#i said i had a dumb idea like three weeks ago lol

[ghostoffuturespast]

@shimmer-like-agirl & @baublekute

Behold my horrendous photo shop skills! I got them all in the same photo 😈

[sungbeam]

OFF THE RECORD ▷ PART TWO (EP9-17)

nonidol!ji changmin x fem!reader

everyone thinks ji changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is.

▷ genre, part warnings. e2l, childhood friends gone bad, (extra) slow burn, fluff, angst, crying lol, mentions of childhood trauma and parental manipulation, arguing, bittersweet galore, nct ten is there for the sole purpose of being nosy like the rest of us or for being a 2nd male lead who knows!, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissing!, ji changmin dancing (need i go on), symptoms of panic/anxiety, a lot of non-tbz moments sorry i meant it when i said extra slow burn, im literally writing abt people who dance like gods but im a plebian w two left feet i have no idea what im looking at except for hips—, pining haha...ha (more subtle until the end), he's in a bathrobe near the end sorry children

▷ PART TWO WC. 17.6k

love in unity series m.list / otr part one

a/n: if u haven't read part one GO AWAY GO READ PART ONE ??? WHAT'RE U DOING HERE

EPISODE NINE: OFF THE AIR

IT was common knowledge that the week before finals week was referred to as the dreaded Dead Week. Campus was barren, coffee shops and libraries were packed, and almost everybody lived in some variation of sweats, hoodies, and eye bags. You were actually holed up in the research lab (yes, again) because your deadline to get this paper to your graduation advisor was literally looming over your shoulder, and though you were practically done, you were too paranoid of not catching some dumb typo before you turned it in.

Plus, the coffee in the lab break room was free and sponsored by your resident graduate student supervisor, and beloved older brother figure, Qian Kun. God rest his workaholic soul and empty pockets.

There weren't many people here this afternoon; most had retreated to their own homes or offices or wherever they dwelled during the Week of the Dead.

Then there was Ten.

"So do you guys just wither away here by yourselves?" Amongst the empty workbenches, his words seemed to unnecessarily resonate. From his perch in Kun's office, he spread his arms wide to gesture to all the empty space.

Kun pressed his fingers to the space between his eyes. "Yes, now let me wither in peace."

"No, I don't think I will."

You felt yourself smile. Ten had come in a few hours ago with lunch for both you and Kun. Supposedly, when he had heard that the two of you habitually ran on only coffee and dreams during Dead Week, he took it upon himself to swing by the nearest fast food restaurant and pick up a very belated lunch for you both. You’d chomped down on it with Kun in his office, but as soon as you were done, you retreated back to your desk.

The sky outside of the research laboratory was already beginning to bruise to a gray-blue-purple, the color of a dusty blueberry. Soon, you would have to surrender yourself to the night and head back home, but hopefully before that, you would decide that you were at least too tired to continue staring at these same seventeen pages for hours on end…

All three heads perked up at the sound of the laboratory building door opening and closing in the distance. None of you were exactly expecting anyone, especially when people usually indicated when they would come into work. You craned your neck from your workbench to see who had come in—

“I’ll only be a minute,” you heard and recognized your colleague Jacob Bae as he strode in from the outside corridor and into the main laboratory floor.

He met your eyes and smiled. “Hey, Yn.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

He let out a sigh as he jogged past your desk and headed toward a cupboard in the back corner. “I forgot that I left my—” His voice cut out as he ducked into the dark cupboard and withdrew a giant plastic tub. From the plastic innards filled with paper, he fished out a specific packet of paper shoved into a flimsy manila folder. “Forgot my thesis draft.”

You coughed out a laugh. “Dude.”

His grin was innocent and boyish, standard Jacob. “What? A guy’s gonna forget some things sometimes.”

“Is that what you tell your girlfriend?”

He sent you an unimpressed look. “Ha ha, Yn. Very funny. For your information, she’s more forgetful than me sometimes.” He stuck his tongue out at you as he passed by your workbench, and you, as the very mature person you were, stuck your tongue out back at him. It was only fair.

A cough sounded out from the entrance to the laboratory, and you turned your head to find Changmin, out of all people, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Peering out from behind the corner of the wall, however, was his friend Sunwoo from that other night. And yanking Sunwoo back behind the wall was Chanhee. Strange.

Someone (you suspected Chanhee) gave Changmin a firm shove into the laboratory, sending the latter stumbling in before he caught himself and regained his balance. He was swaddled in a dark colored puffer jacket and a red scarf, his red-tipped nose and cheeks bitten by the cold. For the first time, he looked smaller than he was, almost shy or nervous. You hadn’t encountered this Changmin in a long time.

He wasn’t one to look vulnerable out in the open like this.

As Jacob passed by Changmin, he clasped his shoulder in reassurance.

“Hi,” Changmin said slowly as he approached your workbench.

You were still a little dumbfounded that he was here again. “Uh, hi. What’re you doing here?” The argument the two of you had earlier in the week replayed in your mind, and you almost grimaced. You’d both said even more hurtful things, and you supposed you had just been so sensitive that your brain just automatically went into defense mode to protect yourself.

No, you hadn’t been there that night for him. You hadn’t expected to see anyone there at that time of night. That was the whole point of you going so late. You had been trying to get yourself to go into the practice room on your own, but the longer you had stood there, staring at the door, the more you realized you couldn’t do it. It still didn’t sit well with you, how affected you were by your mother’s past words.

Changmin kept his distance, but he came close enough that you could hear what he was trying to say without the others listening in too much. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

You blinked. “Talk? Like right now?” Your eyes darted to your computer screen and the practically finished paper displayed. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep working on it, but your heart beat startled at the sudden thought of having that very important conversation right now, when you weren’t ready.

He caught onto your movements though. “No, no—I mean,” he stammered, recovering with a quick swipe of his tongue over his lip, “just whenever. It doesn’t have to be now. I just figured it’d be best to get that… out in the air, you know?” I think it’s what we’ve been needing all this time. Something proper; no more yelling matches.

For a second, you thought you could see some of the old Changmin in this one. It wasn’t like he had changed, per se, it was more like he was finally showing that part of himself that you had been missing all along. You swallowed, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll, uhm, text you sometime tonight after I turn this paper in.”

He nodded back at you. “Yeah, cool.”

When you saw him begin to back away, a thought suddenly occurred to you. You called out to him to get him to stop, and you could have sworn that there was a gleam in his eyes then. “Changmin—about Sumin…” You inhaled deeply as you fought for the right words to express your next thoughts, “be gentle with her, okay?”

Even then there was a pang in your heart as you uttered those words. Sumin had texted you all about her interaction with Changmin a day or so ago regarding his “interview”, and she had been gushing about her crush on him. She had even asked you how much you knew about him and if you could give her a crash course in all things dance or even Changmin. Suffice to say, you felt trapped between a rock and hard place, but you didn’t want to let her down. (You’d always wanted to be a big sister; you didn’t want to push her away because of feelings that you were too petty to address.)

Changmin’s head tilted to the side as he made a confused face. “Huh?”

You sighed, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No, actually,” he quipped.

You pursed your lips; why weren’t you surprised? It wouldn’t be very cool of you to reveal Sumin’s crush on him if that wasn’t what she wanted. You would have to be subtle, but also not subtle, then. “Just—” you made a vague gesture with your hands, “—don’t be brash.”

“Brash?”

“Don’t be mean,” you amended.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You thought even Ten rolled his eyes from where he was in Kun’s office. “You’re hopeless, really.”

Changmin’s face pinched, and he was moving back closer to your workbench. “I’ll have you know that we’re both hopeless.”

You deadpanned. “Now I’m pretty sure we’re not even in the same ballpark,” you muttered in exasperation. “Whatever. Your friends are waiting for you, Changmin.”

His lips pressed into a line. He glanced quickly over his shoulder where his friends were pretending to not be eavesdropping, then looked back at you. “Okay, yeah. Just don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

EPISODE TEN: OFF THE MARKET

CHANGMIN glanced up at the entrance to the coffee shop, matching the sign in the window to the one he had searched up on his GPS app. It seemed to match from what he saw.

Today was the Friday of Dead Week, a handful of days after he dipped out of his interview with Sumin and confronted you at the laboratory. He had consulted Chanhee that day, regarding his mess of feelings about the situation with you, and Chanhee had practically forced him to go with him and Jacob to the laboratory. (Sunwoo just happened to tag along because he, apparently, felt left out.) Changmin wondered how Chanhee could have possibly known that you would be there, but Chanhee dismissed his worries by assuring him that after he asked you, he would feel a lot better and less like a hot pile of shit.

Chanhee was right, as per usual. Not that Changmin was going to admit that aloud to him ever.

But today was important because of two things in particular, and they both had to do with things that occurred several days ago. The first item on the agenda was going into this cafe to finish up that un-started interview with Sumin. After he had given her his number that day, she was swift to send a greeting text to him to set up a time and place to meet. Changmin actually had yet to visit this coffee shop in particular, but then again, he was a bit partial to the one Jacob introduced to the group last quarter.

Your words of advice, or caution, rang in his ears like the bell that twinkled above the door as he walked into the building. Be gentle with her. Don’t be brash. Don’t be mean. What did all of that even mean? He liked being interviewed, especially when it was about dance, so why would you think he would be anything but well-behaved? Part of him thought it was based off of the two of your interactions for the past three years, but he knew you had the good sense to know he didn’t treat just anyone like he treated you.

The thought remained fresh in his mind even as he scanned the room for a familiar face.

Sumin was seated in a secluded booth in the corner of the coffee shop. When she saw him, she waved him over excitedly, slipping her compact into her purse. Her laptop was left on the table in front of her, but unopened. Huh, maybe she just got here, too.

Changmin slid into the booth across from her. “Hi, sorry, were you waiting long?” He asked as he shouldered his jacket off and set his bag on top of it.

Sumin perked up a little bit. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. Did you have a good week?”

“Ah, as good as the week before finals can be, I suppose,” he chuckled, leaning back against the booth seat. His eyes darted to the unopened laptop still in the middle of the table and he cupped the back of his neck. “Did you wanna order anything to drink? Or have you ordered already?”

She shook her head, her hand reaching up to fidget with the end of one of her curled locks of hair. “Hm? No, I didn’t order yet! I was waiting for you so we could order something together—I mean, at the same time.”

“Cool, yeah,” he cleared his throat, signaling for one of the workers’ attention with a wave of his hand. “We can order and then get started.”

“Ah, ha, right.”

Once orders were taken, Sumin finally cracked open her laptop and got a couple things set up. Changmin patiently waited for her to get all settled, his eyes wandering about the shop and absentmindedly observing the workers behind the counter as they bustled about to prepare drinks and pastries.

Sumin coughed, “Okay, I figured that recording is a little unnecessary, so I’ll just be jotting some notes down on my laptop.”

Changmin bobbed his head. “Sounds good.”

She shifted in her seat, her posture straightening, as she figured out how exactly to start. “I hope you’ll be patient with me since I haven’t been doing this for a long time, but Yn gave me some pointers to start with,” she said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No problem! I totally understand; take your time.” He cocked his head to the side unconsciously, “Yn didn’t offer to sit in for your interviews?”

“Oh! Uh, she did, but I insisted that I was feeling confident enough to do them on my own,” she laughed lightly. “Definitely a bit nerve-wracking, but I think the interviews with Juyeon and a few of the other dancers went well earlier in the week.”

“Hey, I mean, I admire your courage,” he said with what he hoped was an encouraging enough smile. “Just take your time with it, Sumin. We’ll make sure to get you all the info you need.” There. Was that what you meant by not being mean? Wasn’t this just being considerate, though?

His foot tapped against the ground absentmindedly as he thought about the next thing on his agenda after this interview: talking to you. It was weird, having to almost set an appointment to have this very needed talk, but as you had said, you texted him your availability and the two of you just happened to both have this evening free. He just needed to finish this interview… There was still plenty of time.

His words to Sumin seemed to make her shoulders relax a little bit, and she jumped right into her first question. Changmin would answer as thoughtfully as could, which wasn’t too difficult seeing as he was literally talking about one of the things he was most passionate about in this world. He could probably talk about dance and his love for dance for days on end. Sumin, in turn, would skillfully and naturally continue the conversation so it felt a lot less like an interview, and more like an interaction between friends about dance.

Perhaps he didn’t even realize when the questions became less about his experience about dance and more about him; when Sumin gradually stopped typing notes down on her laptop and instead leaned her chin onto her hands to watch him; or when she suddenly asked—

“Is that your ideal first date then?”

Record scratch.

The words on Changmin’s tongue died instantly, and his brain scrambled to process what she had just said. “Sorry?”

Sumin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “I—I mean, you were talking about going to see live dance shows with your former partner and I just…” She shook her head with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, was that too forward?”

Changmin blinked once, twice; dear god, he must have been running his mouth without even realizing. “I was talking about Yn?”

That ripped Sumin right out of embarrassment—well, it was closer to mortification. The color on her cheeks had turned pale. “Yn is your ex?”

Fuck— “No, no, no! She’s not. She’s definitely not—”

Sumin covered her face with both of her palms in distress, a sentiment that was definitely shared between both parties in the booth. “Oh my god, and I’ve been telling her all about my crush on you, too. I must have looked so stupid.”

His eyes flew open. “Huh?!”

“Please, I’ve been so obvious, Changmin!”

Not to me, he thought. Jesus, was he really so blind? Was this what you meant this whole time? Changmin waved his hands around in an X formation, trying to reign the conversation into some level of sanity. “Sumin, I can assure you, that you definitely weren’t obvious until you literally just said it,” he began. “And so we’re clear, Yn is not my ex-girlfriend. She was my ex-dance partner and friend, but not a significant other.” As much as it sucked to admit that—

Sumin slowly lowered her hands from her face with the light reflected in her eyes wobbling. “Oh… okay, I guess that makes sense then.”

Changmin let out a haggard sigh, holding his hand to his head. “Yeah, well… I guess I should say that I’m sorry, but I don’t really share the same feelings for you?” He shook his head to himself, trying to rephrase: “What I mean is that I’m not exactly looking for a relationship. I’m kind of messed up right now.” Understatement of the century.

She pursed her lips, but nodded. “I get that. Thanks for being so cool about it.”

“Least I can do,” he said, clasping his hands together over the table.

“So,” she drawled with a wince, “I take it this interview is over?”

He brushed a hand through his hair. “If you have everything you need and there are no hard feelings?”

She inclined her head in the affirmative, and that was that.

— ✶

Even on a Friday evening, if it was the week before an exam season, the library study rooms were always packed, one occupier after the other. Attempting to score one was the equivalent of launching a stakeout, complete with charging cables, two cups of coffee, and a will of steel (to wait hours for a room to open up). Someone must have been looking out for you though as you managed to snatch a study room as soon as you arrived on the second floor of one of the main student libraries on campus. When you and Changmin had exchanged an, albeit brief, bit of texts, you both agreed that meeting somewhere that could serve as common ground would be good for the both of you. It had to be semi-private, as well, since neither of you wanted to let anyone else in on your private, personal problems.

The library study rooms were your solution, and maybe this was the universe’s sign that this discussion needed to happen.

As soon as the door closed gently behind you, you set yourself up in one of the chairs around the small, rectangular table at the center of the room. Changmin said he would be a couple minutes late because the bus had been late to pick up his stop and Chanhee was borrowing his car, so you texted him to let him know which room you were in.

While you waited, you attempted to ease your mind by scrolling through social media and flipping through emails and returning to social media, and wait, did you ever get a reply back from that one TA? All the while, your knee would bounce up and down ceaselessly, your fingers shaking and cold and numb. You were perhaps seconds away from your throat closing in on itself again, but then the door opened.

Changmin murmured a “hey” to you as he closed the door behind him and lowered himself into the seat across from you.

The room was quiet. “Hey,” you said back, clearing your throat.

You watched as his nostrils flared slightly as he exhaled. “What did you mean by ‘when did I stop caring’?”

You were a little startled that he decided to start right away, but on the other hand, relieved that he did. You wouldn’t have known how to begin anyway. “When did you stop caring?” You parroted in case you hadn’t heard him right. If you weren’t mistaken, he was referring to what you had said that night in front of the practice rooms.

He gave a nod. “Yeah, I was thinking about what you said…” He scratched his jaw, continuing lowly, “...y’know, on the bus ride over here. And I just don’t understand where in the world you got the idea that I ever stopped caring about you.” He met your eyes then, and you could see the tightness in his jaw, but the gleam in his irises.

This wasn't about being right anymore; it was about making things right.

"You—" you grappled for words, finding yourself pinned down by Changmin's relentlessly piercing gaze, "—I just got so much radio silence from you."

"You were giving me the same excuses."

"Because it was the same, exact problem," you fired back. "And, okay, so they were excuses, but god, Changmin. I could just see how with each passing day, you looked at me differently because I was late or I told you I couldn't make it. Didn't I give you reasons why? Just that disappointment and cold shoulder…" It broke my damn heart.

Changmin's arms were crossed over his chest as he considered your words, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "I never," he began, "thought poorly of you, Yn." It sounded like he was struggling to piece together the right words, too, and he choked down a swallow. "I was going through a lot of shit around that time, and my patience was always paper thin by the time it was our usual practice time, y'know? It was never you specifically I was mad at."

He paused for a moment. His head hung, and he picked at a stray thread on his jacket cuff. "My parents said they wouldn't support me if I majored in dance."

Your heart stopped clean.

"They basically said I'd have to finance myself for all four years if I wanted to make dancing a career," he said with a flippant, helpless gesture. "I was given some scholarship money from the school, but it was nowhere near a full ride. So I was stressed the fuck out because I knew I needed to win those comps to get more money. They were cool with me dancing as, like, a hobby or a way to get into college, but as soon as I told them my intended major was dance?"

Well, shit.

Horror pooled in your gut, the kind that started up at your shoulders and spider-crawled down the length of your spine. "I'm so sorry, Changmin. That must have been so much pressure for you, oh my god."

This entire time, you'd been under the impression that his parents were fine and dandy with their son becoming a dancer. He'd always had a natural, prodigal talent for the art form. He was the absolute cream of the crop from your class, and you couldn't believe they could be anything but proud of having a son like him.

But you supposed you shouldn't have assumed. There was a cost to being a hypocrite.

Changmin nodded, but it wasn't very affirming. It was like he had heard it all before and had already accepted it all grimly and reluctantly. "Yeah, well… I won all those comps, but what did I lose in the process, y'know?"

He gestured to you. "I just thought I'd always have you to run back to, but you were going through your own stuff. I'm not trying to pin the blame on you—it's… just that… you were my best friend. My partner."

"It's funny you say that," you said then, drumming your fingers anxiously against your leg. "I thought I could rely on you, too. And I definitely drifted away from you, but it was because of my own reasons."

Changmin nodded, settling his hands on top of the table and leaning in slightly.

Still, every time you told someone, you could never get it right. But maybe you could get it right this time. "You know how my parents got divorced and I said that my mom had changed?"

His forehead creased then, and he nodded again.

"She started yelling a lot," you said. "Would always make me listen to her scream in my face about how dance was useless, how dance would never help me in the real world, how I was absolutely awful at it and that I should be focusing on something worth my time." You swallowed, continuing on, "And when I told you I couldn't make it or that I was late, it was because she started refusing to take me to practices and competitions and shows.

"And I mean—I tried really hard to keep going, Changmin, I really did." You raised your eyes to meet his and found him staring at you still, but this time you saw that glisten in his eyes again. The tension in his jaw had slackened, and had been replaced with that same dread you had while he was telling you what happened to him. "I thought that I could get past what my mom kept telling me, and that once I got to the practice room—I just needed to get to the practice room—it would all be worth it."

There was a stinging feeling in the back of your eyes, at your tear glands. Your vision was blurring and you blinked back the traitorous tears.

Changmin pursed his lips, his face contorting slightly as he too tried to contain the emotions welling up in him. "And then I shut you out."

"We shut each other out."

"Why—" he rasped, his hand coming up to cover part of his mouth, "—didn't you tell me? I would've—god, I would've—" He didn't know, actually, but all he knew was that he would've been better. Would he have though? Truly? Would you have?

"I didn't like talking about it," you confessed, sniffling. You were ashamed of yourself, both then and now. You raised your hand up to wipe the corner of your eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, fuck, don't apologize." He stood, arms opening and palms turning upward like an offering, "C'mere."

Both of you, teary-eyed messes, stumbled out of your chairs to close the distance in each other's arms. It was the feeling of finally holding each other after three years that made the two of you break down completely. The study room's quiet was filled with sounds of messy, blubbering sobs—hands grappling at the other's jacket, faces shoved into the warmth of a neck or shoulder.

Two pieces of a puzzle having finally been reunited.

This was where you belonged.

"This was all I wanted," you bawled into his shoulder.

It seemed to make his body tremble harder. "I would've given it to you—god, I would've given you anything. I'm so goddamn sorry."

"Hey," you mused half-heartedly, "if I'm not allowed to apologize, then neither are you."

He gave a watery chuckle. "Okay, fine." His wet eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and tightened his hold around you. "That must have been awful, Yn. How…? Just how."

You rested your cheek against his toned shoulder. "Somehow… I don't really know. I'm proud of you, though, you know? I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too." He sniffled, mouth pressing against your shoulder. "All this time, I thought you hated dance and hated me."

"Oh, god no," you sniffled, sucking in a breath. "I—I knew I couldn't be strong anymore; I didn't want to disappoint you." And when you could no longer attend those practices, you had believed it would be better to not be there to drag him down. You thought that without having to wait on you every time, he would have been all the better. You see now that perhaps you were wrong in your logic.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the other's arms as words settled and feelings sunk in. The realization that this tension between the two of you was possibly over now was crazy.

"For the record," Changmin murmured, "you're a great dancer. No matter what your mom told you, you'll always be a great dancer."

You laughed a little, shaking your head. "Not anymore, I'm not."

"That's where you're wrong." He pulled away from you and you saw the tears staining his dimpled cheeks, but the smile he was giving you was something out of a dream. He gently, playfully punched your arm. "You're still my partner, after all."

EPISODE ELEVEN: OFF THE SHELF

EVER since Changmin, Chanhee, JC!Yn, and her roommate Kei decided to change the weekly grocery shopping session to Saturday mornings, Changmin had never been so grateful for such a change until now. It used to be on Sunday mornings during the fall quarter because JC!Yn volunteered at the local children’s club on Saturday mornings, but since the Sunny Side Up Club had begun closing its doors on the weekend until summer break, her Saturdays had suddenly freed up.

Kei, as usual, had waltzed off in search of her own shopping list items, leaving JC!Yn and Changmin with the shopping cart of groceries and Chanhee sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged and swaddled in a pink hoodie.

“That’s awful,” JC!Yn lamented as she slowly trailed after Changmin while pushing the cart. There was a frown etched into her face, as well as Chanhee’s, while and after Changmin had caught them up on the events of the previous day’s talk with you. “I mean, I know some parents are super strict about their kids studying, but…” She shook her head, “You’ve both been through a terrible amount of shit, man.”

Chanhee nodded his agreement, peering up at Changmin who was at the helm of the cart, staring at the label on a container of canned corn blankly. “Yeah, for sure. How’re you holding up, Changminnie?”

Changmin shrugged half-heartedly and rather mopey. “As well as I could be.”

“Well, are you guys good now?” JC!Yn asked. “Y’know, after clearing all the air?”

Changmin made a face at the canned corn, but handed it to Chanhee to place amongst the other things in the cart with him. “I mean, kind of? Not really?” He scratched the side of his head, and his two friends looked on at him, then exchanged worried glances. Usually Changmin was the one cracking jokes, but to see him in such a state… “It’s just a little awkward now because we’ve been on ice around each other for years. Going back to normal shouldn’t be easy, should it?”

Chanhee pursed his lips, his head tilting from side to side. “That’s true. When you guys were still in grudge era, you let all the angst between you do the talking.”

“Angst? I was not angsty, for your information.”

Both of his companions scoffed their disagreement. “Every single time her name was brought up around you, you gazed far off like some kind of angsty main hero,” Chanhee retorted. “Like Kevin at that one dinner when we were interrogating Eric.”

JC!Yn laughed. “That feels like so long ago.”

Changmin sent her a look, the corner of his lips tilting upward like the arch of his eyebrow. “That’s because you and Jacob act like you’ve been married for ten years.”

Her face heated at those words, but she held her chin up in pride. “I’m gonna pretend this is your jealousy talking.”

“Oh, please,” he quipped back and turned back to the shelves to hunt for any other familiar labels that would trigger his hunger. “If I wanted to be so grossly in love—”

“Then you’d go find Yn?”

“—Then I’d go find Y—HEY!” Changmin sputtered as his cheeks lit up like the can of roasted red bell peppers in his hand. Chanhee and JC!Yn exploded into equal fits of delighted cackles, the former extending his arm back so the latter could return his fistbump. Changmin scowled through his flustered haze. “Whatever; taking advantage of my vulnerable state is not cool, guys.”

Chanhee beamed up at his best friend with the kind of smile that no one could be mad at. It was impish, adorable even. “Aw, it’s only ‘cause we love you.”

“Gross,” Changmin muttered, wrinkling his nose dramatically, then nudging his glasses up his nose.

As she stopped the cart behind Changmin, JC!Yn rested her arm against the bar and let her chin sit atop her fist as she and Chanhee watched Changmin scour the shelves again. “Didn’t you say you had feelings for her back then, Changmin-ah? Would you say they were still present or not?”

He sucked in a breath at the question as he let the question marinate in his brain. After yesterday’s world-altering talk with you, neither of you were able to stay too long afterward to catch up. You’d both, unfortunately, been called to your own separate summons. But this morning, when Changin had woken up with the information having been properly processed in his brain and given him room to overthink as he did… Truthfully, he had no idea where the two of you stood with one another. It wasn’t going to be the same, not like childhood and not like the past three years.

He didn’t exactly know what to say to you now, only that there was still that emptiness in his chest. He hadn’t expected the feeling to go away, but he also hadn’t expected it to remain. What was he supposed to do? He was pretty sure you didn’t even like him like that back then, so there was no way your feelings would have changed in that sense over the past three years. Some said that distance made the heart grow fonder, and while Changmin wasn’t one for cliche lines, he did feel an ache for you. He wanted to make up for lost time. Even if you didn’t feel the same way he had back then, it didn’t mean that he still felt the same… right?

“I think we lost him,” came Chanhee’s very loud stage whisper.

Changmin shook out of his mind and leveled a glare at his two friends. “I’ll think about it.”

“Didn’t you just think about it?”

“Hey, if JC!Yn-ie can take an entire quarter to tell Jacob-ssi her feelings, then you can give me like, five minutes to think about mine!” He squawked, waving his arms around in the air like one of those car-wash balloon people that flopped around in the wind. Except this one was high on emotions and his round lenses were slipping down his nose, adding to his overall mad man-like look.

JC!Yn deadpanned, shaking her head as she began pushing the cart after Changmin. She muttered under her breath, “He’s just astounded that he has feelings for someone, JC!Yn. Let him be touchy today.”

Chanhee, who had heard her speak to herself loud and clear, twisted around to grin and pat her arm reassuringly. “He’s just malfunctioning because he might actually have a chance now.”

“I can hear you!”

Chanhee chuckled, and the sound was villainous.

The three of them, as per routine, met up with Kei at the checkout lanes. There was one occasion where one of the workers was so tired that they tried to scan Chanhee and make them pay for him, but other than that, most people just offered him a sweet from the jar on the counter. As groceries were bagged up, and Kei was caught up on the situation at hand in verbal bullet point format, she took only a moment to suggest: “Why don’t you invite her to the dance showcase?”

All eyes went to Changmin, even as JC!Yn pushed the cart out with the group.

Changmin chewed his bottom lip. “I would, but... I dunno. I don’t want to trigger anything for her.” He winced to himself, “It would be really cool to have her there, of course! But I literally saw her in the practice room a week ago and she looked like she was seconds away from having a full-on panic attack.” As much as inviting you to watch him perform for the first time in three years thrilled him (and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest), he had seen you that day—blanched, struggling to breathe. He couldn’t imagine just what thoughts were running through your head then, especially after hearing what you had told him yesterday.

He was so—god, he was so angry at your mother. He knew about the divorce and the negative effect it had on her, but for her to practically take all that energy out on you? It was something simply unforgivable. His heart hurt for you.

Chanhee dipped his head in a slight nod, mouth curved down into a frown again. "That's fair. But I mean, it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?"

"I just don't want to come off as insensitive, especially after three years of the cold shoulder." Your words from yesterday had penetrated him deeply—he hoped to never make you feel abandoned ever again.

Kei peered around at Changmin from the other side of JC!Yn. "If it counts, I don't think she'll take it as being insensitive, Changmin."

"She might feel better about getting, y'know, a personal invitation from you," JC!Yn chimed in. "Even if she isn't comfortable with going, she'll know you're thinking of her."

Changmin pressed his knuckles to his lips, bouncing on the balls of his feet anxiously. It was amusing, and perhaps a little concerning, for his friends to see him like this. He flapped the ends of his sweater sleeves in the air like he was hyping himself up. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll invite her to see me perform."

He raised an arm into the air toward the sky. "The next time I see her, that's what I'll—"

"Oh, look, she's right there," said Chanhee, pointing in the distance from his cart throne.

Changmin squeaked, "She's what?!" He slid behind JC!Yn in a very poor attempt to hide himself from the oncoming party.

Said party consisted of you, Yeri, Mark, and Ten—again. Except, instead of the coffee shop across the shopping mall, it was the parking lot on his friends' turf. Mark and Yeri were the first to see Changmin's friend group, both of them making unsubtle glances at Changmin. They passed by with friendly greetings, excusing themselves as they argued over the possibility of the store having watermelon (the answer was no; sorry Mark).

You and Ten lagged behind slightly, seemingly deep in conversation. The latter listened intently, but he felt eyes on him and looked up. His eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Changmin—Changmin couldn't tell whether or not he liked that feeling.

You realized that he was looking outward and onward, and so you followed his gaze. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of Changmin's friend group manifesting out of nowhere. "Hi guys," you said with an awkward smile when you and Ten met them in the middle.

"Hi Yn-ie," Chanhee giggled, turning around to wag his eyebrows at Changmin.

Changmin threw back a very unimpressed scowl. He let a smile grace his face just as he looked back at you. "Hey Yn, Ten."

JC!Yn unsubtly began pushing the cart to uncover Changmin. "Hey, you two. Changmin was actually just talking about you, Yn!"

Traitor! Changmin's jaw dropped.

Ten grinned. "That's really funny, 'cause Yn was just talking about you, Changmin."

You glared daggers at your friend with the same level of betrayal in your eyes as Changmin expressed. At least you were both getting thrown under the bus.

Kei nudged him. "Don't you have something to say to her?"

"We'll get out of your hair!" Chanhee chirped, patting the side of the cart as JC!Yn resumed her pushing on the cart past you and Ten. "See you at the car, Changminnie!"

As Changmin's last line of defense walked away with JC!Yn and the shopping cart prince, Ten inclined his head to you. "Should I stick around for this?"

You sighed under your breath. "Probably not. I'll see you inside?"

"Whatever suits your fancy," he mused, shrugging. As he passed by Changmin, he winked, then whistled some random tune as he went on his merry way.

"So what's up?" You asked him then. It seemed to be a cozy morning for you as you fidgeted with the ends of your big, woolen sweater. There was something delicate about the way the corners of your lips curled up into a smile.

Changmin cupped the nape of his neck. "Oh, uh, I know we had that whole talk yesterday, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come see my performance at the winter showcase on Friday?" He added quickly, "No pressure, of course. If you're uncomfortable, then you don't have to worry."

Your lips pursed together in a slight pucker. "I'd actually love to go. I mean—" you swallowed, "—I haven't gone to one since freshman year, but I'd love to."

"You can leave whenever you start feeling uncomfortable," he assured you, but he was smiling widely now. "It'll be cool to, y'know, have you in the audience."

"That means a lot, Changmin," you said earnestly, your smile sweet. It was almost weird to not have you frowning or glaring at him. It felt… good. It felt really good. “I will try my best.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked on his heels, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to suppress the eager grin threatening to come out. “That’s all I could ask for.”

EPISODE TWELVE: OFF THE CHARTS

YOU were late. You were extremely late, actually, and to be honest, if you had known the bus was going to break down in the middle of the stupid road, you would have gotten off and walked. But then again, you were practically buried in all of the bundles of flowers you wanted to bring for your friends performing tonight. There were four bundles in total that you bothered to pick out just about two hours ago, one for Minho, one for Jungwoo, one for Ten, and of course, you could not forget one for Changmin.

When Changmin had personally invited you to come see his performance tonight earlier in the week, you couldn’t deny that the feeling made your chest warm and fuzzy. Even as you trudged your way up the stairs to the front of the performing arts building, you were filled with adrenaline and antsy energy. You’d waited so long for this, hadn’t you?

The last time you had come to see the winter showcase was in freshman year, the year the Daily asked you to write a review piece on one of the performers debuting that year, and even that had been enough of dance for the years following. It would be nice to know, this time, that you were wanted in the audience. (Changmin would have wanted you in the audience all this time, but you didn’t know that.)

Because you were unquestionably late, the doors to the hall would be closed shut now.

That was why having a friend like Boo Seungkwan was paramount.

“Thank you,” you gasped as one of the doors to the performance hall burst open and allowed you into the warmth of the lobby. You could hear the bass of whatever song was on and the audience’s cheers from here.

Seungkwan swept half of the bouquets from your arms with a click of his tongue. “Yah, you’re insane for taking the bus all the time. Yeri even asked to pick you up!”

“I know, I know!” You cried, the two of you scurrying over to one of the doors in the hall. “I panicked at the last second to get flowers and then I had to go all the way to the shop on fifth! By the way, did you know they’re open until 11?”

Both of your voices quieted as you slipped into the darkened auditorium. The stage was the only part illuminated in blinding, searing hot spotlights. You had just walked in on a brief break between acts as performers switched on and off stage. Seungkwan led you to one of the rows of seats in the nosebleeds that was relatively in the middle.

All of your friends practically occupied the entire row, and they lit up in delight at the sight of you.

“Yo Yn!” Mark whispered as he leaned over Yeri. “You’re actually here!”

Yeri reached over to squeeze your hand as you took the open seat next to her, and Seungkwan took the last seat in the aisle. “I’m so happy you’re here, Yn-ie.”

Doyoung and Kun peered out from around Mark, and you recognized a couple others from the NCT frat and RVE sorority further down the row. “Hey guys,” you said quietly to them as you wrangled your purse into your lap and adjusted the flowers in your arms, “how much did I miss?”

“Not much at all," Doyoung replied. "It's just been a few of the first years."

"We've got a little while until the older batch," Kun said with a wave of the program in his hands.

You nodded your understanding and settled into your seat to get comfortable. The performances went on one after the other. There was a mix of all different genres, ranging from contemporary ballet to tap and popping. Because everyone in the final winter showcase were in some kind of dance course on campus, a lot of the acts displayed a ton of experience already, even as first-years.

The longer the night went on, the less you believed your antsiness was a result of a nervous tick, but rather the bottled up adrenaline building up from watching all the performances. At some point, you realized you weren't even analyzing the performances anymore, but rather, sitting in awe of each one.

When a brief intermission was announced, Yeri and one of her sorority sisters squeezed past to head to the restroom while a few others from the row headed out to stretch their limbs and find some other friends. You and Seungkwan lingered in your seats, discussing your favorite performances so far, as well as how your finals weeks had gone for each of you.

"I'm just so glad we have spring break now," he groaned, his head hanging with exhaustion. "I might have skipped tonight if that meant I could sleep early."

"You would have regretted it though," you pointed out to him.

He gestured with his hand. "Right, you are." He let out a sigh as he raised his head and met your smile with a tired one of his own. "Well, Yn, you did it. You're watching your first full winter showcase. How do you feel?"

Your gaze flickered back to the stage. The house lights had come on for intermission, leaving the stage drenched in darkness. You could have sworn you saw the heavy red curtains shudder as if someone had poked their head out to view the audience. You remembered when you and Changmin used to do that when you were kids.

You turned back to Seungkwan. "I feel surprisingly okay," you confessed. "I was a little nervous before, but I think that I'm doing good."

He nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're here."

"Thanks, Kwan." You exhaled. "I didn't fully realize how long this was gonna be," you mused.

Seungkwan raised a brow at you. "Well, didn't you only stay for like, Changmin's performance last time you were here?"

"Well, yeah—"

The house lights suddenly shuttered off, and people rushed back to their seats. Your friends who were coming back squeezed past you and Seungkwan, effectively cutting off your conversation from before. The last half of the night would be handed over to the students who were majoring in dance and had been a part of the program for over two years.

You were properly in awe of the next performances. They had decided to put Ten out first, dancing to a song called Baby Don't Stop. He had mentioned the song to you once, but you hadn't really thought much about it until now. It was a side of Ten you hadn't seen yet since you had never seen him dance properly, but… you were definitely going to need to gush about this to him afterward.

You were pretty sure the crowd didn't quiet down for five performers in a row, as crazy-talented dancers such as Minho and Jungwoo followed after.

Each performance was incomparable to the next, and soon, you were sucking in a breath to the sound of Changmin's name being announced.

You slapped your hands onto Seungkwan's and Yeri's on either side of you, both of whom squeezed and shook your hands back as the curtain rose.

The lighting began a deep, electric purple, painting Changmin to look like a dark silhouette on stage. You almost couldn't make out the details of his white and black suit-like uniform. It was dynamic and unique with the suit cut outs and gloves, and he paired it all with an eye look that made his eyes feel darker and smokier.

He was still at first—until a set of horns, like trumpets, blared from the speaker's and he began striding forward.

You heard Mark gasp from two seats over. "Holy shit, he's dancing to Action Figure."

You vaguely recognized the title, but if you were thinking of the right song, then the room was about to get a lot louder. Unconsciously, you squeezed Seungkwan and Yeri's hands as you leaned forward and lingered on the edge of your seat.

The performance was everything you expected and more. Changmin was, as you had expressed before, the absolute cream of the crop. Each movement was brought with sharp precision, like the blade of a knife. Even during the slower bridge portion, he somehow executed the legato-like movements with a crispness of 4K HDR quality.

Everyone in the room held their breath (or screamed it out) with each sultry gaze, each lick of his lips, each smirk—a great dancer, a great performer; he would forever be one of the greats. That, you were very certain of.

When the song came to an end and he raised his head to peer at the audience through his bangs, you and everyone else erupted into applause, whistles, yelling—all the works. Your heart palpitated so hard in your chest that you thought it was trying to mimic his own dance. You were practically shaking from all of the bottled energy, and…

"Wow," you breathed out as you leaned back in your seat as the stage was reset for the next act. Your knee began bouncing fervently, sending the flowers in your lap up and down as well.

Seungkwan murmured his agreement, "Whew. I can't tell if I'm attracted or intimidated."

You snorted, patting his hand with your palm. "Both?"

"Probably."

You laughed, your hand lifting up to absentmindedly press against the base of your throat and sternum.

You couldn't help but think about what Changmin had revealed to you that day. How could a pair of parents not be absolutely floored to have a son as talented as Ji Changmin? It was so unbelievable to you, but you couldn't imagine how it might have felt to suddenly have all that support be ripped out from beneath your feet like his support had been.

The performances following would finish off those of the solo category. Afterwards, a handful of groups performed, including repeats of a few performers. Minho and Jungwoo had performed a stage together (Finesse, if you weren't mistaken), while Changmin and Juyeon made a return to the stage with another sultry hit by the name of Light a Flame.

By the end of the night, you were eager to head backstage to see your friends who had just performed their hearts out.

Plus, the bouquets were wilting.

Once the house lights had thunked to life, and the crowd was beginning to lessen, the row you were seated in with your friends stood together. Some of them were going to head straight home, but a few others planned to stay back to congratulate the performers on a night well done.

"You guys ready to head back?" Mark asked while nodding toward the stage with his hands shoved into the pockets of his puffer vest.

The high you were on was gradually fading out, and you had to clear your throat. "Can I meet you guys back there? I think I'm gonna take a quick breather and then just go in through the backdoor."

They were more than okay with accommodating you, encouraging you to take as long as you needed. Mark and Yeri both took the remaining two bouquets from your arms as Seungkwan ushered you out the door to take that breather.

As you hit the cool, early-March air, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself and inhaled deeply. All around you, people lingered and chatted with each other, gushing about their favorite performances and reenacting the most memorable parts. You smiled to yourself when you overheard a group of boys near you talking about Changmin's tasteful choice in music, as well as the cohesion of his entire performance, ranging from not only the music choice, but down to the costuming as well. (And the choreography, of course. Everything about his performance, as emphasized, was breathtaking.)

With a sigh, you began rounding the building toward the back entrance.

Now that you had the space to deconstruct your thoughts, you realized that although you felt an indescribable amount of pride for your friends, you couldn't help the pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. In a way, you envied the performers onstage. You wished you had held on a little longer; maybe then, you could have been one of the people on stage tonight like you had wanted when you were just a teen.

When you reached the back door, you managed to gather your strength and let yourself in.

Like that day you had taken Sumin backstage, it was all hustle and bustle, but ten times that. Pandemonium erupted as performers raced past you left and right trying to find their friends, fellow performers, and even the location of their hairspray. (They should have put their name on it, you thought cheekily, but even then, it might not have worked still, you supposed.)

You kept your arms crossed over your chest as you squeezed past people toward where you were hoping to find your friends. As you walked into the dressing room corridor, you nearly collided with a silky dress shirt.

"Yn! I can't believe I found you," Ten chuckled.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in an affectionate embrace. "Ten! I can't believe you found me either. It's a madhouse here." You scanned the faces and bodies buzzing about for any sign of your friends. "Have Mark, Yeri, or Seungkwan found you yet? They have the flowers I was gonna give you."

Ten's lips curled up into a smile as he pressed a hand to his chest. "Gasp, you got me flowers?"

"Yes, and please never say 'gasp' aloud ever again," you winced.

That only made his smile grow. "No promises. But what'd you think of the show tonight? I'm glad you stayed the whole time."

"It was incredible! You were incredible," you amended with your eyes likely the shape of stars. "Who gave you the absolute audacity to be so talented, sir! I swear I heard some girl faint a couple rows behind me," you joked.

His eyes narrowed into sly, little crescents. "Oh? And did you faint for mine, too? Or did you save that reaction for another special someone?"

You flushed, your eyes averting to anywhere but the nosy feline before you.

Ten threw his head back in a loud guffaw. "Okay, okay. I see how it is. He's been looking for you, by the way."

Your eyes went wide. "And you wait until now to tell me?"

"I wanted my dose of Yn affection, too," he shrugged, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Plus, the look on your face was well worth it."

"Sometimes I hate you."

"Some is not all," he pointed out.

"—you said she was over here? Yn!"

Yours and Ten's heads turned and you watched as Changmin's eyes found yours in the crowded room. He began pushing his way toward you, sweat still dampening the strands of hair and falling into the collar of the dark blazer he wore for Light a Flame.

Ten snickered under his breath. "Well, I'm gonna go find Mark to get my flowers. Text me later, 'kay? Okay!"

Before you could blink, Ten had disappeared into the masses. You swore that man was so slippery sometimes.

You glanced back in the direction that you saw Changmin coming from,but when you couldn't find him, you frowned. It really was awfully hard to find people in here…

"Boo!"

You swore your soul left your body for five seconds. You whirled around, glaring daggers at the impish squirrel man who somehow ended up behind you. "You're such a menace."

Changmin grinned so wide it looked like even his dimples were strained. "Sorry," he wheezed, not sounding sorry at all. "The opportunity presented itself on a gold-plated platter."

"You should feel very lucky that I wasn't holding lemonade this time."

"Okay, but why were you drinking that without a cap on the cup? Did they not give you a plastic lid or something?"

You felt the corner of your mouth lift. How was it so easy to recall these things? "It's just the universe telling you to end your pranks."

He shrugged helplessly. "I can't help that you are so easy to sneak up on."

"You're gonna say that when I somehow heard you asking if I was in here from across the room?"

"That's because I let you hear that; there's a difference," he said, leaning against the corridor wall next to you. He looked you up and down, tongue darting out for a moment. "Thanks for coming tonight."

You leaned your shoulder against the wall next to him. "I enjoyed myself," you said in reply. "You did really well tonight though, Changmin. It was a great performance."

He grinned, and his tongue had to poke the inside of his cheek. "Just great?"

You raised your eyebrows at him and decided to bypass that question for the moment. "Did my friends give you your flowers?"

Changmin showed his empty hands and you deadpanned.

"What?" He giggled. "I'm just stating the obvious."

"You're so infuriating sometimes."

He gently bumped your shoulder with his. "Nothing new."

Nothing new, indeed. It was strange, actually, falling into this kind of easygoing, light-hearted banter. You'd seen how easy it was that night in the lab, but this was nice, you had to admit. Banter and arguing were two different things, you learned, and the latter always took such a toll on those involved.

How did the two of you stay away for so long? Maybe you were both too prideful, too afraid to break the ice.

Changmin's expression sobered a little as he observed your expression. "What're you thinking about?"

You blinked, glancing over at him. "Nothing, just…" Your voice lowered to something like a whisper, "I missed this." I missed you.

And as you met his eyes again, you knew that he had heard you. He swallowed, roughly. "Me too."

EPISODE THIRTEEN: OFF THE CUFF

THE quad was in bloom with the coming of spring and spring break. It was tradition at your university to take pictures and to take a stroll through the freshly bloomed cherry blossom trees lining the rectangular lawn. Only in spring did the trees reveal their beautiful, baby pink flowers, so it was optimal to go frolic amongst them while they were full.

Changmin had been dragged out by Chanhee. Well, he liked to say that Chanhee forced him outside, but in reality, Changmin had put just as much effort into his appearance today as Chanhee did, just not as formal. And luckily, it wasn't just the two best friends who were out with them among the crowd of people, but also the entirety of their friend group—plus the significant others, too.

"I hate this more than Valentine's Day," Sunwoo grumbled as he blew a curl out of his eyes. He was referring to the couples all around them taking pictures and holding hands and kissing.

"You're telling me," Kevin sighed as he messed with the settings on his camera for the pictures he wanted to take of the scenery. "At least on Valentine's Day, people won't photobomb you."

Sangyeon had his phone out and was already taking photos of the blooming flowers around him and in the trees. He suddenly turned his phone around, set at point five zoom. "Hey guys, look here and smile!"

Everyone in the shot (all the singles: Chanhee, Changmin, Sunwoo, Kevin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae) slapped smiles onto their faces. As soon as Sangyeon put the phone down, their smiles dropped.

"Who was that for?" Juyeon asked as he slung an arm around Sangyeon's shoulder to peer at the eldest's phone screen. He made a groaning noise before peeling away. "Ahhhh, 'The Girlfriend'. I see."

Sangyeon cocked a brow at him. "Have you finally accepted that I have a girlfriend?"

"Nope."

Sangyeon's eyes looked up and away in exasperation, before he shook his head and returned to doing whatever he was doing.

Changmin surveyed the crowded quad with disinterest. He scanned all of the faces present around him; too many to count that was for sure. Jacob and JC!Yn had separated from them almost immediately; Eric and his girlfriend were off being cute or something; Younghoon and his partner hadn't even traveled here with most of them; but at least Haknyeon and his significant other stayed with them for the first five minutes to make conversation about the dance showcase a few nights ago.

He sighed. That was how long ago it had been since he last saw you. (My god, he sounded like some kind of lovesick teenager, waiting by the landline for his lover to ring him up—)

On the other side of the quad, you and your friends had just arrived to do the same exact thing Changmin's friends were. But as soon as you saw the crowd, you were five seconds from simply giving up.

"We'd get like, one flower, and that's it," Seungkwan argued to Yeri who was trudging forward despite the load of people around.

Yeri huffed. "Not if you don't try, Boo Seungkwan."

He made a noise of disgruntlement, his head lifting up and nostrils flaring. "Oh my god—"

"Yn, my wife, defend my honor!"

You snapped up straight, tuning back into the conversation. Mark and Jungwoo trailed somewhere behind the three of you and if you weren't careful, you'd lose them, too. "Huh? Oh, well, Seungkwan…" Your voice trailed off, and your eyes wandered to a specific gathering of trees further down the lawn from where you currently were.

It was unfair how he was framed like a K-Drama shot: the slow motion pink petals drifting around him, his lithe body gracefully leaning against the dark bark of the cherry blossom tree, the green sweater vest layered over a white shirt and pants. You gulped—he looked way too pretty to just be standing there—

"—hello? Earth to Yn?" A hand was waving in front of your face and someone was poking your shoulder.

You shook away from them, eyes wide like a child with your hand caught in the cookie jar. "Huh?"

Seungkwan and Yeri sent you curious looks. "You were staring at Changmin," said Yeri, arms crossing over her chest.

Seungkwan let out a dramatically wistful, little sigh as he scratched the side of his head. "You're so lucky that Ten's not here; we are so very merciful compared to him."

You rolled your eyes, even though they were right. "I wasn't staring! I just—I couldn't tell if it was really him or not."

"Because I'm just so breathtakingly beautiful?"

"Definitely n—what the fuck," you yelped, nearly leaping out of your skin again at the right of Changmin's dimpled smile as he seemingly appeared out of thin air right next to you.

Changmin erupted into howling laughter, folding over onto his knees as he slapped his leg once, twice—

"You're not even that funny," you grumbled, side-eyeing both him and your friends. (Guess you really did lose Mark and Jungwoo…)

Seungkwan and Yeri did not hide their own laughs very well, but they definitely weren't knee-slapping themselves.

"How'd you even cover so much ground that fast?" You queried, whirling back on Changmin.

He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, his hands resting in the pockets of pants as he stood in a relaxed posture. His skin was unfairly pretty in this lighting, like his smile. "I harnessed my inner squirrel."

"You mean your inner furry?"

Seungkwan and Yeri chose this moment to slip away, calling out something like "we're just gonna go walk a tree" before bowing out. Changmin feigned an expression of offense, pressing a hand to his chest. "Rude! It's called athleticism."

You wrinkled your nose. "Like you know what athleticism is."

"I'll race you to the stairs over there right now—HEY, CHEATER! I DIDN'T SAY GO—" Despite his indignant squawk, Changmin's cheeks hurt from how hard he grinned as he raced after you toward the stairs at the other end of the lawn.

— ✶

"So… no Ten today?"

After a daring race, you and Changmin settled on top of the stairs overlooking the entire lawn. The sun hung at golden hour position and painted the landscape and people below in beautiful, buttery gold wash. You even swore you saw Chanhee chasing after Sunwoo with a handful of loose cherry blossom petals, no doubt to dump into the latter's hair.

You looked over to where Changmin was leaning back onto his palms next to you. "This again?"

He pursed his lips. "Well, I mean," he drawled, "you guys are pretty close. I just figured you'd do this kind of thing together."

"That's fair," you conceded. "Uh, he's actually on a trip with a couple of his frat brothers this week. Something like backpacking in Switzerland."

Changmin gave an indulgent nod of his head. "Wow. Switzerland."

"I know, right?"

He peered out into the distance, eyes squinting against the strength of the sun, but he looked like an art piece nonetheless. “You and Ten aren’t, like, together? Are you?”

You tilted your head to the side. Interesting question. “No, we’re friends. I think in the beginning it might have felt like something on that level, but we’ve both—I think we’re both on the same page where we stand with each other.” You didn’t know why you were telling him so much; he’d only asked you a question. But speaking of being together with someone… You coughed, “Sumin told me what happened during the interview a couple weeks ago.”

Changmin smiled sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, ha, she did? I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“That she liked me? No,” he laughed with a shake of his head. He leaned forward onto his knees then, turning his head to the side to look at you with his fingers laced over his knees. “Who do you take me for, hm? I couldn’t just assume she had a crush on me.”

You feigned a look of disagreement, and he gasped, shoving your upper arm playfully. “I’m not that bad!” He exclaimed.

“You could be that bad,” you teased.

You watched as his expression cooled and the air around the two of you shifted. There was an earnestness in his eyes now, emphasized by the brilliance of the setting sun reflecting across his smooth lines of his face. “Have you ever thought about, you know, like trying to dance again?”

You weren’t sure what prompted this change in subject, but you gave it a thought. “I definitely have,” you said honestly, “I just can’t really step into a practice room without getting nervous.” You picked at a stray thread on your pants as you spoke and felt his gaze on you. “That night—the one when you saw me in front of the performing arts hall really late at night—I was trying to get myself to go in. To at least… try, y’know. Maybe prove to myself that I could work up the courage to go in, but I couldn’t.”

Changmin was quiet for a moment. His knees angled themselves toward you, and he leaned forward so his chest practically laid over his legs. “I said a lot of bad things to you in senior year,” he said lowly. “They were stupid—I was stupid. And—and if your anxiety with practice rooms comes from me, then—”

“Changmin,” you interrupted and captured his attention. You shifted to mimic his body positioning, so your eyes were level and you were both just as small as the other. “I said really shitty things to you, too.”

“I told you that you should quit,” he rasped. He had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see the silver pooling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Yn; I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You heard his sniffle over all of the chatter from the lawn below and you moved closer to him until your legs and arms were pressed together. You wrapped an arm around him, only for him to raise himself up and practically drape himself over you, his arms looped around your upper body and his face tucked into the side of your neck. Your heart tripped over itself in surprise, but you let yourself lean into his body heat.

“I’m sorry, too. I know you didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t mean any of what I said either.” You breathed for a moment and sighed, simply allowing him to stay in your arms for however long he needed. “I think,” you started, “even after three years, I still blame myself for letting all of that get to me. Sometimes, I want to go back in time and slap some sense into myself; maybe tell myself that I shouldn’t have let what my mom said bury itself so deep inside me. I mean… where would I be now had I not listened to her?”

Changmin pulled away then, resting his forearms on his legs again, but he didn’t back away from you. “You were just a kid, Yn. You can’t blame yourself.”

You rested your cheek against your fist. “I know. It’s hard not to, though.”

“I know.” He took another look at you, and you felt his eyes really take you in for a moment. The corner of his lips lifted. “Are you happy?”

“With?”

“With how you turned out? Where you ended up?”

You held your breath. It was a good question, and as you turned to search yourself inwardly, you came to a couple of conclusions. “In a way, I am. It’s probably just bitterness and regret I feel when I wonder what could have been, but maybe things happen for a reason.”

He nodded, his hand reaching up to pick out a stray leaf that had fallen into your hair. “We can always make up for lost time now,” he said. “We never did get to finish that duet.”

EPISODE FOURTEEN: [GET] OFF THE GROUND

THE next day, you found yourself standing outside the back door to the performing arts building. Because it was spring break, a large helping of the student population had abandoned campus as soon as their finals were over, leaving the place barren except for the area with the cherry blossoms. You stood next to Changmin, the latter holding his bag by the strap over his shoulder. You had been staring at the door for more than a minute now, trying to slow the palpitations of your heart.

“We can leave whenever you want to,” he murmured to you, the back of his hand nudging yours. “Let’s just try.”

You got yourself to nod.

The hallways were uncharacteristically quiet compared to the previous couple of times you had been back here. Since there was no one else here, you and Changmin got to pick whichever practice room you wanted. The largest one was the winner, and the lights flickered on to wash the shadows away. You immediately moved to one side of the room to set your things down, and Changmin went to his corner by the speaker. He was already hooking up his phone to the aux cord, but kept one eagle-eye on you as you inhaled the sight of the empty room around you.

As usual, your throat began closing in on itself, and you coaxed yourself into taking deep breaths.

You started out on the floor in front of the mirror, your legs crossed over each other and Changmin’s phone in your hands. Changmin had shouldered off his white athletic jacket, and began stretching as you swiped through the selection of music on his phone. The two of you collectively agreed for you to start off just watching. Once you were comfortable in the practice room environment, and if you wanted to dance, you would join him whenever you were ready. If you were never ready, then you could continue to just watch him and cheer him on during the practice.

You watched him card a hand through his hair as he peered at himself in the mirror behind you. “I always thought this mirror made you vain,” you chuckled, your hand having settled into your lap instead of at the base of your throat.

He furrowed his brows at you. His hands rested on his hips, the muscle in his forearms emboldening from the action. “Rude. I think you were the one who made me vain.”

“The fuck? How so?” You challenged.

“You always said you admired my facial expressions and my pretty smile,” he grinned at your reaction, snickering to himself. “Did you pick a song yet?”

You watched him dance. For the first few songs that played on shuffle, he was simply warming up his body and freestyling to whatever he heard. You knew Changmin was no stranger to people watching him dance, but there was something still so intimate about watching him in this space. You could watch him create things like magic, as well as watch him fumble and laugh at his own misgivings. Except, instead of doing it all by himself, his eyes would find yours and smile.

Next quarter, Changmin was supposedly signed on to be a TA for one of the dance courses, so he asked for your opinion on a few of his ideas for choreographies he could teach.

After showing you his second idea, he gestured to you then looked back at himself in the mirror. “What do you think? I’m not sure if writing something for each nuance in the beat would be a bit too much or if it’s something that should be used as a challenge routine.”

You hummed in understanding. “Well, if it’s an intermediate dance course, then I think it could be worked up to. Are these people dance majors or… maybe minoring in dance?”

He nodded when you said the latter. “Supposedly, they aren’t necessarily dance majors. But yeah, I agree—it could probably be brought out later in the quarter instead.” He made a motion with his hand as he backpedaled a couple steps to give himself more room between you and him. “Could you rewind to the first verse again? I wanna see something.”

You obliged him and rewinded the song to his desired timestamp. He tried out another possible set of choreo, but ended up stopping halfway through the chorus.

Again and again, you rewinded the song for him to try something new, but each time, he was met with his own dissatisfaction.

You suddenly stood, setting his phone on the ground with the song having been rewinded just slightly before the intended timestamp. Your hands were shaky and your heart was probably beating at an unhealthy speed, but you needed to try out something.

Changmin’s eyes opened wide as you came to stand next to him, but he said nothing. Instead, he let you loosely show him what you had concocted in your head while watching him go through trial after trial.

Before you knew what was happening, the two of you were weaving your ideas together, taking pieces of his original choreography and amending it with yours. You had watched him from the beginning so many times that you didn’t need long to pick up on the rest. By the end, the two of you had danced the entirety of the song together, your chest rising and falling fast with the speed of your breath.

Changmin released an exclamatory yell, thrusting his fist to the ceiling, then clasping your hand with his. “Let’s go! I really like that, Yn,” he said with his face split by a shit-eating grin.

Your heart was bursting again, not with nerves, but something you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. You brushed the hair from your eyes, a satisfied beam set on your face. “I like it, too.”

There was a sheen akin to pride in his eyes. “I wanna show you something,” he said, walking over to his phone with a skip in his step. “Stay there! I wanna teach you this bit of choreo that’s been living in my head for a while now.”

And so, you followed Changmin’s instructions as he put on a groovy-type beat. The routine was simple enough—looks-wise. But if you knew anything about the things Changmin choreographed, the difficulty was all in the subtlety and technique. When you were younger, the appeal between you and Changmin as partners were that you were practically foils for each other. While Changmin ruled the arena of sharp, focused isolations and movements, your area of expertise laid in bigger, fuller movements like that of a brushstroke. When you had watched Juyeon and Changmin’s performance during the winter showcase, you supposed that was why they were able to complement each other well. It was essentially what you and Changmin were, in combination.

The longer you and Changmin danced, the more your chest filled with air and warmth and love and happiness. The guilt and fear from before had melted away to reveal this suppressed portion of you that had been hidden for a long time.

At some point, the two of you were just messing around, and ended up sprawled on the polished wood floor of the practice room clutching your stomachs while choking on laughter.

Changmin rolled onto his side, eyes still squinted in delight as he tried to get a grip of his breathing. “Is your back okay?” He managed to wheeze between gasps and howls.

You wiped a tear that crept out from your eye. “No! I just tried carrying a fifty-something-kg man on my back. Do you think I’m okay?”

“In my defense,” he said, peering down at you as he rose into a sitting position and leaned back onto his palms, “you claimed you were stronger than me and could be the base.”

“A warning would have been nice!” You exclaimed. You rolled onto your stomach, laying your chin over your arms. “No one in their right mind just jumpscares people like that.”

“Have you met me?”

“Fair enough.”

A remnant of that merriment remained on his lips as he felt around the floor around him for where his phone had fallen out of his pants pocket. He caught a glimpse of the time, sighing, then raking a hand through his hair. “It’s already one o’clock. Are you hungry? Wanna get lunch or something?”

“Sure, what do you feel like?” You asked, eyes following his movements as he clambered up to his feet and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

He pressed his lips together in thought, humming, “Dunno. Fast food maybe?”

You rolled into a sitting position, similar to the one he had been in just moments before. “Okay.”

“Come on; let’s get up then.” He offered a hand out to you, and you clasped his forearm tightly.

In one fell motion, Changmin swept you upright and to your feet—but he used a little too much pulling force, and you were stumbling into him, palms pressed flat against his chest, and his arms coming around your waist. You held your breath as the two of you fought to stabilize the other.

“Shit, sorry about that,” he muttered from above you with a low chuckle.

You opened your mouth to reply, but as you raised your head to meet his eyes and not just his Adam’s apple, you lost all your breath. There was barely a hairsbreadth distance between your face and his. Changmin came to the same determination as you had and his eyes went wide.

A curious thing happened. His pupils dilated, and his eyes darted down to your mouth and his tongue swiped over his own to dampen them.

Your breath as you exhaled was as unsteady as your heart rate.

You felt his hold on your tighten slightly; his Adam’s apple bobbed. And then he was leaning forward, his eyes fluttering closed—

He kissed you then.

His lips were soft over your own with the slightest bit of pressure, nose nudging the side of your cheek.

Your hands moved up the plane of his chest to grasp his toned shoulders; he shifted his left hand to cradle the back of your head.

Wait, what is happening—

You both pulled away, as if the same thought had echoed through both of your heads at the same time.

Panic leapt into the two of you and you jolted away when the distinct sound of Boss by some group called Neo Culture Technology blasted throughout the quiet practice room.

"Fuck," you swore. You glanced back at Changmin and saw the question, the uncertainty, the—you couldn't even tell. Your mind was everywhere and nowhere at once. You could still feel his mouth on yours. "That—that's Doyoung's ringtone. I have to take this."

"Okay," he whispered inaudibly, and you slipped out from his hold.

With your back to him, he rubbed his hands down his face and an indescribable emotion seized his chest. He rubbed a thumb over his lips…

"Doyoung, you need to calm down," you said as Doyoung's voice quite literally rambled at lightspeed into your ear.

You heard your friend take one deep breath, then repeat, "I think one of these final draft files are corrupted. I'm freaking the fuck out right now, and I know you're not out of town, so if you could please—for the sake of my sanity—come to the office and help me!" He was pleading, begging, and Kim Doyoung did not beg. He sounded like one hair-pull from dropping down to his knees.

In any other context, you would have wanted to record this for the history books. Any other context.

Your eyes darted over to Changmin who was still standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, and gaze pinned to you.

You couldn't just—leave? Could you? Not after that—

Then you caught Changmin nodding his head in the direction of the door, his head cocking to the side in silent question. Do you need to go? He mouthed.

You pursed your lips with a reluctant nod. Something's wrong with the paper.

Then go. We'll talk after.

Talk. Yup. You started grabbing your things and you squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder. "—okay okay, Doyoung. Can you stop wasting your energy for me, and tell me exactly what the screen is telling you?"

You began making your way to the door, but halted in the doorway. You hesitated, turning back to look at Changmin. You really shouldn't leave—but you had to.

"Yn."

You grabbed your phone and pressed the speaker into your shoulder. "Yes?" It sounded breathless.

Desperation gleamed like silver in his eyes. One did not often see that emotion from Ji Changmin. "Don't shut me out."

EPISODE FIFTEEN: OFF THE BOOKS

THE first person that came to mind was Choi Chanhee. "What—"

"I kissed her!" Changmin blurted, hand slapping over his mouth.

"You what?!"

— ✶

You were breathless, brain muddled, a hot mess of a shitshow, when you got to the Daily. The rest of the Board members were on break, including your resident tech expert, so you had assured Doyoung that you were free if he needed anything. (If you weren't deeply regretting that now though.)

You had fast walked all the way from the performing arts center to the Daily's newsroom, effectively cutting travel time down from ten minutes to seven, even with your bag of items. Though, it definitely didn't help your headspace. You could hardly think about Changmin, the kiss, and a corrupted file all at the same time. Not to mention, you finally managed to wrangle Doyoung off the phone with you so he could go splash water on his face to calm the fuck down.

The newsroom was dark when you got there, but you saw the light from Doyoung's office shining down the corridor. He was seated behind his desk, his expression a lot more calm than he sounded from the phone, but his face and bangs were a bit damp, meaning he had actually gone to wash his face. Good.

He saw you trudging down the hall, your baby hairs flying everywhere, and your breath coming out in pants. He noticed the bag slung over your shoulder and had the nerve to ask, "Oh, were you on the way somewhere?"

You sent him a pained stare and collapsed into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"You look stressed."

"Changmin and I kissed."

Doyoung's eyes nearly fell out of his head and his body was half an inch from falling out of his chair. "HUH?"

Your head craned back against the back of the chair. "I know."

"Girl, why are you here then?"

"You said it was an emergency!" You cried, straightening. You didn't even acknowledge the fact that Doyoung had just called you "girl". "Now, let's work this file situation out."

Doyoung moved his laptop further away from you. "Oh, nuh-uh, Missy. You're gonna just send me your copy, and then you're gonna go on your merry way back to Mr. Dancer Man and kiss him again."

Your face scrunched up. "Hello?" What was in the sink water in this building…

"Did you talk about it? Are you two dating now?"

"Doyoung," you whined, scrubbing a hand over your face, "you literally called right after we kissed."

Doyoung made a noise of disappointment. "Damn, I'm never gonna live this down."

"Seungkwan's gonna call you a cockblocker for the rest of your life," you muttered in agreement.

He snorted. "You said it, not me." He sobered then, closing the lid of his laptop so he could lace his fingers over it and fix you with a serious expression. "So how do you feel? Tell me what happened."

You twisted and dropped your bag to the ground by your feet, moving your chair closer to the desk so you could drape your upper half on top of the cool surface. "We were dancing—"

"Really?"

"Mhm," you hummed against the table. "It was… it was really nice, Doie. I actually had fun. And then we just—I don't even know—we played around a little and he was helping me up off the ground, and suddenly we were kissing."

Doyoung's brows furrowed together. "Ah, I see. Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?"

"He kissed me, but I didn't stop him." You could recall the look in his eyes with a striking amount of clarity. "I… I don't really know what it all means, or what it means to me. I'm a little confused, if I'm honest."

He sighed. "And that's okay. I think this is something you definitely need to go back and talk to him about though, hm?"

"Yeah."

"But Yn," he continued, reaching over to rub the top of your head and get you to look up, "did you ever have feelings for the guy?"

You slowly raised yourself up from the table with a frown on your face. "When I was a kid, I didn't really see anyone else but him," you confessed, almost unconsciously. You hadn't known what the feeling you harbored for him was back then, but maybe you could seek to understand it now.

Doyoung made a vague gesture with his hand as he sat back in his chair. "Well, that's a start for sure. But you and he have been on rocky terrain for years now. You're not kids anymore and a lot of things have changed." He was right, in some sense. You and Changmin had spent three years convincing yourselves you didn't need each other. Perhaps it had been the opposite the entire time, but what did it all mean?

"I'm glad to have him in my life again," you said quietly. "I think I've always felt… different about Changmin than any other friend I've had before, y'know? It was just unconscious in a way."

"Would you want to act on that then? See where it goes?"

You let his questions resonate around your head for a minute. But the more you thought about it, the more certain you became of your answer.

— ✶

The back corridors of the performing arts hall were just as dark as it was when you had left. For a moment, you were afraid that Changmin had left. But as you neared the practice room from earlier, you could make out the sounds of voices drifting from the cracked open door of the room.

You strained your ears—who was that with Changmin?

You reached the door, quietly pressing yourself against the wall to peer in through the cracked doorway. There, sitting opposite Changmin on the practice room floor, was Chanhee.

"—think about it, Changmin," said Chanhee as he dropped his friend by the shoulders to keep him from sulking. "She kissed you back. Don't you think that means something?"

"She could've just been caught up in the moment," Changmin countered. "She could've—" He made a frustrated noise and threw his hands out in front of him, "Maybe I just don't want to be disappointed."

Chanhee frowned. "Disappointed… that she doesn't return your feelings? Changmin, can you be honest with me for a second?"

He gave a solemn nod.

"Those feelings you had for her when you were a kid—have they ever gone away?"

You had to back away from the door and press your palm against your mouth. But because of that, you weren't able to catch Changmin's answer. Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your hands shaking as your thoughts raced in your head. You had to open the door now. You'd already intruded when you eavesdropped on their conversation.

Sucking in a breath, you pushed the door open wider. No going back now.

Changmin and Chanhee were both frozen in place when you poked your head into the room. The former paled in the warm-toned practice room lights, and you saw him gulp.

"Yn!" Chanhee laughed nervously as he and his friend both scrambled to their feet. His car keys jangled noisily from where they hung on a clip from his belt loop. "Uhm, I think I should leave," he said, clearing his throat and brushing past you.

You grabbed your arm as you shuffled into the room and gently kicked the door closed behind you.

Changmin cupped the back of his neck. "How much did you hear?" He asked, not even bothering to hide the open glisten in his eyes, the pure vulnerability lying stark on his face. It felt like you were seventeen again, standing alone together in the practice room, not really sure what the other person would say or do or feel.

"What did Chanhee mean by you having feelings for me when we were kids?" You asked.

The silence was palpable. "You really didn't know?"

No, you shook your head, definitely not. "I—I mean, no. Not really. I guess I always thought… I don't know what I thought."

He braced both hands behind his head now, his eyes tilted back toward the ceiling. "Yn," he said before looking you in the eyes again, "every time I saw you, I saw someone who put the fucking stars in the sky. If you watch any of our videos from back then—" He pushed out a haggard breath from his mouth. "I could never not care for you, could never stop caring for you. It hurt a lot when we stopped being us because I thought I…"

His hands fell to his sides, helpless. "I thought I lost you. And then it felt like you hated me, so I tried to hate you, too. And then we worked shit out. And then…" Changmin brushed his bangs back and was unable to look you in the eyes for longer than a second with each glance. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't want to lose you again, Yn."

Your heart thundered in your ears so loud that you almost thought he could hear it, even from so far away. You got yourself to take a step forward, and then another.

Changmin waited as you walked closer to him, his lips pressed together.

You inhaled. "Changmin, I can't say for sure what I felt for you back then, and I definitely can't articulate my feelings for you as well as you just did—" His eyes clashed with yours, that energy colliding, "—but I'm not sorry you kissed me, or that I kissed you."

You thought you heard his breath hitch for a moment.

"I don't want to lose you again, either," you said and tentatively reached for his hands. Never in your years of knowing him had you known a moment where his fingers trembled like they did now. "And I—I really want to see where this goes. Would you want to see where this goes with me?"

His fingers curled around yours as he nodded. "Yes."

EPISODE SIXTEEN: OFF [MY] FACE

"WHAT about that one?"

"Don't touch that one."

"Will it burn my skin off?" Changmin asked in a sleepy daze as one hand rubbed his eye and the other reached for the gallon of liquid that sat behind a locked cabinet with a clearly marked DO NOT TOUCH. DANGER. plastered on the side.

"Yes," you said without looking up from your organic chemistry textbook.

Changmin's hand dropped immediately and he turned to send a look your way. "Well, that's not very safe."

His hoodie-covered head began bumbling back over to you through the maze of workbenches. It was the first week back to school from spring break, thus, the very first week of the spring quarter. You and Changmin were currently in your regular lab space that you unofficially dubbed your study area. Kun was in the break room probably half asleep over a bag of shrimp chips, and Ten… Ten was somewhere around here. Maybe he got lost down the hallway looking for the bathroom or something.

Changmin had come to hang out with you though, even though he was practically a walking baby giraffe as drowsiness possessed his whole being. But he insisted on staying until you went home.

"It's actually just distilled water," you said with a chuckle. "The lab professors just don't want people using it because for some reason, the convenience stores around here are always out, and they don't want to go hunting for more."

You felt him drape over your back with a fwump. "I love when you talk dirty to me," he said through a rather large yawn.

You grinned to yourself, shaking your head. "Okay, I think we need to get you home."

"Not before you take me to dinner first."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

You packed your things up quickly, especially when you saw Changmin nodding off while standing upright. It was already around nine o'clock by the time you said good night to Kun and located Ten (yeah, he'd gone looking for the bathroom and almost gotten locked in a supply closet instead).

Changmin tried to convince you he was okay to drive, but by the way he couldn't even figure out that his keys were hanging on his belt loop, it was safe to say that you were driving tonight. The drive over to Changmin and Chanhee's apartment was an easy one since they lived in the university district and the streets were quite barren at this point. You helped him up to the apartment, greeting Chanhee who was in a fluffy pink robe and matching headband.

"Hi Chanhee," you sighed as you pushed Changmin into the bathroom to shower.

Chanhee looked on in ill-concealed amusement. "He'll be much better after he showers," he reassured you from his perch on the couch. You saw the page-long math problems spread out on the coffee table and held in a gag.

"Dear god, I hope so."

Chanhee directed you to where Changmin's room was and you dumped both yours and his backpacks on the floor by his desk. You actually had yet to step foot in here until now, so while Changmin was doing his thing in the bathroom, you let your eyes roam all around the room. It was relatively clean (emphasis on relatively) with walls that were minimally decorated. There was a whole separate rack of shirts and jackets left outside the small wardrobe, and you recognized a couple of them.

You leaned over his desk to see what he had posted on the wall above it. There were a couple dozen printed photographs of him and his friends, as well as an award or two that were big in name and no doubt special to him. You felt yourself smile; you didn't have to be up here, but you liked seeing his smile in all of these pictures.

And then you saw it.

There was a printed copy of a review pinned amongst the pandemonium of memorabilia. The layout of the page was incredibly familiar, and with widened eyes, you realized that it was a review from the Daily's Opera Glasses.

In fact, as you squinted and skimmed, it was your review from freshman year. It was your (anonymous) review about his debut winter showcase performance.

Wow.

You barely registered Changmin shuffling into the room in slippers and a bathrobe of his own, his dark hair still dripping with water.

He passed you a glance while heading for his wardrobe. "Hey, do you wanna stay over?"

You definitely weren't prepared for that question. "Stay over?" You parroted dumbly. "Also, you have an Opera Glasses review printed out?" Your hand gestured to the sheet of paper pinned to the wall.

Changmin's head turned and he abandoned the wardrobe to walk over to you and his desk. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side to give him space to look. "Ah," he said with a boyish grin, "that was yours, wasn't it?"

"How the hell could you tell?"

He leaned in close to you, bracing an arm above your head. The smell of his shampoo was strong and you came to the realization that he was still in a bathrobe. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You don't think I could tell what your writing voice sounded like?" He asked, his voice suddenly lowered.

You inched forward, a dare. "Are you gonna get dressed, Changmin?"

His smile widened. "I could," he teased.

"Hey! Can you guys close the door or keep it down? Some of us are single and have math homework!"

Both you and Changmin laughed at Chanhee's outburst even though your face was definitely heated up.

Changmin took advantage of your unassuming state and pressed his mouth to yours, tasting your laughter on his tongue until you could only taste his in return. It was a dizzying sort of kiss, his arm still above you and his other curled around your waist.

When he pulled away, he bit his lip around a smirk. "I'll get changed now."

Criminal. Absolutely criminal.

He indeed got changed. And so did you. Apparently, he was being serious about you staying the night, and soon enough, you found yourself buried beneath his covers and swept in his very clingy arms. Not that you were complaining; he smelled nice.

You and Changmin laid facing each other in the darkness of his room. Round spectacles sat awkwardly on his nose bridge since the side of his face was pressed against the pillow, but he said he wouldn't take them off until he was just about to drift off.

"Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

He giggled, turning over and reaching over the side of his bed for something. You were about to question what he was doing until he quite literally shoved his wretched Chucky doll into your face.

"What the flying fuck—" You glared at the toy and its creepy stitched face. You had been startled by it, but you had grown used to it after having to deal with his obsession with the damn thing in the last two years of high school.

Changmin hugged the abomination to his chest as he snickered loudly.

"I thought you got rid of that thing."

"You clearly don't know me well enough."

You began to sit up and make a show of throwing off the covers. "I'm leaving—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" He blubbered, grabbing your upper arm and yanking you back down onto the bed next to him.

He leaned over you, his Chucky doll still tucked in the crook of his arm, as Changmin pouted. The glasses were practically sliding off his nose and his hair was sticking up in the back. What a duality. "I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not cuddling with Chucky, Changmin."

"But—"

"I will go ask Chanhee for an extra blanket."

Changmin's pout contorted into a scowl. "I'll murder him."

You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this conversation. "I think you need to go to sleep."

He flopped back onto the bed next to you, reluctantly setting Chucky back down on the floor next to the bed where the wretched thing had been hiding this whole time. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally able to breathe easy, you settled back into Changmin's arms. He tucked you against his chest, his chin settled on top of your head. You felt him shift as he took his glasses off and reached behind him to set them on the nightstand.

You were just drifting off to sleep to the melody of his heart beat when: "Yn?"

"Hm?"

His lips pressed to the crown of your head. "I missed you."

You knew what he meant. You pressed a kiss to his chest and heard the shuddering breath that fell from his lips. "I missed you, too."

EPISODE SEVENTEEN (EPILOGUE): [ON OUR TERMS]

THE problem with the restaurant was that it reminded you of something like the word "home". The sign above the door was made with some common font that one could find on Microsoft Word and you were pretty sure they only took cash, too. There was a reason you had chosen this restaurant in particular, and it was because you thought that eating at a place with your comfort foods would, well, comfort you. But you had been staring at the front for a minute or two now, and you weren't sure it was working.

From beside you, you felt someone take your hand in his. "We don't have to go in," said Changmin, his expression blank and reserved as he looked at the eatery, but softened a considerable amount when he looked over at you.

Your mother was waiting for you in there, somewhere. You wanted to finally talk to her—maybe make some peace with yourself. You'd told Changmin about it, and he insisted on coming as moral support.

You squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "I can't just not go, Changmin."

His touch was gentle as his thumb grazed over the back of your knuckles, just as gentle as his voice was, "You don't owe her anything, Yn. You deserve an apology from her and you deserve closure, but you don't owe her anything. Not after what she put you through."

You were quiet for a moment and your free hand brushed over the hollow of your throat where the tightening sensation was.

Changmin added, "I'll support whatever decision you come to."

You considered the restaurant again. It had always held a great amount of significance and comfort for you. Did you want to ruin that with a potentially sour conversation? For all you knew, this could end incredibly poorly.

But… there were some things that needed to be done.

You steeled your resolve. "Ready?"

Changmin, all dapper in his dress shirt and pants and styled hair, flashed you a dimpled smile. "Whenever you are."

a/n: wow ... anyways lol thanks for getting through that madness, and hope u enjoyed!! pls do consider reblogging, commenting, or sending an ask to my inbox teehee i would really appreciate it ! now, onto hyunjae's ! >:)

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[imreallyloveleee]

for @auroraworldtourftbughead who asked about my "road trip to ohio" fic: ok so this is a s5 au that i started writing back in Feb/Mar. it picks up a few weeks after they find Polly's body, ie at the point in the show where it became extremely clear that they were just dropping the arc they'd been building for Betty & Jughead and veering off in another nonsensical direction. i really want to finish this one and correct the sins of late s5, lol. (and i just miss jughead's family!) here is a snippet from the beginning of the story:

It’s just past eight in the evening. She’s dragging the trash bins from the garage out to the sidewalk for tomorrow morning’s pickup when she sees him standing in the driveway next door, struggling to wrestle an oversized duffle bag into the storage compartment of his motorcycle.

“Jug. Hey.” She’s already halfway across the yard between their houses by the time he notices her. His eyes soften from surprise to mild concern as she approaches.

“Hey. How are you holding up?”

Betty mulls for a moment over her response. It’s a fair question to ask someone three weeks after they found their sister’s body rotting in the trunk of a rusting, broken junkyard sedan. She doesn't especially want to answer; she's just tired of coming up with ways to change the subject.

Thankfully the scene she's stumbled upon makes it easy. She gestures to the bag. "Hanging in there. What’s this?”

Jughead sighs, giving the duffel bag another half-hearted shove, to no avail. “I’m heading to Ohio for JB’s graduation.”

Recognition flickers dimly in her memory. He’d mentioned this to her weeks ago, when they were deep in investigation mode, one of probably a thousand things he’d said that had filtered in and out of her brain like water through a sieve. She’d said something like oh, my god, she’s graduating already? we’re so old! in response, and then promptly returned to obsessing over their latest clue in the hunt for the highway killer.

“But I guess the gift I got her is too big for this stupid thing –” 

“You’re driving all the way to Ohio on a motorcycle?” she interrupts. “In the middle of the night? Isn’t that, like, a seven hour drive?”

He shifts his gaze away from her, towards the Andrews house, which she interprets as yes, I know this is a dumb fucking idea and no, I don’t want to talk about it. 

After the last few months she's had, she can relate.

“It’s tomorrow,” he says. “I was supposed to leave yesterday, but – I kind of got distracted, with everything that’s been going on.” 

Betty tries not to react to that. He must mean “everything” that’s been going on with Tabitha – her parents’ arrival in town, their burgeoning relationship. Kevin had seen them out at a restaurant together with the Tates, holding hands at the dinner table. Betty wishes they’d just make it public already, post a couple's photo on Instagram or something. It’s getting uncomfortable, pretending she doesn’t know.

He's muttering to himself, hoisting the duffel bag out of the storage compartment and onto his shoulder. "Maybe if I repack this into a backpack instead…"

“You can take my car, if you want,” she offers, and then, without allowing herself to actually consider what she’s proposing, adds, “Or…I could come with you.”

Jughead freezes, his eyes darting from her face to her car where it sits in the opposite driveway, and then back again. “Oh, no – I couldn’t ask –” 

“We could tag-team the driving. And I’d love to see JB and your dad, and…everyone.” She doesn’t actually know if Gladys is still in the picture or not. “To be honest, I – I really need to get out of this house for a few days.”

She knows how she sounds: desperate. But she also knows that if anyone in her life can come anywhere close to understanding what this is like – what it means to be the child of a parent who is a walking, weeping open wound, a gaping hole of need that cannot possibly be filled – it’s Jughead. 

(And she feels guilty for thinking of her grieving mother in those terms, she really does, but the truth is she’s suffocating. Put on your own oxygen mask first, Dr. Glass told her all those years ago. It was just about the only useful thing he'd imparted to her in a cumulative sixteen hours of therapy, other than a prescription for Adderall.) 

“At least take the car,” she insists. “You can’t even fit your stuff in here.”

Jughead’s lips press together. His eyes flit back towards the house again – only the garage light is on, which is where he’s been staying. “You’re sure you want to sit in a car with me for seven hours? I’ve got terrible taste in music.”

Her face breaks out into a tremulous smile. It feels weird, but good – the first uncontrolled display of emotion she’s had in weeks that wasn’t borne of despair. 

“I’m sure.” 

[multiversxwhore]

Cult

Pairing: Oli Sykes x black!oc

Word count: 1k

a/n: so, I went to see fall out boy, two weeks ago. Bring Me The Horizon was one of the openers, Oli fucking melted my brain, so here we are three weeks later. This whole idea wouldn’t get out of my mind until I wrote this, i wasn’t gonna do it at first rpf is difficult to write, but @windhamsrotunda encouraged me lol I’m not sure if I’m gonna write more on Oli but I hope y’all like it.

Morticia sat at the front desk watching customers walk in and out, some walked up to her to check in a room. She held her breath on the attitude she felt on the inside, the only reason she took a side job is so she could afford tickets to see Bring Me The Horizon with her best friend Peach. She did fully plan on quitting after the concert, granted she barely knew the band before two years ago; after spending a year and a half intensely researching, she practically felt like a band member herself. The pipe line from Fall Out Boy to Bring Me the Horizon isn’t all that far in between, so here she is sitting at her dumb ass hotel lobby till clock out time at 4:30pm. Just enough time for her to drive home, and get ready for the show that night. After a while of no customers, she began to scroll through her phone, Morticia pressed play on her music and let Oli Sykes voice fill her ears. Before she knew it, she’s full on head bang mode, and singing gods know how loud. “We’re just a room full of strangers, looking for something to save usssss….dying to live, living to die.” She sang in a somewhat hushed voice, one had over her heart, and her face scrunched up into a passionate expression; anyone passing back would assume she was disgusted by something. Either way Morticia didn’t give a shit, in her mind she’s on her way to see her future husband, and she’s quitting her job in a week. Nothing could ruin her mood.

A hand from the opposite side of the desk grabbed her by the wrist, and causing her to nearly jumped out of her skin. That was nothing compared to her reaction upon seeing the person attached to that very hand. Oli Sykes, standing in all his creature like glory. One red contact lense in his right eye, and a sliver linked choker around his neck. Despite it being almost 80 degrees outside he still felt the need to wear a beany, Morticia’s hand began to shake as her eyelids widened.

“Ohhh this is embarrassing.” Morticia breathed, Oli, who’s still holding onto her hand, smiles warmly. His eyes taking her in, he thought she had a natural kind of beauty, which drew him in more.

“By all means love continue, up until this point I’ve been fighting imposter syndrome, but I think this just boosted my ego.” His accent wanted to make her melt, it’s not quite as heavy as she’s heard in previous interviews, but the twang is still there. It’s so hard for her to believe that thoes screaming vocals comes from this deep, yet soft voice she’s hearing now. She noticed the rest of the band wasn’t with him, so they must have checked in before her shift started.

“I’m so sorry let me collect myself, I promise I’m way more cool than this.” Which is a lie on her part, but she took a second to gather herself. Oli waited patiently.

“How can I help you?” Her mood more uplifted than earlier, she’s not sure how long she could keep this up, he’s just staring right into her soul. His gaze pinned her to her spot, her feet planted in the carpet beneath her, she refused to move until this interaction is over.

“I don’t suppose have wifi here? Our phone service is shit right now, is it possible you could help me out?” He leaned against the counter, his eyes darted over to the sign that clearly said not to lean on the desk, and then back to Morticia. When she didn’t make a remark about it, Oli leaned further on his elbows, if she took a step closer she could lean over and kiss him right on the lips. ‘Fucking breath bitch…it’s just Oli Sykes’ she interanally freaked out.

“Um, yes actually…I can actually show you better than I can tell you.” She spoke nonchalantly, aloof of how Oli smirked at her as she pulled out her phone from her pocket. Her heart stopped as she looked at the self made wallpaper on her Lock Screen hoping he didn’t see it too.

“Oh is that right?” He said playfully, his fingers drummed on the desk, slowly Morticia’s head lifted. She met his gaze, it wasn’t until then did she realize what he was hinting at, she let out an embarrassed giggle.

“No I meant—

“Mmhm right, sure.” He teased, then he caught the image of her wallpaper before she clicked onto the settings.

“Please I’m really trying to hold myself together.” She pleaded half heartedly, her bottom lip poked out as a pouty expression settled onto her face. An unrecognizable feeling stired within him, he really hasn’t bothered paying much attention to girls lately. Not really. But this one, isn’t so easy for him to over look. Though her makeup is simple: eyeliner, lipgloss, her face somewhat sparkled when the sunlight hit certain parts of her face. But aside from her being pretty, her aura is mixed between bubbly, and bratty. She had seemed to be trapped in her own world before now, if he’s being honest she looked even more gorgeous in that moment.

“And just like that you’d be connected.” She finished up her explanation by showing him the screen, and clicking the ‘connect’ botton on the hotel’s website. ‘What did she just say? Ugh I’m such a fucking donut, I should get her number.’ Oli thought to himself, when Morticia looked up to see how he had frozen, the far away look in his eyes, a dead ringer that he hadn’t heard, not one thing she said.

“Do you need me to explain that again?” She asked politely, the corners of her lips turning upward into a small smile.

“Say…where did you get that wallpaper from?” He asked, the innocent question made her face heat up, she internally cursed, ‘why did he have to ask?’ He stared back at her waiting for a response, his eyes dropped to her mouth, he watched the way she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Actually I made it myself.” Her voice shrank, she made a weird face as her fingers fiddled with her popsocet on the back of her phone. ‘Gah, she’s so adorable,’ Oli gushed to himself. She opened her gallery, he happened to see how many selfies she had of herself before she clicked on the picture that she had on her Lock Screen. She slid the phone to him across the desk, he smiled warmly to himself as he took in the beautiful edit before him. She swiped her finger across the screen to show him she had made an edit for the whole band.

“It’s not just ones of you, I made the whole band…it–it’s just your my favorite because of your vocals are cool.” She whispered the last part, peaking at him from underneath her lashes, her heart thudded so hard that she’s convinced he can hear it. The smile grew wider across his face upon heading her confession, he swiped across the screen again, but this time it was a video. Without thinking he pressed play, and when she heard the sound of a bass riff she wanted to die.

“Shit this you?” He didn’t recognize the riff, her vocals sounded too clear to be natural, but he knew this was raw video footage.

“Oh my gosh this is not happening right now? I sound like trash and Oli Sykes is watching it.” Morticia quietly panicked, her eyes widening as she watched him watch her video of her singing.

“No you sound wonderful, truly.” He spoke honestly, Tokio bit her bottom lip, her eyes darted to the computer checking the time, she had a few minutes till it was time for her to clock out for the day. A few people had gathered behind Oli waiting to be serviced, and she thank god they were older people. None of them would have recognized him.

“Well thank you, I think that’s the greatest compliment I’ve received all year.” She jokes, he slid the phone back to her, but not before exchanging their phone numbers while she was distracted. He made a mental note to text her after the show. His eyes lingered on her for a few moments longer, not being able to get over how beautiful she is. Her skin dark brown, with chocolate colored eyes, and plump lips. Her nostril, sceprum, and medusa is pierced. Some tattoos peeked out at him from underneath her uniform shirt, she didn’t seem to be heavily inked anyway.

Oli inhaled deeply, unintentionally picking up her scent, she smelled like fruits, and vanilla. “Thanks for the help…uhh I didn’t get your name?” He could hear the people behind him begin to fuss, but he didn’t care.

“Morticia.” She smiled, the simple expression lifting, and lighting up her whole face.

“Huh, that’s a unique name…it’s pretty, I’ll be seeing ya Tish.” Oli threw her a playful grin, all Morticia could do is grin back, her mind blank. He disappeared around the corner that lead to the elevators, “what a fucking day this has been.” She huffed air through her cheeks, and by the time she got done with the last three customers it was time for her to clock out.

[1d1195]

I SUCK at remembering passwords😭 and I seriously don’t remember why I even logged out in the first place lol

Honestly would 100% recommend bluey lol oddly enough I have a friend who genuinely enjoys paw patrol and I love that for him lol NOW THOSE LYRICS ARE A LITTLE TOO REAL😭 I’ve never imagined myself getting married or being a wife and as I was younger I was slightly more open to the idea but now I genuinely don’t care or even want ya know?? Idk I guess I have a fear I’ll end up like my parents HAHAH and I think it’s because people mainly from what I’ve seen like the “idea” of marriage but idk girl it’s a lot to unpack lol But I did love watching say yes to the dress growing up lol

ALSO Sam, fuck people honestly! It’s annoying to hear but the correct time will come for you to live out your dream wedding experience!

The TA lecture…. Tell me why I kinda got my image of him shattered 😭the experience was not making sense in my fantasy😭 the topic was alright like in theory it was interesting but I guess he was sort of giving “know it all vibes” during the lecture and while he was answering questions??? Which is CRAZY to me because during his office hours/other interactions I’ve had with him he’s not like that?! And my friends said the same thing too?? Idk maybe he was nervous which is understandable! Idk 😭(I know TA Harry would never😭)

Anyways HOW WAS YOUR TRAHSY BOOK?! DID IT GIVE?!

Also LOVED THE DRYER SHEET UPDATE!!! I had missed them! I LOVED READING IT! Now NIALL PUNCHING HARRY?!? the way I GASPED AND SAY “NIALL” out loud?! CRAZY?! but kinda loved it 🤭 and the cuddling scene was just so adorable like omg 😭 I love the dryer sheets couple so much! You did such a good job as always!

Hope your break went well and that your week has started off well!! Sending all the love!!-💜

Sometimes I just be doing stuff and log out for no reason. I get it 🤣

I have wanted nothing more than to be married and have kids and a family but now that I'm pushing 30 I'm still in a very happy committed relationship. Idk maybe this is it for me. It's not bad. Like I said, it's just everyone else being judgmental af lol Please unpack any time I would love to hear it. My parents love language is arguing. There's no other reason. They're so much work. I don't want to end up like that.

RIP YOUR TA I'M DEVASTATED. I hope he was nervous. that's so tragic! TA Harry WOULD never. TA Harry would tell the whole class he was nervous before starting the lecture.

My trashy romance was so good. It was 👌 Enemies to lovers 😍 It was three novellas in one book and the girls in it were STEM ladies and super important in their fields. They were dumb in love but brilliant. It was magical. Very Miss Wildflower of them if I do say so myself.

I know I mentioned my love/hate relationship with Love and Dryer Sheets. I had been picturing Niall punching Harry (someone had to do it) I also rewatched New Girl like a month ago and there was an episode where the two girls get in a verbal disagreement and the boys are like "just punch each other; it solves things faster" and I thought it was so funny 🤣 Niall's just a baby though, he'd never do that in real life hehehehe I think someone suggested they wanted check-ins of them just being in love doing laundry and being normal which makes sense since they were striving to be a boring couple that love laundry and all their drama was centered around getting together. So now they're just going to do laundry which is great.

Hope you're having a good week, I'm excited to hear what you think about tomorrow's update! :)

xoxo

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢

________________________

𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍: ANON Hey you ❤️ Could I request an imagine with Bucky where you are his non-avenger girlfriend but you got really distant towards him lately as you found out you're pregnant and you're scared of his reaction? But then he finds out and is all happy and all other avengers are happy for you and insist on taking care of you and it's just all fluffy ? Thank you a lot ❤️

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: really fluff smut 18+ (praise, daddy kink, slight mommy kink?, breeding kink, oral fem!rec, age gap, etc), slight angst, cw: mentions of eating disorders (no one has one but bucky thinks this)

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: listen…. The idea of kids and having kids getting pregnant all that jazz, yeah. It fucking terrifies me! LOL! But nonetheless I really do see the appeal and sometimes i catch myself reading these kinds of fics so i really hope you like it anon! :)

PS: updates are going to slow down cuz i don’t have any drafts ready for upload and also things are a little crazy personally so yeah hope y’all understand :)

_____________________________

“You like that baby?” Bucky groaned in your ear.

“Yes daddy! Oh my god,” you moaned.

“You’re being such a good little girl for your daddy. Fuck, daddy. You're gonna make me a daddy. I’m gonna come inside you and you’re gonna get all swollen and round with my baby. You want that? You wanna be a mommy; make me a daddy?” 

Bucky and you both expressed in the past that kids were something you both wanted but with Bucky still heavily involved with missions and the avengers, and you were in college studying to get a PhD in biomechanics and computer engineering, something that would let you understand and work with Bucky specifically very closely. You were too young to have a baby but that didn’t stop you from playing into fantasies of having a family with the man you were so in love with. 

“Daddy,” you moaned.

“Give it to me, baby,” you looked him into his eyes.

Bucky kissed you hard as you both came and after cleaning yourselves up you had showered together, ate dinner quickly, and soon went to bed. 

That was two months ago. 

Three weeks after that night, Bucky was gone for about two weeks on a mission with Steve. You and the girls were drinking wine but you opted out for the tempting glasses feeling nauseous that entire week. 

As a joke, the girls were saying you were pregnant but you were sure that you and Bucky were always cautious when having sex. It wasn’t a good time to have a baby. So you joked that all three of you should take a pregnancy test and when yours came out positive you freaked out. 

“Oh my god! Bucky’s gonna kill me!” you panicked.

“Hey, relax. It’s ok,” Nat comforted you.

“We can get through this. Now did Bucky explicitly say he doesn’t want kids?” Wanda asked.

“No, we both want kids it’s just, ugh, life is so fucking crazy right now and I’m still in school, Bucky’s going on missions all the time. It’s just not a good time to have a baby.”

“Ok think about it this; if life for us was normal, as boring as that is, would Bucky be upset if you were pregnant?” Nat reasoned.

“No, he would be so happy. He wants to be a dad, it’s just so sudden,” you said in distress.

“It’s always sudden with this situation. But what’s more important is that you have support. Whatever your decision is in the end we'll all support you, even Bucky,” Nat told you.

Bucky came back home and immediately knew that there was something that was upsetting you. You promised him that you were alright but you were conflicted. You tried to tell him, you really did, but there wasn’t a good time. 

One night Bucky tried to initiate sex when you two had the tower to yourselves. You were instantly distant with him afraid he’d take one look at your naked body and know you were pregnant and that freak you out. 

“Baby, are you ok?” Bucky asked that night.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel good,” you didn’t actually lie, the pregnancy did affect your appetite drastically and many foods you used to adore before were repulsive to you. 

“Oh ok, do you need anything?” he was concerned.

“No, I think I’m ok.”

Now present day, you and Bucky hadn’t had sex since. It’s been a little over two months and Bucky wasn’t frustrated per say but he missed you; he missed having his hands on your warm and soft skin. He missed the way you squirmed under him and the little whimpers you made. How good your walls felt as he thrusted in and out of you torturously slow. 

You two were in the kitchen sitting with some of the other team members. So far only Nat and Wanda knew about your pregnancy as hard as it was to not tell Vision or Steve or literally anyone. You stared at the breakfast sitting in front of you; it used to be your favorite but looking at it and smelling it was making you extremely nauseous. 

“Baby?” Bucky rubbed your back.

“Hm?”

“Why aren’t you eating? It’s your favorite,” he said.

“I’m not too hungry,” you said.

Bucky wasn’t convinced but because you were in front of other people he didn’t want you to feel embarrassed like a father scolding a teenager. His hand rested on your thigh and immediately felt your leg tense up. 

You retracted and stood up walking away without saying a word and Bucky was confused and followed you quickly shoving as much food in his mouth as he could and tossed his plate in the sink. 

“What’s going on with them?” Steve asked.

“Oh no are they gonna break up?” Sam asked with genuine concern, as much as he fucked around with Buck he did admire your relationship. You are really good for him and he loved you unconditionally.

“No, it’s just-” Wanda started.

“Wanda,” Nat warned. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she rolled her eyes, “There fine. Y/n’s just not feeling well and she doesn’t want to be bothered.”

Bucky walked into your shared room and found you changing into yet another hoodie. That’s when he started piecing things together; or at least he thought. You were always wearing very big clothing and covering your body; that he thought was the most beautiful he’d ever laid eyes on. You were constantly nauseous and refused to eat even some of your favorites dishes and meals. You wouldn’t let him touch even though he’s initiated a couple of times.

“Y/n?” Bucky asked.

“What?” you played dumb.

“Y/n, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I told you I don’t feel good.”

“That seems to be your excuse a lot.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“Y/n, be honest with me. Are you starving yourself?” he had tears in his eyes; he couldn’t even think about you doing this to yourself.

“What! Bucky no! I’m not, ugh, just,” you stuttered.

“What is going on, please tell me, baby?”

“I’m pregnant!”

Silence. Bucky was shocked. You were pregnant? How long? Why didn’t you tell him? 

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” you started crying.

“No, no, no, no, don’t cry babygirl,” Bucky hugged you tightly while you sobbed into his chest.

“I’m happy, I’m really happy and excited for us. We’re gonna be a family,” he smiled.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, I know we talk about this and having a family but not now. I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“Well, I’m a bit bummed that you didn’t tell when you found out but no; I’m so happy. I love you from the bottom of my heart and I would do anything for you. I’m gonna be here every step of the way and we’re gonna get through this together, ok?”

“Ok,” you sniffled. 

“Are you ok? Do you need anything?” Bucky already started going into protective dad mode and he just found out.

“No I just need you,” you whispered. 

“God, I love you,” Bucky picked you up and laid you on the bed littering your face in kisses.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked you.

“Well, uh, the girls,” you said.

“You told the girls?”

“Well, they were drinking and i declined because I was feeling sick and they joked that I was pregnant so we all took pregnancy tests as a joke but mine came out positive. I took two more and they were all positive,” you started tearing up.

“Hey don’t cry, it’s ok.”

“Sorry,” you laughed.

“We’re gonna be ok, right baby?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I love you.”

Bucky leaned down again and pressed kisses to your neck making you giggle. His warm hands trailed under your shirt making your skin burst into chills. Bucky’s lips continued their assault on your neck and before you knew Bucky started lifting your sweater over your head.

You did the same to Bucky and your chests were pressed against each other instantly as he kissed you hard. Bucky trailed kisses down your body slowly, hands rubbing your skin softly, lips staying longer than usual around your stomach for obvious reasons. 

Bucky peeled your sweats from your body and didn’t hesitate to dive in. His tongue licking a long strip against your pussy. You moan softly and your hips wiggled under him. He pressed down on you to keep you from squirming but you were getting very close to your orgasm and it just felt too good. 

Bucky brought his fingers and circled your entrance before inserting a finger slowly. He looked up at you moaning at his fingers and this encouraged Bucky to insert another one. His fingers slipped in and out with ease with your arousal practically dripping from you. 

Bucky leaned forward and circled his tongue around your clit. The obsecene sounds of Bucky finger fucking you echoed in the room and you finallly climax, cumming all over his finger. Bucky crawled up your tired body after taking his pants and boxers off. 

Bucky didn’t bother putting a condom considering you’ve been his only partner the past couple years and he got you pregnant. He pumped his cock a few times before grabbing your legs to wrap around his waist and easily slipped between your folds. 

“Fuck, baby girl. You feel so good,” Bucky moaned in your ear.

“Oh shit, yes,” you whimpered.

“Oh you’re gonna be so beautiful when you're all big and swollen, shit. You’re gonna be the sexiest mommy in this whole fucking world.”

“Ugh! And you’re gonna be such a sexy daddy,” you smirked and cupped his face.

He leaned down and kissed you passionately. He thrusted into you harder and your back arched into his chest, moaning high pitched and loudly. Your hands tugged on his hair and Bucky groaned in your mouth. 

“Oh Buck, I’m gonna come,”you said against his lips.

“Let go, baby. Come for me, mommy,” Bucky said. 

You came hard; your body contracted and trembled, your stomach tightened, your toes curled, and your legs pulled Bucky deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum coating your walls. Bucky settled on you but bounced back afraid he was crushing the baby.

He went to the bathroom, well practically sprinted, and returned with a warm towel to clean you up. Your body laid still while you were cleaned and you just watched Bucky with adoration. He left again and returned wearing boxers and held a bottle of your favorite lotion that you usually saved for special nights or for Tony’s parties.

You smiled and got comfortable as Bucky poured some lotion in his hand. His hands spread the lotion evenly on your body; thumbs skimming your sensitive nipples, gently caresses all over your stomach, teasing grazes along your inner thighs. You closed your eyes and felt euphoria. 

The love of your life was really pampering you and you felt so good. 

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” Bucky kissed your forehead, crawling into the bed with you.

“Let’s stay in all day. My girl is pregnant and she’s gonna need all the rest she can get,” Bucky joked.

“But what about-”

“No, who cares,” bucky interrupted.

“But-”

“No buts.”

“What are we gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“Oh, well. It’s your body, your comfort. You tell them when you feel it’s best. But I do hope it’s soon because I’m so happy and I don’t think i'd be able to keep this a secret for long,” Bucky dived his head in your neck making you laugh.

“Ok,” you whispered.

“Man, I’m gonna be a dad,” Bucky sighed happily.

“You’re gonna be daddy,” you said innocently.

“I’m already your daddy,” he playfully growled.

“Then you’re gonna be two types of daddy,” you smirked.

“Two types of daddy.”

=======================

TAGLIST:

@mathletemadison 

[yeojaa]

( HOLIDATING. )

In life, there are certain things that go together, two parts that make up a whole.  The sun in the sky, grandmothers and cheek kisses, chocolate when you’re sad—and you and Jeon Jungkook.  Best friends since childhood, there’s never been one without the other.  You’ve always existed this way, caught in each other’s orbit.  Parallel lines that run side by side.

But what happens when those lines finally collide?

(or:  how to lose a best friend in ten days.)

pairing.   best friend!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  it’s a full course meal, baby! fluff, smut, baby angst, a bit of crack.  the smut is pretty minor but it is explicit when it comes up.

tags / warnings.  idiots to lovers, dumb ideas, jungkook is bad at feelings, slow burn, pining, oral (f receiving), this jungkook because he lives in my mind rent-free, and in vino veritas (which was my trope).

wc.  ... 12.8k.  laughs in thinking this would be 5k. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ because there’s no me without her and @coepiteamare​​ because vi is too, too good to me.

author note.  this is wiiiiildly late (lol) but is part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with the most wonderful group of women @underthejoon​​ @ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @untaemedqueen​​ @xjoonchildx​​ and @snackhobi​​.  i hope you will check out their incredible works because they deserve all the support in the world and i am so very lucky to have been involved in this.  if you enjoy it, feedback goes a long way.  tysm!  💖💖

Jeon Jungkook is four bites into his meal when he almost chokes, the half-chewed bite of meat getting caught somewhere in the back of his throat, threatening to send him to a far too early grave.  He’s three delirious gulps of water deep when he asks you to repeat what you’ve just said, staring at you with the biggest roundest eyes anyone’s ever seen, shining like a beacon in the night, a solar flare that eclipses everything else around it.  He’s silent for a total of five seconds - or so he thinks - before he’s laughing, scoffing so loudly it disrupts Eevee, your lazy Maine Coon, and sends her bolting from her spot by his feet.  

“You’re kidding me.”  Because he can’t even begin to fathom what you’ve just said, make sense of the ludicrous suggestion you’ve made.  

This, coming from the guy who has been your best friend for the last seventeen years.  Who has known you for almost two decades and who, by sheer idiot osmosis, has been privy to every harebrained scheme you’ve ever dreamt up.  Who has, often against his will, suffered through all your crazy 4 a.m. suggestions, nodded along half-asleep as you’d prattled on and on about things that hardly made sense in the light of day but fared even worse beneath a blanket of dazed sleepiness.

(And you’d had a lot of bad ideas.  From your absurd fried chicken restaurant - where you’d use vacuum tubes to send food to people’s tables - to your non-whiteboard whiteboard desk - made for the everyday office person - he’s seen it all.  Talked you off ledges and rebuked your half-hearted requests for him to be your angel investor.

“Isn’t this what friends do?”  You’d said, implored, just two weeks ago over another dinner, with that same absurd stare of yours, the one that Jungkook’s known for most of his life, that makes everything just a little harder to say no to.

“Invest in shitty ideas?”  So maybe some of your ideas aren’t that bad.  Maybe, just maybe, they’re actually sort of inventive.  Out there, certainly, but innovative, plucked from the mind of you and only you.  

Still, he liked giving you a hard time.  It was sort of his thing.

“Definitely not.”

You’d kicked him under the table, pouted at him and then continued your rambling, completely unfazed by the fact that he was not, in fact, going to shell out a part of his trust fund to bring your whacky idea to life.)

Because you know him so well - can read him like a book, recognise his voice in a crowd of thousands, find his smile like a star in the night sky - you take his disbelief in stride.  Treat it like it’s nothing you’re not used to which, well, you aren’t.  Continue to stack French fries onto the tines of your fork, twirling the utensil before depositing the too-big bite into your mouth.

“What’s to kid about?  It’s a good idea.”

Whether it is or isn’t is up for Jungkook to decide - not you - and he can’t entertain it at all, just the mere thought of it existing too far out of the realm of possibility.  “We’re not— What’d you call it?”

“Holidating,”  you state, so matter of fact he wants to roll his eyes.  Actually does when you set your fork down, lay it neatly beside your plate and level him with that stare.  The one that reads like a big red warning sign, that might as well have neon lighting it up by how he shrinks away.  He knows that look.  He knows you’re not backing down, somehow fired up and ready to go in the minute that’s passed.

Still, he’ll try.  Play off your suggestion and scoff just that much harder.  “We’re not holidating, ____.”  

“Why not?”  You’re exasperated, two hands landing on the countertop aggressively.  It’s as endearing as it is childish, making him laugh again, roll his eyes until the sclera is all you can see.  (You’d told him once that his eyes would get stuck like that if he did it too much.  Cue the prank when he’d worn white contacts and nearly given you a heart attack at the tender age of thirteen.)

“Because I don’t have time for dating, let alone—”  Jungkook feels idiotic when he says the words, wrapping them in airquotes that have you glowering.  “‘Holidating’ or whatever.”

“That’s the point!”  You’re waving those same two hands - you’ve always talked with them, emotive and dramatic like a soap opera star - as if that might lend some validity to your statement.  “You don’t have time to date.  I just got out of a relationship.”  Sure, they’re facts but they mean nothing to him as you continue to ramble on.  “Neither of us can or even want to put in the effort for a relationship but like, who wants to spend the holidays alone?”

(You have a point.  There’s nothing quite like attending his extended family’s annual Christmas dinner by himself.  It garners too many of the same questions, offered by distant relatives that mean well but otherwise drive him insane.)

(He’s not about to tell you that, though.  Hard time, and all that.  What’s a best friend if you don’t bicker like idiots?)

“It’s not that bad,”  he says, lying through those slightly too-big, slightly buck-toothed teeth of his.  Why he bothers, he isn’t sure.  You catch him immediately, a loud a-ha! snapping past your lips when he glances to the side, completely unconsciously.

(You’ve known his tell since he was in high school.  Since that first time you’d caught on when he’d borrowed - and subsequently broken - your beloved film camera, you’ve known.  You call him out on it too.  Every. single. time.)

“You’re telling me you want to have your grandma ask you when you’re going to give her grandkids for the umpteenth time?  Seriously?”  

“It’s not that bad,”  he repeats, a broken record that can’t be fixed, whose cat-scratched eeeeeee gives him away.

He’s bluffing.  He knows it.  You know it.

Looks like you’re holidating. 

After dinner, you’re the most serious he’s seen you in, well, a very long time.  You’ve got your notebook out - a heavily worn thing, dogeared in the corners and scratched across the cover with a flimsy spine - and you’re staring him down across the couch like you’re some sort of shrink and he’s your patient.  

(You’re not and he isn’t, but it wouldn’t be much of a stretch.  After all, he’s told you everything, just as you have him.  There’s seldom a secret between the two of you and not just because you somehow call him on every untruth.)

(Call it a byproduct of being best friends for so long.  A blessing most often, but a curse on occasion.)

(Now, Jungkook might call it the latter.)

“We’ve got to set some ground rules,”  you state, unbearably serious, with that little furrow between your brows.  The one that makes you look so much like your mother, aged years by concentration and a single-mindedness that should frankly get you in more trouble than it does.

“Ground rules?”  He echoes the sentiment with a quirked brow, a little lift of his mouth.  (You’d once said it made him look more like his father, lending an air of careful disapproval that the man carried in his daily business dealings.)  “You’re taking this too seriously—”

But you’re not listening to him, already scribbling in your notebook, chewing your bottom lip with abandon.  A hand reaches out, thumb and middle finger meeting to flick you on the knee.

The pen strays across paper and you look up in alarm.  “What!”  

“Stop biting,”  he chides, gesturing to his own mouth.  It’s always been a bad habit of yours and paired with your deplorably poor lip balm usage, it left your lips swollen and irritated.  (Not even the lip masks he’d bought you for Christmas last year - a suggestion from his mother, a stocking stuffer you’d claimed to love - were waging a lost war.)

“Sorry.”  You don’t stop doing it, though.  He wishes he could be surprised.  “Anyway, rules.”

“I don’t think—”

“No couple things.”  

That throws him for a loop - though he doesn’t really know why.  The two of you were best friends.  Quite literally joined at the hip from the moment you’d met all those years ago, just two idiots lumped together by nannies who were sisters.  (His parents’ idea because as great as they were, they simply didn’t have the time themselves.)

(Time.  What a strange concept.  Something that’d dictated the flow of his life since he was a kid.  His parents had never had time, so he’d found other things to fill those gaps - recreational sports and art classes and playing tag with you.  He’d had too much time in school, so he’d thrown himself into his studies, cementing himself as a top student who was just a little too cold, a little too cavalier.  But not with you.  No, never with you.  You always had time for him - kept him grounded whenever he thought he might fly away.  And now, time - or the lack thereof, yet again - had led him here.)

(No time for dating?  Just date your best friend!  Foolproof plan.) 

“What do you mean ‘couple’ things?”  

It’s not that Jungkook’s never dated.  He has - and a fair share, too.  But that was before, in his first few years of college when he’d had more time, more of a desire to cultivate something other than success.  He just doesn’t understand what you mean in this context, brow furrowing.

“Like, no holding hands.  No kissing under the mistletoe.  No—”

His laugh comes loud and teasing, disbelief throwing his words into the air, tossing them like juggling balls.  “You know no one actually hangs mistletoe, right?  And who says I’d want to kiss you?” 

That earns him a kick to the shin, paired with a look of reproach.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook really hadn’t meant anything by it.  He just, well—

“I’m your best friend.  I’m not daydreaming about kissing you, ____.”

“You never know,”  you sniff as if offended, though you’re back to scribbling across your paper so you can’t be that mad.  (Anger’s not something you tend to hold onto, red hot fury sparking through you before fizzling out in the next second.  He’s grateful for that.)

Still, he chooses to move on, ease the dent that’s formed between your brows and has your mouth pouting.  “What else?”

“Uh,”  you pause, staring down at your paper.  “I’m not sure.”

“What’re you writing then?”

The way you blink is slow, owlish, more guilty than confused.  When you flip your notebook to face him, he can’t help but snort.  You’d been doodling, filling the margins with holiday-themed nonsense in the shape of snowflakes and squiggly bows.

“Nothing?”  

“I guess?”  

“Seems easy enough.”

After all, there was no way he was going to fall for you.  Best friends were best friends for a reason, right?

He’s wrong.  Not about not falling for you, but for saying you were friends for a reason.

Right now, he has no idea why or how.

You’ve been in the department store for over an hour, drifting between displays of kitschy trinkets and racks of clothing, seemingly unable to make up your mind.  You’ve asked him five times whether or not you think you’ve made the right choice.  (Yes to the cookie cutter set in the shape of cats for your sister and no to the super soft throw blanket in that hideous shade of blue-green.  Cerulean, as you’d said, rubbing it all over his hands when he’d zoned out staring at his phone.)

You’d promised him lunch two whole hours ago and now he’s getting hangry, his stomach growling with each step he takes.  (A bit of an exaggeration, but he really does fear his stomach’s about to eat itself.  Routine is a standard part of Jungkook’s life.  He has coffee while he’s getting ready, another shortly before lunch, and his last no later than 4 p.m.  Meals come in twos, within the allocated eight hour window he allows himself.)

(Suffice to say, he doesn’t know what to do without his routine, and you’ve all but tossed it out the window, kicked it from its home as if it weren’t paying rent in his mind, keeping everything spick and span.)

“These are cute, right?”  It’s a set of - okay, honestly, he’s not sure what.  Handmade knit toys?  They look like mixes between an otter and a rabbit and sure they’re cute, but so is everything else at the table.  Did that mean he was going to buy any of it?  No.  Did it mean he cared if you did?  Also no.

(Which probably isn’t the right approach, given how gung-ho you go for the holidays.  Its own personal cheerleader, as if it didn’t already have all the support in the form of a jolly fat man and Buddy the Elf.)

“Sure.”  He’s too tired - too hungry, too irritable - to offer anything with more care, his usual polite demeanour coloured red by the starving beast that rumbles about in his stomach.  It groans loudly, coiling his fists as he follows you around the display, a zombie on its last legs.

“You’re not even looking.”

Though you’re huffing, spectacularly unimpressed, you don’t seem terribly bothered.  You can likely read all his unhappiness with just one glance, as one often did with the title of best friend.

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snipe back but he does anyway, patience worse for wear.  “We’ve been in here forever.”

“Five more minutes.”

It ends up being another twenty-five but he doesn’t begrudge you that because he’s finally - finally! - got something in his hands.  Something warm and carb-loaded and so tasty he’s probably going to choke because he’s trying to inhale his meal. 

“Do you have anything else to buy?”  You’re only picking at your food, carefully nibbling the edge of a kale leaf as he scarfs down the entirety of his burger in record time.

At least he has the decency to chew until his mouth is clear, a sesame seed stuck to his lip.  “I didn’t leave mine until the last minute.”  He never does, preferring to start in November so everything is ready to go by early December.  It’s far less stress-inducing than what you do, running around the malls the week before, fighting the throngs and complaining loudly when items are delayed in the mail.

(Organised as you could be - he’s seen it in your colour-coded journals, the long hours you work - your personal life was spectacularly chaotic.  Honestly, Jungkook has no idea how you survive.)

“No, everything’s back at my apartment.  Just have to wrap.”  

And then he’s levelling you with that puppy dog stare - the one he knows you can’t deny.  So glossy it should be illegal, twinkling bright behind a frame of dark lashes.  

You beat him to the punch, stealing the words right from his mouth.  “We can go back and I’ll wrap them.”

It’s an understanding you’ve always had.  He accompanies you on your absurd last minute shopping trips and you wrap all of his packages, dressing them in adorable animal-printed wrapping and topping them with big colourful ribbons.  (He’s not quite sure how your agreement was fair but hey, he’s not going to complain.  You seemed to love the repetition of it all, measuring perfectly-sized strips of tape and affixing neat name tags.)

“Thanks, ____.”

“You’re welcome,”  you say as you steal a fry from his plate, popping it into your mouth with a brilliant smile.  “Can we stop and get coffee, though?”

"You did this?"  As always, Yoongi's voice is riddled with disbelief, single brow quirked so high Jungkook thinks it might leap off his face and join the pile of presents beneath the tree.

"Well, no—"  But he should already know that, because Jeon Jungkook never wraps his own presents.  Hasn't since you got into arts and crafts and decided gift wrapping was the cool new way to show off your talents without having to invest all of your money into things like bullet journaling or scrapbooking.

(It's probably going to shaft him one day when you're not available and he has to tape the edges and write the cards but that's a problem for future Jungkook.)

"____ again?"

A hand scrubs across the back of his neck, sheepish smile forming fully.  "How'd you guess?"

The elder only laughs - a quick puff of air through his lips - before he sips at the amber liquid in his glass.  "You should really share her services.  Some of us need them."  And by that, he almost certainly means Namjoon, who is simultaneously one of the most well-put together and yet disastrously disorganised people in their friend group. (So bad were his wrapping skills that he'd stopped trying entirely, simply opting for kitschy bags and lots and lots of tissue paper.)

"I mean, if you guys wanna be dragged around the mall too, then that's your prerogative."  Despite how he says it though, Jungkook doesn't really mind.  It's simply a part of your holiday tradition, something that happens whether he likes it or not. (And honestly, he does like it.  Loves it, actually, except for when he's hangry or, on the seldom occasion, hungover.)

Yoongi offers another chuckle, draining the last of his whisky.  He doesn't need to say much else because he has actually seen you in action - experienced your indecision and dawdling nature firsthand.  It'd been once a couple years ago, when he'd been stumped for a gift for his partner and you'd insisted you'd know exactly what she'd want.

(You hadn't.  The three of you had wandered the mall for five hours and you couldn't make up your mind.  It'd been absolute hell.)

"What're you two talking about?"

As if on cue, you've appeared, peering over Jungkook's shoulder like an elf, decked out in your usual red felt hat and flushed to match. (Out of all of your friends, you had the worst time with drinking.  Even if you were almost sober, your face would turn the colour of a tomato.)

Jungkook's too busy stabilising you - you're also awfully clumsy, as if the darker you got, the worse your balance became - to answer but Yoongi doesn't miss a beat, that trademark gummy smile spreading like honey.  "Just saying you should start charging for your gift wrapping services.  You're making the rest of us look bad."

It's not necessarily untrue.  Everyone's presents look fine.  Cute, if not a little sloppy.  But yours and Jungkook's stand out, topped with intricate bows and twine and big flourishing calligraphy on the tags.

"I could give you lessons," you tease, hanging across your best friend's shoulders, breath smelling strongly of homemade eggnog. (Nutmeg assaults him first, followed by cinnamon.  The liquor sneaks up, coating your tongue and his senses when you chirp your words against his cheek.)

"But that means work for me."

You're sighing dramatically, waving your hands in the same manner.  "That's the point, Yoongles.  Teach a man to fish—"

"You've got the saying wrong."  Both your friends are reprimanding you, amusement sliding over syllables as you pause, mouth rounding into a pout.  It's quite a funny sight, watching the cogs work in your brain, the way the realisation doesn't dawn quickly enough.

You try again, with great gusto.  "If you..."

As funny as it is watching you struggle, Jungkook's need-to-be-right nature kicks into gear.  "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day."  There's a pregnant pause, doe eyes wide, imploring.  You can do it, he thinks.

You don't, gaping up at him, the picture of that one meme you're so inclined to share regularly.  The one with the blonde surrounded by equations.

He finishes with a sigh, "teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

"Yeah, that."

Yoongi isn't quite as good a sport, expression turning sly.  "I don't want to be fed for a lifetime.  I want to be fed for just a day.  Just Christmas day, actually."

You must be drunk, or at least a little tipsy.  You take his retort with a heavy roll of your eyes, detaching yourself from Jungkook's shoulders to launch yourself at the third party.  At least, you try to, narrowly missing when Yoongi side steps, nearly leaving you to run headlong into the immaculately decorated Christmas tree in the corner of your best friend's apartment.

Luckily - or maybe because Jungkook knows you so well, can read your movements before you've even thought them through yourself - you're caught by the turn of your wrist, ink-strewn fingers coiling neatly around the delicate bone.

You collide against Jungkook's chest with a quiet oof!, met with a stare of consternation.

"Take care of your girlfriend" is all Yoongi offers before disappearing back toward the kitchen, snickering not-so-quietly to himself.

At least the two of you are in tandem then: "We're holidating!"

What was so hard to get about that?

"You're what?"  Your sister's staring at you like you've grown a second head or maybe sprouted another eye, right smack dab in the centre of your forehead.  Jungkook's really trying not to eavesdrop - he's polite like that, carefully disinterested in the conversation as he picks at his food. (If your sister didn't speak so loudly, it'd probably be easier but, well, the two of you had that in common.  Charismatic and endearing at your best, boisterous and distracting at your worst.)

"Holidating."  It comes in the exact same way you'd said it to him originally and he has to admit, he's vindicated when your sister repeats the word right back.  At least someone's just as incredulous.

"What the hell is that?"  Eunha demands, brow furrowing, looking very much like your older counterpart, the same features delicately aged by motherhood (and likely having to play big sister to you).  "Is that a made up word?"

"It's dating for the holidays.  But not like, dating dating.  Just being each other's dates."

Whatever she's thinking, she manages to cage it behind her teeth, carefully mulling over her next words.  It's actually quite a feat, considering the blood that runs through both of your veins. (He remembers the first time he'd met your mother and it'd been the Spanish Inquisition.) "So, you're dating."

"No!"  The rebuff explodes off your tongue, full of exasperation.  Jungkook nearly snorts into his own bowl, glad he'd been chewing bulgogi rather than drinking water.

"I'm lost."

(Join the club, he thinks.  It's still the dumbest thing he's heard in the last week.)

"We're each other's dates.  It sucks being alone for the holidays."

You speak as if from experience but your sister calls you on it immediately, without remorse.  (It reminds him so much of how you’d rebuked him that he’s just a liiiittle gleeful, vindicated by the scowl that paints itself in broad strokes.)

"You're not alone.  Our family is huge."

"I mean without a date!"

"You've always had a date."  Because you were a serial monogamist, the complete opposite of Jungkook who hasn't dated since university, opting to throw himself into his work.

"Okay, but—"

It's hard to argue with someone who knows you so well.  If Jungkook could read you like a book, Eunha had you memorised like flashcards for a test.  Between the two of them, you could barely win an argument (and there were lots to be had, though almost always childish and not at all serious.)

"So, you're not dating."

"No."

"But you're dating."

"Holidating."  Why you correct her, Jungkook's not sure.  It's such a stupid thing - silly semantics - but you'd already talked him into it so he's not about to butt in.  He's got kimchi to focus on and Christmas cake to devour.

"Okay, seriously."

He knows what those words mean.  Essentially that he's in for it and there's nowhere to go, no escape in sight.  Once Eunha set her sights on something, that was it.  Job, husband, precocious daughter with a reading comprehension level beyond her years - if she wanted it, she got it.

So Jungkook's just a little wary, peering at your sister over the rim of his mug, expression deliberately blank.

"What's going on with you guys?"

He hates people who answer questions with questions.  It's a waste of his time and yet here he is, glibly deflecting as if she won't give him shit like the older sister he's never had. (It's an apt description, considering your parents were as good as his.) "What do you mean?"

"What the hell is holidating?"

"Beats me."  At least he’s being honest.  He really, really doesn't know.  Even after you'd set your rules (or rule, rather), it still hadn't made sense to him.  It was doing everything you always did together - buying presents, having matching gift wrap, attending your friend group’s annual holiday parties - but with a label on it.

(If Jungkook were being honest, he'd say you'd just mucked things up by pointing it out.  If you'd asked him to come to your family's Christmas dinner, he would've done so without an ounce of hesitation.  Telling him he was and expressly saying don't make it weird had decidedly made it weird.)

"Do you like her?"  Leave it to Eunha to completely eviscerate any possibility of a normal conversation.

He doesn't even need to consider the question, his answer coming before she's even finished speaking.  "She's my best friend."

"Okay, but do you like her?"

"She's my best friend," he retorts, just as emphatically. (The two of them really were like siblings, bickering just as often as the two of you did.)

"That's not really an answer."  Still, she won't let it go, stare hard, mouth set in that same forceful line.  It's so reminiscent of your own stern glare, though infinitely more effective.  Perks of being a mother, he supposes.

Put on the spot, it feels odd.  Jungkook doesn't like the attention, naturally straying from the spotlight. (He works hard in his professional life to always be above reproach and easily deflects questions when it comes to his personal life.)  Your sister isn't a force to be reckoned with, though, and he withers beneath her, discomfort stealing up his spine, knuckles blowing white around the ceramic handle of his cup.  "I don't."

"Hm."  It's evident she doesn't believe him, but he's not that bothered.  Most people have asked the same question at least once.  He's learnt not to care, focusing on the nearly two decades of friendship rather than any passing fancies.

(Because he can’t lie - he has liked you maybe once or twice.  It'd been unavoidable, a simple consequence of being best friends.  When you spent all your time with someone - someone who knew you inside out, who loved you unconditionally - it was easy to mistake platonic affection for something else.  Jungkook just didn't have the time, though, and he certainly wasn't about to lose your friendship over something as silly as a fleeting crush.)

(Not that anyone knew that.  Not you, not your cousin, not even Yoongi.)

"What?"  Why he keeps the dialogue open, he's not sure.  He should let it run its course, wave as it passes him by.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You heard me, Jeon."

He lets it go then, falling into silence.  It's only broken when you appear again, cream cake in hand.  You settle beside him - your rightful spot - and hand him a fork, glee as bright as Christmas lights.

He doesn't miss the look your sister shoots the two of you.

It's not the first time he's seen you in a dress.  You wear them regularly enough, practically living in them in the summer months.

Still, you look good.  Incredible, in fact.  The colour pops against your skin, a lovely blue that seems to be alive, dancing under the lights as you go for your third cream puff because no one can stand between you and your love of desserts.  It complements the hue of his own suit, the textured fabric that gathers over his shoulders and stands in stark contrast to the white of his Oxford.

"You said that's your best friend?"

It's his manager, a lovely woman he's worked with for the past year and a half.  She’s kind with a round face and softly lined eyes, someone who treats him more like a son than an underling. (Jungkook appreciates that about her, even if it's at odds with the culture of their workplace.  She was just warm, endlessly friendly even when deals fell through and she was forced to pick up the pieces.)

"Yeah."

"She's very pretty," she hums, peering across the table at Jungkook with a peculiar expression.  It reminds him of that same look Eunha had shot him just two days ago, a thousand unspoken words wrapped up in the dark of her stare.  "How long have you two been friends?"

"Forever."  At least, that's how it feels.

(If he thinks hard about it, he could probably pinpoint the age, the year, even the day.  It wouldn't be hard, given you'd rolled into his life like a thunderstorm, upending everything in your path.  But that's how you'd always been - simply who you were.  People met you and they were better for it, whether they realised it or not.)

"That's very sweet."

He shrugs, swivelling his stare from your approaching figure to offer a small smile.  "She means a lot to me."  Even if she drives me insane, even if she gets cracker crumbs all over my couch.

There's that look again - Jungkook hates how easily it pins him to the spot, locking him in his seat as you take your own, setting your plate down.  It's piled high with said cream puffs and an assortment of other goodies, fresh fruit and tarts and some chocolate bonbons that make his teeth buzz by just staring at them.

"Here."  You've got one raised, held aloft in an offer he doesn't really want but accepts nonetheless.  As predicted, the cocoa is too much, heavy on his tongue, burning through his gums and making his jaw clench uncomfortably.  Still, he chews and swallows diligently, offering a quiet thank you as you pop one into your own mouth.

Someone speaks as he's sipping at his Manhattan and you're going for the finishing bite of your cream puff, soft white sugar tinting your lipstick.  "You're a lovely couple."

Unlike that time a few days ago, seated in your kitchen, this time he does choke, liquid rushing down the wrong pipe.  Chest heaving, he fights to steady his breath, vaguely aware of the way you rub soothing circles over his back.  (It probably doesn’t help the situation - makes the two of you seem even more together than before - but he appreciates the gesture because holy hell, does whisky burn.) 

“We’re not dating,”  you state, somewhere close to his head, voice soft near his ear.  You’re still touching him, calming the hacking coughs he hasn’t quite gotten control of. 

“Really?”  It comes from more than one person, joined by a nosy third.  

Of course it’s Yugyeom - perhaps one of the people he’s closest to at his company, and yet someone who he very much wants to shut up at that precise moment.  “We thought Jungkook had finally gotten a girlfriend.” 

“Nope, not me.”  You’re nonplussed, rebuffing the teasing with ease.  “Just best friends.  He didn’t want me sitting at home alone and thought free booze might help.”  It’s not true at all; if anything, you’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to be alone for the holidays, but it doesn’t seem necessary to correct you right now. 

Sometimes, it was just easier to go with the flow.  Let you lead, as you so loved to do. 

“What a nice guy.”  Yugyeom’s a good friend and better team member but right now, he’s got the stupidest grin on his face, meeting Jungkook’s stare with mischief dancing in his own.  It strikes discomfort like an ivory key, ringing loudly in his ears. 

“He is.”

It’s probably more defensive than it needs to be - you were a woman of extremes, whether that meant sleeping all day or not at all, eating a salad or three plates of pasta - and he immediately moves to soothe you.  (Oh, how the tables had turned.) 

A hand falls to your knee, decorated digits squeezing reassuringly over the bare bone, touch featherlight.  With his head bowed still, it’s easy to catch your eyes, an unspoken conversation playing out between you.  Don’t, he cautions, with all the gratitude in the world. 

Fine, he imagines you think, pout rounding into something softer, a semblance of a smile as you both straighten out. 

“No one’s quite as nice as Jungkookie.” 

Not your usual nickname for him but he appreciates the effort, the return to calm.  It means more to him than you, because you understand just how important his image is, how much hard work he’s put into getting where he is.  You might not have understood his job - software engineering?  what? - but you understood him and that’s what mattered. 

“Jeon, preheat the oven?”  

Your sister’s bumbling around the kitchen with baking sheets in her hands, too large swaths of parchment paper lining each. 

“Oh, sure.”  He’d lost you almost as soon as the two of you had arrived, pulled off to the kitchen to start prep for your family’s annual baking night.  He thinks he catches a glimpse of your big lopsided bun in the archway to the living room but he can’t be sure.  It’s too chaotic, like being around a dozen of you. 

Because your family was women-dominated, the only other men being your father, your uncle, and—

“Hyung!”  It sounds more like thank god when he sees your cousin swan in, grocery bags full of ingredients hung in the crook of his elbows and clutched in his fists. 

(It’s not that he doesn’t get along with your family.  It’s just, again, a lot and he feels as if he might be the calm in the eye of the storm.  It’s disconcerting.)

“Oh—”  Surprise flits across the oldest Kim’s expression, windshield wipers swinging into action as he makes his way to Jungkook.  Somehow, each of the bags are taken off his hands and he pulls the younger into a loose hug, ruffling his hair roughly.  “Didn’t know you’d be here too.”

“____ dragged me along.”  Or rather, their agreement had, but Jungkook’s not about to get into that.  After the strong reaction from your sister, he’s not in the mood to explain himself for the nth time. 

“She does that, huh?”

It’s rhetorical, because yes, you did.  You had for most of your life, involving Jungkook in everything you could.  From high school bake sales to college softball, anything you’d done, so had he.  (The only exception to this was when you had a partner because for whatever reason, said partner would complain about how much time you spent with Jungkook.)

(Luckily, most of them learnt their place, learnt to share.)

“—might as well be dating.”

Surely there’s more to what Jin’s said than just that but he’s somehow missed it, attention swivelling back to the other in alarm.  “What?”

“You guys might as well be dating.”  There’s very little shame in the way your cousin repeats himself, switching the oven on, utterly unbothered.  (Jungkook is reminded, not for the first time, how strong the Kim genes are - how you all just seem to be variations of the same person, headstrong and hilarious.)  “Would probably save our relatives from losing their minds.”

True as that might be, Jungkook’s pretty sure he’d lose his instead.

Or maybe he already has.  It feels like that, at least. 

Nothing’s making sense the way it normally does, too much running through his head, alcohol dulling his senses.  Liquor lingers on his tongue and he can smell it every time he speaks, every time he laughs.  (Which he’s doing often and loudly, your usual corny jokes hitting their mark when he’s eight cocktails in and sleep-deprived.  Such were the holidays.)

There’s just something about how you look right now, dressed all pretty in a slip that holds you like a lover.  He’s not used to it, all of his attention drawn to things he’d never usually focus on.

How your mouth moves - gloss-slick and pouted, so enticing he nearly stops listening when you speak - or how you swat at his arm when you’re trying to drive your point home.  (It hurts a little;  you’re rough normally but drunk, you’re ten times more flippant, edge of nails digging crescents into flesh.)  Your touch burns through his shirt, sinks all the way past cotton and skin into bone that turns to ash. 

He’s gone crazy.  He must have.

Why else would he want to kiss you so badly now, framed beneath the dimmed lights?  Someone’s come and snatched up his body and he’s just along for the ride - simply an observer with no say of his own. 

(Jungkook’s not sure what the feeling in his stomach is - whether it’s butterflies or nausea.)

All he knows is you’ve seen this movie a dozen, hundred, thousand times.  Watched it with him, in fact.  (The slow pan out, the close up, the kiss that follows.  The rising crescendo as the two leads fall in love, profess their love and apology as if all it takes is five minutes together to create a happy ending.)

And yet, he takes you completely off-guard.  You’re staring at him in that way you do - no, not that way, but the one that screams what’re you doing? - locked where you are, caught in the doorway as if you can’t make up your mind whether to go or stay.  

Your lips are softer than he could’ve imagined, since he knows your lacklustre use of lip balm - has had to carry tubes of it in his own pockets because you were notorious for leaving them everywhere and otherwise losing them.  

They’re warm and supple, not dry at all.  A little tacky, in fact, with a strong cherry flavour.  It cuts through the peppermint and chocolate, coalescing into something distinctly you.  (Even drunk as he is, vision blurred at the edges and a funny feeling tingling through his limbs, he knows it’s his favourite thing he’s ever tasted.)

If only you weren’t staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, equal parts alarm and an emotion he can’t quite read. 

If only you hadn’t slammed your apartment door shut right in his face.

If only.

“I thought you were bringing ____?”

Of course it’s his mother who calls him out, drawing attention to the empty seat beside him.  Your name’s etched into the placecard, neatly set atop the china that’s only brought out during the holidays.  

“She was busy.”  It’s a lie - straight through his teeth and paired with a quick glance to the side.  No one notices, though.  No one’s you, after all.

The truth is, Jungkook hasn’t spoken to you since that night.  Sure, he’s stared at your name on his phone, watched your status go from offline to online, but he hasn’t said a single thing.  Hasn’t found the courage he needs to start a conversation he’s definitely not ready to have.

(What was he supposed to say anyway?  Hey, sorry for kissing you.  Not sure why I did it but we’re good, right?)

(More than that, would it even be the truth?  Did he really not know why he’d stopped you short, pressed his lips to yours and then stared down at you like you might’ve been the best Christmas gift in the world?  Had it been nothing but alcohol-fueled idiocy?)

(He’s considered acting like it never happened, pretending as if everything’s the same as it’s always been.  But that somehow feels worse, like lying to himself and he just doesn’t do that.)

“I asked you three days ago.”  The morning of your Christmas party, in fact.  Hours before he’d made the Big Mistake.  What a great reminder.

Jungkook’s grateful for this poker face, expression devoid of emotion, tone clipped yet polite.  “Something came up, eomma.”  It’s an indication the conversation’s over, the question stopped dead in its tracks.  He’d never outright tell his mother off - he’d die before doing so - but this is enough, has her nodding solemnly, topic changed almost seamlessly.

Someone asks about the latest acquisition by his father’s company, his cousin mentions he and his girlfriend are looking for a place, and everything feels normal.  

Until it isn’t and his brother is bringing it up again, tone soft, coaxing, but insistent.  Question poised in a way that only he could get away with as his older sibling.  “What really happened?”  At least Jung Hyun has the decency to keep his voice down, practically whispering the words to the younger Jeon.

“Nothing,”  Jungkook grits out in between bites of his prime rib, spearing a piece of meat more aggressively than he needs to.  (He doesn’t miss his mother’s glance from the edge of his periphery, the subtle thinning of her mouth.  The concern is palpable, cutting through the white noise even after she’s refocused her attention, leaning back into whatever conversation she’d been having before.)

It’s brotherly love that compels Jung Hyun to push the envelope, force his little brother’s hand.  He’s clearly worried as he reaches out, tapping the tines of his fork over decorated skin.  “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”  

“Can we not talk about this right now?”  Despite patience wearing thin, discomfort turning him petulant and frustrated, Jungkook appreciates the effort his sibling is making.  It’s not what he wants right now, but who was to say it wasn’t what he needed?

(There were just people who knew him better.  His brother, his mother, you.)

“Then let’s get a drink.”  

Ice clinks in his glass and he tries to ignore the way Jung Hyun’s stare feels like it’s melting him, eyes never straying from his little brother’s furrowed brow and hunched shoulders.  

“So?”  

“Nothing happened,”  Jungkook says, exasperated, draining liquid in one fell swoop.  He knows he’s thisclose to giving in, to laying everything out.  It’s equal parts demoralising and relieving, knowing there’s finally someone he can talk to.  

(He just doesn’t, well, talk usually.  Emotions don’t get the best of him.  It’s why he excels in his field, working to meet stressful deadlines, barely batting an eye when everything goes to shit the day before launch.  Good as he was at most things, internalising was his thing.)

“C’mon, Kook.”  

It’s the nickname that has him relenting, cage of his teeth groaning beneath the weight of his tribulations.  One beat, two, a third and then a forth.  He knows Jung Hyun’s about to try again.

“We kissed.”

“Holy shit.”  

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, breaches the quiet and then echoes loudly.  It’s derisive, not at all the gleeful witch’s cackle Jungkook normally offers.  It’s dressed in thorns and regret and cuts his throat on its way up, leaving his breath to fall into a sad little sigh.  “Yeah.”

“She wasn’t into it?”

That’s the thing, isn’t it?  Jungkook has no idea and now days have passed and he feels like more of an idiot than he ever has.  He’s sat with it for so long (in reality, not that long but tell that to someone who’s never out of control, whose entire life follows a set pattern) that it’s all just become a jumbled mess, taking up too much space in his thoughts and leaving him confused.  

“I don’t think so.”  If your abrupt closing of the door was any indication, you likely hated it - but he also didn’t want to assume.  He needed an answer, a decisive yes or no.  

(Though, he doesn’t think he’ll survive if you turn him down.  If he’s just ruined nearly two decades of friendship, it’s more likely he’ll hole up in his apartment and only come out after using up all of his vacation time to wallow in self-pity.)

(Which is in and of itself not a very Jungkook-like thing to do, so he already knows he’s screwed.  Knows that no matter what, he’s out of mind and out of sorts and will likely shoot himself in his own foot before he makes any progress.)

(See his problem?  He’s already gone crazy.)

Jung Hyun’s patient though, doing for him what he’s always done for you.  Talking him off that ledge, holding his hand while he nearly spirals into oblivion.  “You don’t think so?”  

“Well, she slammed the door in my face.” 

“Oh.”  

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches, pulls on and on above their heads, and Jungkook wishes he hadn’t finished his drink so quickly.  The burn would help right about now, distract him from the way he’s picking at a hangnail.  Maybe it’d give him the liquid courage he needs to just do something.  Anything.

“You should talk to her.”  

“Did you not just hear what I said?  She slammed—”

“But did she say anything?” 

“I think that’s a pretty loud and clear answer, hyung.”

“You never know.  Maybe she was just surprised.”  

“And maybe she hates me.”

“I mean, probably, but—”

“Thanks, hyung.”  Still, Jungkook laughs - can’t help it when his brother shoots him a grin that mirrors his own.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“For once, can you just listen to your big brother?”  

As it turns out, Jungkook can’t.  Outright refuses and suffers through another three days of radio silence.  Sees you, again, crop up on social media, beaming up at him from the small of his screen.  Watches as you make a mess of Jin’s kitchen and end up with a face covered in red icing, as you sit your niece on your shoulders and run around your apartment while belting awful Christmas carols.

Maybe it’s his fault for checking Instagram so much, for clicking on every single story your friends and family post.  

He misses you.  God, how he misses you.

(Since the day you’d cemented yourself as his best friend, he doesn’t think he’s gone more than a day without talking to you, more than a week without seeing you.  This is fraying his nerves, leaving him needy and wrought with anxiety.)

(This is why best friends don’t date, why he’d have preferred to take his feelings to the grave.)

You’re so far away that he half expects not to see you at the annual New Year’s Eve party, the one he’s responsible for hosting this year.  

When you appear in his doorway, three wine bottles clutched in your arms, he’s not sure who’s more surprised.  (You, somehow, wrangle your expression into something else - a brilliant smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes - and he simply stares, speechless.  He catches it though, that twinkle of uncertainty before it’s eclipsed.) 

“Hi.”  Of course you sound the same as you always have.  Bright, sunny, with a million rays of light streaming past your teeth.  “Happy new year!”

It takes Jungkook far too long to find his voice, lost to the warmth of your smile that doesn’t feel quite right.  Too forced, burning through his skin until he’s uncomfortable and itchy under the collar.  “Hi.”

You’d normally peck his cheek, give him a hug, something.  You blame it on the bottles you’re carrying, shuffling past him without making contact, held in your own personal bubble.  “I’ve got to set these down but we’ll catch up later, yeah?”  It’s not a promise and not what he wants.  You’re going to disappear for the rest of the night and he’s going to be left soothing this sunburn.

He doesn’t say that, though.  Only nods mechanically and watches as you dance off.  “Sure.”

You deserve a medal, a gold star for how well you avoid him throughout the night, peeking in and out of rooms.  Any time Jungkook catches a glimpse of you, you’re gone in the next instant, disappearing behind one of your friend’s backs, suddenly in need of a refill.

The one time it’s just the two of you in the hallway - him coming from the washroom, you presumably heading there - you spin on your heel and turn tail, gone so quickly he wonders if it was his imagination.  

Were you really that mad?  Had he fucked things up that badly?

“____,”  he calls the next time he finds you - hours later, much to his chagrin - alone in the kitchen with champagne in one hand and your head ducked into his fridge.  It’s less than a minute to midnight and everyone’s gathered outside, crowded along his balcony and cheering loudly in anticipation of the Coex fireworks.  (He’d purposely come back in, awkwardly trailed after you when you’d offered to grab another bottle.)

You don’t immediately turn and he worries you haven’t heard.  How stupid would he look if he tried again?  (Were you just ignoring him?)

But then you’re facing him, that same mask from earlier fitted unnecessarily across your face.  Your eyes are tight, unblinking, even as you smile, cock your head adorably.  “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”  It’s not something he asks of you often.  (In fact, he could probably count the amount of times he’s made the request on one hand.)  He holds his ground though, mouth slipping into a characteristic pout that he thinks - hopes, really - might crumble your resolve.

(You may have known all of his weaknesses but he knew yours too.  Knew how cute you found his puppy dog eyes, the round of his cheeks when he’d puff them out with air.)

There’s momentary clarity, your stare softening, the line of your jaw growing slack.  Then you’re glancing past him, out to the gaggle of people beyond his shoulder and he feels his heart stutter uncomfortably, stomach dropping all thirty-six stories past his feet.  “Can it wait?”  You’re not cruel, offering the question softly. 

It can’t.  He can’t.

“No.” 

You huff and he swears he mirrors the motion, same annoyed exhale slipping out.  

(If he’d hated the silence, he thinks he might hate this more.  The two of you don’t fight.  Bicker, certainly.  Drive each other crazy for fun, definitely.  But this antagonism that makes him feel like a stranger in his own home?  This is new and awful.)

“What do you want to talk about?”  You’re guarded, arms crossed.  All Jungkook wants to do is unfold them and bring you into his arms, tickle your sides until you’re whining and laughing and giving him the affection he suddenly craves.  

(He’s never wanted it more in his life and maybe that’s why it’s so strong now - need leaping five octaves in a single breath.  It’s as if he’d been deprived all his life and now he’s had a taste and can’t help himself.)

“I’m sorry,”  he mumbles, quiet, so much emotion threaded into the words.  It turns them heavy, makes them hard to hold, but he needs to get them out, make you understand how apologetic he really is.

“For what?”  

He hadn’t expected that.  “What?”

“What’re you sorry for?”  You’re repeating yourself with a scowl but you’re also doing that thing you do, nibbling at your bottom lip as you try not to meet his eyes, bouncing your gaze around the room.  

(Were you nervous?  He could’ve sworn you were.)

The question still doesn’t have an answer, all his thoughts swirling in a tumultuous wave.  They sweep him out to sea, away from the safety of the shore, and he worries he might drown as he looks at you and sees all the things he might lose.  

“Kook?”  

Say something.

Seconds tick by and you’re biting harder now.  The crowd outside is louder, chanting the countdown.  He can barely hear himself think, has trouble articulating the onslaught of emotion that swells and swallows him whole.  Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed this.  Maybe things would’ve gone back to normal if he’d left well enough alone.

A million what if’s play in his head - and then he hears a chorus of happy new year!

He crosses to you in three long steps, catches your face in his hands, and kisses you again, just like last time. 

It’s not an answer in the traditional sense but he doesn’t care.  

His apology comes once more, muffled against your lips, lost to a breath he inhales shakily, entire body rattling with uncertainty.  At least you haven’t pushed him away, though he swears you’re ready to, palms warm over his chest, fingers curled into the collar of his sweater.  

“Stop saying that.” 

He thinks he’s imagined that, pulling back just enough to see the entirety of your expression, the dazed look in your eyes.  So different from last time, endlessly softer, tender.  “What?”

“If you’re going to kiss me,”  you’re speaking into his chest but he can hear you crystal clear,  “just commit to it.”

He will.  He does.

He kisses you again, sweet and chaste, one hand threaded into the silk of your hair, the other cradling your jaw.  He kisses you for a third time, different yet the same, riddled with nerves and reminiscent of childhood crushes.  He kisses you once more, nearly groans when he steals the prettiest sound from your lips.  

Jeon Jungkook is on cloud nine - lit up like the night sky because he can still hear the fireworks going off.  

“Is this okay?”  How he manages to ask when every fibre of his being is screaming at him to keep going is a feat and he’d be patting himself on the back if you weren’t so lovely, holding all of his attention in the frame of your smile.

“Can you just stop thinking for one second?”

He wants to say yes - prove himself as he always does - but he knows that’s exactly the opposite of what you want.  Reads it in your movements, how you step closer and bat those long lashes at him.  How’s he supposed to function when you’ve short-circuited his insides? 

But that’s the point, isn’t it?  To let himself feel?

Maybe you were right, just this once.

Jungkook has simply watched too many rom-coms, sat through too many Hallmark specials you’d insisted on.  (You loved them, even when the plots were awful and the acting was worse, the leads misunderstanding even the most basic of things.  “It’s cute,”  you’d cry, glaring at him from behind a glaze of tears, sniffling into your popcorn when everything went to hell right before the perfectly wrapped up climax.)

Because this doesn’t feel anything like he expects it to.  It’s still too awkward and stilted, framed by fluttering, nervous laughter and a tremor in his hands he’s never dealt with before.

(If he thinks hard about it, he knows exactly why it’s like this.  Why he’s so uncertain as he guides your shirt over your head, the same soft thing he’s seen you wear a thousand times.  How the fabric bunches in his fists and spills like silk between his knuckles.  The way his heart does a strange two-tap against his rib cage, as if tapping out and giving up.)

(He’s been waiting for this for longer than he could’ve ever imagined, than he ever thought possible.)

“What?”  You ask, chirp in that lilting voice of yours, so sugar spun sweet and cocoa-dusted.  A mug of hot chocolate that warms him from the inside out, makes his head spin with how nice it sounds, settling against his eardrums like cotton balls.  There’s hesitation in your eyes - a sparkle of his same restlessness that calms his own just a little.

“What?”  He repeats back at you, maybe a little dumbly.  

(It probably is dumb.  He’s got your shirt halfway off your body, your arm still hooked through one arm hole, the rest of your body in fuzzy focus as he stares down at you.)

“You’re staring like I’ve got something on my face.”  

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you staring?”

He asks himself that same question, turns it over and over in his head.  It’d make sense for him to consider his words carefully, weigh them before they come tumbling out of his mouth.  (He doesn’t.)  “You’re really pretty.”

The laugh that elicits should be illegal, chiming bells that scrunch up your nose and have your lashes casting dark shadows across your cheeks.

“You think so?”  

Of course he does.  He always has - he just hadn’t realised it.  “Yeah.”

It’s not plucked straight from a movie scene, nor is it likely the things dreams are made of.  It still feels just as good when you smile at him - offer the thing he’s found home in for the last decade and a half - and reach a hand to his face, cradling his jaw in the small of your palm.  It’s so warm he wonders whether you’ve got stardust lined beneath your skin, whether you’re working those little fragments of wonder into his own being where you touch him.

“I want this.”  It’s music to his ears.  He’d like to hear you say it again, which you do, with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  Not the teasing tone you normally take, riddled with half-formed thorns and platonic affection, but something more.  Something that burns bright in his bones and illuminates him from the inside.  “I want you.  You don’t have to be so shy.”

So you’d been able to tell, because of course you had.  Just as you knew when he was lying, you knew every other tell too.  (The way he’d touch his ears when he was excited, how he’d sit on his hands when he was shy, the three octaves his voice would skip when he was nervous.  You knew them all and wanted him despite them - because of them.)

He supposes he’s grateful for it, even as it only adds to the bashfulness swelling in his chest, blooming colour over his cheeks. 

“Yeah?”  God, Jungkook, get it together.

“Yeah,”  you parrot, laughing as you tug your arm from its vice and proceed to loop both around his neck, bringing him closer.  

It’s a position you’ve been in a dozen times - arms around his neck, going for a hug - but this stirs something else.  Shoots a dizzying bolt of desire straight from his toes to the tips of his fingers.  It branches out from his chest, weaving into every limb, guiding him closer until he’s chest to chest, the warmth of you filling all the spaces between.  

“Don’t forget you asked for it,”  he rumbles, tries to sound like someone he isn’t by the way he offers the words, tries to come across cool and suave and not so into his best friend that it could send him straight to a padded white room.  

You call him on it immediately, rolling your eyes and patting his cheek affectionately.  “Do your worst, Jeon.”  

Whether it’s a challenge or not, he takes it as such, one arm caging you in by your head, the other falling to his side.  Your side.  Where fingers graze, inked digits drifting up the velvet that spans your ribs, that traces delicate over the lace that holds you together.  Bright red with scallop trimming - something he never imagined you’d wear but that he adores all the same.  It looks so good on you, a cardinal that demands his attention even as he tries to focus on the emotions that dance in your stare, forming your mouth into a smile that gives him heart palpitations.

“You mean best,”  he mumbles, meeting your eyes one last time before lids are sliding shut, movements guided by the familiarity that only comes with years and years together.

When your lips meet - for only the fifth time in his twenty-five years - it’s nothing like the first and yet strangely similar.  It’s just as soft as that initial peck, tentative and sweet.  Filled with things he can’t say, that he’s not sure how to articulate but that he hopes you understand. 

It’s nice, he thinks.  

And then you’re kissing him back.  Really kissing him, taking the lead when he doesn’t expect it.  Slanting your mouth over his, nibbling at his bottom lip in the same way he’s watched you do to your own. 

Holy shit.

As much as he doesn’t want it to end - can’t get enough of the taste of you, how faded cherry Chapstick and champagne and that god awful spearmint gum you love melds together - he has to stop.  Needs to reel himself back before you’ve pulled him beneath your spell, left him stranded with nowhere to go.

“What?”  You ask again, feigned innocence stamped across your face.  A mask that looks so pretty he can’t help but glare down at you.  

He’s not sure how he means his next words but they come freely, tumbling past his teeth with more grit than he expects.  “Don’t be a bad girl.”

Something changes then.  Snaps into place like every little part of the universe has aligned.  A realisation that hits him straight in the gut and has your fingers curling into the downy strands at the nape of his neck. 

When your lips meet again - sixth time, because Jungkook’s got to keep count - it’s not soft.  It isn’t sweet.  It’s years of something he’d never been able to place, the greatest Christmas gift he could’ve ever asked for.  It’s your tongue against his, your teeth sharp and searing and it’s him, hugging you so close he wonders whether it’s his kiss that’s making you breathless or how tightly he’s holding you.

“What if I want to be?”  

God, he could laugh at that.  He almost does, the sound spilling past in a shaky exhale.  

(Part of him knows how utterly cheesy he’s being.  How utterly cheesy you’re being.  He doesn’t mind.  He’s not lactose intolerant, after all.)

“You wanna be on the naughty list?”  Even it sounds silly to his ears, torn straight from the books of some weirdo pickup artist.  You’re laughing though, giggling because you’ve never found him anything but endearing (okay, probably not true, but whatever) and that’s enough.

“Maybe.”

“You’re crazy.”  He means it as kindly as possible, in the best way imaginable.

“Crazy for you,”  you correct, smug.  

Jeon Jungkook is composed.  He’s smart and responsible and looks at the big picture.  He doesn’t let things get to him and he certainly doesn’t gape like a fish.  His poker face is immaculate (which is probably why he’s no longer invited to his friend’s games).  

Except he is - gaping, that is - staring down at you with wonder.  “Really?”

There’s another roll of your eyes, prominent and exaggerated.  He knows there’s nothing bad meant by it so he lets it slide, doesn’t pull away even as he repeats himself.  

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jeon?”  

“Preferably a lot more.”  He’s shameless.  Figures he’s allowed to be, after waiting all this time.  (After kissing you in a drunken stupor, after wallowing in his own self-imposed exile for too many days.  This is what he deserves - to take and take if you’re so ready to give.)

“Then earn it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There were different kinds of satisfaction, different ways to swell pride in his chest.  A multitude of methods he could excel at, to receive all the praise he’s always been so eager for.  Pleasure from a job well done, for going above and beyond, doing things better than anyone else could’ve.  Delight from being right, from a smug I told you so.  Triumph from conquering the hardest of tasks, overcoming something mighty and terrible.

And then there was this - the warmth that unfurls in his chest, stringing his heart up in pretty pink ribbon, holding his head aloft like a marionette doll.  

It’s something else entirely, fizzling delight in his stomach, feeding the beast that demands more more more.  

“Good girl,”  he praises, offering his adoration without hesitation, dressing you in the glory of his affection.  Gone is the careful reluctance, the removed politesse.  It’s replaced now, dripping in sweetness so thick it might as well be molasses, trickling over your skin as his tongue does the same.  He traces your hip, your thigh, your hands - pulls a digit past his lips and savours in the reaction it elicits.  “Pretty girl.”

He repeats the motions over and over, gliding figure eights with the wet of his tongue, gently grazing the edge of his teeth when you’ve calmed, too close to composure for his liking.  

“You’re so good for me.”  One hand hooks possessive around your knee, pushes it wide as he admires you laid out beneath him.  Skin flushed, he can feel your warmth radiating through every inch.  It begs him to come closer, to sit by the fire a little while longer.  

With a tender kiss to the velvet of your inner thigh, he drops, seals his mouth over your clit and sucks.  You buck beneath him, might take out an eye with the way your arms flail, fingers seeking stability over his shoulders, digging into the firm muscle that pads his back.  He can’t help but laugh, sound vibrating through to your core, tongue punishing against the delicate pearl sealed between his lips.

“Another?”  He begs, pleads, asks so sweetly, and you can’t deny him, glazed over in the eyes, chest heaving, hands shaking.  He knows you can’t but he asks anyway, because it’s important you want this just as much as him.  (Jungkook refuses to be in the dark ever again, far too comfortable in the light of your laughter, your love.)

“Please,”  you return, though it’s the strangest he’s ever heard you.  Out of breath and reedy, stilted in a way that makes his cock twitch, head spinning with desire.

(It doesn’t matter you’ve gone two rounds and he can’t possibly survive another.  You do something to him.)

A quiet sound comes and he sinks further, licks a fat stripe from your slick entrance all the way to your quivering clit.  Dips his tongue past clenching muscle and moans, drunk on the taste of you.  It’s a messy affair and he can’t be blamed, saliva pooling in his mouth when you whine his name and pull his hair just right.  (You’ve always been loud but he’d never imagined this.  It’s a soundtrack he’d like on repeat.)

“Let go for me, pretty girl.”  The pet name comes easily, made for you.  (Even before all this, Jungkook would’ve been lying if he’d said you weren’t pretty.  You were gorgeous, beautiful, captivating.)  “Tell me what you need.”

You sob, yank at his roots, and he chuckles, gliding his tongue up your slit.  

“Use your words, ____.”

“M-more.”

“More?”  He repeats, deceptively sweet, eyes glossy and warm and filled to the brim with emotion.  Round like Bambi’s as he presses a finger into your heat, sinks straight to the third knuckle and nearly loses his mind from the way you gasp.  You’re honey-dipped and yielding, supple and slick beneath his hands, his tongue, his mouth.  

It’s like a drug - the sound of your voice so drastically different.  Higher, breathless, sinful as it sinks against Jungkook’s eardrums and encourages him to bring you to a spectacular finish.  He wants to hear more of it, needs it like he needs air.

You’re a beautiful mess, so close to the edge he can feel your walls constrict around him when he adds another two fingers, fucks into you with purposeful twists of his wrist.  He’s certain the oversensitivity must hurt but you’re so good for him, taking all he has to offer and begging for more.  

His name is a staccato cry, a symphony of sound that breaks when he curls his fingers and assaults the bundle of nerves against your front wall.  

It’s only fitting you usher in the new year with a bang.

The next morning comes in fragmented bits and pieces, paired with a headache that sits right behind his eyes and aches his limbs.  As much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he’s not the spry spring chicken he used to be.  The shots of tequila don’t go down the way they did before, the all-night parties forcing him to sleep for a good twelve hours to recover.

Last night was worth it though.  Six hundred million percent worth it.

You’re still in his arms, curled against his chest, cheek smooshed to his arm which has all but gone numb.  He won’t move it, though.  Couldn’t even dream of it when you’re strangely peaceful, features arranged so pretty.  You’re usually the biggest ball of energy - sometimes too much - and this is nice.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how nice.

Jungkook can’t stop touching you, needs to be near you, revolving around you like some sort of poor lost planet.  Circles you when you drift into the kitchen, shower-warm and adorable.  

(Has he always been like this?  It doesn’t feel wrong - just more of the same.  But again.  More more more.)

“Can we get coffee?”  You don’t seem to mind the way he drapes himself across your back, indulging in the way you smell like him but not.  How the clean scent of his body wash seems about a dozen times better when it’s laid over your skin.  “If we’re going to make it to my cousin’s, I need caffeine.”

He doesn’t doubt that.  He’s seen the way you drain three cups before noon on your bad days, so jittery by 2 p.m. that he worries for your heart. 

“We have to go grab ingredients anyways, right?” 

“Yeah - Jin will murder me if we show up empty-handed.”

That, Jungkook doubts.  The two of you were inseparable - two sides of the same weird Kim-coin.  If anything, he’d pat your cheek, give you a faux reprimand, and that’d be it.  (Jin always made too much food anyways, or so you said.  It’s why you always brought your best friend leftovers, so much food shoved into ceramic containers that he wouldn’t have to cook for at least a week.)

“What’re we making again?”  If he stops to consider it, he’d probably remember.  He’s got a good memory - great, in fact - but right now he’s too occupied, distracted by the way your hair tickles his chin, the warmth radiating off you as he traps you between himself and the kitchen counter.

“Banana brulee hotteok!”

Right.  He’s had them before, when he was your guinea pig the first year you started making them.  They’d been terrible then, though he really had no idea how you’d managed to mess them up.  He’d powered through it, though.  Devoured the sickly sweet pancakes until he’d felt as if he’d explode.

Just best friend things or something.

Friend things.

Friend.

He realises, standing there in his kitchen, that he has no idea what the two of you are now.  The realisation startles him, leaves him terribly still even as you extract yourself from his arms, halfway out of the kitchen before you turn around.

“Kook?”  You’ve got his keys in one hand and his favourite hoodie in the other.  It’s, again, so familiar and yet not.  Tinged with something he’s not quite sure how to approach, that keeps him staring at you without really seeing. 

You repeat yourself, a little louder this time.

“What are we?”  Was it too soon to ask?  Was he pushing for something?  (More importantly, was that bad?  Would you turn him down even after last night?)

By the expression on your face - a blend of amused and surprised - he thinks not.  You’re smiling too big, mouth stretched wide and your cheeks so doughy they might as well be bread.  It’s how you look when you’re at your happiest.  (Like that time you saw those two dogs riding with that guy on his bike or when you perfected your hotteok recipe and your grandmother had showered you in praise.  It’s the thing that outshines the sun, dazzling to look at it, blinding in its intensity.)

There’s a chorus of laughter in your voice when you step back, retrace your path back to him.  He wonders how he keeps his eyes on you, how his sight hasn’t been stolen by those glittering golden rays.  “What do you think we are?”  

He answers honestly, because that’s the kind of guy Jungkook is.  Practical, reasonable, forward.  (Sometimes, at least.)  “I don’t know.”

Your laughter sweeps his concerns up in its hands, folds them into neat paper cranes.  It coaxes them from their hiding spots and dispels them like summer dragging over the horizon.  When your hand finds his, fingers twining together - familiar, different, familiar, different - you squeeze and he swears he feels it all the way in the centre of his chest, in perfect rhythm with the erratic beat of his heart.

“We can be anything you want to be.”  

Would that really be okay?  He’s used to asking for the things he wants - comes with the territory of being a workaholic type A personality, always eager for more, to impress and wow and simply do well.  Still, he hesitates, just a bit, coherence seemingly stolen.

“Well?”  You squeeze again, knuckles knocking together, and he finds his confidence between the bones, threaded into the skin that spans over his. 

“We’re together.”  He says it unsure but so hopeful.  Not even his stutter can deter him.

Your repetition is an affirmation and a promise, sealed with a kiss that tastes like forever.  “We’re together.”

So you’re late.  Just a half an hour.  It can’t be that big of a deal.  You were always late for things, dragging Jungkook to your level of irresponsibility with just one bat of your lashes, one sing-song breath.

(For once, he doesn’t mind.  It’d been his fault, after all.  Who was he to deny you when you’d had sugar coating your fingers and your lips, a treat that begged to be indulged in?  He was only a man and he was so into you.  He couldn’t have possibly said no when you’d kissed him once, praised him for his help torching the bananas atop the hotteok.  He couldn’t have said no when you’d fed him a still-warm piece, slipping a digit past his lips, pad of your finger brushing over his tongue.)

(He’d spent most of his life saying no to you but he wanted to say yes now.)

“Jin—”  You’ve taken five steps forward, five steps into the home that’s bustling with noise, when he rounds on you, windshield wiper laugh coming to a screeching halt.

“Finally!”  

Jungkook thinks you must blush in tandem by how Jin’s stare bounces between the two of you.  (The silly voice in his head insists that he knows, that your cousin knows exactly why you’re both late.  But he can’t, because that’d be crazy, right?)

(You’d brushed your hair and washed your face;  he’d fixed his clothes and pulled a thick sweater on to hide the tiny bruise you’d left despite his protests.  The two of you were perfectly acceptable, picturesque when you’d strode through that door.)

(And yet Jin keeps staring at him, at you, full mouth drawn into a thin line.)

(What?)

“What?”  The question doesn’t mean to come, tripping off Jungkook’s tongue of its own accord.

When Jin turns his full attention to him, the younger feels like he might just leap out of his skin.  He’s never been uncomfortable around your family but there’s just something—

“You did it.”  

“Did what?”  His cousin?  Well, he’s not wrong but surely—

“You freaking did it!”

“Did what?”  This time it’s you, exasperated and awkward, shoving the plate of hotteok toward Jin even while you refuse to meet his stare.  It’s painfully obvious you’re hiding something.  You’ve never really had a great poker face.

“You owe me dinner.”  

Now that throws Jungkook for a loop, tears all of his focus from you to your cousin.  

“What?”  It seems to be a popular word tonight, uttered at every available interval.  

“____ didn’t tell you?”  Jin looks as if he’s on the brink of losing it, shoulders shaking, restrained laughter spilling past his lips.  “I bet her you guys would end up together at some point.  She said I was crazy.”  There’s pride in his eyes, glittering when he slaps his hand out, palm face up.  “Pay up.”

You won’t even look at Jungkook, smacking your cousin’s hand away as you push past.

“We’re holidating,”  you say, just like you said that first night when you’d brought your best friend along and your family members - at least, the ones he’d never met before - had all but pounced on the appearance of a newcomer. 

A smile splits Jungkook’s mouth as you stomp away, disappearing into the kitchen.  He’s not even bothered when he pulls his wallet out, offering Jin his winnings like a gracious loser.  “We’re actually dating.”

Your cousin doesn’t bat an eye, pocketing the neatly folded bills.  “About time.”

Jungkook thinks so too. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​​ @jeonmisha​​ @devilion14​​ @bobbyboops​​ @yxnxxli​​ 

[heartfulofsighs]

Nice Things…

Hello All! Coming back with little writings here and there as my inspiration comes along. A little episode inside of the Something to do with Jackson sphere (1, 2) 

Let me know what you think! @negrowhat you know I gotta tag you in everything lol

Jackson decides you both are in need of a little rest and relaxation. Nothing is better then a nice beach house complete with a gigantic bath tub. 

About 4k words; Warnings: Very light smut like its super light, but I’m obligated to say it includes fingering a praise kink and a bathtub. 

Laundry shouldn’t be difficult. Well in retrospect it wasn’t difficult at your old apartment. The laundry room there was stocked with 5 very old very worn washing and drying machines. They were faithful and predictable. They only had about 3 options and 2 dials. Simplicity at its best. You missed them every time you had a load to wash and dry. You had been living in Jackson’s apartment for months and you still couldn’t figure out his machines. For one thing they were sleek and black, very modern, apparently super efficient. They worked via a touch screen and the breath of options that appeared every time you fired them up made you nervous. Twice you had shrunk a favorite article of clothing. You had also ruined your running shoes, the washing machine seemed incredibly aggressive to you. But today was going to be different. This was your only task. You could do this. The touch screen lit up, you took a breath, the beeping started and an array of options appeared. Water temperatures, agitation speeds, your finger hovered over the first option- “BABY, THIS IS WHERE YOU WERE!?” Jackson’s voice boomed in the laundry room. You turned, frantic that all his noise would upset whatever fragile understanding you had. “Jackson!” You hissed, “shush!”

  His hands snapped to cover his mouth. He looked around his brows knitted, “what’s going on?” He whispered. “I’ just,” you turned back to the machine but you didn’t feel the same confidence, “I’m trying to figure out your stupid space aged washing machine.” You confessed, “everytime I put something in here I ruin it.” “Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.” He walked up behind you and looked down at the same screen. “Baby?” He began slowly, he touched the screen flicking left twice until he got to a place that said ‘presets’.  “Why don’t you just use these instead of trying to pick through all those other settings? This is what I use.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered softly. There were easy to understand presets displayed proudly.   “You didn’t know about these?” He asked, “I could have sworn I showed you the last time you shrunk your sweater?” You rubbed your face in continued disbelief. All this time. “The dryer has presets too, did I show you those?” He kept talking because of course to him this wasn’t a big deal. You had made it one, once again, something tiny had become huge to you.   “You want me to help you with your laundry? Since I’m home today I wanna spend it with you ok?” When you took your hands away from your face he was beaming like the sun at you. You wondered how he could look so worry free. His job was so stressful, he barely got time for himself or you yet he was always beaming. You wanted to be a bit more like him. Just enough so that inanimate objects stopped irritating you for no reason.            “If you want to help sure, but this stuff is kinda boring. You sure you don’t want to nap? Or I could make you something to eat?” You offered.          “We can do that after, this won’t take long.” He pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. You selected the ‘delicates’ option since you wanted to wash your undies and bras first.          “Ok, delicates first then.” You looked in his direction expectantly. The two baskets of laundry were already separated.            “Just pass me the stuff in the blue basket.”  You instructed, “I’ll do them first.”   He dutifully began to hand you clothes. Some things he stopped to look at. “When did you get this bra?” He asked holding up a flowery bra that you had bought a few weeks ago.   “Like two weeks ago?” You guessed, maybe three. Your hand was outstretched waiting for it. “Oh,” was all he said before he handed it over, “I haven’t see you wear it.” He said softer. “Well, it’s a bra Jackson…” You tried. He handed you a few pairs of underwear which you put in. He was a touch less cheerful as you finished loading. He helped with the detergent and softner before he got the machine started. “I feel so dumb,” when you turned to him he frowned. “I really wish I had remembered about the presets. I’ve been having a battle with this machine since I got here.” You confessed. “Baby...I really don’t think it’s a big deal.” He leaned down and pecked you. “You can ask me questions you know? Before you make a mountain out of a molehill.” “But I’m so good at that.”  You pointed out. He kissed you again. His hands trailing down your arms. When you pulled away he pouted. “Let me at least finish the chores, I have a few things more I wanna clean.” You complained. He accepted this and let you go, “I’m gonna have two weeks off...do you have a lot of work?” He asked. It took you a moment to think about what you had to do, some things could wait and really only one required you to finish immediately. “I just have to finish one job then I think I can take some time off.” You stretched and looked at him with curiosity. “What did you want to do?” He pushed some of your hair behind your ear, “can we go on vacation?” “Where did you want to go?” You spoke as you tied your hair up. “Someplace warm?” You asked. He nodded, “an island!” It seemed like a solid idea. You thought it over, Jackson in his usual fashion grew impatient. He tapped his feet and poked out his lip, “we can have a private beach house…” He edged closer. “That sounds...isn’t that a little extravagant?” You often wondered when you would be able to accept Jackson’s penchant for spending on you. There was something that always made you cringe. “I don’t want you to spend too much-” He frowned and you snapped your mouth closed, “you deserve…” He began. You sighed, “nice things.” He accepted you finishing his sentence quietly before he went back to trying to convince you. “It’ll be private...no cameras...just you and me.” He had basically backed you against the machine. He leaned forward and set his hands on it, caging you in. You couldn’t look away. “We live together but I always miss you,” he kissed you and it was mostly soft. “I’m gone a lot and I feel horrible about it,” he kissed you again nibbling on your bottom lip. “Do you miss me when I’m not here?” “Like crazy.” You whispered. His eyes were on yours, pupils wide. His breathing picked up as you snaked your arms around his neck. “So let me take you to the beach, let’s spend a week....please.” His kiss was less soft more insistent. He pushed until your back was pressed to the machine, the hum seemed to burn through your blood. You kissed him back, hands gripping the hair on the nap of his neck. The time apart always made the time together feel like a single point in the universe. There wasn’t a whole apartment, a whole city, there was just you and Jackson. Starved for each other, hungry to touch and feel. He was so good at making you melt, so good at making you desperate for him. You tasted him and whimpered. The beach was suddenly a fantastic idea, more time alone for more of this. He ground against you and his moan made your knees weak. “Ok,” you managed to say against his lips. He pulled away and beamed at you. The unmistakable look of getting his way. “So we’ll go the day after tomorrow...I actually may have set it up already.” “Jackson.”

You had never been swept away before. In past relationships you had lacked the time and your partners seemed to lack the motivation. It hadn’t bothered you truly because how can you miss something you didn’t have to begin with? You thought about it as you packed and he buzzed around the room with excitement. “Don’t forget bathing suites!” He warned, “and sunscreen!” “I have both.” You answered slowly, “and something nice for dinner...right?” When you looked up he was zipping his bag up. “Yes, and then...not much else…” He raised his eyebrows quickly suggestively and you giggled. He stopped to touch his hand to your leg, “I love you in anything.”   “If it was up to you, I’d just walk around naked all the time.” You said slowly. He considered this then said, “only if you want.” Then he was moving again, his energy nervous all throughout the room. “Are you almost done?” He asked. “The car will be here soon.” You just needed to decide on your one nice outfit. It had been a while since you had really gone out. He had seen you in just about everything you owned...except.... At the back of your closet you had hung a tropical print skirt and top set. It was out of your comfort zone but the print would really work. “Hurry hurry baby.” He chided. You had just enough time to grab it from the closet and stuff it into your bag. He took your hand and led you. The smile on his face relaxed yet you could feel the excitement bubbling out of him. He kissed you in the elevator before the doors opened, then led you to the long black car idling at the apartment building’s entrance. He opened the door for you and waited till you were settled before he put the bags in the trunk and got in next to you. Then his hand was back in yours like it belonged there. “Do you think you’ll get recognized at the airport?” You tried your best not to sound nervous but the thought of screaming fans made your stomach heavy. “I don’t think so, we’ll be in then out.” He brought your linked hands up for a kiss. “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine.” You settled into the seat and tried your best not to worry. The media in a way wasn’t very interested in you and Jackson’s story anymore. When they did happen to catch photos of you two together it wasn’t big news but most of the comments were still pretty awful. It was better for your mental health to not read them but every so often you saw yourself online and couldn’t stop yourself from looking. The general take was that you were literally a weight dragging him down. It never seemed like a good idea to comment back, better to just read it all in silence, and really it wasn’t all bad. There was a spattering of people who liked you. Who said nice things and said they were cheering on the relationship. People who pointed out that Jackson was happier with you in his life. You weren’t sure if you would give yourself that much credit but you hoped that he felt how you did. He leaned over, “what are you thinking about so hard?” He planted a kiss on your cheek startling you out of your own head. He had a way of knowing when you were thinking yourself down a rabbit hole. He redirected you gently and patiently. His hand squeezed yours again.   “Nothing, just the work I left...hopefully I did enough.” You said. He knew it wasn’t that, but he didn’t push.. He kissed you on the cheek again, “don’t worry about it, just try your best to relax.”  He whispered. It took you a moment of second guessing, but there was no real use in fighting with Jackson. Especially since you actually did need a relaxing vacation. There would be no worries on the beach, that’s all you had to tell yourself over and over and over again.  

There weren’t any cameras, no reporters, no mobs of fans. He had his mask pulled up and dark sunglasses on. You were wearing one of his caps and your own mask pulled up. The two of you looked like any couple on their way to a romantic trip. He only let go of you to pass through security. Once his hand was out of yours there were new worries. An airplane. The last time you had flown you were forced between a grumpy office worker and a woman who seemed to have bathed in perfume. You remember distinctly how the office worker had complained about her perfume and how she called him lonely and sad. It had been for the most part very unpleasant. Suddenly all you could think about were all your worse flights.  You fumbled through security, including the awkward second search. Taking his hand on the other side calmed you down a little bit. “You’re making a mountain again.” He said into your ear. “I can’t remember ever having a good flight,” you squeezed his hand and almost missed a step. “Every flight that lands safely is a good flight baby.” He chimed happily and just like that you relaxed a bit. He was right of course. Bad seatmates didn’t make a bad flight. Small things didn’t have to be big. Once again you tried to calm yourself, to convince yourself that you were on vacation. You were being swept away and it would be great if all your extra thoughts could be swept away too.

“This is the house?” After a flight you slept through, and an ok trip through the airport that involved a car rental associate who was star struck, here the two of you were. The house was directly on the beach. From the outside it didn’t look like much which made you feel a bit better. If he had rented a beach mansion or something along those lines you would have worried the whole trip about how much all of it had cost and...and if you were really worth all the trouble. But this,...this was so quaint and so cozy. “This is it.” He pulled into the driveway and then put the car into park. You got out admiring the house’s slightly cracked white paint, the green ivy underneath the two small windows on either side of the weathered wooden door. The waves sounded incredibly close and you guessed the beach was literally right in your backyard. Jackson was behind you with your bags. “Here,” when you turned he was holding the key towards you all smiles, “open her up.” He instructed. The key got stuck for a moment in the lock. You panicked per usual but it gave when you pushed your shoulder against the heavy wood. “Be careful,” he clucked his tongue at you but you ignored him. You were stuck looking at the inside. Everything was so bright. You sucked in a breath because of all the light. There were huge skylights all throughout. The entryway was neat, a small blue weathered table held a bowl where Jackson dropped the car keys. He pressed his hand to the small of your back and your feet automatically started to shuffle step forward. The entryway opened into a small kitchen with white tile and teal cabinets. The appliances didn’t look new aged or terrifying like Jackson’s. The big white well loved looking stove was comforting. Through the kitchen There was an open airy dinning room and living room. The living room ended in two gigantic glass doors that opened onto a hedge enclosed patio. The bricks were weathered but still a good red. There was a round picnic table with a few shelves, a rack with two surfboards, and what looked like a hot tub. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, “let’s look at the bedroom.” It was through a doorway off the kitchen, past a half bathroom. The bedroom suite seemed to be all windows. There were three huge windows with breezy white curtains. The bed was gigantic four poster deal, piled high with pillows at the head. The comforter was white like everything else. “There’s one of those clawfoot tubs,” He led you a little further in, towards the doorway of the bathroom. The tub was huge. There was a shower head on the wall above it. Another two windows, more light. “This place is beautiful.” You finally got out. He squeezed your hand, “I know you like simple things and I thought this place would be nice. The beach is right down a back path and-” You tipped your chin up lips pursed asking for him to dip and kiss you. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” you spoke against his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’re welcome.” His smile was triumphant. He only let you go to help unpack but beamed the entire time like a happy child. You knew this look, his eyes were centered on yours. He licked his lips before he kissed you. “I picked this house because it’s cozy and…” He trailed off to kiss you again. “And?” “And you never wanna have fun in my bathtub so I made sure that this house had one that was so big you couldn’t argue with me about soaking together.”  He explained. “Jackson.” He beamed again his face back to innocence, “don’t you want to soak with me?” He asked. “You don’t just want to soak,” you pointed out. He shrugged, “humor me.”  In truth he had begged to soak with you plenty of times but the tub in his apartment made you nervous. You had this vision of the two of you settling in and getting stuck or getting in and overflowing the tub in an embarrassing splash. Well maybe it wouldn’t be embarrassing to him but in your mind it was motifying.  You bit your bottom lip and considered the big claw foot tub in the house again. “I guess there’s no harm in a nice soak.” You said softly.  He could barely contain his excitement, he moved deliberately trailing his hands down your waist then squeezing. He searched your face before he broke out into a grin that made you laugh.   “Jackson,” it was hard not to laugh at him. “Jackson right now? You don’t want to eat first?” He cocked his head, “I do, but let’s do that later, my back hurts from the flight.” You made a ‘sure’ face but didn’t argue. It was better to humor him, he gave your bottom another not so gentle squeeze before kissing the top of your head. “So a nice bath, then I’ll make you food,...” he trailed off and took your hand.

The fragrance from the bubble bath he found was making your head feel dreamy and relaxed. His back was against one side of the tub and yours was on the other. He insisted on massaging your feet and there really wasn’t any huge point to arguing. He rubbed away while you sighed slowly to yourself. “You have the cutest little feet.” He murmured. “They’re so gross.” Your response was automatic, years of having being told they were flawed in some way meant that you were use to parroting back the words when you were complimented. “They’re perfect on you.” He dug deep into the sole of your foot and you couldn’t help but groan. “Always say nice things about yourself.” He murmured. “Yeah I know.” You sunk lower into the water and he took the invitation to work his hands up your leg. It was hard for you to say nice things about yourself all the time. You were use to your self deprecating jokes. But he was quick to redirect them, he always told you to make it nice instead. His hands were steady on your body focusing your mind back into the moment.  It was never gonna be just a soak, but you didn’t do anything to stop him. He felt the back of your knee and a shiver ran up your body. His eyes were focused on your skin, “you’ll let me do this at home now right?” He pulled himself a little closer so his hands could go further up, “a nice hot bath, foot massages.” “You’re very good at them,” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes seemed to darken. He leaned farther forward, upsetting the water and bubbles so he could kiss your forehead. Under the water his hand had made it all the way up which meant his fingers were in a prime position to rub you where you were most sensitive. He kept the pressure light, teasing you. A whine broke past your lips. He ducked his head and kissed you. “I want you to relax,” he said softly against your lips, he dipped his fingers inside of you. It was so hard not to squirm, he pulled them back and forth slowly before he stopped. You gripped the sides of the the tub and tried to urge him to move. His eyes were mischievous. “Jackson,” You tried to roll your hips to get him to do anything but tease you. He cocked his head, “say something nice about yourself.” The command confused you. Your brow furrowed and for a moment you were confused, “what?” He pulled his hand completely away and touched your face instead. “I read that it’s nice to hear compliments from others but reinforcing it with words you say to yourself is even better.” His voice was earnest his hand dipped into the water again and found your breast. “Something nice…” He played with your nipple and you whimpered. Your mind was reaching for something, any sort of compliment that would make sense. “I like my thighs.”   He beamed, triumphant, then pinched your nipple lightly, “what else baby? You’re so beautiful there’s a million things to compliment.” You were so use to his praise that it was hard to give yourself the same attention. He switched to your other nipple and kissed your forehead again. “One more.” He encouraged. You swallowed, his hands sending pleasure and want all throughout your body. You willed your brain and your mouth to talk, to say something so he would give you what you needed. “I have nice skin...the cream you gave me makes it so soft.” You admitted. He liked that, he kissed you harder. He had both hands involved now, tickling the sides of your tummy. The giggle that escaped your mouth made his smile even wider. “The most perfect skin.” He spent the rest of the bath praising you. Cooing all his favorite compliments while he played with your body. It didn’t take long before your hands gripped the side of the tub and you called his name. Your body locked and then the pleasure ripped through your limbs in what felt like a blaze. Dimly you knew you had splashed water and maybe that would have embarrassed you, but there were more important things. Like the way you still shook while he kissed you everywhere he could reach. If you felt dreamy before your mind was downright foggy now. “You liked that baby?” He asked, finally pulling away to look at you. Your bones felt like jelly, thank god the tub wasn’t too deep. There was no doubt in your mind you would have melted further into the water. It took you what felt like hours to barely nod your head and indicate that yes you had indeed liked it. “It’s so cute when you say my name like that.” he went back to sitting across the tub from you, a smug smile on his face. You didn’t know what face you were making but hopefully it was satisfied. “Let’s just spend the rest of the time here.” You finally got out. He didn’t argue with you, just rested his head on the rim of the tub, “as long as you’re happy that’s all I care about.” You sat up a little, “I’m the happiest I’ve been in forever.” “Perfect.” He spoke softly and maybe it was more to himself than you but he was right. The feeling was perfect.        

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

---------------------------------

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

I can't resist I also want to know about the Bridge Novel and also maybe the Maul Turns Good au?

OH BOY THE BRIDGE NOVEL

*takes deep breath* Oh boy

*sighs* Oh boy

So, around the time Clone Wars season 7 came out, I started writing Clone Wars fanfictions (they were horrible and cringey but you gotta start somewhere)

Right after Victory And Death released, I got an idea—what if one of the 332nd troopers survived the crash? What if, for whatever reason, Ahsoka and Rex didn’t find him? What would be his story?

Within a week or two, I’d come up with a basic plot—clone trooper wakes up alone on the planet (or moon, I’m not sure) and must figure out, firstly how the heck to get off, and secondly how to survive in a rapidly changing galaxy

Oh, and he also hit his head and got amnesia, so he remembers nothing about who he is, Ahsoka, Mandalore, Order 66, the crash, anything

Soon after waking up—very confused and very injured… and very alone—he discovers a tiny droid that looks almost exactly like this guy from The Rise Of Skywalker ⬇️

…the only reason for that was because I was quite unoriginal and couldn’t figure out a good character design on my own lol

After the clone (named Bridge) rescues AB-0 (the droid) they end up repairing a Y-Wing and flying to Kajimi

It is there that they meet Seku, a blue twi-lek who’s as tough as the city she was raised in, smart as her enemies (actually, she’s way smarter. Her enemies are kinda dumb not gonna lie) and as complicated as this equation (2/3 (x ^ 2 + 4) ^ (1/2) (x ^ 29) ^ ((2) / 3) x (x ^ 29) ^ (1/3) (x ^ 2 + 4) ( (1) / 2)) / (x ^ 2 + 4)

…not that Bridge realizes how complicated she is. He’s extremely gullible and always looks for the good in people, and assumes that everyone tells the truth most of the time. That’s unfortunately not the case with Seku but, like I said, she’s very complicated

Then the three of them go on a mission across the galaxy to figure out who Bridge really is. Both he, Seku, and AB-0 don’t know anything about clones (or at least don’t remember anything about clones) so they pretty much have no idea what they’re doing

Along the way, Bridge gets flashbacks, but they’re always in fragments and he can’t ever make sense of them. Seku tries to help but she doesn’t really understand, so there’s only so much she can do

Now here’s the complicated Seku stuff I mentioned earlier: Seku is a bad guy. Or at least, works for a bad person

Basically, she finds important people, such as rulers/senators/etc, pretends to help them and be their friend for a bit, all the while learning more about how important, how valuable, the important person truly is. Then, when the time is right, she hands the person over to her boss and gets some credits. Her boss does Very Bad Things to the people Seku brings in, such as selling them as slaves

Truthfully, she hates her job, but until she has enough credits saved up, she can’t leave… so she just goes along with it and tries not to think about it too much

When she’d met Bridge and had heard his story (at least, the parts he remembers) she’d suspected he was important. How important, she didn’t know, which was why she offered to help him discover who he is—Bridge assumes she’s just being a good person by volunteering to help, but in actuality she’s just trying to see how much he’s worth

Problem is, she’s a very good actress, so Bridge never suspects a thing

As the book goes on, Seku realizes that she truly likes Bridge, finding herself increasingly uncomfortable with using him to get credits. Bridge also realizes he likes Seku, albeit in a… different way than she likes him

(They end up becoming a Thing later so yeah lol)

I honestly like the idea of all this, but uh…

I wrote the novel several years ago

When I was first getting into fanfiction—really, writing in general

I did not have an outline

I did not plan

Half the time I had no idea what was happening

I’ve improved a whole lot since then, and now the my first and only finished novel sits in a cardboard box, waiting to be revised and edited

But oh gosh it’s cringey

It hurts to read XD

THIS WAS VERY LONG BUT I hoped you found this interesting 😁

Oooooh the Maul Turns Good AU… yessssss

I came up with this idea several years ago, soon after Clone Wars wrapped up, but I chose not to write it because I wanted to wait until I was much better at the whole writing thing before starting something like it

…I’m still waiting XD

I’d heard a lot of people say, “What if Ahsoka accepted Maul’s request to kill Sidious? What if she turned to the dark side?”

That piqued my interest, but then I thought, “What if it was flipped around? What if, instead of Ahsoka turning to the dark side, Maul turned to the light side?”

Basically, Ahsoka convinces Maul to turn good—or at least, turn away from the dark, it takes him a bit to warm up to the whole “light side” thing—in the Mandalorian throne room, and he allows himself to be taken prisoner and put into a cell on the Republic Cruiser

He doesn’t get put into the anti-force box or whatever it was; Ahsoka convinces everyone that that won’t be necessary, so Maul gets to stay in a cell

Then Order 66 happens. Except this time, Maul doesn’t go on a murder rampage or sabotage the engines—he and Ahsoka work together to free Rex from the chip, and no one gets killed and no ships crash and no one gets buried and Jesse CERTAINLY doesn’t die :D

Maul, Ahsoka and Rex set out for the galaxy as an awkward threesome—Rex is deeply distrustful of the Zabrak, and Maul has no idea how to like… socialize or anything, so there’s lots of tense and kind of hilarious moments with those two

Ahsoka’s trying to figure out this “new normal”, all the while struggling with feelings of guilt for leaving the Jedi. Rex tries to help, but it’s actually Maul who ends up helping her the most—much to everyone’s surprise

Ahsoka and Maul end up becoming good friends, and Rex starts to feel like a third wheel around them—he’s not force sensitive, he doesn’t understand or like or trust Maul, he can’t figure out how to help Ahsoka, and so on

That’s kind of all I got for this one—not sure what the ending will be like, or what EXACTLY happens in it, but I really like the idea and am very much looking forward to writing it :D

…someday lol

SERIOUSLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BOTH YOUR ASKS THEY WERE SOOOOO FUN TO ANSWER EEEEEEK

[fairestwriting]

slams open your door/ one angst request for a childhood g/n reader with deuce, ace, jack, ruggie and vil coming right up! "if we're still single by 30, let's get married! (for housing benefits lol)" it was a childish promise made in jest, but the boy never forgot. in the end, it ends with unrequited/pining feelings from one/both sides that cant be returned due to bad timing/prior engagements/etc when they reach of age (go hogwild with the scenarios lis!!)

(slams my hands on the table) yes yes yes yes YES i love this trope

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Deuce Spade

You make the promise to him after you confessed to your crush sometime in 7th grade and got rejected, left to cry by yourself behind the school. Out of all your friends, only Deuce came to comfort you -- And so you, in your dramatic childish glory, feeling like you’d never find anyone to love, tell him the two of you should get married if you’re single by 30.

Deuce remembers every detail of that event down to how your eyes gleamed with the tears, how the light of the sunset casted that golden glow on your hair -- It was when he knew he loved you. It took him a while to find the right words to describe the feeling, but he’d been feeling it for a long time.

He doesn’t pursue you because he feels like he’ll grow out of it. You go to NRC together, the two of you against the world, and it’s like everyday he falls in love a little more. You support him through his attempts of being a honors student, and on the day of your graduation, the first thing you do is hug each other tight, cheering about how you made it, you finally made it.

You don’t lose contact with each other even after school. Deuce and you are basically attached to the hip, meeting up every other week to talk about college and then your jobs. Through all of this time you’re friends, both of you go through a handful of relationships each, but none of them are really serious. As you approach 30, Deuce remembers that promise from back then.

When your birthday comes up, you’re sort of gloomy over recent breakup, and Deuce, naturally, is the first one to be there for you. He shows up in the morning with a gift and makes you breakfast, your dear best friend warming your heart once more. You rant about your latest partner and exchange anecdotes about how last week went before everything goes silent, and suddenly his hand is hesitantly on yours.

“D-Do you remember, um.” He begins, face flushed. “That promise we made in middle school? That if we were single until 30...”

You blink. Really, that? It felt like so long ago -- It was hard to remember even. You can barely catch what he was going to try to say before you laugh your middle school self off, snickering at how naive you were -- Something in Deuce seems to shatter, then, and his hand retracts. It’s so fast you can barely tell what’s happening.

And he stays with you through the birthday regardless, of course he does. He’s your dearest friend, isn’t he?

the rest is under the cut cause... its long

Ace Trappola

You hated Ace, initially. You met in kindergarten and he was the worst, literally. Always pulling pranks on everyone and acting just so infuriatingly cheeky, your 5 year old self learned real rage through that little redhead boy who always hid your things just to get a rise out of you.

One day you decided to prank him back, causing massive trouble in the classroom that ends with the two of you getting intensely scolded, and that’s how, somehow, a beautiful friendship blooms. Ace gets this sparkle in his eyes when you’re done getting yelled at, and says that the two of you should be friends and work together on doing this to other people.

Since then you two became inseparable. You’d never stop bickering, but you also never left each other’s side. The two of you were a menace, an absolute terror to your teachers -- Whether you were a good kid before meeting him or not didn’t matter, Ace is great at being a bad influence.

Near the end of 4th grade, you begin hearing about how one of your classmate’s single parent was getting married again. This sparked a big conversation between your class, somehow, with everyone declaring who they wanted to marry. It was a silly childish thing. When your turn comes, you proudly announce that when you grew up, you’d marry Ace if you hadn’t married anyone else by 30, ‘cause no one else would choose him but me! You snicker after making the comment, amused at how mean you were being, but somehow your snarkiness seems to fly over Ace’s head.

It’s a thing that happens that you two never really talk about again, but it ticks in the back of his mind for his whole life as you two grow up. Even entering middle and then high school, he always remembers it when he goes through some sort of romantic disappointment. You really were the only one who always stuck around, after all...

Years go by and somehow you’re still by each other’s side. Every birthday that passes Ace thinks about it a little more, he wonders if that promise from ages ago was true. When your 30th birthday comes up the promise is constantly in his mind, he’s driving himself up the wall with expectation. And he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling like that, really, you two are just childhood friends, right? There’s no reason for him to be feeling so... like this.

Eventually, he just blurts it out, a couple days after said birthday. You two are probably just hanging out and ranting about work when he goes “Hey, you remember that stuff you said in 4th grade? About, uh, us getting married?” And you go silent for a beat. His heart races as he wonders what the hell he’s doing, even.

But you laugh it all off. What, that stuff about marrying you? Yeah, I was such a dumb kid. I was right, though, look how you’re still single, you joke, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Ace. He laughs awkwardly with you. Yeah, sure, how foolish the two of your were for thinking of something like... you two... being together like that...

Jack Howl

Jack was, before everything, the scary boy in your 2nd grade class. Beastmen weren’t exactly common at school, especially wolves like him, so he ended up sticking out quite a lot. Most kids, your friends included, thought he was far too scary to approach. And Jack himself seemed to be fine with that, not really interacting much with anyone.

That was all he was for you until, one day, an older kid gets mad at you during lunch for bumping into them and staining their shirt with juice. They’re about two or three years ahead and so much taller than you, you’re genuinely scared -- And who would know that in a moment like this, the one kid in your class you weren’t very fond of would stand up for you, convincing the bully to go away.

Afterwards, Jack asks if you’re okay, you two end up eating together, and the rest is history. You find out he was actually really sweet, despite seeming so tough, and you get comfortable with it. Jack was always a reliable, loyal friend, someone you knew you could count on.

This included when your friends started being weirded out by you for getting close to the scary boy in class. They get it in their heads that you have a crush on him and tease you for it, which makes you upset, but Jack stands up for you again. This was enough for you to be pretty starry eyed at the age of 7, so you declared that, hey, who cares about what these mean kids are saying! Maybe you and Jack should be together anyway. Actually, if you two got to 30 and you were still single, you should get married! Jack gets just as starry eyed as you, and you seal a pinky promise that day.

What you never knew, though, was that he wouldn’t grow out of it -- Because as time goes by and you two grow up alongside each other, it ends up slipping your mind. You meet new people and learn new things, getting into some relationships here and there, and though you’d taken the promise seriously for a bit when you were a kid, it was just something you laughed about now.

You don’t even remember it on Jack’s 30th birthday. You’re one of the first people to show up to the small gathering, naturally, you had known each other since forever. You’re teasing him about how he was so perpetually single even now, that you were reaching “marriage age”, and this seems to fluster him a bit.

“Well...” He starts, his ears going slightly limp. “I wanted... to keep that promise, you know. From when we were kids.” His voice is quiet, uncertain. It’s different from how you usually hear him talk, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. You question him about it, and he’s wide eyed when he realizes that you actually forgot.

He questions you about it. How could you forget? You two actually made a pinky promise about it -- But you’re just confused as to why he’s bringing this up, saying that of course it wasn’t a big deal, you two were just kids when it happened! Was he really expecting something from that? And when you ask him that, he’s silent.

Needless to say, the birthday is soured. Jack asks for you to leave, it’s a mess. You don’t know what you did wrong, exactly, just like you’re not sure how you could possibly fix this.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Partners in crime” was the only possible way to describe what sort of relationship you had with Ruggie. It starts in elementary school, you’re walking around in a farmer’s market near the slums and you catch him taking a handful of apples from a stand, without paying. Your eyes are wide as you remember who that boy was, a classmate of yours, and despite what your family had taught you about stealing, you walk up to the person taking care of the stand, and start chatting with them to distract them.

You’re not sure what really made you want to help this boy you barely knew, but it turned out to be the one thing in your life you’re the most grateful for, because the next day, when he sees you again in class, he runs up to you to thank you so many times in a row. And since then, you two started spending time together.

And you got along so well! Ruggie got along with most of the other kids and you had some friends of your own, but nothing was compared to how close the two of you were. You two scheme your way in and out of trouble through your school days, and at one point you can barely imagine your life without him.

Sometime mid 6th grade, your classmates start talking of crushes and dating and such, which gives you a lot to think about. You’re a bit upset that you seem to be the only one who isn’t in on the new fun, so one day, when you’re hanging out with Ruggie, you complain about feeling like you’d be single forever. Ruggie laughs and says that if no one wanted to be with you, then no one would want to be with him either. You still wonder what that meant.

In a fit of childishness, you say decisively that if you two were single until you were 30, you’d get married. Looking back on it, you can’t tell if you were kidding or not, but Ruggie and you shake hands mid-laughs, like you’re sealing a deal.

So time goes by. You don’t think too hard about that promise and Ruggie... doesn’t seem to, either, you actually wonder what’s going through his head often, because he rarely tells you what he’s thinking. You end up going to NRC together, to both of your families’ joy, and that just ends up making you closer, as two kids from the less-privileged side of the Afterglow Savannah in such a prestigious academy...

Your bond ends up really fire-forged after those four years, so it’s no surprise to anyone that you’d still be close even after you graduate, even as adults. Nothing could break a friendship like this.

You think about it on the day of your 30th birthday, when you’re out for drinks with Ruggie to celebrate. Really, how the hell did you stick to each other’s side for so long? You ask him as you loop an arm around his neck, and he grins. “Well, maybe we should get married like you promised then, y’know... when we were brats.” He says, a little quieter than your previous conversation. There’s a hint of some kind of different feeling there that you don’t catch at the time, scoffing at him and going, yeah, in your dreams.

The rest of the night goes normally, though you don’t hear from him for a couple days afterward... and when you do, he barely looks you in the eye. You wonder if anything bad happened, if you did anything wrong.

Vil Schoenheit

When Vil Schoenheit moved into your town, everybody was talking about him before he even really set foot into the classroom. Everyone had seen him somewhere -- The poster boy of villainy in all your favorite movies, a kid with a pretty face and a haughty aura.

You’re as curious as everyone else to meet him, though you don’t really share that strange vindictiveness the other kids seemed to have, angered at Vil himself for what his characters put others through. It’s so stupid, you thought, isn’t he just the actor? He might actually be nice.

When he arrives into the classroom, people are about as annoying towards him as you expected. Their disdain towards Vil bothered you, he’d barely said anything to others and yet they were already pegging him as a mean, arrogant person. So stupid, you repeat to yourself, and you decide to talk to him normally, and that’s how your ages-long friendship came to life.

Vil wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. You come to find that he’s rather haughty, yes, and very strict with pretty much everything, but he was also very kind deep down, and willing to help you with anything you needed. He was a good friend. He was also, as you came to find out as you grew a little more, astoundingly pretty. With people disliking his “villainy” or not, by the time you’re starting middle school, he already consistently gets confessed to.

You’re a bit jealous. Not because you wanted Vil for yourself, no, he was just a good friend, but you wished people would find you as attractive as they found him, sometimes. You express that to him when you’re walking home together one day, and he laughs it off, saying it wasn’t as good as you thought it’d be. Still, you make him promise that if you were single by 30, he’d have to marry you, because if he just let you die alone, he’d be a bad friend. Vil seems strangely mesmerized by that, but he agrees.

Time goes by, you get to watch each other grow. Even with all the people going in and out of Vil’s life, he seems to keep you closer to his heart than everyone, and you never really lose contact with each other. Even when he’s busy, with movies or modeling or school, he still makes time to check up on you, and you see each other often.

When you’re actually nearing 30, Vil has reached a sort of stardom that burned your eyes just looking at, and you were so goddamn proud of him it was real. Somehow, he still makes time to show up for your birthday, after about a month of not really seeing each other -- And he spoils you to death on that day, the two of you spending all of it together and talking until it was late at night.

As the sun is about to rise, though, Vil’s chattiness subsides. About as sleep deprived as you, he says, softly “So since we’ve gotten there, and we’re both still single... maybe we should fulfill that promise from years ago, shouldn’t we?” You take a moment to process it, it’s tough remembering exactly when you made such a promise, but eventually you do. You feel like that should’ve been a joke, but the way Vil looks at you isn’t saying joke at all.

You sort of laugh it off either way, though. What, that silly promise? You ask, are you rubbing it in that you’re prettier than me? I can still find a partner looking like this, y’know. You think it’s funny, but Vil suddenly falls completely silent.

He then sighs, almost wistful, and says “Sure you can” before the conversation progresses... you’re not sure what happened, but life goes on after that like nothing happened. Deep down, Vil is feeling stupid for having taken the promise to heart, like he should have known better... but if you never really meant it, then what could he do but give it up? Even though it was the thing he wanted to do the least... he valued your friendship too much to do something that could possibly ruin it.

[randomoranges]

back in december i got this silly idea based on my friend who has appeared at my door and also once at the door of my uni classroom, ages ago, twice now. (not for my bday but still) so i was like omg this would do well in a fic. and then i was like anyways eds birthday is not for a while now, let’s wait. and then of course, it was early jan and i was like lol gotta do the fic. and of course then i had a moment of panic of like wait IT’S THE 7TH OR THE 9TH?! luckily, i still have the antiquarian post-it and i was able to check. of course, i then thought the 9th was yesterday.

HERE WE ARE NOW, HA.

Happy Birthday to You

 January 9th 202X

 Edward was enjoying a quiet moment at home, sipping a cup of coffee. Calvin was out, running some errands – something about last minute things for tonight and Edward had been more than glad to have a few hours home, alone. It was his birthday, after all, and he wanted to indulge, relax, and not be bothered by chores, the world, and such. Plus, it promised to be a good day. He had a video call with Étienne, later in the afternoon, and Calvin was taking him out to dinner in the evening.

 He was considering lounging on the sofa and maybe watch something on television, when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, or anything, but given that it was his birthday, he figured that maybe someone had sent him a parcel. In any regards, the doorbell rang a second time and so, ignoring it went out the window. For all he knew, maybe Calvin had forgotten his wallet at home. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 Out of reflex, he looked through the eyehole and then slammed the door back shut when his brain caught up with what he’d just seen.

 Impossible.

 He checked again and gawped.

 He recognised that hat.

 He recognised that jacket.

 He recognised that dumb smile.

 Clearly – clearly – clearly he was seeing things, for there was no way. No way, really, no reason – for Étienne M Maisonneuve to be at his door.

 None.

 He cracked the door open to make sure he wasn’t officially losing it and hallucinating and sure enough, his boyfriend stood there, grinning like a loon.

 Edward closed the door in his face.

 He heard the hallucination laugh on the other side of the door.

 Just to be sure, he checked again through the eyehole and then opened the door once more.

 Étienne was still stupidly wheezing at his antics.

 Edward’s cheeks turned three shades of different pink and he could feel them heat up.

 Again, he opened the door a few inches, enough to poke his head through and look “without being seen” and studied the spectacle before him. Étienne leaned against the handle of his suitcase and looked far too pleased with himself. He looked ridiculous in his multitude of layers – it wasn’t even that cold. Hell, Étienne had visited him when it had been much colder.

 Étienne grinned at him when he saw that the door was opened and Edward closed it again. This was ridiculous. His boyfriend was ridiculous. This whole nonsense was ridiculous.

 His phone buzzed and he reached out for it out of reflex. His nerves were shot as they were and his brain was working on autopilot.

 He found a message from his ridiculous boyfriend. It happened to be an eight second video of when he’d originally opened the door. He looked gobsmacked. He still felt that way.

 “I don’t understand,” He said as he opened the door again. Étienne laughed and so he closed it again, figuring that maybe, this time, the illusion would be over or the dream would come to its end. Plus, it would serve him right. For being here. For visiting him unannounced. On his birthday, no less.

 “Why are you here?” He asked, cracking the door open again. They’d just seen each other. A week or so ago. He’d gone over to Étienne’s for the holidays, since Étienne had visited the year before. Apparently, that was what they were doing now. Alternating. Edward would have loved to stay for longer, but shortly after the New Year, he’d returned home. Work obligations and such. Étienne had even – the bugger – he’d even bemoaned the fact that he couldn’t visit properly for his birthday. Something about work and a conference.

 Lies. All lies. He’d been set up. He’d fallen, still, for Étienne’s tricks.

 “How are you even here?!” He asked, again, going through the same motions, but never giving Étienne time to respond. If Étienne spoke, then surely, this charade would end. Boyfriend’s didn’t materialise out of thin air, and last he’d checked, Montréal was still a ways away.

 Still, despite this situation, Edward couldn’t help the small smile that threatened to overtake his face. He was shocked, sure, but – the idea that – however it was that Étienne had made it here – maybe even for his birthday... he was touched.

 Not that he was about to tell the madman. Étienne’s ego didn’t need to be flattered that much.

 His phone buzzed again and this time, Étienne had written him a message.

 “If I explain will you let me in? It’s getting cold.”

 He chuckled at that, and even though he was still convinced that none of this was real, he opened the door for good, this time.

 “Happy birthday!” Étienne said as he launched himself at Edward. Edward, who was far too used to his boyfriend’s methods of greeting him, was quick to catch him and hugged him tightly, happy to see him, despite everything else.

 “You said you were going to explain; do so or you can go back outside.” He teased as he finally let Étienne walk inside and then shut the door behind him.

 “I wanted to surprise you, obviously. Arranged the whole thing with Calvin. He picked me up at the airport.”

 “You’re the errands he had to run!?” Now it made sense. Of course, Calvin and Étienne would be in cahoots together. The two were unstoppable when they decided to work together to plot against him. It was utterly ridiculous. (He loved it.)

 “Yes – although, he really did have errands to run, so he dropped me off and actually went to do them.”

 “This is illegal; I’m adding a new clause that says the both of you aren’t allowed to play or plot or plan such tricks on me. Illegal. Banned. Nope.”

 Étienne laughed, “Please, I know you’re tickled pink, deep down.” The bastard knew him too well. Served him right, he supposed. He’d gotten soft with old age and years of being cared for by both Calvin and Étienne.

 “Fine, you got me,” Edward said with a great big mock sigh as he gathered Étienne again in his arms, “I am – I’m glad you’re here. This is too much. You’re too much.” He held him close, really making sure he was really here – and in all his life, he would have never thought – he’d get this.

 “Don’t change.” He added, soft, as he grew pliant in Étienne’s arms. His boyfriend beamed and indulged, holding him closer still. It was going to be a really good birthday.

 FIN

[sorry-rosie]

lol i'm dumb. I didn't realize when you posts that otp ask, it meant that people can ask you about the pairings depending based on the numbers LOL. I'm really new to the tumblr trend. Now that's out of the way, let me pick some numbers. 8, 15, 21(this one especially) 28

Oh no worries! It takes some getting used to. With these things you can send however many numbers or prompts in as you want and I'll get cracking, by the way. 

I’ll do #28 in another post soon because I got another sent in for it and keeping the naughtier ones separate means this safer post can get discovered in tumblr searches easier. ^^’

➼ [8] What were their first impressions of each other?

Ethan was a complete nerd, that’s what Mia knew just from seeing him. Not that she has anything against nerds, but he was just adorable in how geeky he was with technology and a bit awkward, endearingly so. Plus it didn’t help that he was sporting his rather large glasses when she first laid eyes on him. And khakis. In addition, he had a cute face and voice that drew her to him. It wasn’t love at first sight or anything, just another potential relationship of many that Mia gave a fair shot in a few dates, but thankfully those dinner dates ended up selling her on the idea of being with him. 

Mia was a complete bundle of sunshine, that’s what Ethan took away from her. Something about her drew his gaze instinctively, impulsively. He had already seen her occasionally on campus of their college in cafes, but he doubted she noticed him. Not until he grew enough courage to take the first move at least. But from what he could tell, either observing her and her friends or talking to her for the first time, she was optimistic and hard-working. The type that filled a day with work and still ended up smelling like roses at the end of it all, somehow. Boundless energy. He felt a little intimidated simply talking to her since she outpaced him, so it took time on their dates for their energy to match and sync up better. 

➼ [15] What are traits they dislike in one another?

Mia thinks Ethan is lost in his head a lot; she'd be fair in thinking that. He's a quiet person, so sometimes it's hard for her to know exactly what he's thinking when he perhaps incorrectly assumes they're on the same page. They do that for each other often, actually, what with Mia’s secretive side. They’re prone to some miscommunications that could easily be avoided.

Mia also sort of dislikes Ethan's naiveté and rashness. It is more complicated since his idealistic views of the world at times are quite uplifting for someone who has seen the darker parts of that world first hand, and his impulsive nature was what ultimately saved her in the Baker estate (and later Rose). But he is so rash and naïve that it is his own downfall, with foolishly believing that there’s someone better in Mia and deciding to still forgive her countless times. Sometimes, she wants him to put himself first, just for once, because no one person can be that selfless. She just wants him to be safe, even if it means a life without her. But he’ll always put her and Rose first. If anything, it makes her wonder ruefully what she did to deserve him. Despite Mia’s somewhat dislike of his idealism, she’ll do anything to protect it, him, from the truth.

Ethan is rather over-protective and could be prone to being obsessive, which Mia grew rather annoyed with when she was still working for the Connections. It felt like nothing escaped his notice, as much as Mia tried to lie to him. He certainly didn’t make things easy, but at least he cared that much for her to go to such lengths. But he’s at least learned from then to slack off with it, but it kicked in a bit once again as he entered into parenthood. This is true for them both.

As much as Ethan dislikes Mia’s secretive side and feels hurt since he feels like they’re leading separate lives at times, he at least grew to understand her better. Why she does it. How to better get her to open up. But still, when she was working for the Connections, he couldn’t help but have an over-active mind. When she leaves him in the dark, it’s hard not to think the worst. It’s the not knowing part of it all that for him hurts him far more than the truth. At times, he feels like she doesn’t trust him enough to tell him.

Mia, even more so after the Baker incident and giving birth, never lets go of grudges. She’s often justified or true in feeling very conclusively about people, like her distrust of Chris and the BSAA particularly, what with the events in Europe. She’s seen corrupt organizations first hand and she could pinpoint one when it’s right in front of her face. However, Ethan is far too forgiving and kind to hold such grudges. They don’t butt heads on it often, since Ethan understands why she is this way. But still, he only wants her to be happy and holding onto these grudges, even ones she has against herself, only leads to more resentment.

Overall however Ethan just adores her too much to seriously dislike much about her, if anything. Unconditionally so. Or perhaps a love of all aspects of her, flaws and all.

➼ [21] How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

Mia often gets lost thinking about how better Ethan’s life would be if he never met her. Never left to go get her in Louisiana, at least. In those three years he could’ve already moved on like she told him to do in the video. There were widowers, she was sure, that were remarried in far less time. What use was it though? She knew he was different, he’d never want to move on without her. He’d never even consider leaving her. But a bigger part of her selfishly still wants to be by his side, even if she was, is, still a negative force in his life, as much as his nightmares are caused by her. He could never go back to his old life.

But Ethan saw the best in people. He loved her anyways, in spite of everything. Mia wants to be better, for him at least, the man who still looked at her with those unblinking, silently worshiping eyes. She hated to see her reflection in them, but his undoubtable adoration for her still prevailed. They both vowed, promised, to start over and that’s what they were going to do. As much as their new lives were interrupted occasionally by the BSAA poking and prodding them, dictating many parts of their day-to-day, they could confidently be assured still that they were together in the end, peaceful, to an extent. Life would never be easy now, they both agreed, but at least they would be safe in each others’ arms.

The ultimate proof of their love, the one that still survived despite everything, came in the form of Rose. Mia almost didn’t believe she could get pregnant, but the tests stared back at her, all positive. At first, she was terrified, that she’d ruin another life like she always did. But perhaps this was her chance at redemption, finally, and as she felt her move around she felt all the more terrified of herself. That she’d fail her, just as she did Eveline. That she was screwed up in the head to even be able to have a child with her husband, whose only life support was the mold. But those fears eventually subsided and the pregnancy brought them both joy as she obsessively eyed her ultrasounds, looking for defects only to find none. Finding happiness in talking over baby names and buying things for her.

Then, a psychotic woman she used to work with targeted them to get to Rose. Separating the child into crystalized little pieces. With every step they took towards normalcy, towards peace, they were dragged back into hell by Mia’s choices years ago. The past would follow them everywhere. And just like that, he was gone. A man who already defied death many times, invincible, dead. The life he couldn’t have, in his final moments, flashed before his eyes. Sure, he had regrets. But he was at least content in his wife and child’s safety. The years he did have with his family, with all their hitches... He didn’t regret it. He’d still do it all over again. Mia knew he was that foolish, as Chris later told her that Ethan apologized and said that he loved her in his last words. 

Only he would be sorry for dying on her. After everything she’s done, she could only feel sickened by everything that’s happened. It would take a long time for her to get past him, if it was even humanly possible. The answer is complicated. While they’ve both definitely changed each other for the worse through years of heartache and turmoil, they both also gave each other true happiness, satisfaction, if only for a little while. Shown each other that they could be changed, complicated people, but still want to crawl back to each other. And while Mia, newly widowed, looks down upon the freshly settled wasteland of the explosion weeks later out of curiosity, she thinks that Ethan teased things out of her no one else could. She was a better person now, wasn’t she? More mature. Less selfish. Maybe his good nature had snuck up on her over the years. He had that way about him of making even the most stubborn of people change.

[ftstorm]

5x07, 5x08 and 5x09 thoughts.

In which I complain a lot about the last 3 episodes. It’s long and boring. Read at your own discretion.

I just needed to get this out of my system. I try not to overthink it when I watch the show but I can’t help it! So I’ve come to accept the overthinking as a part of me LOL. 

I’m angry, okay? Possibly because I’ve been debating myself whether to post this or not for three weeks but also because they erased from the face of Earth the relatable and inspiring Mac that I used to know.

I’m going to start with the positives! 5x07, 5x08 and 5x07 were average MacGyver episodes and they weren’t bad. They were etertaining and had the science moments we all like. Also, 5x06 is the highlight of the season so far because if felt like MacGyver again and since it was written/produced by the new team it means THERE’S HOPE.

From episodes 7 to 9 they just did the job to put the episode on air. That’s about it.

Maybe the fact that they were just good enough is the reason why I feel indiferent 5x07 and 5x08. I’ve been wondering why since both of those were pretty good episodes overall.

{ ! } 5x07 left me with a bad aftertaste. You have to understand that 5x06 was a lovely episode and regressing to the dumb “let’s put this whole bagagge of blame in Mac’s shoulders as if the rest of the characters didn’t have anything better to do” was upsetting.

If the focus would had been completely in the danger of someone stealing the idea instead of having the team doing an inquisition on Mac (from the very beginning to the end), then it would’ve been a much better episode in my opinion.

Also, you make an episode centered in cancer and you DON’T make a reflection on it? What’s the point of the episode? That there’s people who can weaponize the cure for cancer? Where’s the depth, the layers? They barely mention how this whole thing is related to Mac’s dad in favor of blaming him because he created a an illegal bioweapon? 

Turning a cancer sensible episode into a government conspiracy is so... American.

{ ! } 5x08 had the main issue that they had to distribute screen time in three parts since there were two incredible guest actors but also Mac himself. Idk, I’m not an expert in the topic but the episode did feel incomplete. As if there wasn’t enough screen time in either of the two more entertaining fronts (the guests scenes). 

It was like a punchline that doesn’t hit home.

Also I’m sad that I watched the Matty and Riley sneak peek because that was their only scene. I really thought they would dive more into their bond... but they didn’t.

This is also when I noticed a pattern in these PL’s era where they make Mac fail his improvisations a lot. He’s usually not in the right track and has to rethink the whole thing. That is so out of character. This type of scenario only used to happen in the really dangerous and important missions.

{ ! } 5x09 was, like 5x07, a pointless episode. “Let’s make Mac have a mental breakdown during a mission.”  That was the whole premise, really. This is an example of how the characters in MacGyver have been used as plot devices for the whole season.

Inconsistency #1: Mac having a breakdown in front of everyone when three episodes ago he wouldn’t let a soul see him grieving Jack’s death.

Inconsistency #2: The trigger for said breakdown was a mission that was very dangerous, yes, but no different to what they team confronts in a daily basis. Mac’s character is meant to work the best under pressure, his brain enhances during those moment so having it be thet trigger it doesn’t feel right.

Inconsistency #3: Desi showcasing trust during the mission at the beginning and understanding Mac later on. Until two episodes ago she TAILED him and forced him to open up because she didn’t have a clue what was going on with him (it’s not that difficutl to figure out tbh dear Desi writers).

Do you see where I’m going with this? Plot devices, out of character writing, making the characters do stuff to fit in Mac’s “traumatized” state...

Inconsistency #4: Riley snarking so much at Mac. She usually is supportive no matter what and if she has a comment about his crazy plans they’re always delivered in a comedic demanour. But this time it didn’t.

Inconsistency #5: They writers pushed Mac to have a breakdown during the mission, to expose his mindset to the team and audience clearly showing that he still hasn’t moved on; yet when he’s FINALLY about to have a therapeutic catharsis moment in the graveyard he gets interrupted.

(btw, forcing yourself into someone’s personal space is never a good decision dear Desi writers)

Incosistency #6: He hasn’t realized how much he misses Oversight? Right, sure.

Incosistency #7: Mac’s hair in the graveyard scene, Mac’s mother grave missing, Mac not showing much vertigo... The details man, the details.

Why even write an episode like that?? What’s the character/plot development?? Having a breakdown during a mission is NOT therapeutic. Having your feelings exposed to everyone is NOT therapeutic. 

That talk with Bozer in the comms was beautiful but I wish it had happened in a more appropiate moment. Imagine if Bozer kept talking to Mac because he knows that calms him down, without the “Bozer the psychologist” piece of dialogue. And then, after the mission, reach out to Mac privately to have a heart to heart talk. Imagine that.

Conclusion 1: PL’s era absolutely destroyed Mac as a character. They kept pushing him, episode after episode, to be a traumatized man that would not have a supportive environment near him to process his dark emotions (which is bullshit because he’s surrounded by a very supportive group of people, they just decided to not write them as that).

Conclusion 2: CODEX (or should I say codex 2.0?) is a boring threat. The creators of the show are stuck not only with a mess of a character who goes through the same experiences (loss, loss and loss) over and over again without real devolpment and whose present isn’t relatable at all to the common audience, but also with an unenengaging enemy. I hope they drop the Codex plotline sooner rather than later.

Now, listen. The ratings won’t change. If MacGyver hasn’t lost much audience with the show how it is now, then it won’t lose more in the future. MacGyver as a show is a great concept and people will keep watching just for that.

There, I said it. Harsh words, heavy criticism that I needed to get out of my system.

[kari-a-la-tari]

The (Unneccessary) Lore of the WG Spanish Dubs

Aka me being like this meme for an entire post

OKAY so a couple of weeks ago I had just learned that there existed a Spanish version of Wordgirl called “La Chica Supersabia” which is honestly super cool cause who doesn’t wanna hear their show in a different language?

But alas, this ended up taking me into a much deeper rabbit hole than I was expecting and it’s honestly pretty interesting so I thought I’d share it with y’all!

DISCLAIMER: I am not an expert by any means nor do I intend to come off as one, this is simply an elaborate essay of what I’ve found through my informal research. I will also be translating anything in Spanish to the best of my extent, so I apologize if I mess up a bit with the wording since it’s not my native language.

So then *places a baseball cap with glued lightbulb on my head* let’s get started shall we?

Okay so first things first, there are a couple of select episodes of La Chica Supersabia (I’ll use LCS from here on) available on the internet. The most reliable source that I’ve found is on an old Facebook account here where a fan would upload LCS episodes based on when they aired. However, the only episodes available are a select few from season one.

Now this got my mind thinking “Hey, what if there’s more episodes?” So naturally, I started scoundering on Google (like the rat I am) to see if there was indeed more. And according to this one site there are only two seasons of LCS that were dubbed.

Translation: In Latin America, the first season premiered on Discovery Kids August 3, 2009, while the second season premiered on the same channel January 11, 2010, being the only two seasons issued. (Source)

However, later on I discovered that there was some mislead in that info because someone else found a Spanish episode that was from season 3, which doesn’t make sense because why would there be another season available when it clearly says that they technically shouldn’t exist? (Btw I tried finding it myself cause I did see that episode before but for some reason now I can’t find it dhdvvdbdvd 😭)

At first I thought maybe this is just some info added from a fan. After all, that statement was posted on a Spanish Wikipedia page so it is possible. So I began looking for other articles that talked about the Spanish dubs, but they all said the same thing. Well, until I came up with this site that said two very intriguing things:

Translation: The series actually had 3 seasons and is dubbed in Caracas, Venezuela. On May 2012 the series stopped running on daytime hours and was removed from the programming one year later, on June 17, 2012. It is unknowns if it will be aired by another channel or come back to the Discovery Kids programming, besides only the two first seasons were dubbed in Spanish. (Source)

I was a little bit confused here with the wording because it still didn’t confirm my original questions; if anything it left me with more. But then I read the next section below which got me completely off track.

Translation: The series received negative critics and complains on behalf of parents of families in Latin America that claimed that it wasn’t appropriate for the objective public of Discovery Kids. Without doubt in the U.S. the series had been well received and even won an Emmy award for Jack D. Ferraiola, writer and coproductor of the series together with the creator of the same show, Dorothea Gillim, who declared the following in respective to the series: (Source)

Now this one took me by a whirlwind: WTH why was this version hated by people in Latin America while it’s adored by everyone in the U.S.?? And I watched some episodes of LCS and while the dubbing is pretty funny (lol) there wasn’t anything inappropriate about it. For the most part they stuck on script with the original episode they had to dub.

So I dove even deeper...

And o h m y g o d there is an answer to this.

Translation: The program premiered in Latin America on August 2009 on the Discover Kids channel, aiming at pre schoolers. Although the channel gave a lot of promotion for the show during the final months of 2009 and the majority of 2010, at the end of the year they decided to change the programming to nighttime hours because the show received a lot of critics from parents saying that the show was too “violent” and that it encouraged kids to lie to their parents (due to the obvious fact that Becky had to give an excuse everytime she had to leave to turn into WordGirl and save the day), and they complained constantly on the message boards now deleted of the channel. The program was eliminated completely on June 2012, without doubt, PBS maintained the Spanish dubs so that they would use for SAP (Second Audio Program) in the U.S. in a different studio (Dubbing House in Mexico and later Lorry Post in Miami, FL), but the program no longer returned to Discovery Kids until August 2014. (Source)

And DUDE no y’all this was just a complete hilarious yet ridiculous slap to the face. I mean..what the, why was that the reasoning as to why it was hated so much? Just cause of some literal PG kid friendly cartoon violence? And what do parents mean when they say it teaches them to lie to their parents?? I mean with all due respect, who was Discovery Kids target audience they had in mind vs. what it actually was? Because if there actual audience was very very young kids, they okay sure I can understand the need to point fingers at them in that sense. But if it was for slightly older kids (8-10 years old), then I think that parents can probably show kids at that age the reasoning behind why Becky lied in the show (not to mention that most kids at that age can understand what’s going on for the most part).

“Now is this actually true?” some of you may ask, which is understandable since this is coming from a wiki page. Well, I think it’s about time I put another disclaimer: sadly for the most part, the majority of these sources that I’ve attached have broken links when it comes to their references. And the ones that aren’t broken don’t mention anything about the topics that have been discussed here. But there are some smaller sources I’ve found here (look at the last three comments) and here that do indeed confirm that the show was canceled due to the force of parents.

However, the current grey area I’m in still is on the Spanish dubbing listing. See, I originally thought that there were three different dubbings according to this one post below (M&M Studios, Dubbing House and Lorry Post). I even thought I cracked it since according to this chart below the rest of the seasons were under the Dubbing House studios! However, it turns out that one of the studios Lorry Post doesn’t actually exist. Like nothing related to dubbing came up at all when I searched it up.

Translation: Dubbing Studio 1 - M&M Studios (Seasons 1-2). Dubbing Studio 2 - Dubbing House (Seasons 3-8). Dubbing Studio 3 - Lorry Post (Season 8 - final episodes). (Source)

And then that’s when I took a harder look at this website and realized that it’s part of a Spanish Wiki page called “Propuestas de Fans de Doblaje” (Fan Proposals for Dubs). *insert facepalm emoji* And just...I honestly feel so dumb that I didn’t notice that detail when I did my initial research cause that would’ve saved me a lot of time 😤. Anywho so that explains the Lorry Post mystery, but then lies the other question: do the other dubs exist?

Well, this is where I draw the line. See, on that same wikipage, it mentions that LCS had completely different voice actors for each of the dubbings. The first dub (M&M) is from Venezuela and after looking at the VA’s, they can be traced back to LCS. But after looking at the VA’s for the second dub (Dubbing House) in Mexico, there is nothing related to them and LCS or WG. Not even on movie databases.

“Now are you gonna give up on this idea?” you may ask. And the answer is......

No.

Why? Well, it’s mainly because there is a compellingly set of evidence that proves that the first two dubs do actually exist, which is...

THIS VIDEO, which shows that there were not one, but two variations of the LCS Spanish theme song. The first one is the Spanish version, and the second one that plays is the Venezuela version. And if you can remember, there were 2 dubbings of LCS; one located in Mexico (Dubbing House) and another In Venezuela (M&M Studios)!

Anywhosole, that is where I conclude this elaborate essay of mine. There are still a couple of loose strings here and there that I wanna check out myself but I’ve already tired myself out with this essay. I hoped you liked seeing me lose my mind speculate on the LCS episodes! This was honestly pretty fun ngl, maybe I’ll try doing this again in the future if something else interesting pops up! If you have anything you wanna add or maybe point out something that I may have forgotten, please by all means bring it up!