hair, combing it back. the feel of his fingers through your hair is so comforting, a fresh set of tears rises up, but taehyung wipes those away, too. 

“i guess i just figured it was easier to cope with what i know, than the possibility of something that could be worse.” 

he hums, knuckles brushing against your skin. he’s so warm, and you lean into his touch. “what are you so afraid of, sun?” he asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut. before you can say it out loud, he promises, “i’m not going anywhere. not without you.” 

your eyes flash open to look at him. he means it; you know he does, you’ve always known this, but your insecurities and your fears have always trampled over the promise taehyung makes in every action he takes, every moment in which he chooses to stand by you, search for you, ask to be by your side, so long as you let him. but hearing him say it out loud feels different, and you let the words sink into you, slowly. 

taehyung watches it all happen, and before he can second guess himself, he tugs you to him, pulling you flush against his chest. you’re so surprised you squeak a little, and taehyung has to hide a smile that probably isn’t appropriate for the serious conversation you’re having right now. your ears flush a little so he knows you saw his smile anyway, but your hands still hesitantly wrap around his middle, glassy eyes peering up at him. 

his hand is warm on your back, and he tucks his head over yours, feeling you relax into his arms. you shift to rest your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes close. 

they say love isn’t really about butterflies in your stomach. it’s more about comfort, and steadiness, feeling safe with someone. 

you feel safe, here. 

you can feel the rumble in taehyung’s chest when he speaks, voice low and familiar. “sun,” he plays with the ends of your hair absently as he speaks. “there’s a lot that i don’t know. i admit to that. jimin says you keep me and sky and the rest of us from really knowing because… because, like always, you want to protect us. but,” he draws away slightly to look at you. “it goes both ways, sun. i’m your friend. we’re your friends. if you can’t lean on us, then what’s the point?” 

he brings one hand up to your cheek, cradling it. “i don’t want to be the kind of friend that’s only here when things are good.” 

i don’t want to be the kind of friend that’s only here when things are good.

taehyung shatters you. your lips part but all that leaves you is a gasp and the tears that have been silently trailing down your cheeks, brushed away so tenderly by taehyung, erupt into sobs, your hands clutching at him as taehyung murmurs comfort into your ears, holding you close to him. he lets you cry into his chest, rocks you back and forth soothingly, makes promises and reminds you of all the things you’ve been scared to ask of him - of anyone - to love you even when things aren’t good. to love you for all of you, and not just the brightest parts of you. to love you and to stay. 

you crumble like this, in his arms, because it finally feels safe to. 

.

.

.

the walk back home is awkward. you’re still sniffling here and there, taehyung’s jacket tugged warm around you. but there’s no amount of layers to hide the embarrassment, of how loud and how long you just cried against him.

god, and he’s younger than you. get it together, y/n. 

but still, your heart feels steady. like someone’s cradling it, keeping it safe. you know that someone is taehyung, who’d held you so close, like you were precious, even if he was pretending like he wasn’t crying a little, too. 

(taehyung’s always been a bit of a crybaby.)

he drops you off at your front door, and you try to hide the reluctance in giving back his jacket. you also try to offer his scarf back, too, but he stops you, instead tugging it so it’s snug around your neck. “it’s yours now,” he says simply, but when he looks at you, you don’t think he’s just talking about the scarf. 

when he smiles, all remaining thoughts fly out the window. you love that smile; you’ve spent almost every day trying to put it on his face. but then his thoughts begin to show on his face, smile fading as he carefully forms the words he wants to say. 

your quiet, sincere taehyung, whose words have always been far and few between, because he wants every one of them to count. 

you probably should’ve expected the apology. but you don’t, already overwhelmed by the gentle way taehyung takes care of you, and your expression instantly changes in protest, but he places one hand against your cheek, immediately disintegrating anything you would’ve said into nothing. 

you guess if nothing else, he figured out what it takes to shut you up. 

“listen,” he persists. “just for a minute. please don’t tell me i don’t have to be sorry. i said a lot of things i shouldn’t have. not just that night, but especially that night. i panicked, and it’s not an excuse, and it doesn’t change the fact that i hurt you because i didn’t think about what it might mean, especially when it comes from someone like me, who’s never had to worry about even my tuition to pay. and i knew you were tired that night. i knew you didn’t want to talk, and i pushed you, because i needed it. and that’s not fair, sun.” 

his thumb brushes over your cheek, gaze steady on you. “it was careless. i was wrong. i’m sorry.” 

you stare up at him. he’s resolute, serious, and when he sees you give in, fold to him; when he feels you relax against his touch, he smiles gently. with a voice barely above a whisper, he murmurs, “can you try and trust me? with even just a little bit. whatever you need - whatever you want, sun. i want to be here for all of it.” 

you move from your spot so quickly it catches taehyung by surprise, his hand dropping away from your face. you feel him jump a bit when you wrap your arms around his waist, tilting your head back to look up at him. 

he blinks wide eyes back down at you, color rushing to his cheeks that you suspect has nothing to do with the cold. even though you’ve both been outside for awhile now, and you’ve had his jacket for the entire walk home, taehyung feels warm, the kind that seeps into you, and makes you feel warm, too. 

you don’t say anything. for once, you don’t think you have to. you study every inch of his familiar face, let yourself feel the race of his heart against yours. you let yourself sink into the feeling of not needing to run. not needing to protect yourself, or someone else. 

of just being here, safe and loved. by someone as kind as kim taehyung. 

.

.

.

when you show up on sky’s doorstep for the first time in over two weeks since winter break started, you don’t barge in like nothing’s wrong. you stand there with an apology on the tip of your tongue, only to be tackled by sky instead, wrapped in a tight hug. 

despite your physical affections with taehyung, you and sky on the other hand don’t actually hug that much. neither of you tend to notice this fact, up until one of you is wrapped around the other. 

despite this, both of you relax immediately. the relief is palpable, that you’re standing here, at her home. with her, your home. 

when she pulls away, you both give each other small, meaningful smiles. you step into her house, kicking your shoes off, the both of you going to lay on her living room floor to stare up at the ceiling together. like old times. 

you don’t say anything, letting the house hum around you. the heater running, the fish tank filter, the rumble of the laundry. it’s calming, to just lay here next to sky, surrounded by idle noise. 

sky speaks up first. “sun,” she calls for you, softly. you don’t turn to her, and it’s not until she continues that you realize you’re holding your breath. “you know there’s no one i’ll ever choose over you, right?” 

you inhale slowly. on your exhale, you breathe out, “i know.” 

“you told me you would never choose anyone over me,” her voice grows impossibly quieter. you both know. you both remember. the aftermath of seokjin, the topics you never touch on. the sensitive things you try to skim over, so you don’t disturb the waters. “it was easy for me to believe you, because it was obvious to me. i always knew that, because you always made sure i knew.” she turns to you. “i should’ve done the same. i should’ve made sure you always knew.” 

you can’t look at her. you don’t want to cry, not again. even when sky is trying to tell you that it’s okay to lower your walls, to show her the parts of your life that aren’t shiny and pretty, your habits stick to you. even after all of taehyung’s efforts. 

but you know what she’s trying to say. you feel it in the way the comfort starts to settle into you, a sense of belonging. 

“i promise, sun,” she whispers. “i will never choose anyone over you. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry i never asked about the things that were hurting you. i didn’t want to hurt you more by asking you about them, and instead i let you deal with it all on your own. and that was wrong. and before you tell me it’s not my fault, it is. you spend every day making every effort to be there for me. to protect me. i can say that because it’s obvious not only to me, but to a literal entire college campus, sun. it was obvious to everyone in high school, and it’s obvious to everyone in college, now, too. every year that you’ve stood by me, i felt it. that you’re my best friend, and i’m - i’m lucky that it’s you who moved in across the street, and not someone else. that it’s me you chose to stand by.”

the tears are welling up in your eyes now, the words you didn’t realize you’ve been waiting so long to hear. you thought it was enough to just know. but you hadn’t felt any of it, not until she said it out loud. 

“sun,” her hand grabs yours, and you squeeze back. “i promise. no matter how good or how bad. however far you’re willing to go for me, i would do for you, too. to the ends of the earth and back.” 

when you cry, sky cries with you. you must look like a couple idiots, just sobbing on her living room floor together, but it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter because sky is your best friend. it doesn’t matter because you would do anything for sky. it doesn’t matter because sky would do anything for you. 

it doesn’t matter. 

you’re home. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

[alister312]

i don’t think lumity is why TOH got cancelled

at the risk of having the fandom jump down my throat, i just wanna say-- i don’t think we should blame TOH “not fitting the Disney brand” ENTIRELY on Lumity

this is gonna be long so inserting a read more here

don’t get me wrong! i’m sure Dana Terrace’s relentlessness in fighting for queer main characters was a contributing factor. however, and i say this as both a Lumity shipper and a queer person myself, the TOH fandom has a nasty habit of putting on blinders for everything in the show that doesn’t involve Lumity also amity generally but the fandom’s lowkey racism isn’t today’s topic lol

so! my reasons as to why i believe it isn’t entirely Lumity/homophobia that got TOH booted is that 1) Terrace said it herself that it wasn’t the queer themes. could she be lying due to an NDA or the already shaky fate of s3? yes, however, i’m inclined to believe her. 2) the decision to cancel after s3 was apparently made “before Agony of a Witch premiered”, which means the only openly gay thing that had happened so far was Enchanting Grom Fright. i don’t know if canon Lumity had been confirmed/approved at that point so if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t have factored into the decision. 3) Disney is trying hard to capitalize on the LGBTQ community right now. sure they’re homophobic in the ways that matter but you can’t deny that they are trying very hard to make us spend money on their movies with constant “FIRST GAY CHARACTER!!” talk. faux progressiveism is where the majority money seems to be right now, for better or for worse. Lumity might be taking it further than they like, but i think they know the queer fanbase is desperate to spend money on merch and Bob Iger LOVES profit

now, i’m sure many of you are wondering “well if it wasn’t Disney’s homophobia that made them claim TOH didn’t fit the brand, what did?” i’ve got some guesses. first off, let’s look at the reasons Terrace gave. 1) the series is too serialized. i think there’s some weight to this claim. while Amphibia is also very serialized, it has enough episodes unrelated to the overarching plot that Disney can air without alienating new viewers. most TOH episodes that air regularly are from s1, which Terrace has said before doesn’t align with her vision as much and are less serial. so having shows with episodes that they can play whenever with no context is preferred by Disney. again, this claim that a serialized narrative doesn’t fit the Disney brand seems to make sense. 2) the audience skews older. this is a real issue for many cartoon creators working with major networks these days. most notably, Owen Dennis claimed that Cartoon Network cancelled Infinity Train because it was shifting its focus to adults and there was no entry point for children. TOH’s equal focus on developing Eda as much as Luz might have ultimately hurt it. this could also explain why Ducktales 2017 got the boot, as i believe the creator has mentioned that Disney was always unhappy when they wanted to make episodes that focused solely/majorly on Scrooge and other adults. and lastly... 3) COVID-19 and the need for budget cuts. let’s face it folks... TOH has always been Disney’s least favorite. it hasn’t had any Theme Song Takeovers (when its sister show Amphibia has had 3), Chibi Tiny Tales, OR been featured in Broken Karaoke. however, The Ghost and Molly McGee already has 2 Chibi Tiny Tales and it just premiered. yes, King got featured in Chibi Tiny Tale, but that cameo lasted like three seconds. yes we got “Owl Pellets” and “Look Hooo’s Talking” but compared to Amphibia and Big City Green’s many shorts (aka the other main animated shows airing alongside TOH), it’s nothing. TOH was always doomed to be the martyr.

[comradedreammoved]

quackity’s friendship with dream and george makes me genuinely soso happy yall i can talk forever about it ☹️

quackity calling dream and george his beloveds, them choosing a phone call with him as one of their charity subgoals and hyping it up so they could talk to him faster. dream talking about how quackity is creative and hardworking and calling him one of the funniest people he knows (over time changing that to the funniest person he knows) to a group of people he didn’t know super well

quackity and george consistently keeping up their streak of calling the one who’s streaming to very briefly say some very encouraging stuff like “you’re doing horrible” or other unintelligible nonsense. dream texting quackity after he left a call abruptly because “[he] could’ve said goodbye or goodnight” and quackity acting annoyed but returning to the call and staying on the stream for the next several hours till the end after that. dream mentioning once how it takes him a while to trust people yet growing so close to quackity so quickly, quackity being whitelisted onto previously dream team exclusive servers in less than a year of them all being friends

george never publicly involving himself in drama but promptly unfollowing a cc who was talking shit about quackity because no matter how much sarcastic banter they have they always have each other’s back. him rarely doing serious lore but still doing cameos in quackity’s heart-and-soul-poured-into lore streams anyway, quackity always being present in george’s own lore content

dream encouraging quackity and helping him every time they’re teamed, guiding him during practice mcc dodgebolt and quackity hitting his shot perfectly. dream defending his skills after redditors downplayed them, supporting and teaming with him after sapnap complained he was new to the mode they’ve been playing and so not as good

quackity reminiscing for like well over ten minutes on george’s last stream of 2020 about how they met and grew closer and george repeatedly adding little comments as well as that he appreciates quackity and that he deserves his subs. all three of them always supporting each other’s milestone tweets. quackity having done content creation since he was a kid and meeting hundreds of creators over the years yet saying 2020 was the best year of his life

seeing quackity and dream growing considerably closer around the time they must’ve started writing their lore characters to be so entangled in each other’s arcs. the mutual obsession of quackity bringing dream up in conversations absolutely unprompted when he isn’t even present 🤝 dream referencing a tiktok he got on his fyp of quackity completely out of the blue. dream giving his prize money and subs to quackity, quackity paying for dream’s discord nitro

dream and george have known each other for years and have one of those relationships where it’s hard to insert yourself into that preexisting dynamic but quackity wanted to do it so he literally just did it and they let him and he fit in so so well. there are months worth of vods you can watch that document the way they grew to love each other, the way they became best friends. it’s been so amazing being able to see those relationships grow in real time, whether that be you entering the fandom when dream and quackity first became mutuals on twitter months before making any content together, or when they were all already close friends and you saw that month’s peak of care they had for each other and watched it grow from there as time went on

[mingying]

[spoilers] hosplay season 2 ep3 - ikjun/songhwa

I am on cloud nine. 

When I posted my theories about ep 1 two weeks ago, never would I have expected such a huge development to happen 2 episodes after! This episode is what I will describe as Songhwa’s preliminary realisation, and the catalyst for this is told through the perspectives of two people in this episode. 

TL;DR: This is a sign that Ikjun and Songhwa are now positively moving in the direction of endgame!!!

cr: _fever_pitch @ twitter 

This scene made me smile so hard! While Songhwa may have asked Ikjun for dinner because she wanted to ask him about DLL, the fact that she initiated it by literally using Ikjun’s iconic “let’s eat” line, speaks a lot. I love the way Ikjun’s face lighted up in an instant when he realised it’s Songhwa.

What I realised also is that he even invited Junwan to eat with them in the cafeteria - maybe he didn’t want to burden Songhwa since they would be alone? Or maybe he was just trying to protect his own heart, we cannot be too sure but definitely, Ikjun-ah, best boi you, best boi. 

The next scene that comes is definitely one scene that highlights their dynamics as work partners. Other than the fact that Ikjun knew Songhwa was worried over something and asked her to just speak up just by looking at her stirring her food, it seems that Ikjun/Songhwa approach things in a somewhat similar wavelength.

Ikjun points out at once that “we can help them”, to which Songhwa confirms saying that she already told them they could. 

When Ikjun says that it doesn’t matter if the patients do it in a different hospital in Seoul because DLL can still provide financial support - Songhwa replies “I told them that”. 

And when Songhwa said DLL will contact Yulje, because the other university hospitals aren’t willing to take the case, Ikjun agreed and said “good”.

Ugh, I absolutely love their rapport here. It shows understanding and compatibility between two friends who clearly share the same opinions about certain things and I love that they’re working together for DLL.

Ms Songhwa saying this line just shows that she values and trusts Ikjun’s judgement. Just as how she whole heartedly believed him when he told her that a “Villain” is someone who works hard to pay bills (BUAHAHA I can’t wait for her to realise the truth and strangle Ikjun).

Ma’am, why do you look like him as he is leaving like he is your entire world?

Coughs. Moving on!

Heo Seonbin~~ Just like how long have you observed your Professor and her best friend that you’re able to form this sort of conclusion that he always makes her laugh and that he will ‘totally’ do it for her if she asks?

Of course, this whole fake dating thing didn’t materialise because Songhwa isn’t the type to go for that - plus she respects Ikjun’s feelings, I’m sure, so she wouldn’t want to put him in that sort of confusing situation after knowing how he feels for her. 

But I have a strong feeling that this scene is strategically placed for a reason and that is to nudge Songhwa towards the realisation that other people are seeing something special between them despite her insistence many times that they’re just friends. And who is the best to tell her that other than Seonbin, who is practically the closest friend that she has at this point that isn’t part of her gang.

In the previous episode, I posted a theory from a kfan that Ikjun was the one who asked for Seokmin’s favour to scrub in the Violinist’s surgery to ease Songhwa’s burden, and that the strawberry cake Seonbin brought for Songhwa towards the end of the ep, was actually bought by Ikjun. This theory remains as a theory until proven otherwise but I live for the fact that SilverDragon may be the ones playing cupid for their Professor this season. I mean, Songhwa did play cupid for them in S1, right?

Kekeke, now, onto my favourite scene of the episode. Kyuhyung’s cameo as Gyeongjin’s brother! I still cannot believe we got this scene handed to us on a silver platter but dude, it’s a complete parallel to IkSong and I absolutely LIVE for Songhwa’s expressions during Hanyang’s (I’ll just call him that) story telling.

Songhwa drank her coffee twice - girlie probably felt so called out that she was flustered and had to busy her hands with something. That’s human tendency, anyway. And we know from EP 1 that her rejection didn’t address Ikjun’s confession in its entirety. So for Hanyang to say “my answer didn’t make sense,” could very well be what Songhwa had in the back of her mind after her rejection, or what she will now realise moving forward.

“As a man and a woman, not just friends.”

A foreshadow, I hope? Because I am betting that this entire scene will play out in Songhwa’s mind over and over again. He is the catalyst she needs at this point of time to realise that the risk is worth taking.

The best line ever. It’s so simple yet so profound. So realistic, too. Because we know exactly who it is that is capable of making Songhwa feel happy. It’s the one person that always makes her laugh. And what more do you need, honestly?

What struck me, as I’ve mentioned on Twitter, is that the scene could have just ended after Hanyang said this line - that being with his gf makes him happy/great. But instead, we got a follow up question from him in that he quite literally ASKED her straight up, if she had someone like that in her life too.

And...guess who showed up at that very moment? Casually, without any hint of jealousy or envy but just decided to stick a straw into his nose?

cr: milly_v_v @ twitter

And made her laugh...without fail again?

I’m not crying, I swear.

My mind is officially at ease, because it seems that IkSong is definitely now headed towards the right direction. ShinLee really wasn’t joking when he put triple Rainbows during the drive in the tunnel. Triple Rainbow...for three episodes? Kekeke.

I’m thinking that Songhwa may still need one or two more eps to sort out her feelings, but by Ep 6 I’m guessing she will finally take the first step towards a relationship with Ikjun. But hey, I’m always prepared to be surprised in the best ways possible (like this entire scene in Ep3) by ShinLee.

[viastro]

prove it | chwe vernon hansol

ミ★ synopsis: in which the university fuckboy does whatever it takes to prove that he genuinely has feelings for you.

ミ★ genre: slice of life!au, player!vernon, humor, fluff

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 3,603

ミ★ pairings: vernon x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! this oneshot ended up a lot longer than i originally planned. however, this always happens when i write oneshots so this isn’t anything new. i chose this gif because vernon’s blonde hair makes me cry a lil and i couldn’t find any other blonde vernon gifs that match the vibe of this whole oneshot uh help me :DD oh ! i also hope you enjoy the mini cameo from my characters in cafe chuu hehe !! anyways... make sure to give vernon lots of love !! 

You know those guys that are real sleazy? Like, the ones that know they’re able to get whatever girl they want and truly use it to their advantage? So they absolutely just… never settle?

that’s vernon.

You don’t judge, but that’s also a lie because you absolutely do judge since your poor best friend was a victim of his sleaziness. Can you blame her? No, the man is godly. Do you blame Vernon? 

yes! 

While Chaewon never told you the full story, all you needed to know is that she was hurt. Which is enough reason to despise the man, no matter how attractive he is.

You purse your lips in disgust as you watch Vernon walk into class late, silently cursing him when he says hi to his friend on the way to his desk. Chaewon stares at you with a bored look on her face, wondering why you’re so angry about the man when you claim you don’t care about him. She pokes your shoulder, and you turn to her with a big smile, a stark contrast to the previous glare on your face.

“Just say you love him and go baby.” Chaewon tells you, and you immediately pretend to vomit in your bag. She rolls her eyes, shoving you lightly with her hand as she giggles at your antics. “As if I could ever like a sleazy, gross, beautiful ass man like him.” 

Chaewon raises an eyebrow at the last adjective, and you choose to ignore the fact that you called him beautiful, as well as the heat rushing to your face. She lets out a sigh, turning towards the front of the room when your professor begins roll call. 

“We can all see you have a heart boner for him.” Chaewon mutters, and you have half the mind to reach out and slap her shoulder, only to stop when your teacher calls your name. 

“YLN YN?” You raise your hand up, flashing them a smile. 

“Here.” Your teacher nods, before carrying on with the list, and you lean back into your seat. You open your notebook to prepare your notes page, only to pause when you feel a pair of eyes on you. You slowly glance up from your desk to see Vernon staring at you with an amused smile on his face. 

Immediately you turn your eyes away and look at your journal, feeling warmth blossom across your cheeks at the fact that he’s still staring at you. Do you know why? No. Do you want to know why? yes. No!

Chaewon glances at Vernon, making eye contact with him. She points towards you as you focus your attention on your journal, and he shrugs at her. She tilts her head to the side, and he mouths,

“I’m going to ask yn out today!” 

To which Chaewon grins, shaking her head at him and turning to face the front of the room. She chuckles quietly to herself, knowing that it’s not going to be as easy as he believes it’ll be. While Vernon smiles, thinking of the different ways you’ll probably say yes.

“No.” You answer boredly as you walk towards the bus stop, Vernon following close behind you. You don’t bother to spare the handsome man a glance, and Vernon runs in front of you, raising both his hands up to stop you from walking. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms as you stare at him.

“When you said no, you were joking… right?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and Vernon feels his heart sink to his ass when he realizes you actually mean no. Something he hasn’t heard from anyone he’s asked out before. 

“I meant no. I don’t want to go out with you Vernon.” You tell him and he runs a hand through his blonde hair in confusion. Ignoring the fast pace of your heart, you flash him a smile, to which his eyes slightly widen at the sight. You fail to notice the tips of his ears turning red at the sight, and you let out a breath. 

“You’re the fuckboy of the University. I don’t wanna date you just for me to get hurt when you get bored.” You explain and Vernon lets out a scoff at the term you used. “Fuckboy?” 

“Yes. A fuckboy. A sleazy,” You step forward and poke his chest, causing him to suck in a breath at the close proximity between the two of you. “horny, promiscuous, fuckboy.” 

Vernon gapes at you, and you grin at the sight of him being speechless. You lean back, raising your hand up to wave at him. 

“Bye Vernon!” You say cheerfully, before stepping past him and walking towards the bus stop once again. Vernon turns around, watching your retreating figure as the sun begins to set. 

“I’m not gonna stop trying!” Vernon shouts from behind you, but you refuse to turn back. You know it’s all for show, he never actually puts in much of an effort on the rare occasion that a girl rejects him. Vernon lets out an amused smile, before turning around and walking back towards the parking lot. 

“What do you mean you and Vernon were never a thing? You guys hung out a lot last year outside of classes, and you even cried over him.” You tell Chaewon with wide eyes. She chuckles in response, shaking her head at you. 

“Yn, Vernon’s my cousin. We lived together for our first year of uni last year because we wanted to save money, that’s why we were always together after classes finished. I cried during class last year because I read his text telling me the news about his dog passing.” You raise a hand to your mouth in shock at the surprise your best friend just dropped. You don’t even know how you didn’t have any idea of this, because the more you look at her, the resemblance between the two begins to show.

“I-I thought you were dating your cousin?” 

“You absolutely did.” 

“So Vernon’s never hurt you?”

“Only when we played nerf when we were younger.” 

“So he’s not a fuckboy who hurt my best friend?”

Chaewon giggles, reaching her hand up and patting your head softly. She shakes her head, “He’s not a fuckboy who hurt me. He’s just a guy who happens to like a lot of girls but can never find the one to settle down with. AKA, a fuckboy.”

You glance down at your rice, picking up the spoon and shoving a chunk of rice into your mouth as you stress eat. Chaewon watches you with amusement, knowing that Vernon asked you on a date yesterday, to which you confidently told him no. However, you didn’t mention any of that to Chaewon, but Vernon told her the whole story.

“She said no?”

“She said no!” Vernon responds as he looks at Chaewon with betrayal and confusion stirring around in his eyes. She purses her lips, leaning back into her couch as she waits for the rice to be fully cooked. 

“I expected that.”

“How come she doesn’t like me? Usually all the girls I ask out say yes…” Chaewon rolls her eyes, reaching forward and smacking Vernon on the back of the head. He lets out a hiss of pain, rubbing the back of his head as Chaewon stares at him with a bored expression.

“If you didn’t build that type of reputation, then yn would’ve said yes. You honestly brought this whole rejection upon yourself.” You explain and Vernon lets out a whine, resting his head into his hands. 

“I told her I was going to keep trying.”

“You WHAT?!” Chaewon shouts, standing up from the couch and staring at her cousin with a flabbergasted expression on her face. Vernon slowly raises his head, giving her a nervous smile.

“I like yn a lot. I’ve always thought that she was really cute, smart, and kind, but after hearing you talk about her so much I started to like her even more. That’s why I asked her out on a date.” Vernon mutters, and Chaewon sighs. She sits back down beside Vernon, and rubs the back of her head. 

“God. Help me.”

“I’ve never experienced such a fat whiplash until this very moment.” You mumble to yourself, snapping Chaewon out of her memory. Chaewon lets out a giggle at your comment, and you glance at your best friend. Smiling at the sight of her shaking her head at your obliviousness. 

“At least I know you’re loyal.” Chaewon tells you, and you laugh, nodding your head as you give her a thumbs up. “Besties before stinkies.” 

“Nice one.”

“Order for Changmin!” You announce as you place the macchiato onto the counter. The cute boy comes up and takes his drink, giving you a grateful smile. You nod your head at him before turning back to head to register. 

“Hi! Welcome to Cafe Chuu. How can I help you-” You glance up, words dying in your throat as you lock eyes with Vernon, who happens to have a mischievous smile on his face. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks as he quirks his head to the side at your silence, and you immediately break eye contact. 

“Hi yn.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask through your fake smile, and he chuckles at how cute you are. 

“Just wanted to order coffee from my favorite girl.” Vernon states with full confidence, causing you to squint your eyes at him. To which it does not give the desired effect, for he just warmly smiles at you in response. “How’d you know I work here?”

“Chaewon.”

You grin at him, “Of course!” that traitor.

It’s been two weeks since Vernon asked you out on a date, and he’s continued to ask you that same question every single day since then. Whether it be during your break in between courses, when you’re eating lunch with Chaewon, or when you’re walking towards the bus stop. He’s asked you each and every day, but he would nod his head respectfully and leave right after you’d reject him. Letting you know that he’d try again tomorrow. It’s currently the weekend, and he hasn’t been able to ask you out while you’re at work because he doesn’t know what you do for a living.

so why is he at your workplace right now?!?!?!

“What would you like to order, Vernon?” You ask, and you feel your knees buckle at the small pout he lets out when he glances up to check the board. However, you are a strong. independent, woman who will NOT fall for a playe-

“I’ll have a mocha and a date with you please.” Vernon requests with a smile on his face, and you squeeze the counter until your knuckles turn white. You decide to ignore the last part, instead typing in his order into the computer as your other hand aggressively squeezes the counter. 

“That’ll be-”

“Did you hear what I asked for?” Vernon asks, and you glance up to see him watching you expectantly. You let out a smile, leaning forward onto the counter so that your faces are much closer. 

And this time, you do catch the tips of his ears turning red.

“You asked for a mocha,” You state, pausing as you rip the receipt off the printer. You stretch your hand out towards Vernon with a smile, “Which will be ready in five minutes.”

Vernon slowly takes the receipt from you, finding himself entranced by the sparkles in your eyes having increased tenfold when you smiled at him. You gesture for the next customer to come forward, causing Vernon to have to step to the side to wait for his order. 

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head as he looks up at you. You catch his eye, feeling a burst of excitement flow through you at the small game of chase going on between the two of you. You won’t lie, it’s entertaining to have the university’s player try so hard to get you to be his. Something you haven’t seen him do before.

which makes you think he’s actually serious.

but alas…

Chan taps your shoulder, telling you to go work on the drinks and you give him a grateful smile. You nod your head, walking over to begin working on the next order, only to find out Vernon’s hasn’t been made yet. You let out a small sigh, before walking over to the coffee. 

Vernon waits by a table, watching with a dopey smile as you prepare his drink. He thinks of different ways to ask you out next, wondering whether or not he should ask Chaewon for help. However, there’s a small part of him that thinks you won’t ever say yes.

but he wants you to know that he’s serious about you.

You place the lid on top of the cup before walking up to the counter. You call out his number, and Vernon looks up and locks eyes with you. Feeling your heart stutter as a smile graces his features as he walks over to you. 

“What do you say about that date?” Vernon asks, brushing his hand against yours when he takes the paper cup from you. You chuckle at him before pursing your lips, thinking of what to say to him. He watches with hopeful eyes, as this is the first time you’ve ever pondered the question he’s asked you. 

let’s see if he’s actually serious, You think to yourself. 

So you smile at the handsome man, “Prove it.” 

Vernon tilts his head to the side, and you hold back your giggle at the confused expression on his face. “Prove it?” 

You nod your head, biting your bottom lip to control your smile from widening. Vernon’s eyes glance down at the action, and he squeezes the cup a bit too tight. 

“Prove that you actually like me. That you’re serious about wanting to date me. Then we’ll see if I’ll give you a chance, because I’m not going to get my heart broken due to your commitment issues.” 

Vernon stares at you with an indecipherable expression on his face, and you think that this is it. This is when he’ll decide that you’re not worth the chase. That he can find someone easier. However, he surprises you when he flashes you an excited grin, a competitive glint to his eyes. 

“You got it baby.” Vernon tells you with full confidence, taking a sip of the mocha before turning around and walking out of the cafe. You let out a breath, raising your hands up to your cheeks as warmth floods through your face. Chan and Soonyoung glance over at you, chuckling at the shock on your face. 

“Yn’s got a boyfriend!” Yeri sings from the sink, and you shoot her a glare. You wave your hands at the three to try and get them to look away, causing them to laugh as you turn away from them to hide your smile. 

“How cute.” Soonyoung says beside you, and you nudge him with your elbow. 

“Shut up!” 

“What’d he get you this time?” Chaewon asks as she sits down beside you in the cafeteria. You point at the unopened boba beside your lunch, and she giggles. She mentally prepares a note to herself to tell Vernon good job on getting yn the right flavor!

“When are you gonna say yes to the poor guy? He’s been bringing you your favorite snacks for the past week of classes. He won’t stop texting me either, getting annoying.” Chaewon tells you, and you smile softly at the fact that he’s actually trying. 

Vernon hasn’t attempted to ask you out on a date since the day he visited you at work. Instead, he’s just been stopping by during your blocks between classes and when you’re at work to bring you your favorite snacks. So far he’s brought you shrimp chips, donuts with rainbow sprinkles on them, hot chocolate, and now boba. If you’re free, then he makes sure to talk to you so that the two of you can get to know one another more. If you’re busy, then he just leaves your snack close to you. However, whether or not you’re free, he’s always attached handwritten notes to each snack, just saying he hopes you have a good day, or that he hopes the snacks bring a smile to your face. 

it’s fucking precious.

“But what if he’s just joking?” You ask Chaewon, the tiny bit of insecurity peeking through. She gives you a comforting smile, reaching her arms around you and giving you a hug. You pout against her shoulder, and she pats your head.

“He’s never been this hung up over a girl before. The way he talks about you? His eyes literally light up. Vernon’s always been afraid of commitment, but he wants to try with you. Everyone on campus thinks he’s serious too, considering he hasn’t been seen with any other girl since he decided he wanted you to be his girlfriend.” Chaewon explains, and you feel warmth rise up your neck at the honesty of her words. You raise your hands to your face, cupping your cheeks and she lets out a coo at how cute you are. She’s about to squeeze your face when you both get interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Am I interrupting?”

“Vernon?” You ask, immediately dropping your hands from your face. You turn to glance at him, and he gives you a shy smile. Chaewon lets out a little giggle, standing up from her seat to walk to the bathrooms to give the two of you some space. 

“Can I sit here?” Vernon asks you, and you nod your head, gesturing to the empty seat in front of you. He smiles, sitting down and taking a look at your unopened boba. You watch as his eyebrows slightly furrow, and you let out an, ah, and take the straw, giving him a grin.

“I was just about to open it.” You reassure him, and Vernon lets out a breath of relief. He watches you shove the straw into the plastic seal on top, taking a large sip of the milk tea. He smiles when he sees your features light up when the taste hits you. 

“Thank you, it’s my favorite flavor.” Vernon feels his heart go crazy at the realization that this is the first time you’ve actually engaged in conversation with him rather than it being one-sided. He nods his head, “I’m so glad I chose the right one.” 

You smile softly, before glancing back down at your lunch. You take a spoonful of rice and place it into your mouth, avidly trying to distract yourself from internally imploding by Vernon’s presence. While he watches you eat quietly, feeling full now that he’s seeing you eat well. 

You swallow your rice, staying still for a moment as you think of how to phrase what you want to say next. You can be blunt and simply just ask him, or you can slowly go into the topic.

i’ll slowly go into the topic.

“Do you actually like me?” You ask out of the blue, and Vernon’s eyes widen slightly at how straightforward you are.

that was not going into it slowly you stupid bitch.

Vernon nods his head earnestly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks when he gives you a smile. “I do. I really do.” 

You purse your lips and nod your head, trying to act cool even though you’re internally screaming at the moment. Vernon feels his heart warm, trying to hold back from cooing at how cute you are. He tilts his head to the side, “Do you believe that I genuinely like you?”

You stare at Vernon in silence for a moment, recalling everything he’s done to try and prove himself. How he’s persisted in trying to get you to go on a date with him for the past three weeks. You let out a smile, nodding your head at him.

“Yeah, I do.” You respond, and Vernon stares at you in shock, before his features finally morph into a smile. He bites his bottom lip, nodding his head as he looks up at the ceiling. You giggle as he stands up from the table, taking notice of his very red ears. 

“I’ll call you later so we can talk about our date, okay? You still have the note I gave you with my number on it, right?” You nod your head, and Vernon smiles at the fact that you actually kept the notes he gave you. He raises his hand up and waves at you, and you wave back, giggling at his timidness. 

You watch as Vernon turns around and walks away, letting out a laugh when he raises his hands up and lets out a loud cheer. Which causes everyone in the cafeteria to turn their heads to glance at him, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“SHE SAID YES!!!”

Chaewon walks back over to you, knowing grin on her face as she watches her cousin throw his arms up in the air one more time before he walks out of the cafeteria. She sits down beside you, taking notice of the bright smile on your face. 

“I take it that you have a date this weekend?” Chaewon begins, and you let out a soft sigh, smile not leaving your features as you nod your head.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 303: And What, Pray Tell, Is a “One For All”

Previously on BnHA: The Todorokis (really just Enji) looked at their children and went “how can we screw up all four of them in uniquely different ways” and proceeded to do just that. Touya was all “just because practicing how to set myself on fire better hasn’t worked to win my dad’s affections YET doesn’t mean it will NEVER work”, because child logic. Turns out setting oneself on fire real hard isn’t so effective at winning affections, but is actually incredibly effective when it comes to burning oneself to death, so there’s that. Back in the present day, the Todorokis basked in their various misplaced (again, except for Enji) feelings of guilt, and were all “anyway but get over yourself already Enji, you still have to do something to stop this kid”, and Shouto was all “I’ll help too”, and Enji was all “(╥_╥)”, and Hawks and Jeanist were all “[surreptitiously listening in from outside the door]”, and that’s basically where we left off.

Today on BnHA: Hawks and Jeanist are all “mind if we join you on this family journey?” and proceed to stroll in uninvited with their puns and their perceptive insights. Hawks is all “so to sum everything up, we’re fucked, but at least you have us here to help you out! by the way, no clue why I’m the first person to ask this in three hundred chapters, but wtf is One For All.” We then cut to Deku, who’s still all “[(－－)]z”, and All Might, who is all “I’m just going to ignore the extremely loud racket going on right outside this room.” Which, btw, is happening on account of Bakugou, who is all “(╬◣Д◢)” as Satou, Tsuyu, and Mineta cart him away. Anyway so that’s a lot of antics, and also it looks like Hawks has gotten tired of the Todorokis refusing to put the pieces together on their own about OFA and so he is fast-tracking that shit. And meanwhile Deku is chatting it up with the Vestiges exactly like we all thought. And now we have to wait another whole week for updates on all of this. This really is not fair.

omfg lol

“our bad, we were kind of accidentally listening in on purpose.” like I said last week guys, no fuss. it’s a tradition

OMG

I am absolutely fucking floored. Hawks literally said that so casually that it’s impossible for me to rewrite it so as to be even more casual. that’s literally what I would write in the “today on bnha” section. in fact I probably will write that

(ETA: just for laughs I tried it and it really worked.)

a couple more things to point out about this panel: 

“TOP 3” omg yes. more like “top only” at this point, honestly. interested to see how that goes

Hawks’s phone is freaking the fuck out about something, calm down there

I know this is a standard Jeanist hair-fixing gesture that he does all the time, but I can’t help but form hypotheses about this being a stress reaction because Hawks’s hair is making him internally freak out. Hawks, if this man tries to get you alone with him and some hairspray and a comb, please for the love of god do not listen to him. get out of there and call the authorities

omg Shouto’s face

okay confession, I wasn’t really sold on the whole “Shouto has a schoolboy crush on Hawks” thing until exactly now, when I became 100% sold on it. that is adorable

and heck with it, gotta show Enji and Rei’s reactions here as well because lol

“omg my son who’s not my son, and he just overheard everything about me being a terrible shitty father and person overall, oh and plus my actual-son set him on fire and called him out on a national broadcast. I’m just gonna stare at him baffledly.” versus Rei, who is all “hmm, who are these people”

so Hawks is all “I got released from the hospital after one day for some reason so I made Jeanist drive me around places while we talked about life” but uh, heyyyyy, what’s Rei doing

okay, uh

SO FUCKING FORMAL OMFG. “SORRY MY KID TRIED TO BURN YOU TO DEATH, APPARENTLY HE DOES THAT” REI NO IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT

HAWKS IS ALL “I’M JUST GONNA LAUGH SINCE THAT’S MY DEFAULT RESPONSE TO BEING PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE”

let me tell you a secret Hawks, it’s my default response too. ahahahahahahaha oh thank god Jeanist is helping her up -- AND MAKING A JEANS PUN, OF COURSE. IT’S BEEN ALMOST THIRTY SECONDS. MY MAN WAS DYING

“WTF IS ILLEGAL DENIM” he’s talking ‘bout them counterfeit jeans, Rei. Antoine Bugleboy knows

THANK YOU JEANIST!! OUT HERE ASKING THE RELEVANT QUESTIONS

damn straight. we’re not gonna sit around waiting another 300 chapters for this information on this man’s watch

now Hawks is telling Endeavor he used to watch videos of him all the time, and calling him his “childhood obsession” I can’t

OH MY SWEET STARS AND MOONS

1000% CANON. “SO CLOSE...” ARE YOU SERIOUS. YOU REALLY PUT THAT THOUGHT BUBBLE THERE AND EVERYTHING. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE, SO JUST IN CASE YOU WEREN’T ALREADY AWARE, TODOROKI SHOUTO IS NOT ACTUALLY STRAIGHT.” HORIKOSHI KOUHEI I AM LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED. THIS IS AMAZING

and meanwhile that look on Hawks’s face while he casually-but-not-really-casually-at-all asks this question. that phone app better be using his actual voice. I’m not sure I could take this scene in the anime at this point if it was like Alexa talking or something

that look in his eyes is basically saying that so far, based on the information he has absorbed up until this point, Hawks is prepared to view his former childhood obsession as a flawed but changed man. however I get the distinct feeling that depending on Endeavor’s answer now, he would be willing to drastically shift some of his opinions on him

(ETA: this is maybe my favorite panel in the entire chapter. the fact that his question isn’t addressed to anyone in particular, but his eyes are zeroing on on Endeavor. and the way his leaning-on-Shouto pose manages to be simultaneously nonchalant and yet ever-so-slightly protective. there’s so much going on in this one question and gesture and I’m mildly obsessed with it.)

however, Rei is all “that was me” and ONCE AGAIN WITH THE FACES IN THIS CHAPTER holy shit

Hawks definitely did not see that one coming sob. it’s so fun watching him frantically recalculate his ideas about this family every two seconds

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI I UNDERSTOOD THE PARALLELS ALREADY, YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS

yes, Hawks, you get it. it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. though unlike your shitty parents, Rei and Enji are at least trying

OKAY I SERIOUSLY CANNOT WITH ALL OF THIS

fljkdlaskfjlwkjl okay we’re doing the bullet-points breakdown here

first of all, the fact that poor little Shouto’s heart is still thumping away at this proximity and all he can think is “CLOSE” all intelligently as he stares at him with that face omg

and meanwhile Horikoshi has these STRATEGIC BANDAGES WRAPPED AROUND HIS CHEEKS TO HIDE ALL OF HIS SHOUJO BLUSHING omfg. SENPAI NOTICED YOU SWEETIE!!!

HAWKS YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY ZERO OBLIGATION TO WASTE ANOTHER SECOND OF YOUR LIFE WORRYING ABOUT THESE TWO ASSHOLES WHO NEVER SPARED YOU THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF REGARD OR CONCERN IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES. THE NICEST THING YOUR MOM EVER DID FOR YOU WAS BUY YOU A $2 ENDEAVOR PLUSH FROM THE DISCOUNT BIN TO KEEP YOU QUIET, AND YOU WERE SO AWED BY THAT ONE ACT OF SORTA KINDA APPROXIMATE KINDNESS THAT YOU SHAPED YOUR ENTIRE WORLDVIEW AROUND IT. PLEASE LET ME PICK YOU UP IN A BIG HUG FOR JUST A SEC, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND YOU WERE ONE THOUSAND PERCENT JUSTIFIED IN LEAVING THEM IN THE DUST THE SECOND THAT YOU COULD

but all that said, he immediately recognizes that Shouto would also have had cause to do the same in his situation, and yet hasn’t. and so he has that much more admiration for him all of a sudden, which is just super sweet, and fully appropriate. Shouto does deserve props. I’m choosing to take this as an “it takes a lot of strength to be able to forgive, and people who choose to do that even though they’re not obligated to are really amazing" type of thing, as opposed to “people who don’t forgive other people who severely wronged them are bad.” and if I’m wrong and Hawks’s line here is meant to be seen as actual failing on his part, well then fuck that, but we’ll move on

SO NOW, DOWN TO BUSINESS!

I am so, so curious as to what kind of strategy Hawks has for this (if he even has any), so I’ll just be quiet now and read

so Hawks is summing up basically what we already knew -- that Tomura and his inner circle (curious that there’s no mention of AFO, because if Hawks doesn’t know about him, that implies almost no one does) are still on the lam with a few PLF stragglers and some High Ends; that a bunch of prisons have been “liberated” (I assume this means all of the inmates escaped, so if that’s the case then where’s Kurogiri??); that the HPSC is fucked; and that heroes are resigning all over the place, and so civilians are taking matters into their own hands

OH DAMN!?

does this mean we’ll actually see some international heroes?? I will LOSE MY DAMN SHIT omg

(ETA: apparently people who paid more attention to the first BnHA movie than I did recognized the silhouettes as belonging to some background characters from Two Heroes. so maybe they were just cameos and they’re not actually new characters who are soon to join us lol. oh well.)

anyway so Hawks agrees with the other Todorokis that Endeavor has no choice but to fight

awww

DON’T WORRY ENJI THEY’VE GOT YOUR BACK. WITH YOUR FLAMES, AND JEANIST’S PUNS, AND HAWKS’S BOYISHLY GOOD LOOKS, THE THREE OF YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MINDS TO

so Enji is very pertinently asking why they’re standing by him in spite of the... [gestures vaguely to everything]

oh my lordy lord

Shouto you had better do something to combat this soon, or this man will sneak past you on my favorite character ranking after all. his face. his cheeky lil finger gun. the fact that he sums it up so fucking simply. “if someone is trying to do the right thing, I want to support them.” exactly. exactly

(ETA: and one last thing I love but forgot to mention, which is the fact that Hawks calls it a team-up despite the fact that he is clearly in charge.)

meanwhile Jeanist is all “as for me, at this point I just straight up don’t give a fuck”

I can’t handle how fucking cool this chapter is you guys

so Hawks is all “you good?” at Enji. and Enji...

if anyone needs me, I will be building myself a discourse-proof fort made entirely out of problematic characters. I don’t even care. I will go on living my life very happily in here

lol at Natsu being all “BUT DON’T THINK THIS MAKES US FRIENDS”

I’m living for this weird and no-doubt entirely unintended implication that Natsu and them all are gonna join in the fight with the rest of them. I mean, they do presumably all have very powerful ice quirks. and Natsu has medical training on top of that, and Fuyu is skilled at getting eight-year-olds to behave which could be a useful talent for dealing with Tomura hahaha I kid, but I’M JUST SAYING. who needs hero licenses anyway

OH SHIT FINALLY SOME DISCUSSION OF AN ACTUAL STRATEGY. even if it’s just a PR strategy

WHAKLHL

and now for some reason we’re flashing back to Natsu and Fuyu’s attempts to navigate through the media crowd outside the hospital

well I guess this is why I’m not the mangaka. if I were writing this I would have done something trite and predictable like using that “One for All” line as an excuse to cut to Deku!! as opposed to this entirely unrelated scene!!

seriously though why do we need to see this lol

no one in this crowd has ever heard of Alexander Dumas huh. or even the popular 2007 Disney Channel original movie, High School Musical 2

so now there’s an entire page of Hawks saying they need to know what One for All is, and Endeavor having one of those patented Todoroki WHOOSH realizations lmao look at this

just wait until this man figures out that one of the scrappy new interns he took on three months ago was actually the main character all along

SKDFIOHWIERLKSJGLWLK!!

NOW IS PROBABLY A GOOD TIME TO ASK MYSELF WHY I CHOSE THIS CHARACTER WHO KEEPS DISAPPEARING FOR SIX OR TWELVE OR FORTY CHAPTERS AT A TIME TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. WELCOME BACK SON PLEASE DON’T SCREAM YOURSELF TO DEATH YOU STILL HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(ETA: can we just take a moment to appreciate how Bakugou even got so close to Deku’s room in the first place though. in this giant hospital with no idea of where to even go. does he have Deku Radar or something.)

YOU SIX ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY HIT LIST!! SPARE ME YOUR GOOD INTENTIONS!! MY BAKUDEKU REUNION KEEPS GETTING POSTPONED WEEK AFTER WEEK!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE HEROES WHERE IS YOUR CONCEPT OF MERCY

(ETA: btw just to be clear, I’m not actually angry lol; it makes total sense that they don’t want this rampaging feral toddler who was still in his own coma all of fifteen minutes ago to come and start screaming at the other coma child until he tears all his stitches out. if there’s anything we Bakugou fans should be familiar with by now, it’s being patient.)

also, Tsuyu wrapping her tongue around Bakugou’s still-healing torso wound absolutely can’t be hygienic at all. also wait is that Inko??

(ETA: pretty sure it is her. she got all of one line smdh.)

Iida is all “thank god Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight pulled through, I thought for sure he was a goner back there”

for the record this is actually really sweet to see how relieved he is. he’s one of the few people who saw the original injury close up, back when he was still at the battlefield and unconscious, so I imagine it really did freak him out quite a bit

JIROUUUUUU

“sometimes I just like to stand here and tug on my imaginary suspenders, what of it”

how come you guys get to loiter around Deku’s room but Kacchan doesn’t. god fucking dammit. AND WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN

I BET KACCHAN COULD WAKE HIM UP FROM HIS COMA WITH THE POWER OF RIVAL INTENSITY!! BUT NOOOOOOOO, [is dragged away back to my fort]

OH MY GOD!?!

"this seems to be an entirely normal and above-board situation that we have just stumbled onto”

I see Jeanist comes from the Iida Tenya school of respectfully using people’s full names

Jeanist becoming one of the main characters is the best thing to ever happen to this series

EXCUSE YOU, IIDA

BUT I’M SURE HE’D MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR KACCHAN THOUGH!! [elbowing my way back out of the fort] HAWKS, PLEASE --

DON’T GO ALL OMINIOUSLY PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER ALL ON YOUR OWN GODDAMMIT

“there’s absolutely no way this angry wriggling shoulder burrito kid here could answer literally all of my questions, so I’ll just ignore him”

OH MY GOD WE’RE FINALLY CUTTING BACK TO HIM BUT THE CHAPTER IS ENDING

[jumps up, throws a folding chair at Iida and the rest of the gang, and then runs]

oh my god. actually this chapter was awesome. but I’m so fucking mad at this cliffhanger though lol

at least we got a couple of answers! and some hints and teases! poor Deku looks so worn out even though he’s asleep dlwkjl my little green baby. and is it just me or is his quirk activated?? All Might’s all “I can feel it” as if it isn’t obvious just looking at him, why are you trying to be all mysterious dude

anyway! so at least we finally have confirmation and a date for those vestige antics at long last. looking forward to meeting Mister The Fourth next week so we can finally ask him “hey dude, what the fuck”