#idiotic ridiculous beautiful truth seeking man

[mantis-a-shrimp]

I relate to Apollo Justice because I am also in love with Klavier Gavin and mad about it

[julek]

7) “are we breaking up?” 💕

The ring burns in Geralt's hand.

He's had it for so long, hidden at the bottom of his bag, two old shirts wrapped around it for good measure. He's looked at it on starless nights and turned it on his finger over and over again for long winters. He's written hundreds of pages under candlelight in Vesemir's library while staring at it, watching the shapes it cast on the walls where the light met its stone.

He's finally ready. His brothers have gone hunting with Vesemir, the candles are lit, and there's a bottle of his best wine cooling in the snow.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

Pocketing the ring and putting on a confident smile, he walks over to where Jaskier is napping in front of the fire. He takes a minute to drink him in, the soft slope of his nose golden pink against the furs he's wrapped himself around, his curls mussed and tangled against the pillow. He crouches by his side.

"Jask."

One blue eye cracks open. Then closed. "Mm."

Geralt smiles. "Jask, come on."

"Hmmmmmm." Jaskier screws his eyes shut. "We're closed. Come back later."

Geralt bites his lip, thinking of a way to wake him up that doesn’t involve pouring frozen water directly onto his face. "Jask," he says again, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Jaskier's face.

Third time's the charm.

"Ugh," Jaskier complains, sitting up and bringing the blankets up with him as well. He blinks once, twice, then squints at Geralt. "What."

Okay, not the perfect opening Geralt expected. He can make it work, though. "I need to talk to you."

At that, Jaskier is a little more awake. His eyes are wide and Geralt can feel the way his scent changes, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is. Jaskier makes some room for him to sit, and Geralt nods. "Right."

His heart is pounding, and he suddenly forgets every sonnet and ballad he spent months quoting to Lambert as practice, forgets every eloquent sentence Eskel suggested to him as they fenced. He clears his throat, then takes in a deep breath.

Jaskier's looking at him with curiosity and something else he can't quite decipher, so he takes his hands in his. "Jaskier," he stars.

After a moment, and because Geralt hasn't said anything else, Jaskier squeezes his hands. "Yes?"

He clears his throat again. Gods, it hadn't been as hard when he practiced with Vesemir. "You have been by my side for a long time." Okay, not a bad start. "I didn't want your company at first, didn't need it."

Jaskier's face does a complicated thing, so he hurries to continue. "You were loud and reckless and annoying, and more often than not I had to save you from cuckolded husbands and revenge-seeking fathers," he chuckles. "And it took us a while to get to where we are."

Jaskier's eyes are shining as he looks up at him. Perfect, Geralt thinks. I knew I've always been a romantic deep down.

He gets bolder. "I brought you to Kaer Morhen this winter, after many years of someone," he says, and thinks of Lambert's merciless teasing, "pestering me to let you come. But I think it is time I tell you the truth about my feelings."

Geralt's about to bring the ring out of his pocket when a sob escapes Jaskier's mouth. He looks up, confused. "Jaskier?"

Jaskier isn't looking at him, tears running down his cheeks. "Are—" he sniffs, "are we breaking up?"

Geralt freezes in his seat. Breaking up? Where did Jaskier get the idea—

Oh.

He springs into action. "No, no, no," he soothes, taking Jaskier in his arms, loathing the way his tears keep falling. "No, Jask— Gods, I'm an idiot. I'm not breaking up with you." He reaches into his pocket, pulls the ring out. "I'm asking you to marry me."

"You—" Jaskier lets out a strangled sob and tries to speak, but his tears don't let him, so Geralt pulls him against his chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear until Jaskier's breathing evens out.

Once he can, Jaskier pulls back. "That was you asking me to marry you?"

"Um." Geralt's still holding the ring, and he aims for a smile. "Yes?"

Jaskier covers his flushed face with his hands, muttering into them. "—the most tactless Witcher in the entire Continent, yes." He takes a deep breath. "You— I—" He closes his eyes. "You know what? Just— go on. What were you saying?"

Geralt swallows, tentatively reaches out for Jaskier's hand. He has a feeling he's sleeping in the stables tonight. "Um." He swallows again. "I was about to tell you about my feelings. For you."

Jaskier nods and pats his hand. "Yes, yes. That."

Taking in a deep breath, Geralt steels himself. "What I was trying to say," he starts, "was that I didn't always see you for who you were. For who you are." Jaskier smiles at that, and Geralt squeezes his hand. "Kind. Loving. Brave."

He rubs the stone on the ring with his thumb. "I do now," he says, looking into Jaskier's eyes, drowning in that blue. "And, contrary to what I made you believe a few seconds ago, I can't get enough of you."

Jaskier sniffs. "I love you," Geralt murmurs in the low light, plain and simple. True. "I never wish to be parted from you."

There's a beat of silence. Then—

"You ridiculous, foolish man!" Jaskier exclaims, swatting at his chest. His grin is blinding. "That was all you needed to say! None of that You were nothing but a parasite, I hated you at first glance—"

"I don't believe I said—"

Jaskier's laughter is infectious. Geralt hears it against his chest as he pulls him into his arms. "I love you, you fool." Jaskier looks up at him. "Ugh, I can't believe you did that."

Geralt lets out a laugh, relieved. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you I practiced that, would you?"

Jaskier laughs again, bright and so, so lovely. Geralt loves him too much. "I fear for whoever had to be the pretend recipient of that so-called declaration of love."

"Hmm," Geralt says, and presses a kiss to Jaskier's cheek. Jaskier turns and catches his lips in a tender kiss, full of laughter and longing and love.

"So?" Geralt says when they part.

Jaskier's dopey grin doesn't waver. "So what?"

Geralt presents him the ring. "Will you?"

Jaskier gapes, taking a proper look at the ring, watching it glint in the firelight. Then, he looks at Geralt with a smirk. "I don't believe I heard a question yet."

"Jask," Geralt groans, but looking at Jaskier's shit-eating grin makes his heart feel lighter. He smiles his softest smile and whispers, "Will you marry me?"

Jaskier's left eyebrow rises, and he puts on a ridiculous considering face. Then, earnest, he says, "Yes."

There's the sound of a bottle popping open behind him, and it makes them turn.

"Shit!" comes Lambert's shout-whisper.

"I told you to be quiet," chides Eskel, and Geralt can hear Vesemir's quiet laugh as well.

"You were supposed to be hunting!" He yells, and, at last, from behind a curtain emerge the Wolves. "You weren't supposed to be here."

Lambert's hands are sticky with the wine he's holding in his hands. "By the way your proposal went, I wouldn't be too worried about clearing the space to consummate your love right here in the hall."

"Lambert," Eskel says, hitting his arm.

Geralt looks at Jaskier. "Sorry." He glares at his brothers. "They were supposed to be gone."

Lambert cackles. "Gods know what would've happened if we'd left you truly alone!" He elbows Eskel in the side. "Bet you pretty boy would've made Jaskier pack his bags somehow."

Taking Geralt's hand, Jaskier clears his throat. "It was a beautiful proposal," he says, and only laughs a little bit. "Very original."

Vesemir joins in. "Son," he rumbles, nodding at Geralt. "Give him the ring."

"Oh." Geralt looks at Jaskier, who puts out his left hand expectantly. He kisses his ring finger before sliding the small silver ring in, the plain but imposing stone shining against his tanned skin. "There."

This time, Geralt's sure that the tears that escape Jaskier's eyes are happy ones. He kisses each one away, bringing the bard into his arms once more.

"I love you," he whispers into his hair. Jaskier says it back against his jaw. They stay in each other's arms for a while, reveling in the warmth of their love, of their embrace.

"Yes, yes, love conquers all, we know,” Lambert says, "but we're not getting any younger, the wine isn't getting any cooler—"

Geralt clicks his tongue, and Jaskier laughs as Lambert keeps listing reasons as to why they should stop making pretty eyes at each other and get their asses to Vesemir's congratulatory dinner. Shaking his head, Geralt stands up. He offers Jaskier his hand. "Are you coming?"

Jaskier's ring scratches Geralt's hand as he takes it. It's a pleasant feeling.

"Always."

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part VIII

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,165

Note: Leave your thoughts please! 💛

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9

“I don’t want to leave King’s Landing! What about you and Tommen? No one can separate us! Please Y/N, I don’t want to go to Dorne.” Myrcella was weeping holding you tight by the waist.

“You’ll be safer in Dorne, little one. It’s dangerous if you stay. I promise you I’ll visit Sunspear as soon as I can. They will give you a warm welcome. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” You keep saying to ease her worries. She’ll be just fine, you thought.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You are my sister. We’ll be in each other’s hearts till the end of time.” You wiped her tears.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Myrcella.” Sansa greeted you. Another two courtiers arrived to be with her.

“Lady Sansa, I love your dress! Did you make it yourself?” Myr announced.

“Yes, princess.” She chuckled.

“You should teach me how to do this beautiful stitching. Sadly we don’t have the time.”

“I’ll send you a golden gown as a present on your nameday” She grinned and went off to play hide & seek with the ladies. “You are going to miss your sister.” Sansa said.

“A lot. But I know it has a purpose. She’s strong.” You nodded.

“Just like you. I miss Arya. We had a complicated relation, she was always so annoying and I was a brat. I should have cherished the moments we had together. She’s out there all alone.” With a sad voice she spoke.

“We will find her.”

“May I ask you something?” She doubtfully inquired.

“Anything.”

“You don’t like to be around Joffrey?”

“No. And I’m glad he hardly ever request my presence. We had a messy childhood. I’ve been closer to my siblings since they were born. They brought light to my life. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them.”

“I admire you, Y/N.” You smiled.

“Lady Sansa, do you fancy poetry?”

“I do! It’s very romantic.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I made you a poem... you inspired me. Here it goes...

Big vivid blue eyes

Gentler than the ocean sea

Long silky auburn locks

Warmer than a sunset

This a lady, a lady who will own the world.”

You created it the very first day you meet her, of course, you wouldn’t recite it to her when you barely knew each other. It was way too short but it meant something.

“Woah... Y/N I’m speechless. You are so sweet. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Right, friend.

“Of course you do.” You said. She kissed your cheek the same way you kissed hers the other night. Swiftly and subtly. Gods it felt so good. If anyone was watching they could see how blushed you two were.

“May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?” Tyrion was weary of his sister’s stubbornness.

“You may, specifically, or you may ask vaguely. The answer will be the same.” She nonchalant answered.

“It’s important we talk about this.” He insisted.

“It’s the King’s royal prerogative to withhold sensitive information from his councilors.” Cersei was looking from the balcony to the gardens the longing stare Sansa had on you. You watched with a heavy heart over the younger princess so you weren’t paying much attention. The Queen Regent didn’t like the idea of that kind of closeness between you both. She didn’t suspect anything either, not more than devotion the northern lady held for Y/N. Still, it bothered her you always stood up for her. “That whore should stay away from my daughter.” She declared.

“Why? It seems they get along pretty well, your son loves to torture her. She found someone who treats her right. I don’t quite understand the reason you’re mad about it.”

“She’s poisoning her. Manipulating her. Y/N is so naive. That girl thinks she has her under her claws at her disposition.”

“What you are saying doesn’t make any sense. They are just girls. What harm can they do to each other?

“Will you send her away as well? Maybe you should have considered Y/N instead of Myrcella.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. Still so bitter and distant with Y/N. She knows how to fight, how to defend herself. She’s brave. Just like her father Robert Baratheon was. Only three of your four children are sane. But I’m really curious about this... how can you put one of them above the other? Being so hurtful with your actions and your words, Y/N experienced that. Where were you when she needed you the most?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love her. In my own way. She’s my blood, and for good or for bad, blood is for life.” Tyrion let out a tired sighed of disbelief. Then he left.

“My friend...” Varys approached you.

“What news, Lord Varys?”

“Your uncle Renly. He’s dead.”

“How?”

“He was stabbed in the heart. Some say it was Lady Catelyn Stark, his own Kingsguard, and others Stannis Baratheon himself. We don’t know for sure.” You knew this was a high possibility due to the quarrel between Stannis and Renly, though it was soon you were pretty sad about the fact he’s gone. He was always good to you.

It was the day Myrcella was leaving home to be in an unknown place. She was terrified, truth be told you were too but you had to remain strong and positive.

“My lioness, I’m sure the next time we see each other you’ll be even more beautiful. Five years, twenty years, we’ll always be the same.” You were trusting Dorne to take care of her.

“Just a bit older. Who is going to stay with me when I have a nightmare or when-“

“As father told me, don’t be scared even in the face of danger. You will never be alone. I love you.” You kissed her forehead bidding her goodbye.

“Promise you will never forget about me Y/N.”

“I promise.”

“May the seven guide the princess on her journey...”

Tommen was sobbing, the septa cleaned his face. You held him whispering she was going to be safe and soon enough you’ll be seeing her again.

“You sound like a cat meowing for his mother. Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey hissed with his arms folded. You were to busy comforting your baby brother to pay him any attention.

“I saw you cry.” Sansa blunted out.

“Did you say something, my lady?” He turned to her.

“My little brother cried when I left Winterfell.”

“So?”

“It seems a normal thing.”

“Is your little brother a prince?”

“No?”

“Not really relevant, isn’t it?” He irritably replied.

“Some people care for their siblings, you don’t care for any of us. That’s why you are so stone-hearted about it.” You kept looking at Myrcella almost gone boat. He gave you a withering look before walking. Sansa was emotionless, perhaps because of her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, they were alright.

“Come, dog.”

You followed the guards. In the hall, a crowd started to yell things at the King. Tommen was taken back to the Keep while your mother and you stayed close to each other, she held your hand.

“Hail to the King!”

“Murderer! Bastard!”

“Please your grace, we are hungry!”

Suddenly a piece of cow excrement was thrown to his arrogant face. “Who threw that? I want the man who threw that! Find him and bring him to me! Kill them! Kill them all!” Sansa handmaidens were keeping her close. The Lannister guardsmen shielded you and Cersei while the folk tried to get to your eldest brother. They were rioting, it was chaos.

“Move, move!” Tyrion ducked his head. You tried to follow the tall girl but she left your sight.

You entered a big gate to safety. “Where’s the Stark girl?” Tyrion shouted.

“Let them have her!” Joffrey furiously screamed.

Wasting no time you ran to the exit not caring about the riot happening outside.

You entered a short corridor, almost tripping by your feet. When you found her she was on the ground with her clothes ripped off, crying while trying to break free from the man’s grip.

“Have you ever been fucked?” You heard the disgusting person say.

“Take your hands off her!” You pushed one of them and hit him. The other flee and the last punched you in the stomach and then slapped you. The northerner was terrified. In that precise moment, before you kept fighting, The Hound arrived and spun the leader down, then disemboweled him, the second begged for mercy, resulting in him cutting his throat. He first offered to help you what you refused so he could carry the Stark girl. She was in shock.

Now you were in the gated area. You heavily sighed. “The Princess is hurt! So is the little bird.”

“Thank you, Sandor.” He nodded.

“Y/N! Are you alright? Did the assailants do something to you?” Tyrion worriedly asked you.

“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, trying to catch your breath.

“That was stupid.”

“Well, Joffrey is a slow thinker.”

“Your mother is going to be so angry about this.”

“I don’t care, uncle. You know it.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disapprove. “My lady. They will take you back to the Red Keep. I will personally treat your wounds okay?”

“You already have done too much, my princess. I-“

“Please.” She nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”

You entered Cersei’s chambers, she was expecting you. Both hands on her waist. “What the hell were you thinking?! Are you an idiot? I’ve sent one of my daughters away and now the other is almost raped and killed the same day!” She was all hysterical.

“Mother, your son wasn’t deciding. Someone had to. Without Lady Sansa we’ll never see Jaime again. I’m the only person who cares for the innocent people? I wouldn’t let them hurt her.” You fought back.

“She is not worth risking your life for. You are trying to follow your father to the grave! It’s not about honor. It’s about your safety. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” She argued.

“You won’t.” You walked out leaving her with a mad expression.

“She was so brave Shae! She came to my aid when I thought those people were going to hurt me. She’s so fearless.”

“It was a very silly act. Things could have gotten worse.”

“But they didn’t. Sandor also helped. But Y/N,s boldness is remarkable.” Shae peered at her knowing what Sansa really meant.

You knocked on the redhead door. “I hope it’s not too late. My mother kept talking, I couldn’t wiggle my way out.” You excused yourself.

“Come in. I was waiting for you. Shae insisted on do it herself.”

“Princess. My lady.”

“Goodnight, Shae. She’s in good hands.” She gave you a little smile.

“Did you have supper already?”

“Yes, I took a quick bath too.” Sansa gestured you to sit down.

“I see. Your hair is still wet.” You quipped.

“You saved me. Again.” She began.

“Actually, Sandor saved us. I’m glad I arrived in time.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t let them. I won’t let anyone touches you ever again. I’m sorry. It must have been very frightening to you.”

“It was. You rescued me. I’m so grateful, Y/N. But your life is way more important than mine. Stop doing it.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You took the kerchief smearing in it some ointment.

“I’m serious. You are very brave. I don’t want you to get seriously injured because of me.” She insisted, more serious this time.

“I wouldn’t blame you. No harm will come to you while I’m around. I mean it. What I wouldn’t do to save you?”

“You are so stubborn. I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the King more than any of them.”

“I know you would and I know you do, we share the same feeling about him.”

“Oh, gods! I’m a fool! I didn’t notice until now that you are also hurt.” She concernedly acknowledged.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off.

“Of course it does.”

“You first.” With the fabric, you began to swab her eyebrow cut.

“Auch.”

“It’s not deep. Does it hurt?”

“A little. What about yours?” She carefully touched your lower lip with her thumb.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Let me clean it.” You found her eyes staring at your lips.

“The-the cut will disappear soon.” She stuttered.

“I won’t.” She looked up yo meet your eyes.

“What?”

“I won’t stop risking my life to keep you safe.” Not only you were doing this for the promise you made to Lady Catelyn, or because it was the right thing to do, not even for honor or recognition, but because you were falling harder and harder for her, you were deeply in love with the she-wolf.

[maehara-san]

a drunk memory || shota aizawa x reader||

Pairing: College!Shota Aizawa x F!Reader 

Summary: You were confident that this was the best choice, yet deep down there was a storm filled with sadness and regret. One drunken call made you admit the truth. 

Words: 1,448 

Warning(s): Angst, Alcohol, 

The streets were lonely. Your heels echoed in the dimly night, it’s like everyone knew how you felt. No cars were passing by yet it was still early, only 8 pm. The days that you wished for there to be strangers around is the day that none showed up. You chuckled lightly as a tear trickled down your cheek.

‘Did I just do that?’ you thought, holding your forehead as your hair fell forward. ‘I’m such a freaking idiot!’

You wanted to scream out, curse at yourself. But you swallowed down the sobs that needed escaping. The saying of “If you love something let it go. If it was meant to be...”

“It will come back to you...” you mumbled realizing how ridiculous it sounded. You were the one who let him go, there was no reason why he would come back. Not when you finished things with no explanation.

A tall building lit up your way, looking up the sign read ‘Open till midnight. Sendai Bar! Come’

You bit your lip debating whether to drink your pain away, you’ve never tried it before. Alcohol never came into your mind when it was about dealing with emotional issues. Curiosity got the best of you, upon opening the door a soft melody was echoing around the place. Walking inside, you saw only a few people. They were mostly college students and a few adults drinking alone in the back.

The atmosphere was calm however you could feel the worries and sadness radiating off of them. “Welcome, what can I get for you today?” the bartender said smiling softly at you.

Closing the door your feet carried you over to the big bar. You were still debating on whether walking out or taking the man’s offer. “Um...” you muttered not sure of what to order. “I...uh- w-whatever is good...I guess.”

He looked at you, almost reading your aura. “It looks like you could use something strong. Rough day?” he asked preparing a special drink for you.

“Y-yeah...” you rubbed your arm averting the eye contact. The kind bartender then placed the white green drink in front of you. “...what...is this?”

“A midsummer’s night dream drink,” he replied. “It has only a slight of vodka so you should be fine.”

“Thank you,” you replied, not examining the beautiful drink you went ahead and took a sip. Your throat burned badly with the vodka, It felt horrible but in a good way that made you forget the pain for a bit.

“I’ve never seen you around here.” the man spoke, “Is this your first time in a bar?”

“Am...I that obvious?”

He chuckled shaking his head “There’s nothing bad about it. College is usually where people end up getting drunk. Not to mention the local bars that surround Tohoku University.”

“Yeaah...my friends told me that they got this one. But I declined every time since I don’t like alcohol,” you added.

“Then something bad must’ve happened for you to drink then,” he said placing the empty glass on the table. You had no idea what took over you that you drank the green liquid in one gulp.

Your head was starting to feel light-headed, shaking it off you gave the glass to him. “Give me something...a l-little...s-stronger please.”

He didn’t say anything and poured a shot of a transparent liquid. It was either vodka again or sake. Then the song began to play, your hand-formed into a tight fist as you tried to hold back the tears that were hanging on to your lower eyelids.

“Whatever it is you’re going through...know it’s something that probably needs to happen.” he softly spoke. “Happiness doesn’t last forever neither does the pain.”

You held onto the small shot glass and then drank it without hesitation. The burn was intense although it wasn’t as bad as the first one you had. Your body felt light, your eyesight became a bit blurry. Grabbing your phone you unlocked it without even looking at the screen and pressed on someone’s phone number.

At this point the bubbly feeling landed on your chest, giggling you made a noise hearing it ring. After a few seconds, a voice finally came through.

“Hello?” the person spoke, “Who is this?”

Your breathing got caught in your throat, the tears slipped away one by one as they landed on your dark blue jeans. “H-Hey...” you responded softly.

“Y/n...” he said, “Do you need...um something?”

There was no power in your mind, you spoke whatever came out of your lips without thinking twice about it. “I....drank a lot with friends...t-today...sorry,” you mumbled into the phone.

Shota sighed knowing well he was in the same boat too. “It’s late...you should go home,” he replied rubbing his face as his long hair dropped by his shoulders.

“Yeah...” you paused then continued “Are...you home?”

He nodded and responded with a soft “Mmm.” there were many things he wanted to say to you. Yet there was a big boulder keeping him from spitting out all he needed to admit.

“You...didn’t drink?... Not at all?” you asked wondering if your actions seemed foolish for this occasion.

“No...” he admitted, knowing what you already knew to b true. You cracked a small smile, realizing how mature he was.

“I can’t say the same thing for me...” you chuckled “I guess...I decided to seek something else instead of going straight home as I promised.”

“Are you alone?” a tiny feeling of love was felt in your heart.

‘He still cares...’ you thought.

“Does being with the bartender only...count as being alone? He’s listened to me...even though I’ve never tasted alcohol before.”

“You should call one of your friends to pick you up...” he suggested, “Do you want me to call Nemuri-”

“Nope.” you quickly answered, “I don’t...want to leave yet...”

“I see.” he said, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Don’t hang up!” you exclaimed, “Please...not yet...not right now Shota...”

“I don’t see the point...you’re drunk...you won’t remember anything you say tomorrow. Let’s save ourselves before we hurt anymore.”

“Then...at least you’ll remember this call...” you sniffled wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. “I miss you...”

He tried holding his emotions back, there was no reason to act up when you were the one who broke his heart. “Can I go see you?...” you whispered, “One...last time please...”

“No.” he firmly said without any hint of regret, “I...don’t think you should. It’s not good to do this.”

“I’ll bring you your favorite noodles. I know you’re a sucker for somen.” you were only fooling yourself. You knew tomorrow morning this conversation would have no space in your mind. This was the last interaction before you’d permanently say goodbye. “Just wait...I’ll get on a taxi right now and bring them right over-”

Cutting you off he then replied trying to calm himself down. “Don’t you remember we broke up? We...broke up,” he repeated. “There’s...no reason for you to come over...or call. There’s no point in trying...this is how you wanted things to happen.”

“I know I did...” you choked “I...chose to break your heart...I shouldn’t have called...I-I just...I just couldn’t stop myself from calling you one last time...”

“Why?...”

“Because you...are the love of my life.” breaking down in front of a stranger was humiliating to you. Often at times, you cried by yourself to not let others see you so broken apart. The kind stranger only gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I was.” he emphasized, “I was...the love of your life.”

“You still are-”

“No, I’m not. If you truly loved me...then you wouldn’t have broken my heart in the first place. That’s exactly what you did...please...go home...and forget about me.” he said putting pressure on his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

“I’m sorry.” you whispered “You deserve better than me...I shouldn’t have done what I did to you. Breaking your heart was the last thing I ever dreamed of doing.”

“Then why did you?” he asked “Why?!” he exclaimed raising his voice.

Sniffling you cleared your throat to try and talk “I can’t tell you...I’m sorry.”

“Then you’re not truly sorry...you come to my place and end it. You can’t even give me a reason why?...”

“I know I’m a horrible...human being!” you yelled not caring who stared at you.

The line went silent, you could only hear each other breathing. Giving him the explanation at this point would make things worse. He was already suffering as it is, adding more to the wound will tear him apart.

“I’m so sorry...” you repeated.

“Don’t call again...you don’t have to bother anymore.” The line then went dead silent all you could hear was the tone when someone hung up. Your phone slipped away from your hand, dropping to the floor not caring if it broke.

You buried your head in your arms and cried out the pain that was killing you.

I found my puzzle piece...now it’s incomplete once again.

[wrestledwiththegods]

How would the Papas + Copia react to one of their congregation (female, very devout, never misses a service/Ritual) having their heart broken with a sudden break up. The pain is such that abruptly she stops attending? (Of course she's always had secret feelings for the Papas + Copia).

- It might not be apparent to everyone, but Papa Nihil sees a lot more than he says. It's easy for him to play into the feeble foolish old man routine to put people's guards down. So he doesn't raise an alarm when he sees you not attending. Likely he goes to a place in the church he would expect you to frequent or even looks for you during a meal time and sits next to you. Not like anyone would stop him from taking a friendly interest in a sibling. He would have some light conversation before noting that he didn't see you during his last service. Did he miss you? No? Oh, child, what could have caused you to not attend? He hopes you're feeling well. If it comes out that its because your heart was broken... oh no, that won't do at all. He would joke that he could have the person used for the next round of sacrifices. Just to test the waters of how you feel. He would give good advice for someone his age. That obviously this person didn't deserve you anyways. You need someone who can see just what an amazing person you are. He kisses your hands and even gives a wink. Before he leaves he mentions oh, of course and should you want to catch up on what you missed, he would gladly give a private sermon just for you. Yes, he noticed your feelings- maybe not the depth but that they exist. He leaves the next step to you.

- Papa I is the type who would go to you directly. Are you sick or hurt? What happened? Of course he would understand if maybe you weren't feeling up to it or the like. But when you open the door, eyes red and swollen from crying, he feels the normal sense of formality he would keep leave him. You're in his arms and he's attempting to comfort you through this pain. He would likely pull into your room to sit on your bed while brushing your hair with his hands. Of course he understands. He knows all too well what it's like to have your heart hurt in such a way. Once he wiped your tears away, he would tell you just how worried he was. That, should there be a next time, please feel more than welcome to come to him with any troubles. After all, he cares for you. He… had some small worry that you might not be interested in his sermons anymore. Since that isn't the case, he will be glad to see you as soon as you feel able. Take your time of course! Papa is very quick to try and talk over the "cares for you" bit. But if its mentioned you feel the same way he sort of pauses. He would have a gentle laugh, "Ah. You mean as your mentor, yes?" Reassure him. He would flush. Pull you close. Apologize that it took you such pains to make him an incredibly ecstatic man.

- Papa II at first might be concerned, then annoyed/concerned. You just decided to miss? Out of the blue? Don't tell him you're getting lax in your devotion to his words. He would probably ask around first, see just what could have inspired this. A breakup? Ridiculous. Let me be clear, it's not that he doesn't understand or doesn't care. But with this man not being someone in long term romantic relationships often, he kind of forgets (note: doesn't want to remember) how devastating it can feel. He would bite his lip when no one was watching. Perhaps he needed to look into this himself. After all, he does find you quite charming. He comes to the conclusion that this person was an idiot and that you deserve better anyways. At the next service you attend, he'll pull you aside at some point to tell you so himself. And that, in some turn of phrase, he missed seeing you. If you stopped attending entirely, he will seek you out and tell you what he really thinks. If a love confession just happens to come out of it on both sides, who knows what could happen ;)

- When Papa III finds out, he almost scoffs. Not at you, of course. What sort of moron would just dump you? You're a shining example of how his congregation exceeds all expectations. You're beautiful. And, he tells himself, nothing but kind to your papa. You've always treated him as a person and not just a stepping stone or placed him on some far-distant pedestal. After some debate about it he goes to visit you. When you open the door, he's probably ready with a cheesy sort of joke about how you're looking for a replacement. However at the sight of how upset you are, his heart feels like it could stop. His hands go to your arms and his voice is so soothing, "Oh, sweetheart…" imagine ugly crying and he's almost laughing because he can't believe how cute you still are. He's gonna call your ex every name in the book because what a stronzo. Absolute idiot. Who in their right mind would pass up the chance at being with you? He certainly wouldn't! It sort of slips from his lips, the dork. Sometimes his lack of a filter bit him on the ass like this. Part of him hoped you wouldn't notice and he could go on making you happy and not feeling uncomfortable. If you asked him if he meant it, he would go uncharacteristically somber. "Of course." He said it, didn't he? He understands if you don't feel the same way- you've just been hurt after all. As attractive as he is, he's not quite so vain to think he's irresistible. Imagine the shock and happy look when you tell him the truth. He might tease, "so you were looking for a upgrade? Allow me to provide my services." He has a stupid grin on his face but dammit all if it isn't charming.

- Copia notices. He notices all of those sort of things. In the back of his mind he plays it off as your own business and that you would be back the next service. And then you weren't. His ears go to the ground and find out exactly what happened. How that person hurt you so deeply. How they humiliated you. Shortly after, something bad happens to your ex. I'll leave severity to your imagination. Copia hopes it's enough to get you to come back. Should you miss again (his lips in a tight frown) is when he personally steps in. You can tell he's nervous as he approaches you. His smile shakes a little when he tells you honestly that he was concerned and wondered when you would be back to services. After all, he has periods where he leaves for tour and values the time he has with you. Erm. Not just with you but- He means- right. He likes seeing you! Wait. Shit. You can practically read this playing out over his face. The truth is, he notices you a lot more than others. You suddenly not showing up made him realize just how much he missed you when you weren't around. This is the first time you've noticed his gaze isn't intense and that his cheeks and ears are tinged with red. If you were to tell him how you felt the same, a weight would be lifted from his shoulders. He would ask if you could discuss this more… privately- with a kiss to your cheek.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #455

Top Ten Comedy Sidekicks

Ha, LOL, ROFL, guffaw, snort. Comedy, eh? You’ve got to love it, unless you somehow fall through a timewarp into a late-seventies working men’s club in Blackburn and you find yourself choking to death on second-hand smoke, mother-in-law jokes, and a simmering undercurrent of racist violence. Good times!

Anyway, it’s fairly common that even in the most serious of narratives and with the most serious of protagonists, we need a little chuckle very now and again (nobody tell Zack Snyder – actually, no, scratch that, somebody definitely tell Zack Snyder). It lightens the load, makes the world more nuanced and realistic, and even makes the truly dark moments stand out all the stronger. Most films have a bit of a joke every once in a while (and, of course, Shakespeare’s tragedies are full of comic characters or bits of business), and one very common trope is the Comedy Sidekick.

What is a Comedy Sidekick? Well, it’s a supporting character who offers comic relief, basically. sometimes this can be obviously discernible – Luis in Ant-Man, for example, may function as a plot engine from time to time, but has little in the way of actual character development and is mostly there to be funny whilst the heroes do hero stuff. Sometimes it’s harder to define; I mean, are either of the Blues Brothers a comedy sidekick? Arguably Jake is the lead and Elwood is a bit more of a “turn” (he’s almost eternally deadpan and unemotional), but I’d never say one was inherently funnier or “straighter” than the other. And the you get onto films like Aladdin: sure, Aladdin himself is obviously the protagonist, and there’s an argument to be made that the Genie is a comic relief supporting character, but I feel in this case he’s far too integral to the plot, played by a significantly more famous actor, and really just dominates the film to the extent that he becomes the de facto lead (see also: Captain Jack Sparrow). Again, in Men in Black, Will Smith’s J is clearly the “funny” one, but Smith is also the bigger star and the audience entry point; plus, Tommy Lee Jones is hilarious as the deadpan K. So it’s not as simple as it may first appear.

Anyway, the ten in this list are ones I define as definitely being supporting characters. They may be big characters, in terms of plot or development, but they’re definitely there in support of another protagonist. And whilst they may be fully-rounded characters with their own arcs, their primary function is to be funny; they’re the ones who deliver the comedy lines back to the main character, or crack a joke at the end of a serious bit.

Right, I think that’s my usual ridiculous caveats out of the way. Now let’s make ‘em laugh.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson, Blackadder series, 1983-99): Baldrick is one of the supreme comic idiots in all of fiction. Serving as a perfect foil to Blackadder, he is not only supremely stupid but also his niceness and naiveté serves to undercut his master’s wickedness; plus his idiocy is often the undoing of Blackadder’s villainous plans. But he is also charmingly fully-rounded, oblivious to his own stupidity, possessed of “cunning plans”, and with a great love of turnips. A phenomenal turn from Robinson.

Sir John Falstaff (various plays by William Shakespeare, from 1597): is it cheating to include as significant and iconic a literary figure as Falstaff? Feels a bit like it, especially as he's practically a lead (and, indeed, becomes one in Merry Wives). But really he’s the archetype: a supremely vain and self-serving comic foil, but one with vast hidden depths as he’s keenly aware of his own frailties and the inevitable end of his good times with Prince Hal.

Father Dougal McGuire (Ardal O’Hanlon, Father Ted 1995-98): in many ways he’s a slightly watered-down version of Baldrick’s comic idiot; but Dougal is, if anything, even stupider, and less self-aware. He’s like a perfect idiot, a beautiful naïve fool, a supreme man-child with his Masters of the Universe duvet. And he’s divine, just incredibly hilarious throughout; and, like Baldrick, serves as the perfect foil for his more duplicitous and cynical elder.

Donkey (Eddie Murphy, Shrek, 2001): animated sidekicks are very often the comic relief, and I’d argue that Murphy’s Donkey is as good as they come. I actually think Murphy’s prior turn as Mushu in Mulan is probably the better character, but Donkey is just a comic force of nature, a creature who exists only to make everything dafter and funnier. It allowed Murphy a chance to go all-out in a way he hadn’t on screen for quite some time, and it was something we’d rarely seen in animation (arguably only Robin Williams’ Genie is in the same ballpark). Plus, he actually is a good friend to Shrek, bringing out his better nature. Well done, Eddie!

Danny Butterman (Nick Frost, Hot Fuzz, 2007): another of those characters who really skirts the edges of “supporting comic relief” and is really a deuteragonist. But I feel like most of Frost’s characters in his partnerships with Simon Pegg are, essentially, supportive; Pegg is almost always the lead. In this film, despite Danny having some great development and functioning almost as a romantic partner for Pegg’s Nick Angel, he’s usually presented as a beautiful comic foil, his folksy, slobby demeanour contrasting perfectly with Angel’s straitlaced professionalism. And – for the second film in a row – he gets a tremendous C-bomb.

Luis (Michael Peña, Ant-Man, 2015): another comic fool, Luis is the silly, charming, endearing, loveable thorn in the side of Paul Rudd’s Scott Lang. He’s daft, yeah, and comes across as a bit dim, but his permanently-smiling demeanour means we just keep on loving him, even when we can see how annoying he would be. but what cements his position is his rapid-fire OTT explanations, and how the movie presents them; pieces of comedic joy in the MCU.

Cosmo Brown (Donald O’Connor, Singin’ in the Rain, 1952): Singin’ is one of those great Golden Age movies full of witty dialogue (as well as great songs, natch), and by its nature Gene Kelly is the lead and therefore straight man, whereas O’Connor’s Cosmo can be wackier and funnier, and in doing so get to the truth of what his friend is feeling. But what really gets him in this list is his performance of “Make ‘Em Laugh”, running up walls like he’s in The Matrix or something, and feeling like a Bugs Bunny cartoon brought to life.

Silent Bob (Kevin Smith, View Askiewniverse, from 1994): I guess you could argue that both Bob and his less-silent colleague Jay are, as a twosome, the comedy sidekicks in whichever films they’re in (apart from the two they headline, I guess); but if you take the pair on their own, I’d say Bob is the comic of the duo. Yeah, it’s Jay who’s the mile-a-minute loudmouth, cracking jokes and being explosively filthy. But who really gets the laughs? For my money it’s Smith’s perfectly-judged expressions, punctuating the pomposity or reinforcing the eccentricity of whatever Jay’s on about. And then every now and again he gets to speak, and delivers a great one-liner (“no ticket!”) or serious, heartfelt monologue (cf. Chasing Amy).

Semmi (Arsenio Hall, Coming to America, 1988): Semmi is supposed to be a loyal and devoted servant to Prince Akeem, and he is, I guess; but he’s also a true friend. Akeem’s quest to find love in New York is genuine, and despite the film’s high joke quantity, Eddie Murphy has to be relatively restrained in his lead role. Hall’s Semmi, on the other hand, gets to be acerbic, throwing shade and barbs at his lord, questing their quest and seeking his own share of wealth and, well, women. And we all love his line “you sweat from a baboon’s balls”.

Dory (Ellen DeGeneres, Finding Nemo, 2003): as discussed above, comedy cartoon sidekicks are a cinematic staple. They’re not often female, however, and even more rare is a female character who gets to be both funnier and seemingly dumber/goofier than the lead. Of course, Dory is full of pathos, a borderline tragic character whose chronic memory loss has a dreadful impact on her day-to-day life. It’s her sunny optimism (“just keep swimming!”) that makes her endearing more than her humour, however; and, of course, it’s this optimism that begins to chip away at Marlin’s (Albert Brooks’) flinty suit of armour. Funny, warm, makes our hero a better person, but can be a little bit sad – perfect comedy sidekick.

There are two that I’m annoyed that I couldn’t fit in so I'll mention them here: Carrie Fisher in When Harry Met Sally and Danny Kaye in White Christmas. In the former case, whilst Fisher’s Marie is hilarious throughout, and definitely comic relief when put alongside the relatively straight Sally, the fact that everyone, really, gets a lot of funny lines in what is a consistently funny film kinda knocked her down the rankings a little bit, even though I feel bad about it, because everything is always better if Carrie FIsher is in it, including these lists. Kaye’s Phil Davis in White Christmas absolutely steals that film from Bing Crosby, with fast-paced witty wordplay and some supreme physical comedy, and the running gag about how he saved the life of Crosby’s Bob Wallace is golden. But, I dunno, he just kept slipping down the list, despite being my favourite thing in that film. Sorry, Danny.

[padfootagain]

The Flower Shop Around The Corner (VII)

Part 7 : Bathed In The Sun

Here I come again with a new chapter for this fic! It's getting so cute!!! I hope you all like this! :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 3722

Three weeks was all that Chris had left.

Three weeks to make you forget about Wallet Guy and make you interested in him instead.

With each day that passed by, it seemed that he fell harder for you. While he managed to hide his growing crush, he also had to keep on being the Wallet Guy. Which felt wrong, now that he knew who you really were and was developing feelings for the real you. With every letter he wrote, the pinch of guilt held on his heart. But he didn't have a choice. He had to keep on pretending to be Wallet Guy. It was the only way to keep you into his life so fully. Besides… he still adored receiving your letters, that fact hadn't changed in the slightest.

To learn to know you better, and get a chance to show you that he wasn't the jerk you thought he was, he tried to spend more and more time with you. From that night at the bar, he had asked you to accompany him and a few other colleagues to a few other nights out. And then one day, he had complained about not having anyone to go to the cinema with, and couldn't refrain his heart from jumping in his chest as you offered him company. You had since then shared two lunches, two more nights at the cinema and even an afternoon walking along the Hudson River.

And all along, you were laughing and joking, and soft…

And he tried to be clever, and funny, and show you that he was more than what you once thought he was. A clown seeking for attention. It was a good sum up of what you had said that night at the café. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the words away.

But now you laughed with him, and welcomed him with a warm smile every morning. He reckoned that it had to mean that you saw more in him than that now, did you not?

He bit on the pen as he looked for the right words, preparing the letter for you to find the next morning.

Meanwhile, Carlotta was staring at him with a disapproving look.

"You are taking terrible decisions with your life," she reprimanded him, making Chris look up at her with an arched eyebrow.

"Nice to hear," he replied, but Carlotta didn't laugh, nor smile.

"You should tell her the truth!"

"I can't. How many times do I have to tell you? And you've promised me not to tell her!"

"Of course not. It's your job to tell her, not mine. I'm merely the cupid here, the messenger of love! But you are the romantic Romeo, and you should be honest with your Juliet. How many deaths would have been spared if only these two idiots had talked in the first place?!"

"That's not that simple, Carlotta."

"It is, though. That's the problem for 95% of all that goes wrong on this Earth. People don't talk to each other enough."

"If I tell her, it's over. She'll push me away for good."

"You underestimate her."

"First, I have to make sure she likes the company of the real me."

"But she already does."

"I'm not so sure. And I have to be sure."

She crossed her arms before her chest, giving him a pointy look.

"You're just afraid to tell her."

"Of course I'm not afraid to tell her."

"Oh, yes, you are!"

"I'm not afraid of her."

"You're afraid of her reaction. You're afraid that all you feel for her could be unrequited. You're afraid she might push you away. But that's a chance all of us have to take, sweetheart."

He didn't answer at first. He merely let the florist's words sink in. There was quite a lot of undeniable truth in her words. But oh… how he wished he could push her thoughts away anyway.

When he spoke again, there was more sadness than before in his blue eyes.

"I have little time left anyway. I'll tell her soon, I promise. But for now… for now, I need to make sure we can stay friends after she finds out the truth…"

"We both know you're aiming for more than friends."

"Stop calling on me like that. It feels like I'm a mere open book to you!"

"That's because you are an open book, Chris."

"I'm mysterious."

"An open book, that's what you are."

He gave her a sad smile, before letting his eyes fall back onto the letter he was still working on, the pen orbiting a few centimetres above the blue paper, the ink not yet dry on the page. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Do you think she'll forgive me? Do you think she'll forgive me for being Wallet Guy?"

"She doesn't need to forgive you for being that, Chris."

But you did. Or so he thought at least. Because he was that colleague you used to hate, and that man you valued so much at the same time. You had to forgive him for being only Chris in real life, instead of that perfect stranger you had clearly fallen for through ink and paper. He wasn't the dream he had made you feel like while writing to you, and he needed to make it up to you, somehow. You would be so disappointed to see that the Wallet Guy was only Chris Evans in the end. How could he break that dream of yours?

But he didn't reply to Carlotta, and merely resumed his writing instead. He didn't need to speak for Carlotta to clearly read through his heart, though. The words were written all over his features after all.

And she was right.

 --------------------------------------------------------------

 "Oh, it was such a good idea to come here, Chris! It's a beautiful day!"

You closed your eyes as you walked by his side, turning your face up to meet the warm sun. You heaved a content sigh. Meanwhile, Chris was staring at you with a dreamy smile on his lips.

He wondered why it had taken him so long to see this side of you, maybe it was just a coincidence, maybe it was all his fault or mainly yours. He had no clue, but he reckoned it didn't matter. Because he saw you now, the real you. More complex than Peony and yet just as wonderful, as talented and proud as his colleague, and yet so much more.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, focussing on the path before him again. The sun shone brightly upon New York, and Central Park seemed to glimmer under the warm light. The leaves shed some green light on the paths, while the water of both fountains and ponds reflected the blinding yellow light of the star. Many people had had the same idea as the two of you to spend their Saturday afternoon, and children ran across the grass, and couples walked hand in hand, and friends talked and laughed sitting on benches. Some flowers remained in full bloom despite the end of summer, sparkling their colours through the mostly green scenery.

Dodger was trotting a few steps ahead of you, looking back once in a while to see if you still followed him. You had been out with Chris and his dog a couple of times already, and the animal adored you already. Chris guessed that he had good taste in people.

"I can't believe we have so little time left here," you sighed, your eyes wandering through the park. "It didn't feel so long after all."

"That's mostly because you stopped hating me," Chris laughed.

"I've never hated you."

"You did. You did hate me."

"It wasn't hate, it was… I just… didn't like you very much."

You were not used to talk about this particular topic with him. It felt a little strange, a little forbidden. As you thought about it, between Chris becoming your friend and your letters to Wallet Guy, your life in New York was a crazy one.

A couple of ducks crossed the path ahead of you, Dodger barking at them and bringing an amused smile to your lips. But Chris was not done with the subject yet.

"I'm happy we're friends now," he let out in an uncertain tone, a little fragile.

You looked up at him, giving him a tender smile.

"Yeah… me too."

"We'll keep in touch once our job is done, right?"

"I would love to." You nodded, giving him a smile.

"Will you miss many people when you leave New York?"

The thought of Wallet Guy crossed your mind but you didn't know how to say this without being ridiculous.

Exchanging letters with a stranger in a flower shop, how mad was that?

"Yeah… a few."

Your vague answer made Chris roll his eyes.

"Come on! Tell me! Have you made friends or… met someone?"

He was good at hiding the way his heart sped up as he waited for your answer.

You nervously brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"I… There's this man I… I like… It's a long story."

"Who is he?"

"It's complicated."

"I won't tell anyone, you know? I mean… we're friends now, you can tell me."

You stared at him for a moment, ignoring the children passing next to you on their bikes at a speed way too high to be safe with so many people walking on the path. Instead, you lost yourself in his blue eyes for a long while and…

It wasn't a way you lost yourself in a friend's eyes. You recognized the feeling, you had felt it before. It was something different, more intimate, more… you couldn't bring yourself to use that word…

But as you stared into his baby blue eyes, you realized that he was right. You trusted him. He was your friend. You felt comfortable enough around him to talk about anything. So why not talk about Wallet Guy?

"Promise me you won't laugh at me, cause it's not funny at all," you warned him.

"You have my word. Tell me everything. Who's this guy?"

"I… I don't know his name."

He frowned, and was excellent at hiding how fast his heart was beating.

"Really? How come?"

"I… I write to him. Anonymously."

"Like… on the internet?"

"No, letters. Paper and pencils, you remember those?"

He chuckled, but let you continue.

"We… it's ridiculous really, but… I found his wallet in a flower shop, and he left a note for me, to thank me. And then I left him a note too. And he left another and another and… things evolved into letters and we write to each other every day now."

"Sounds romantic," Chris smiled, and you were grateful when you detected no trace of mockery on his features.

"It's a bit silly."

"Not really. But you still don't know his name? For how long has this been going on?"

Chris struggled to let the words out, and he didn't have any idea on how he had managed to get them out in this conversational tone.

Because you had just revealed to him that you liked him. Or at least… Wallet Guy. You would miss Wallet Guy. You would miss Chris's letters discovered in the light of dawn. You would miss writing back for him to find your words in the fading twilight. You would miss him. When asked who you would miss in New York, it was him you thought of first. Chris's heart was swollen all of a sudden, growing and growing with a tender feeling until he was certain it would break his ribs to escape. Instead, the emotions had to be re-routed through his frame and reached his eyes to create tears there. It was overwhelming. Overwhelming, between happiness, and relief, and disappointment too.

Because he wasn't really Wallet Guy. And he had grown to lov… like you as more than Peony, but for now, you still thought of only this stranger with a pen. It was distressing really, to be competing against himself.

Maybe he should have told you then, that he was this mysterious man you wrote to. But then, what would happen? You didn't see Chris the way you saw Wallet Guy. You would still be disappointed that this man you thought was so extraordinary, actually was the normal Chris. Nothing extraordinary about him. Just him. And for now, you weren't fond of the normal him. The flawed one. For now, all you could see was the perfect part of him. Would you ever like Chris enough to love his flaws too? Oh, he hoped so, so ardently. Because he adored your flaws too by now…

"Almost since I came to New York, actually," you smiled a dreamy smile. "We wanted to keep it anonymous. And I don't know his job or anything too personal. We just talk about our days and how we feel and… what's going in the world… whatever we want to talk about, really."

"He sounds like a good guy."

"He is. He truly is. He… oh, yes, he truly is amazing."

"Wait… was that this guy you were to meet that night? At the café? Do you remember? When we still hated each other and I bumped into you."

You winced at the thought. And Chris thought it was because Wallet Guy didn't come. But it wasn't.

"I was so rude to you. I… I've never apologized properly actually, right?"

"Hey, it's nothing. I was being a knob, anyway."

"No, you… I mean, you were annoying. But I was straight up rude and a little bit cruel. And I'm sorry. I really am. Cause I… I didn't mean any of it. You just… I don't know why, it was just so easy insulting you. I'm usually so bad at this, I can't find my words and am barely gawking like a goldfish, and yet then with you I just… Was good at it."

"I don't know if I should take it as a compliment." He laughed, but you didn't join him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that I said. I don't think of you that way."

"Really? You don't?"

He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and his question came out in a fragile breath. As you looked up at him, he seemed vulnerable all of a sudden. And you hated yourself, you hated yourself so much for making him feel this way. You locked your arm with his, and he tried to ignore how good it felt to touch you, to have you walking close to him in that intimate manner. He knew it was just a friendly movement, but not to him. To him, it meant so much more.

"You're very talented, Chris," you spoke in a soft, soothing voice that left no place for lies, and he couldn't doubt your words. "And you're a very good and kind person. You're even a little funny."

This brought a soft laugh to both of you, before you went on.

"You're a good man. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner. I wish I had."

Chris shrugged your words away, trying to play it cool, when actually, he was on the verge of tears again. It was a such a relief to hear all this coming from you.

"You're rather amazing, Y/N, you know?"

His words were uttered in a mere whisper. But you caught them all the same and cherished them in a way that scared you a little.

You exchanged a smile, until Dodger was barking at a bunch of pigeons, and you both brought yourselves back to reality.

You bought some ice-creams and settled on a fresh patch of green grass, in the cool shade of an oak tree. And you couldn't deny that you hadn't felt this happy and peaceful in a long, very long time.

You laughed at him as he winced hard after taking a large bite into his frozen food.

“You’re too fast! I told you your brain would freeze!”

“This ice cream is too delicious. What can I do?” he replied with a shrug.

“You have no self control!”

“Not when it comes to ice creams, no.”

You let out a bright wave of laughter, and Chris couldn’t refrain a smile at the sight. You turned your face towards the bright summer sun, the star warming the lively park. Above your head, the oak deployed its large leaves, its branches stretched towards the sky. The shadow that it shed protected you from the hot weather, but the sun was so bright that you could feel its soothing warmth on your face anyway.

Dodger brushed his nose against your thigh, and you smiled as you started to pet his head. He waved his tail in contentment. And as you closed your eyes, licking your chocolate ice cream, your face still turned towards the sky to catch the sunlight, Chris didn’t even notice the smile that appeared on his features. It was a happy, tender smile though, that traced tiny lines at the corner of his eyes and made the two blue orbs glimmer. He only noticed his reaction as his heart started to quicken its pace, until it was pounding against his rib cage, as if it tried to escape his chest to get to you.

But he didn’t say anything. It was too soon. He didn’t stand a chance for now. He needed more time to make you change your mind.

Eventually, you turned to him again. Dodger started to whine when your hand left his fur, so you kept on stroking his head as you spoke to Chris again.

"I meant to ask you… if you don't mind answering…"

"Fire away," Chris encouraged you as you paused for several seconds.

"Now that you're done with playing Captain America, what kind of movies would you like to do? Cause you chose this one while you were still the Captain, so it doesn't really count."

"I already knew that it would soon be over though."

"Yes, but you were not directly confronted to the question. And now that you are… I guess things must be a little different, right?"

He slowly nodded, but didn't answer.

"I mean… You've been working with this character for ten years, he has to have become a part of you. I'm sure he changed you… for the better."

"For the better?" he asked back with mischief, and you rolled your eyes.

"That wasn't meant as a compliment for you," you replied, but your voice was too soft for the words to be true. "I mean… he's Captain America, he can't have a bad influence on someone. He's too virtuous for that."

"He is, you're right."

He stayed quiet for another moment, before answering. His blue eyes drifted across the grass before him, passed the laughing children and the walking couples without seeing them. His eyelashes caught drops of the sun, and you couldn't help but notice how long they were.

"I don't know what to do to be honest. It's a brand new chapter of my life that has started and I'm… terrified of it. I was terrified when I started to play this character, and I am terrified now to stop playing him. It's like… It's more than a job when you have to do so many movies with this same character. You're right, he became a part of me, and I… I grew up as a person thanks to him. He changed me. As a person, not just as an actor, and not just through my career."

"It changed everything for your career as well, though."

"Yes, it's definitely… It means the safety of a job in a field where there's none, really. I had my contract to do this amount of movies, I could still see that… three years ahead, no matter if I couldn't find any other job, I had this one, and that meant security, that was a solid point, an… an anchor in my professional life, Now, I'm going to be back with the full uncertainty of… desperately looking for a job, because otherwise there's no money coming in from any other project. I'm not complaining, I'm not pretending to be poor, but when you look three years ahead again… So much can happen in three years. And where there was this safety before, now there's just unknown. In a way it's exciting, cause it's been so long since I've lived like this, but in another way it's… just terrifying. And on a more personal point of view… He's been a way for me to improve as a man. I want to help others more because of him, I want to make a difference, I want to stand up for what is right… in circumstances where perhaps, before all this, I would have stayed quiet. But I can't do that anymore. Because I have his moral compass that has become… somehow my moral compass as well. And this part of him, I'll keep for the rest of my life. I know I will."

You gave him a soft smile.

"That's the best part, I reckon."

He finally turned to you again, and gave you back the same tender smile.

"It is," he nodded. "It really is."

His smile turned mischievous, and when he spoke again, his tone lacked the melancholy it had been wearing seconds before, replaced by something filled with joy instead.

"But I'm not him. We're still different. He wouldn't do that, for example."

And before you could reply he had pressed his ice-cream against your nose.

You loudly gasped, and cursed him under your breath, before getting your revenge and pressing your own ice-cream against his cheek.

"Not my beard!" he complained, trying to reach your face again.

"You're the one who started it!"

You were both laughing hard and giggling by now, and soon you lost your balance, Dodger taking a few cautious steps away. You dragged Chris with you in your fall onto the grass, and you kept on battling for a while, until all your strengths had disappeared because you were both laughing way too hard.

And Central Park bathed in sunlight was a shining place…

***************************

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[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya

Chapter 1: The Deal

If someone had told Nami a week ago that she’d willingly seek out Trafalgar Law, she would have called them an even bigger liar than Usopp. The rest of her crew might have only paid attention to their own bounties, but since entering the Grand Line, the brilliant navigator had kept tabs on who was who in the pirate world. In particular, the Surgeon of Death’s reputation had chilled her to the bone. He was a rockstar in the criminal underworld, especially where the black market organ trade was concerned. Rumors of his cruelty, intelligence, and abilities were whispered in bars and back alleys, all with a tone of reverence and fear. Some of them had to be hyperbole; there was no way that the hearts he sold were still beating, right?

Still, she doubted his reputation was exaggerated to the extent of Luffy’s. Pirates, in general, were still self-serving scum willing to kill, exploit, and pillage. Her captain—that kind-hearted, trusting, ridiculous fool—was the exception, and that was why Nami was willing to confront the Dark Doctor. News of what happened during the War of the Best had reached even Weatheria, and though Haredas had tried to discourage her, she’d demanded he help her track down the Supernova that had saved her captain’s life. Perhaps the old man felt guilty over the tears she’d shed over not being there for Luffy—not all of them had been fake. It had helped that one of the other wizards had spotted the Polar Tang not far from the floating island, so he’d allowed her the use of a Weather Ball to go down for an audience with the Surgeon of Death.

“I saved your captain on a whim. I’m not interested in your thanks.” Leaning against the side of his yellow submarine, Law hardly spared her a glance, seeming more focused on studying the DEATH tattoos across his fingers. Nami knew it was a ruse, though; he wouldn’t have agreed with her demands to meet if he hadn’t been interested in what she had to say.

Stubborn and scowling, she crossed her arms and jutted out her hip. Short, orange hair brushed her cheeks as the soft ocean breeze caressed her. She wore the same tight t-shirt and white shorts she’d donned at Sabaody, and the high heels of her tan sandals gave an echoing tap when she’d landed on the metal deck. Part of her wished she could have dressed a little sexier in case she needed to use her feminine wiles in this meeting, but her options had been limited, and even if she’d had her full wardrobe, it was probably safer not to attract this strange and deadly man’s attention too much; she didn’t have her crew to bail her out if she got in trouble, after all.

As she glared at the bored-looking man leaning against the submarine’s steel hull, Nami started to wonder if she’d made a mistake. It was too late to turn back, though, so she took a steadying breath and stated, “Whim or not, I don’t like the idea of Luffy being in anyone’s debt; especially not a rival’s. I want that squared before we head to the New World. So, if you don’t want thanks, what do you want?”

Interest piqued, Trafalgar Law finally graced her with his full attention. Nami had to admit, at first glance, he didn’t fit the image of a pirate captain. His skin was a warm olive tone; she could lay in the sun for hours and never achieve a tan like that. Midnight blue hair, sideburns, and goatee framed his angular face, and the dark circles under his eyes implied he rarely got a decent night’s sleep. His clothing was casual, consisting of spotted jeans, black boots, and a yellow hoodie; hardly the apparel of a feared warrior. Atop his head rested a spotted, furry hat, and she wondered if it had sentimental value like Luffy’s did; she really couldn’t imagine why someone of Law’s reputation would wear such a silly accessory otherwise.

Being a pirate was about more than just looks, however. Up close like this, Nami could tell he was dangerous. Taller than even Zoro, though far leaner, the muscles of Law’s exposed forearms showed he wasn’t some skinny weakling. It was intimidating, to say the least, especially when the nodachi propped on his shoulder was nearly as long as she was tall, and her hand itched to use the Clima-Tact strapped to her thigh to turn herself invisible and run away. She keenly recalled seeing the vivisected pieces of navy soldiers that had littered the battlefield at Sabaody. Even if there hadn’t been any blood, the gruesome scene was like something out of a horror story. The sunny yellow of his sweatshirt seemed too cheerful for a man of his reputation, yet it easily enhanced the intensity of his calculating gold eyes.

Eyes that were locked on her. Assessing. Calculating. Appraising.

“That depends on what you’re offering,” he replied, not bothering to hide his lecherous grin as he gave her curvy figure a slow, penetrating once-over.

She shuddered. Of course he’d suggest that; men—especially pirates—were all the same. “Not what you’re thinking, that’s for sure. Look, I know medicine and the like ain’t cheap, and assuming you fed Luffy at some point, that’s a hell of a grocery bill. I’m here to pay you back so you can’t hold anything over his head in the New World.” Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze unflinchingly. Much as she loved money, she knew the importance of paying one’s debts. More specifically, she knew the power debts could have over a person. “Just name your price. It might take me some time to get it, but I’m not called ‘Cat Thief’ for nothing. You’ll get your belli.”

Pushing away from the wall, Law slowly circled her, studying her like she was a new and unusual specimen he was eager to dissect. “You think I want money?” he asked, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “The hearts I sell on the black market are worth ten times your bounty. I can empty a safe of its contents without opening the door. Moreover, I saved your captain’s life, not his wallet. If you want to pay me back, you’re going to have to give me something more valuable than belli, gold, or jewels.”

“And what is that?” she asked, twisting around so she could keep him in her sightline. There was no way she trusted him enough to take her eyes off him. She’d feel more comfortable being stalked by a hungry leopard than the lanky surgeon.

One final circle and he stopped in front of her, looming over and blocking out the sun like the Grim Reaper himself. “Time. Your crew agreed to meet up in Sabaody in two years, right? Then spend one year as a member of the Heart Pirates.”

“Are you crazy?” she shouted, stepping back. “I’m not joining your crew! I need to spend that time training!”

He shrugged. “You can train aboard my ship. There’s no better vessel to study ocean currents with, which will be beneficial for getting to Fishman Island, among others. Besides that, I saw your fight at the Auction House; you desperately need combat training. And I’m sure your captain would hate for your thieving skills to get rusty. Can you do all that on Weatheria?”

It was infuriating how logical his argument was, mainly because his smile was uncomfortably smug. “My combat techniques rely on my knowledge of weather science. I can’t give up the opportunity Heradas is giving me,” she argued.

“You’ll still have a full year to learn from him once your debt is paid, Nami-ya. Surely the weather wizards understand how important your captain is to you; otherwise they never would have brought you here.”

Small fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She hated how easily Law had backed her into a corner. He was cunning, calculating, and knew exactly how to manipulate the situation in his favor. She’d actually admire him if it weren’t focused on her. There was no way she was giving up without a fight, though. “That sounds like I’m getting the better end of the deal, which doesn’t translate to paying off a debt. What’s in it for you? If your skills are as impressive as you claim, surely you’re not in need of a cat burglar?”

“As my subordinate, you’ll use your numerous skills to aid me and my crew. I know you’re a talented navigator and cartographer on top of your infamous thieving abilities. Perhaps you could even help me run some cons with that incredible beauty and high alcohol tolerance of yours.” He chuckled at her shocked expression. “Mugiwara-ya talked extensively about you all; mostly in his sleep. Anesthesia has a fascinating side effect of acting as a truth serum, and I had to keep him under quite a bit so he wouldn’t rage about and tear open his wounds.”

Damn you, Luffy! Nami screamed mentally. She should have known he’d be an idiotic blabbermouth, even on death’s door.

Still, this needed to be done. It was too great a risk, letting someone like Trafalgar Law, the sadistic Surgeon of Death, hold a life debt over her nakama. He may claim he’d acted on a whim, but Nami knew pirates like him never did things out of the goodness of their hearts. Maybe he’d intended on calling in a favor at a later time, using her good-hearted captain for his own plans. Luffy would agree in a heartbeat, too, since he’d probably assume anyone who had saved his life was his friend. Thinking like that could get him killed.

That’s exactly why he needed someone like her.

The Cat Thief couldn’t fight like Sanji and Zoro, but she could protect her captain from the machinations of a rival. They had the strength, but she had the brains and survival instincts they lacked. She’d promised she’d make Monkey D. Luffy the Pirate King, and if she had to spend a year working for another crew to do it, she would. At the very least, she might be able to discover Trafalgar Law’s weaknesses.

And maybe—just maybe—she’d run into Luffy. She knew he’d fulfill his promise to meet them in Sabaody, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about him. He was an idiot, but he was her idiot, and if she had the chance to at least check on him, she’d take it. Law had saved his life; perhaps he knew where the rubber captain had disappeared to.

“So, do we have a deal?” Law asked, gold eyes bright and smile too wide for his narrow face. He could see the gears turning in her mind, grinding and processing until she came to the conclusion he desired.

A small voice in her head whispered that this was a mistake, that this was sounding too much like her deal with Arlong, but she pushed it away. Guilt at not being there for her captain far outweighed her distrust at making pacts with pirates. Swallowing down her fear and doubts, the beautiful navigator stuck out her hand, brown eyes meeting amber with determination. “Deal. I work with your crew for one year; not a day more.”

His calloused, tattooed hand engulfed hers, shaking firmly. Like a leopard that had trapped his prey and was eager to pounce and gobble her up, his expression was triumphant and hungry.

“Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya.”

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

I cant think of a title

But lady acylius flug aka lulu and short Black Hat, I dunno I'm writing on the spot stuff here XD

Blep.

Black Hat was poking at his eggs, keeping his gaze down, trying to distract himself by focusing on how white and pristine the table cloth was...actually how did Cruentus get it so perfect, maybe an old family secret.

He was used to being in the company of males, most females unless they were a specific type of worker had mocked him, his height and station had been their main targets...and while the night workers did not say anything he could see it in their eyes.

Laughing at him...women had a way of being more vicious, venom on their tongues...human women he had come to find were softer, as if his height near brought out something maternal in them.

Odd but sometimes if he admitted it, being cooed over was pleasant or maybe it was the closest he'd ever gotten to admiration...either way MOST ladies made him uncomfortable.

Male demons he just felt disdain for and only few he could consider friend...one whom was both he considered more.

A shadow formed over him and he realised he'd gone quiet, looking up at the doctor who was currently in his lady form he swallowed thickly

"Yes Lulu?"

He asked still not quite meeting her gaze, he still worried she'd be looking at him with eyes that mocked him.

Going down on one knee Flug held his face gently, all she wanted to do was let him know everything would be alright, thumbs tenderly caressing his cheeks as she spoke

"My dear what is the matter, you have fallen silent more so than usual, is everything alright?"

Black Hat's cheeks turned a shimmering green as he blushed, damn Acylius and his always being so genuine with him...but he was also greatful that he was...so it was only fair he was truthful with her.

As she listened quietly, as Acylius always did, after all they had come to take time to comfort each other, he was still learning but he'd noticed the taller demon was always greatful for the efforts he'd made which had only encouraged Black Hat to keep trying.

"Yes, I see, unfortunately our kind no matter its gender usually seek what they consider prime, tall, strong, rich handsome, blah blah blah and wonder why they end up unhappily ever after."

Lulu rolled her eyes, huffing.

"Honestly the fools I have had trying to court me made me despair and lose patience with them, yet still they send their ridiculous boquets, which I must put up, some things I must do for peace."

"What about me, am I a fool?"

Black Hat answered, voice soft, hands on knees, waiting for his answer.

"It was I who sought you out, should it not be I who asks that question...and look at me my Amadeus, do I look like I am tormenting you?"

Black Hat inside couldn't believe how soft his doctor made him, he felt a mess of emotions he wanted to only feel with Flug, complying with her request he looked up and saw her only smiling, it was that damn smile he'd realised was only reserved for him, his heart skipped a beat.

"No...you look at me as you always have."

"Oh how is that?"

"An idiot..."

Lulu gasped and playfully slapped him

Only earning a laugh from the shorter demon

"You sir are wicked."

"Mmm but you love it?"

"I might do."

He sighed, content at the sound of Flugs laugh, she was wonderful really, her arms around him, his face in the crook of her neck he could smell poppies, bluebells, cornflowers.

"I see you found that boquet I had tossed..."

His voice was muffled, trying to some how hide against her, even his neck was blushing emerald now.

"Yes...I knew it was yours, you no doubt were jealous of the stupid ordered boquets morons sent me hmm?"

"Perhaps..."

He admitted sheepishly.

"You took the time to gather yours, these idiots made a phone call, I do not appreciate such thoughtlessness, your beautiful boquet sits beside my bed."

Lulu cooed over him rubbing his back and laughing once more as she heard him say

"Woman are you trying to put me six feet under, if it were possible to die from feeling like a flushed mess I would be dead already!"

"I could think of far better ways to make you die that you would enjoy."

"You mean..."

"Yes...did you think just because I was in this form I would be less likely to mate with you?"

Hats hands began to twist as he nuzzled her.

"The thought did cross my mind."

"Silly man, to me you are the best of the best, life has treated you cruelly, but here we have no stations, we are all equal."

Black Hat listened to Lady Lulu's words, to be called equal tona legion, one who was practically at the top of the chain was still something he'd have to get used to, but at least this meant when they would begin their organisation neither would discriminate any customer...were they really a perfect match...honestly he couldn't believe a demon like this one felt anything for him and some days he worried he would wake up from this mad beautiful dream...

But for now he would enjoy it.

"Lead the way my dearest LuLu, I believe it is I this time whom is to take care of you."

"Mmm with pleasure my dear Jefecito."

She purred taking his hand, grinning as she swore the blush moved down his neck and under his shirt that name always made him weak.

Alas the poor eggs were left cold and forgotten.

[hungline]

kiss, kiss, fall in love

pairings: namkook, side taejin and yoonminseok  genre: fluff, angst, smut, uni au, rated e  warnings: trans male character, explicit sexual content, cross-dressing, strap-ons, anal sex, gender dysphoria, jeongguk crying a lot  words: 19278 

summary: Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should. 

Namjoon is currently having difficulty getting air in and out of his lungs at the moment.

His chest aches and his fingers keep fumbling with the ends of his black tie.

Weirdly enough, his nipples are actually chafing against the binder that he wears underneath his royal blue button-up.

There’s a strange feeling building up in the pit of his stomach as he looks up towards the stage where the university’s drama club is holding their annual play and he only has eyes for Jeongguk. Never mind the fact that Namjoon’s best friend, Seokjin, is playing the male lead. All Namjoon can see is the lights reflecting off Jeongguk’s black hair, his slender arms shining in the spotlight, and lightly tanned legs twirling about with the ends of his dark blue skirt fanning around them.

If Namjoon had really been born with a penis, like he’d always wanted, he’s sure he would have popped a semi in his jeans.

No one can really blame Namjoon for how he’s feeling though. Anyone would react the same way if they had seen Jeongguk in a beautiful blue skirtーin a shade that just so happens to match their own shirtーand they were also crushing big time on said sophomore student. So it’s understandable, but Namjoon is still very pleasantly surprised about the way he’s reacting to seeing Jeongguk in a skirt.

He can sit through it though, definitely. It's not hard. Not one bit. This isn't affecting him at all.

He's just peachy.

And then Jeongguk is looking him right in the eye, a nervous glint in his brown sparkly orbs as he delivers his line flawlessly and lets the skirt twirl around him a little bit. Jeongguk looks like he's actually quite enjoying prancing around in that skirt onstage and Namjoon figures that he’s screwed. Either way, he still manages to shoot Jeongguk a supportive smile and a thumbs up before the young actor looks away to continue on with the play.

Namjoon kind of wants to die as his eyes follow Jeongguk's lithe figure around the stage, and when the younger looks in his direction, the feeling only increases by tenfold. And he is so not okay. He didn’t know that Jeongguk was supposed to perform that night. He knew the younger was Soyou’s understudy, but he hadn’t known about the young actress breaking her leg until he’d been standing in the lobby of the auditorium, waiting for the doors to open. Seokjin had run up to him and whispered fervently in his ear about what happened before he ran off to get Jeongguk ready to go on stage. Namjoon hadn’t thought that Jeongguk would embrace the role so diligently either, but the younger had been surprising him since day one

Namjoon figures that he’s really screwed.

The play is over in the blink of an eye and Namjoon doesn't know whether he should get up and go find Jeongguk or Seokjin or maybe the both of them or just remain seated until everyone has filed out of the auditorium so no human being is able to bear witness to Namjoon struggling to find his composure. He's trying his best to not think about the way Jeongguk’s tanned legs look like in a skirt, but when he looks up and all he sees is those said legs, he feels his heart jump into his throat as he makes eye contact with Jeongguk.

“I was wondering where you were,” Jeongguk says shyly, quite literally toeing at the ground with his hands clutched loosely together behind his back.

Namjoon stands up fast enough to feel vertigo and almost stumbles forward, but Jeongguk catches him and sets him back upright. Both men’s hearts are beating a mile a minute in their chests as they stand before the other. Namjoon isn't really sure what he should say to the younger, but he has to say something. Jeongguk is looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass and yeah, okay, so Namjoon knows that Jeongguk likes him, he isn't that dense, but he’s not really sure that Jeongguk would actually enjoy being with him.

A lot of Namjoon’s exes have said he was too standoffish, too intelligent, too well spoken, too independent, and when Namjoon finally made his transition, he suddenly became too weird. But Namjoon, he knows that he's worth more than what other people think or say about him, he knows that. It still doesn't mean that he can say he isn't hurt by the opinions people have about him though.

So Namjoon has trust issues, understandably so, but Jeongguk doesn't seem to quite get that. The younger fawns over him often and sometimes it makes Namjoon uncomfortable. Namjoon may really like Jeongguk, but he isn't ready for what Jeongguk may have in mind and Jeongguk doesn't quite grasp that, so now they play a game of hide and go seek where Namjoon usually hides more often than not.

But Jeongguk is nervous, and not the kind of nervous that he usually is around Namjoon. It's the “I might break down and throw a fit any second” kind of nervous. Namjoon thinks he might know why.

“Youー” Namjoon pauses to clear his throat before he tries to speak again. “You were great out there, Gukk-ah. This skirt really suits you.”

Jeongguk blushes and fuck, Namjoon is screwed with a capital S.

“Taehyung said the same thing. I didn't really think he was telling the truth though,” Jeongguk mumbles, his cheeks a blazing red and Namjoon really wants to kiss him all over his ridiculously adorable face.

“Gukk-ah, would hyung ever lie to you?” Namjoon tilts his head just so and gives Jeongguk the most dashing smile he can muster.

Jeongguk’s face only burns a brighter red and he shakes his head in response. Despite his better judgment, Namjoon can't help but take Jeongguk’s hand as he starts to lead them towards the side stage where he can see the top of Taehyung’s ridiculous high hat that he sported for the later part of the play. Jeongguk goes willingly, not really saying anything, and hand curled tight around Namjoon’s.

It's nice, the comfortable silences they tend to fall into whenever they're together. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk is a sweet kid, mostly inexperienced, incredibly intelligent, and generally quiet, but it's exactly why Namjoon is able to get along with the younger so well. Jeongguk swallows up everything Namjoon tells him without preamble and Namjoon would be worried if he wasn't also constantly forcing himself to not kiss Jeongguk.

Jeongguk in a skirt that contrasts so gorgeously with his legs is really as far as Namjoon’s limits can go. He's faring well though, much better than he thought, and much more better than Taehyung thought if the surprised look on the fashion designer’s face gave Namjoon any kind of hint.

Namjoon thinks Taehyung looks absolutely ridiculous in his steampunk get up, but the amused look on Jeongguk’s face when he sees Taehyung makes up for it.

“You're matching,” is the first thing Taehyung says when Namjoon and Jeongguk finally reach him.

Namjoon already knew this, but he still smiles when Jeongguk makes a small, surprised noise because the sound is unbearably cute. It's cute in a very non-romantic kind of way. Totally.

Taehyung is squinting at him when Namjoon meets his eye. Namjoon audibly gulps and feels his smile start to crumble under pressure.

“I guess we are,” Namjoon manages to say, his hand starting to feel sweaty in Jeongguk’s grasp.

He distantly thinks he should let go of the younger man’s hand. Friends don't hold hands for this long, they really don't. Yoongi had assured him on many occasions that friends don't do that. But Namjoon knows that if he pulls his hand away, then Jeongguk is going to become sulky and pouty and start making grabby hands at him and Namjoon is positively weak for that. So he just squeezes Jeongguk’s hand but doesn't make any move to let go.

Taehyung is still squinting at them and Namjoon feels himself break into a nervous sweat. Namjoon knows that look in Taehyung’s eye. It usually means he’s going to try and play matchmaker and Taehyung hasn’t been wrong about his matches yet. Namjoon is split down the middle with hoping that Taehyung might be wrong just this one time about Jeongguk and him, but then there’s also that other side of him that’s banking on Taehyung’s abilities to see the compatible connections between the people he sets up.

Taehyung looks like he’s going to say something, but Jeongguk is speaking before Taehyung can even let out a breath. “Are you still up for pizza right now, TaeTae-hyung?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung grunts, his eyes swiveling from Namjoon to Jeongguk and back. “Is Namjoon-hyung coming too?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s gaze on him and the light squeeze of his hand around his makes something spasm in Namjoon’s chest. He allows himself to stare at the younger man and he has to visibly restrain himself from kissing Jeongguk again. Jeongguk is biting on his bottom lip, the hand not intertwined with Namjoon’s fiddling with the pleats of the skirt he’s still wearing and all Namjoon wants to do is kiss him senseless. Kiss him until he’s never nervous again and doesn’t look at Namjoon with that hopeful glint in his eye. Namjoon’s nodding his head before his brain really filters what’s being asked of him, but the delighted smile that lights up Jeongguk’s face is definitely worth it.

“Great!” Taehyung exclaims, throwing an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, his trademark rectangular grin spread wide across his face. “Gukkie-ah, you should probably change.”

Jeongguk looks down at the skirt for a short span of time and Namjoon feels the need to say something, but Jeongguk is already smiling back up at the older men before he can.

“I think I’ll just go like this. You guys don’t...mind, right?”

The youngest man’s cheeks are a blazing red and he’s probably drawing blood from gnawing on his bottom lip and Namjoon really just wants to pick him up, kiss him all over, and tell him that of course he doesn’t mind, he would never mind, and Jeongguk is allowed to wear whatever his heart desires. But Namjoon doesn’t do that. Instead, he stares at Jeongguk like a fool and allows Taehyung to respond for the both of them instead.

“That’s fine with me, Jeonggukkie. If anyone says anything while we’re out, I’ll kick their ass, alright?”

Namjoon finally speaks up then. “Shouldn’t you be the one changing, Tae-ah?”

Taehyung stares at him affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Namjoon trills.

The giggle that Jeongguk lets out in response absolutely breaks Namjoon’s heart.

He is smitten for this kid. He can’t deny it, not one bit. A blind person would be able to see that Namjoon is head over heels for Jeongguk and Namjoon, even with an IQ of 148, thinks he’s an idiot for trying so hard to keep his distance from the younger. It obviously didn’t work, not even a little, and it probably just made him like Jeongguk even more.

Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should.

Jeongguk smiles up at him like the sun shines out of Namjoon’s ass and Namjoon knows he has it bad.

Namjoon pushes Jeongguk’s hair out of his face and lets the younger man lead the way out of the auditorium with a buzzing Taehyung who’s still wearing the ridiculous high hat right beside him. Jeongguk hesitates once they step outside and see that there are still people milling about, but Namjoon just squeezes his hand and waits for the younger man to start walking again before he follows dutifully after.

They’ve only just made it down the main steps when Seokjin flings himself at Namjoon.

“Hyung!” Namjoon whines, struggling to hold up the older bulkier man that always shows up just when Namjoon thinks things are going his way. “Get off!”

“No. I’m glad you made it though. You need to quit moping around and support your favorite hyung with every chance you get, Joonie,” Seokjin pouts, pulling himself closer to Namjoon and ruffling Jeongguk’s hair as he does. “Hey, Gukkie-ah. Where are you guys headed to?”

Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t answer Seokjin’s question. And if he does, then he really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t let his bleeding heart convince him to invite Seokjin along with them. They’re co-stars and friends and all, but Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk won’t let himself be so lenient, at least for the rest of the night.

“We’re getting pizza, hyung. Do you want to come with?” Jeongguk has a bright grin spread across his face and Namjoon wants to scream and fling himself off a cliff.

Seokjin, of course, accepts the offer and stays latched to Namjoon’s side for the entire walk. Namjoon doesn’t hate or even dislike Seokjin. They’re best friends actually, but Seokjin is a very a touchy person and Namjoon always notices when Jeongguk watches them interact just a little too closely, his eyes lingering on Seokjin’s arms slung around Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon really doesn’t want Jeongguk to start feeling less confident now that he’s out and about in a skirt. He knows how much that’s going to affect Jeongguk’s self-worth in the long run and Namjoon just hopes that Seokjin can keep his touching and hand-feeding to a minimum tonight.

Of course, that’s exactly what Seokjin doesn’t do.

Namjoon does his best to refute Seokjin’s offers of pizza slices and buffalo wings dipped in different sauces, he really does, but when Seokjin offers him a slice of his Hawaiian pizza, Namjoon can’t help but cave in. He leans in and takes a bite from the slice that Seokjin is holding out to him. He takes a bite and chews as the sweet tangy taste of pineapple and smoked ham explodes over his taste buds and he might have closed his eyes and breathed out something close to a moan. Maybe.

When he looks up to meet Jeongguk’s startled gaze, he knows he definitely did. He blushes and ducks his head, avoiding Taehyung’s penetrating gaze on him.

Seokjin pats him on the back with a pleased smile. “There’s my cute dongsaeng. Always eat well. Here! Take another bite.”

He’s holding the slice out to Namjoon again, but the irritated look on Taehyung’s face makes him shake his head and lean away from the elder. “Hyung, stop. I’m not a baby.”

Seokjin merely laughs that high windshield-wiper laugh of his and lets his free hand pinch Namjoon’s cheek. “You’re Seokjinnie’s baby.”

Taehyung makes a gagging noise and Namjoon pushes himself forcibly away from the eldest of their group. “Hyung, don’t refer to yourself in third person. We’ve talked about this before. People think you’re going loopy with old age.”

Seokjin slaps his arm just a bit more harshly than he should and pouts at the blonde-haired senior. “I’m not that old, shut up, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and makes the mistake of looking in Jeongguk’s direction as he does. Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon feels something clog his throat. His laughter turns into choked gurgles and Taehyung leans over the table to clap a hand on Namjoon’s back way harder than what is necessary. Namjoon offhandedly thinks that Taehyung is taking this chance to release all his pent-up frustration that he has with the whole Jeongguk-crushing-on-Namjoon-and-Namjoon-acting-weird-about-it situation. Namjoon can’t really blame him. He knows that if he were in Taehyung’s position he would do the same thing to the object of his best friend’s affections.

Seokjin takes it upon himself to shoo Taehyung’s hand away from Namjoon’s back once Taehyung’s hand has taken to slapping him. He gives Taehyung a warning look and the fashion designer merely gives an innocent smile back from under his stupid hat then throws an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, but Namjoon still catches the blush that slowly creeps its way across Taehyung’s cheeks as he holds Seokjin’s gaze. Namjoon knows he has no right to, but he feels jealous when he notices how quickly Jeongguk relaxes under Taehyung’s touch. It’s no surprise though, ever since Jeongguk enrolled into the university, he and Taehyung had been attached at the hip, childhood best friends and whatnot. Of course, Jeongguk would be relaxed around Taehyung. Taehyung doesn’t make the younger feel nervous and jittery whenever they talk like Namjoon does.

Taehyung whispers something to Jeongguk, his gaze still on Seokjin and Namjoon has to put visible effort into looking away from Jeongguk to pierce Seokjin with his gaze instead. The elder is frowning at the young pair seated across from them and Namjoon has known Seokjin long enough to tell that the upward pull of his frown means he’s jealous. It’s the same frown Seokjin wore whenever Yoongi would come around to their dorm last year and demand that Namjoon spend time with him. It settled down once Yoongi started dating Jimin and, by extension, Hoseok, but Seokjin has never liked Namjoon in that kind of way before. Back then, Namjoon was still trying to get used to his new life as a man and Seokjin had been there for him through it all.

Namjoon can still remember the time that Seokjin fought two drunks when they tried to coerce the younger into an unwanted threesome. Seokjin had come out victorious from that fight and Namjoon had had to talk their way out of getting arrested before he got a cab and made sure he and Seokjin got home safely that night. Seokjin is sturdy and strong and Namjoon looks up to him. He’s Namjoon’s best friend and Namjoon knew him well enough to think that Seokjin might be crushing on Kim Taehyung, the elite, wanna-be fashion designer who only went to school because his parents had forced him to.

When Taehyung whispers something else into Jeongguk’s ear and the bright, childish giggle Jeongguk lets out meets Namjoon’s ears, Namjoon is absolutely certain that his best friend likes his crush’s best friend.

Namjoon tugs on Seokjin’s sleeve and offers him a buffalo wing silently. Seokjin takes it, gives him a soft smile, then bites into the wing without any kind of preamble at all. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin sets the wing down and there’s sauce covering his lips and chin. He hands the elder a napkin and laughs again when Seokjin mutters something about how Namjoon should’ve just cleaned his face himself.

When Namjoon turns back to grab another slice of pizza, Jeongguk is looking at him. Namjoon doesn’t know him well enough, he doesn’t know Jeongguk at all really, but Namjoon knows that there’s a jealous gleam in the younger man’s eye when he watches the exchange between Namjoon and his best friend. Namjoon gulps and holds his slice of pizza out towards Jeongguk.

“Say ah,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice low and throaty and Jeongguk’s pupils dilate and Namjoon is fucking screwed.

Jeongguk opens his mouth obediently and takes a bite out of the slice of pizza, twisting his face up once he starts chewing.

“Ew, pineapple,” the younger man whines.

Namjoon laughs. “Pineapple is good for you. Here, have the rest, Jeonggukkie.”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose at Namjoon’s words, but takes a few more bites out of the slice that Namjoon is holding out towards him before he groans about it tasting too gross to swallow. Taehyung makes some sly response about Jeongguk being able to swallow other things just fine and Jeongguk smacks his arm. Suddenly, Namjoon is thinking that maybe Jeongguk and Taehyung are so close because they’ve fooled around before.

He really hopes that isn’t the case when Jeongguk looks back at him with an adorable smile on his face. Namjoon finds himself leaning in, lips pursed, before he catches himself and settles himself back into his seat. Seokjin gives him a knowing look and pats him on the head before he reaches out to take the last buffalo wing. Taehyung complains about ‘Seokjinnie-hyung’ eating all of their food and Namjoon is pretty certain that Taehyung might just like Seokjin in return. He belatedly realizes that this is an impromptu double-date and is left jittery for the rest of their time spent together.

He forgets about being nervous when Jeongguk stands to pay for the bill and walks off to get into the line that’s queueing up right in front of the cash register at the front counter. Seokjin pulls out a few crumpled bills and lays them on the table as a tip before he stands to join Jeongguk in line. Namjoon moves to follow until Taehyung puts a hand on his arm and gently pushes him back into his seat.

Namjoon shouldn’t be confused, but he kind of is anyway when Taehyung leans forward on his elbows and gives Namjoon a shrewd look. He almost laughs when Taehyung’s hat falls to cover half his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Namjoon tries.

“Ha-ha. Funny,” Taehyung grumbles. “Listen, we need to talk.”

Namjoon snaps to attention. “About what?”

“You and Jeonggukkie.”

Namjoon stiffens then. “There’s nothing to talk about Tae.”

Taehyung shakes his head and looks over his shoulder where both of them can see Jeongguk and Seokjin eyeing them warily. “I know you like Gukk-ah. He likes you too, you know.”

Namjoon bites his bottom lip and blurts the first words he can think of in response. “Yeah? Well, I know you like Seokjinnie-hyung. He likes you as well.”

Taehyung laughs. “Good. I’ve been meaning to ask him out to dinner. Glad to know I won’t have to worry about his answer.”

Namjoon blinks. “Is it really that easy for you?”

“Yep. It should be that easy for you two as well.”

There’s a short silence before Taehyung sighs and gives Namjoon a concerned look. “Look, I know that your first few months after transitioning were tough and I know that your exes were pretty much scum, but please don’t let that affect what you can have with Jeongguk. He’s a really nice kid, albeit a bit antisocial and shy as hell, but he’s sweet and he’s very easy-going, Joon-hyung. Please, just give him a chance. He likes you a lot, more than you probably know. You could insult him and he’d still be willing to suck your face off.”

Namjoon laughs at the analogy and pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Thanks. I don’t think that last one is a good thing exactly, but thank you.”

“No problem.” Taehyung nods his head and stands up. “Now let’s go to our men, they look like they’re going to storm over here. Plus, I promised Gukkie I would stay by his side until he took off the skirt. He’s paranoid.”

Namjoon stands up and opens his mouth to say something, but he jumps when Seokjin yells something out and punches a guy that Namjoon has never seen before while Jeongguk stands nearby, a watery look in his eyes and his hands curled so tightly into the pleats of his skirt that Namjoon thinks he’s never going to let them go. Taehyung dashes off towards the commotion, his hat askew, and easily takes Jeongguk’s hand as he pays their bill before he leads the younger man outside into the nice, cool air. Namjoon is left to deal with trying to get Seokjin off the stranger and ends up being elbowed in the face. He can feel the first drop of blood drip from his nose and Namjoon groans when someone kicks him in the chest then, right into his left boob, which is much more painful than normal thanks to how tightly his binder is on today. Seokjin is somehow by his side suddenly, a hand on Namjoon’s waist as he presses napkins that he got from who knows where to the younger man’s nose and leads them outside where Jeongguk and Taehyung wait with the manager of the place following them and telling them they aren’t allowed to come back again.

“Wouldn’t dream of eating in a place where men with fragile masculinities can’t handle seeing another dude in a skirt,” Seokjin spits out through his teeth, his body practically plastered to Namjoon’s by that point and Namjoon is starting to feel a bit suffocated.

Namjoon doesn’t like people being so into his personal space. Hugs are horrible for him and he avoids them often, but there’s Seokjin with his hand clenching on too tight to Namjoon’s waist and pressing the damp wad of napkins to his nose, his front side pressing into Namjoon’s back. Namjoon has his head tilted up and back so it ends up on Seokjin’s shoulder and then Jeongguk is suddenly in his line of vision. There’s tears in his eyes and his hand immediately replaces Seokjin’s on the wad of napkins until Namjoon is finally free from the elder’s grip on him. There’s a look of awe on Taehyung’s face and he barely notices that one of the employees is trying to press more napkins into his hands for Namjoon’s nose.

“Did you really punch that asshole in the face ‘cause he made fun of Gukkie’s skirt?” Taehyung asks as he hands the napkins off to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk is too busy pressing the new napkins to Namjoon’s nose to really pay attention to anything else, but then Namjoon’s hand is on his waist and there’s a small smile on his lips when Jeongguk looks into his face. Meanwhile, Seokjin is dusting off his shirt and sending worried glances in Namjoon’s direction before he looks back towards Taehyung.

“Yeah. It pissed me off.” Seokjin shrugs, like punching a stranger to defend the feelings of his best friend’s crush is an absolutely normal thing to do.

“Wow,” Taehyung sighs, his eyes shining with admiration as he throws his arms around Seokjin’s neck, his hat falling completely off, but Taehyung doesn’t care about that right now. “Wanna have dinner tomorrow?”

Seokjin laughs. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Taehyung grins and leans in, letting his lips brush briefly against the elder’s before he pulls them towards Namjoon and Jeongguk. Jeongguk is crying by this point and he keeps apologizing profusely to Namjoon who merely stands there, swaying a little, but saying nothing, the blood finally having stopped flowing. Seokjin detangles himself from Taehyung and wraps an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Hey, you alright?” Seokjin asks his best friend.

Namjoon sighs and closes his eyes, sagging against Seokjin’s side. “No. One of you kicked me in the chest and I’m swallowing my own blood.”

Seokjin, bless him doesn’t laugh and merely crouches down so he can hook his arm under Namjoon’s knees and pull him into this chest, carrying the younger, bloody man bridal style. “I’ll take you home, Joon-ah, don’t worry.”

“That’s the least you can do after you kicked me in the boob, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice frail and eyes closing of their own accord, the blood on his face stiffening.

Seokjin laughs and shakes his head with a fond look on his face before he looks back up at the younger men in front of him. “I’m gonna take him back to his apartment and set him up with an ice pack and aspirin. Sorry for ending the night like this.”

Taehyung nods his head and smiles, throwing an arm around Jeongguk’s waist and pulling him into his side. “It’s no biggie, hyung. Thanks for defending Jeonggukkie. Take Joonie-hyung home and please convince him that he and Jeongguk-ah are absolutely made for one another.”

“Tae!” Jeongguk sputters, tear tracks staining his face as he rips his eyes away from Namjoon to pin Taehyung with an accusing stare.

“I can hear you,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes still closed.

Jeongguk blushes and wipes at his eyes, unable to say anything. Seokjin only laughs again and leans in to give Taehyung a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be off now. You have my number so just text me about the date tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, hyung!” Taehyung replies cheerily.

Jeongguk looks glum when he says, “Bye, hyung. Sorry about everything.”

Seokjin laughs. “It’s fine, Jeonggukkie. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, okay?”

Jeongguk nods and Seokjin shoots him a fond smile. “I know Namjoon-ah can seem really distant, but that’s only ‘cause he doesn’t want to get hurt again. Be patient with him, alright, Gukkie-ah?”

“Okay, hyung.”

“I can still hear you,” Namjoon speaks up then, a frown on his face and the blood spurting from his nose, now completely dry. “Take me home, hyung. My boob and my nose fucking hurt.”

“Shut up, you big baby.”

“Your big baby,” Namjoon mutters, hefting a sigh into Seokjin’s chest as the elder begins to walk away.

Namjoon isn’t sure if Jeongguk is still in hearing distance, but he doesn’t hesitate to yell out, “Jeongguk-ah! You looked cute in that skirt!”

Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh meets his ears and Namjoon can distantly hear Taehyung whooping in the background, but that’s the last thing he remembers before he’s being laid on his bed, face now clean, and an ice pack wrapped in a clean rag being pressed to his throbbing nose. Namjoon isn’t sure when it happened, but Seokjin had pulled off the younger man’s shirt and his binder and pulled a hoodie on him before he settled in beside Namjoon on his bed and spooned him through the night.

Namjoon doesn’t say it, but Seokjin knows that he’s the only person Namjoon would let do that.

That night, Namjoon dreams of dark blue skirts and pretty pink blushes adorning a certain bunny-looking boy that makes his heart beat just a little faster than normal.

He wakes up to a bare chested Seokjin who’s dressed in a pair of Namjoon’s sweats as he makes breakfast in his kitchen. Namjoon smacks his butt as he walks past. Seokjin tsks at him in response.

  The next few days Namjoon has to listen to Seokjin gush over his new boyfriend.

He isn’t really annoyed though. Namjoon is happy that Seokjin is happy and Taehyung’s a good kid.

Still, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate at all to kick Taehyung’s ass if he somehow hurt Namjoon’s best friend, but he knows that the possibility of that happening is unlikely.

Taehyung is too engrossed with the way Seokjin talks and speaks and the way his face scrunches up whenever he’s trying to with hold his laughter while telling a lame dad joke. It’s kind of cute, Namjoon thinks, how Taehyung is noticing such little things and claiming that he’s fallen in love with them. Namjoon just laughs though.

He doesn’t take Taehyung’s bold declarations of love to heart. It’s just Taehyung being Taehyung and Seokjin laughs and kisses Taehyung’s nose every time he says he’s in love.

It’s cute. It really is.

Except, now that Seokjin and Taehyung are together, all they do is pester Namjoon about getting together with Jeongguk. Namjoon is annoyed by that. He doesn’t have the time to deal with them playing cupid, he has a final to study for and he needs to meet Jeongguk in the library for their tutoring session in less than twenty minutes. So he collects his things, picks up his bag, and ducks out the doorway of Seokjin’s apartment with a rushed excuse of meeting Jeongguk. The pleased looks on their faces are a bit much, Namjoon thinks, but whatever gets them off his back.

Seokjin doesn’t live far from the university. He actually lives in the same apartment complex as Namjoon, but his apartment is on a floor lower than Namjoon’s own, so they see each other often.

Namjoon is breathing harder than usual by the time he steps onto campus, but he wastes no time at all to admire spring’s effect on campus life. He needs to be in the library in five minutes so he and Jeongguk can start their tutoring session. Jeongguk still needs work on getting his pronunciation right for his English class and Namjoon, as an English speaking person, was paired with Jeongguk in the first term.

Jeongguk is an honors student double majoring in theater and dance and minoring in photography and art. Namjoon doesn’t know how the younger man does it, but since Namjoon is a double major himself, he gets why Jeongguk might need a tutor. Jeongguk had skipped a few grades during primary school, same as Namjoon, but he was still just a kid most of the time. It was hard to believe that Jeongguk was only twenty when his face still had that round of youth to it.

Namjoon had been captivated by Jeongguk from the very first moment their eyes met.

Everything Jeongguk seemed to do had grabbed his attention and Namjoon knew he was treading in dangerous waters from the very beginning, so he’d told himself he wouldn’t get invested. He’d stay as far away from the younger as he could and he would not under any circumstances let himself dive head first into his feelings for Jeon Jeongguk.

Of course, that was unknowingly the first thing that he did.

Namjoon pushes that thought to the back of his mind as he finally reaches the library and spots Jeongguk leaning against the wall beside the door that leads to the library’s study rooms. He’s talking to a guy that Namjoon has never seen before, but he doesn’t think anything of it since nothing about Jeongguk’s posture says that the stranger is bothering him.

Jeongguk spots him and the smile that graces his lips could blind Namjoon. Namjoon feels his own lips pull into a small smile in return that quickly lowers into a frown when the guy Jeongguk is talking to takes a step towards Jeongguk and is suddenly too close for comfort. Namjoon sees the immediate change in Jeongguk’s body language and he can tell that the younger doesn’t really like the man being in his personal space and Namjoon is quick to step in between them, pulling on Jeongguk’s hand to lead him towards the study rooms.

The man follows them, a disgruntled look on his face at the sight of Namjoon, but he opens his mouth to speak anyway. Namjoon wishes that he hadn’t.

“Jeongguk, you never gave me an answer. Do you want to go out with me this Friday to the movies?” His voice is low and somewhat nasally and Namjoon decides then that he hates him.

Jeongguk looks like a deer caught in the headlights and his gaze keeps flicking from Namjoon to the man behind him. Namjoon stops in front of the door that leads to their scheduled study room but makes no move to open it. The stranger is still waiting for Jeongguk’s answer.

“You really want to go out with me?” Jeongguk asks, a confused expression on his face. “We’ve barely spoken at all, Yugyeom-ssi.”

The now named Yugyeom smirks and leans in towards Jeongguk again. Jeongguk goes still and Namjoon stiffens beside him before he pulls Jeongguk behind him.

“Listen, could you stop getting so close. It makes Jeonggukkie uncomfortable,” Namjoon murmurs, his gaze holding Yugyeom’s.

Yugyeom frowns at Namjoon and scoffs. “Who are you? His boyfriend?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s eyes on the back of his head and he knows that the younger is hoping for Namjoon to say yes, yes he is Jeongguk’s boyfriend. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk wants him to be and Namjoon thinks he wouldn’t really mind it, but Namjoon isn’t ready for a relationship. Ever since the night Jeongguk had worn a skirt, Namjoon and Jeongguk had both been made aware of each other’s feelings for the other, but neither have done anything to take a step forward. They haven’t brought up what Taehyung or Seokjin said either and instead have been tip-toeing around each other. This is Namjoon’s chance to take a step forward and really start something with Jeongguk, but he isn’t ready. All Namjoon can think about is every one of his last break ups and the reasons behind them. He doesn’t want to go through that again, no matter how much he may like Jeongguk. So he bites his lip and lets go of Jeongguk’s hand.

“No. I’m his tutor and his friend and I don’t appreciate you harassing him.”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk visibly deflate beside him, but he doesn’t say anything to draw attention to it since Yugyeom is inspecting them so shrewdly.

“I don’t think it’s your place to decide how Jeongguk feels,” Yugyeom says, his frown still in place as he glares at Namjoon. “Anyways, Jeongguk, how about it?”

Jeongguk grips onto Namjoon’s arm as he steps forward and gives Yugyeom a shy smile. “I guess it would be okay.”

“Awesome. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow in class. See ya,” Yugyeom exclaims, a large smile on his face as he takes a few steps backwards before he turns and walks through the door that they came in from.

Namjoon gingerly pulls his arm out from Jeongguk’s grasp and turns to face the door to their study room again. On the whiteboard are their names with their time slot underneath. Namjoon can’t tear his eyes away from their names linked together with a single, small plus sign and he thinks that Jeongguk can’t either.

Kim Namjoon + Jeon Jeongguk 13:30-15:30

They’ve got two hours together. Namjoon doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

He opens the door anyways and lets Jeongguk pass by first before he steps through the door. Jeongguk is silent as he takes his usual seat at their usual table and Namjoon sits down warily across from him, which is different since Namjoon usually sits beside Jeongguk instead, but Namjoon needs the distance. They’re both unusually quiet and Namjoon doesn’t want to look the younger in the eye, but they have to get started on studying some time. So he lets out a deep breath and tilts his head upwards to meet Jeongguk’s gaze.

“So, have you been working on your pronunciation lately?” Namjoon asks and Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy again.

“Uh, no. I’ve been a little busy,” Jeongguk murmurs.

Namjoon regrets it the instant it leaves his mouth, but he can’t keep his big mouth shut. “Oh? Too busy doing what? Wooing a certain boy named Yugyeom?”

It’s below the belt, Namjoon knows it is, but he’s insanely jealous and he knows he has no right to be. Jeongguk looks like he might cry and Namjoon thinks flinging himself off a cliff would be a good idea right about now.

“Hyung, why are you being like this?” Jeongguk still looks like he’s going to cry and Namjoon feels something spasm in his chest.

He shifts in his seat, his nipples chafing against his binder again and Namjoon wants to scream. “Gukk-ah, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jeongguk is crying now, but the way he’s pitifully wiping at his eyes makes Namjoon rise from his seat and come around the table.

“I know you like me, hyung. I can see it on your face every time you look at me,” Jeongguk hiccups, tears still trickling down his face no matter how often he wipes at them. “If you didn’t want me to go out with Yugyeom-ssi, you could have just said so.”

Namjoon twists his hands in his lap and gives Jeongguk a sheepish grin. “Even if I do like you, Gukk-ah, it isn’t my place to tell you what to do. You’re allowed to date whoever you wantー”

“I want to date you, hyung,” Jeongguk sniffles, wiping at his nose before he pulls at Namjoon’s arm, drawing the elder closer. “Hyung, I really want to date you.”

“Why’d you say yes to that guy if you want to date me?” Namjoon knows he’s treading into dangerous waters again, but if he doesn’t go along with the flow, he’s going to drown in his feelings for Jeongguk and that might be even worse.

“You said it yourself. We’re just friends, hyung. I want to date you, but you don’t want to date me.” Jeongguk is crying again and Namjoon’s heart hurts.

Namjoon wants to deny what Jeongguk is saying, but he knows that’d be lying and Namjoon doesn’t want to lie. “Jeongguk-ah, I can’t tell you you’re wrong.”

Jeongguk’s tears have come to a standstill as he stares at Namjoon and suddenly his face is too close and Namjoon isn't sure how he's even able to breathe. Jeongguk’s nose is brushing against his and his vision has gone cross-eyed trying to keep Jeongguk in his line of sight. But the younger is too close and Namjoon can feel his hand on the back of his neck and his lips are a hairsbreadth away from Namjoon’s and Namjoon. Namjoon freaks out.

He pushes away from the tableーaway from Jeonggukーand is left staring up at the ceiling, suddenly on his back. Jeongguk leans over him and pulls Namjoon up, an unreadable look on his face. Namjoon knows he's just thrown their progress five steps backwards, but Jeongguk kissing him isn't something he's ready for in the slightest and he can't bear to have Jeongguk so close to him right now. Namjoon needs to get away, he needs time apart from the younger man who looks like he’s just had his heart trampled on. Namjoon knows that look well. He’s seen it too often in the mirror.

“Hyung, I-I’mー” Jeongguk starts.

But Namjoon is already up and grabbing his things. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have an important thing to go to that I completely forgot about. You'll be alright studying on your own, right?” Namjoon’s voice is gruff and hoarse as he speaks, but he's trying very hard not to let his panic show as he rushes towards the door.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything and Namjoon thinks he doesn't have to. The expression on his face says it all.

“Have fun on your date, Jeonggukkie,” Namjoon says as he steps through the door and closes it behind him.

He stares at the whiteboard on the door for a moment and erases his name with the sleeve of his shirt. He runs off before Jeongguk can follow him.

Seokjin and Taehyung are going to kill him.

  Taehyung refuses to talk to him for the rest of that week.

Namjoon’s surprised when Seokjin follows suit. He knows they're dating and all now, but still. Namjoon never thought that his best friend would side with his love interest over him.

But Namjoon knows that he's justified in doing so. Seokjin has finally grown tired of putting up with Namjoon’s moping and pining and then blatant disregard of his own happiness. It's been like this for so long and there’s a lot that Seokjin can put up with, but even Namjoon knows that the elder is at his limit now.

Still, even Yoongi thinks it's cruel when Seokjin and Taehyung talk about Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom in front of Namjoon like he isn't even there.

“For a best friend, he isn't really acting like one,” Yoongi growls, his fingers burrowing into Hoseok’s hair as he lets his legs spread out and tangle with Hoseok’s.

Namjoon currently has his head in Jimin’s lap with his knees drawn up to his chest. Jimin is running his fingers through his hair and murmuring little things that only Namjoon can hear. Hoseok and Yoongi sit across from them, not huddled up together like they do with Jimin because Namjoon understands that they aren't technically together, but it's hard to think that when Hoseok blushes whenever Yoongi touches him.

Namjoon’s been feeling shitty ever since he woke up that morning and remembered that Jeongguk’s date was to take place that night. But he’s also feeling shitty for the usual reasons as well. He has a paper due Sunday night and he’s barely gathered his resources on it, but he knows he can’t work on it today. He feels too awful. It's why he came to Jimin’s apartment, to seek comfort from the only other person he knows understands the way Namjoon feels about his body sometimes. Jimin’s touch is soothing and his words of encouragement hold more weight than Seokjin’s usually do.

Jimin had transitioned in his final year of high school, back when he’d only been dating Hoseok. Hoseok was an amazing guy, still amazing really, and had even helped Jimin buy his first packer. Then Jimin had met Yoongi through Namjoon and they’d been tip toeing around each other until all three of them sat down and discussed the parameters of their relationship the year before. Hoseok and Yoongi agreed that they didn't really want to date each other, but they wouldn't mind dating Jimin. Namjoon thinks that they must really love Jimin if they're willing to put up with each other and the weird stares they always get whenever they go out together. But it's sweet and nice and Namjoon’s really glad that Jimin is happy.

Still, they have their off days and when Namjoon’s get particularly bad, he comes to Jimin. Yoongi and Hoseok know not to say anything and just let Jimin work his magic on Namjoon, but Namjoon always feels guilty about needing the help anyways.

“Why won't you just date him, Joon?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon closes his eyes with a heavy sigh.

He feels really shitty, the worst ever since he embraced who he really was and he really doesn't want to talk about Jeongguk right now. It's all he can think about though. Whether Jeongguk will actually go through with the date or not, what he'll wear, whether he'll break out that special cologne or not. Namjoon really hopes that he won't, but he knows he has no right to say or even think that. It's his own fault for being too cowardly and he was the one who ran away when Jeongguk tried to kiss him. It's his own fault. All his fault.

“Hobi-hyung, please don't bring him up right now,” Jimin whispers, his voice is soft and musical and Namjoon feels like crying.

He coughs and Yoongi throws a pillow at him. “If you start crying, I'm kicking you out.”

Namjoon blinks back his tears to stare at the elder and closes his eyes again when Jimin’s fingernails scratch at his scalp lightly. It's soothing and it takes Namjoon's mind off the nausea and disgust he's feeling.

“You're mean, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs.

Yoongi sniffs. “The only one being mean to you is yourself, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon sighs. “Please don't, hyung. Not right now. It's really bad, okay?”

Jimin shifts underneath him and taps Namjoon’s cheek. “How bad, Joonie-hyung?”

“The worst. This is the worst I've ever felt,” Namjoon whispers, his face pillowed by Jimin’s thigh.

Namjoon hears someone get up from the opposite couch and he opens his eyes to see that it's Hoseok making his way towards the kitchen. It may be his imagination, but Yoongi looks reluctant to see Hoseok leave his side and when Namjoon looks up to question Jimin, Jimin just gives him a knowing smile before he goes back to massaging Namjoon’s head.

“You know, hyung,” Jimin starts, a thoughtful tilt to his head as he looks down at Namjoon. “Maybe your feelings for Jeongguk are what's making today so bad for you.”

“Not you too, Jiminnie,” Namjoon groans and sits up, pulling the pillow that Yoongi threw at him into his arms to hold up to his chest. “Please, drop it.”

“Just hear me out,” Jimin says, his palms held out towards Namjoon. “It's never been this bad before, right? And you said that today was Jeongguk’s date with that Yug-guy or whatever his name was.”

“Yugyeom,” Namjoon murmurs glumly. “His name is Yugyeom.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Yugyeom, whatever. That's not important right now.”

“Then what is? ‘Cause I don't get what point you're trying to prove, Jimin-ah.”

“Well, maybe you're just feeling even more depressed because you feel like you've messed things up with Jeongguk for good.”

“I still don't get it.”

Yoongi throws another pillow at him as Hoseok walks back into the living room, cups of tea in hand. He hands one to Jimin, then Namjoon and doubles back to the kitchen to grab the last two cups. Namjoon is definitely not imagining it when Hoseok whispers about making coffee for Yoongi instead of tea since the elder hates it and hands him his cup while Yoongi blushes fiercely and mumbles his thanks. Hoseok sits down beside him and instantly tangles their legs together like they were beforehand and Namjoon knows that they've finally swallowed their pride and are dating now too.

Jimin is giving him that knowing smile again when Namjoon looks back at him, but it's none of his business so Namjoon says nothing.

“I think what Jiminnie means is that your feelings for Jeongguk are being piled on top of your other usual feelings and that's why you feel so shitty right now,” Yoongi says, taking a sip of his coffee and giving an appreciative sigh as he does. He turns to Hoseok and murmurs, “This is great, by the way, SeokSeok.”

Yeah, they’re definitely fucking now.

Namjoon sighs and sips some of his tea. “It doesn't matter. Jeongguk already made a choice and he's going to go out with that guy tonight and him doing that has nothing to do with the way I'm feeling about my body right now.”

Jimin sets his cup down and takes Namjoon’s before placing it beside his own. He then pulls Namjoon’s hands into his own hands and turns so that his whole body is facing Namjoon's. Namjoon gulps and prepares himself for the lecture that Jimin is about to give him.

“That's not what I'm saying at all, Namjoonie-hyung. What I'm saying is that you feel so awful today because both your body dysphoria and your feelings for Jeonggukkie have combined. You're blaming yourself for this date happening and honestly, I blame you too, hyung.” Jimin’s voice is hard and unrelenting and Namjoon feels like crying again.

“Jimin-ah, I don't think that's helping,” Hoseok says quietly, his gaze fixed on Namjoon’s face and the tremble of his bottom lip. “You're gonna make him cry.”

Jimin tsks at Hoseok and waves a hand at him. “That's what I'm trying to do. Namjoon needs to cry this out so he can feel better and he needs to face the music about his feelings for Jeongguk. I'm tired of having the both of them come in here crying ‘cause Namjoon-hyung is too much of a pussy to just ask the kid out and get it over with.”

“That was so mean,” Yoongi breathes out before his gummy smile breaks out over his face. “I’m so proud.”

“Stop it, Jimin. You're going to make things worse for Namjoonie,” Hoseok murmurs, a disapproving look on his face. “Look! You made him cry.”

It's true, Namjoon is crying, but it's long overdue and he's already cried twice today so crying some more isn't really a big deal for Namjoon anymore. He knows Jimin is right and he knows that Hoseok is just trying to spare his feelings, but Namjoon’s feelings are all over the place and he isn't even sure what he wants to do anymore. Jimin sighs and pulls a few tissues out from the tissue box on the coffee table and dabs at Namjoon's face with them.

“I'm sorry, hyung. You know I don't like it when people cry, but I'm really really tired of this thing between you and Jeongguk-ah. He's gone searching for me five times this week, always crying about you running away from him when he tried to kiss you and how you probably hate him and some other nonsense. And now you've come over today moping about Jeongguk’s date and I'm sick of it. Either get your shit together and pursue Jeongguk or forget about it and cut off all ties with him,” Jimin exclaims, angrier than Namjoon's ever seen him, but then his voice and his face soften and Namjoon just can't stop his tears from falling. “I'm sorry, hyung, but I'm tired of seeing you two hurting so much over this.”

Hoseok is beside Namjoon then, a comforting hand on his back. “I know Jimin-ah is being harsh, but we're all worried. You've liked Jeongguk for so long and you've done nothing to make him yours. We're concerned that you're letting your past relationships affect your chances with Jeongguk and none of us want to see it when you finally crash and burn. You're nearing your breaking point already, Joonie.”

“Yeah, what they said,” Yoongi mutters as he wiggles his way onto Namjoon’s lap before he starts wiping the younger man’s tears away for him. “Namjoon-ah, you deserve to be happy and none of your asshole exes cared enough to prove that to you, but Jeongguk-ah can. You just have to let him.”

Namjoon sniffles and buries his face into Yoongi’s hair and let's the three of them comfort him until Jimin is pushing a box of his favorite takeout into his hands and swaddling him in a blanket as they settle down for a movie. Jimin lets Namjoon sit between him and his boyfriends and Namjoon eats as much as his stomach will let him before he nestles himself into Jimin’s side and lets his gaze focus on the television instead of Yoongi and Hoseok who are definitely making out beside him.

Yoongi catches the smirk that Namjoon gives them and frowns at him before asking, “What?”

Namjoon only smiles wider and shakes his head. “Nothing. I'm just happy you finally let Hoseok into your heart, hyung. It was weird watching you guys get jealous over Jimin.”

Yoongi blushes and mutters something Namjoon can't make out. Then Hoseok is patting his cheek and smiling softly. “You should let someone into your own heart sometime, Namjoon. It's scary as hell, but it's nice and it makes you feel all warm inside and out.”

Namjoon stares at Hoseok for a little while before he nods his head slowly and finishes watching the rest of the movie. Once it's over, Jimin kisses him on the cheek and offers to make Yoongi give him a ride home, but Namjoon’s apartment isn't far and the sun is barely starting to set so he should be fine. Hoseok kisses his other cheek and gives him the leftover takeout before he runs off into the kitchen again. Yoongi mutters about not needing to be coerced into driving Namjoon home because he was going to offer anyways and blushes when Jimin pats his cheek in consolation before leaving to join Hoseok in the kitchen. Yoongi looks at his socked feet for a few seconds then goes on tiptoe and kisses Namjoon’s nose unexpectedly.

“Don't let your past fuck up your future, Joon-ah, please? I don't like you being by yourself,” Yoongi murmurs, his voice the softest Namjoon has ever heard it.

Namjoon smiles and nuzzles his nose into Yoongi’s hair. “Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi hugs him briefly and offers to walk with him up to the front gate of the apartment complex, but Namjoon tells him it's okay and gives the elder a kiss on his forehead before he bids farewell. Yoongi watches him walk down the hall and take the main steps down until he's in the courtyard. Namjoon waves as he reaches the front gate and isn't surprised to see Yoongi flanked by Jimin and Hoseok as they wave goodbye back. Namjoon grins and steps onto the sidewalk, letting the gate close behind him with a loud clang.

Namjoon’s walk home doesn't take long and he spends a lot of time looking at the spring flowers that adorn a few front gardens and shop windows. Namjoon distantly thinks that he's in the spring of his own life right now and should embrace new things, but he's scared and he doesn't want to get hurt again. Jeongguk is a really sweet kid and Namjoon likes him a lot, more than he's liked any of his exes, but whenever he thinks about being in a relationship with him, all he feels is crippling fear.

He's scared of being hurt. He's scared of being left again. No one he's been with has ever wanted to stay and while Jeongguk likes him back, Namjoon knows that it's just Jeongguk’s young mindset that’s keeping him from thinking of the future. Jeongguk certainly isn't ready for commitment, but it's what Namjoon wants. It's what he's always wanted and no one has been willing to stay long enough to give it to him.

Namjoon makes it home without any preamble at all. He’s barely walked past Seokjin’s door before it's being opened and Seokjin is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a wary look on his face as he notices Namjoon’s red-rimmed eyes.

“What happened?” Namjoon gives out a sigh when he realizes that the elder is worried.

“Nothing. I was over at Jimin’s today is all,” Namjoon murmurs, his fingers clenching tightly around the food Hoseok gave him before he left.

Seokjin takes in his appearance. The dumpy dark gray sweatshirt Namjoon wears when it's one of those days, the dirty washed out converse, the black jeans that leave nothing up to the imagination, and the tired look on Namjoon’s face before Seokjin is drawing him into a hug. Namjoon doesn't cry, but he feels like he might again because Seokjin hasn't spoken to him in a week and now he's in his arms and he can feel his chest against his own and Namjoon has missed his best friend.

“I'm so sorry, Joon-ah,” Seokjin whispers.

Namjoon pats his back. “It's okay.”

For the first time in a while, Namjoon doesn't think he's lying when he says those words.

  After Seokjin treated him to a home cooked dinner and some gross beer, Namjoon makes his way up the stairs to his own apartment.

He unlocks the door, takes off his shoes and closes the door behind him as he flicks the lights on.

“I'm home!” He calls out to no one in particular.

He should work on his paper, it isn’t going to write itself. But he decides that he can’t concentrate enough to even look at it. So he sighs and stretches his arms above his head.

Then he shoves his leftovers into the fridge, takes a nice, warm shower and looks at his naked body in the mirror. His hands skim across his chest, disappointed to still feel a softness there that he doesn't want to feel again, but he can admit that his chest looks flatter and his hips aren't as noticeable as before.

Namjoon is pleased to see that he's less curvy than he was a year ago.

He dresses in boxers and a white undershirt then throws himself into bed where he falls asleep.

He wakes up to soft knocking on his door that he isn't sure he really heard. He might have just imagined it, but then the sound rings out again and Namjoon grunts as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

Namjoon doesn't remember about his choice of clothing until he opens the door to a crying Jeongguk clad in a pretty black skirt and a tight shirt with a collar that dips downwards in a severe V to show off his clavicle. Suddenly, Namjoon is very aware of the fact that his shirt is very, very see-through and there's a reason why Jeongguk is trying hard not to look at his chest.

“Jeongguk-ah? What's wrong?” Namjoon asks, his arms not so subtly coming up to cover his chest.

“Hy-hyung, can I come i-in, please?” Jeongguk cries, wiping at his eyes to try and stop his crying.

Namjoon wordlessly steps away from the door and lets the younger man in. “Uh, give me a moment to put something on.”

Jeongguk nods his head and takes off his shoes politely before he sits down on Namjoon’s couch, staring at nothing and still crying. Namjoon closes his door, pushes the tissue box towards the younger as he passes by the couch, then rushes into his room to pull on a hoodie. He's back in the living room where Jeongguk is still crying and Namjoon’s not really sure what to do.

“Do you want some tea or coffee?” Namjoon asks, his voice low and soft.

Jeongguk looks up at him and mumbles, “Can I h-have milk instead?”

“Of course. Warm or cold?”

“W-warm.”

Namjoon nods and walks into his kitchen. He doesn't really spend a lot of time in here considering he can't cook for jack shit, but he can make tea and coffee and he can definitely heat up some fucking milk.

He can still hear Jeongguk crying, but he pushes that to the back of his head as he sets to work on the milk and making some tea for himself. He knows his hair must look like a birds nest so he uses the back of a spoon as a mirror while he tries to tame the rebellious blonde locks. He uses the same spoon to mix honey into his tea before he carefully makes his way back into the living room and hands Jeongguk his cup of milk. Namjoon sits as far as possible on the tiny couch as he can and tries to figure out what he should say as Jeongguk continues to cry and takes shallow sips of his milk.

“Do you, uh,” Namjoon starts, then clears his throat once he realizes how gruff his voice sounds. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Jeongguk sets his cup down and Namjoon figures he should do the same. “Do y-you promise not to t-tell Tae?”

Namjoon feels his brow furrow and he turns so he's facing Jeongguk all the way. “Depends. If it's something I think Taehyung should know, then I’ll tell him, but that all depends on what it is. So tell me, what happened Jeonggukkie? Weren't you supposed to be on your date right now?”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and stares at his hands. “Yugyeom made f-fun of my skirt.”

Namjoon feels a heated coil of anger begin to rise in his stomach. “He did what?”

“We were g-gonna go midnight b-bowling. I agreed ‘cause I didn't really c-care where we went as long as I-I got it over with. I showed up early where we were supposed to m-meet and when he finally showed up, he s-started telling me that I shouldn't have worn the skirt, that it w-was weird for guys to wear s-skirts and it's gross and he doesn't w-wanna be seen with a t-tranny,” Jeongguk manages to say.

Namjoon bolts to his feet and stomps to his bedroom to pull on socks and some sweats. When he steps into the living room again, Jeongguk is watching him with wide, teary eyes. He doesn't say anything until Namjoon is shoving his feet into his shoes.

“Where are you g-going?”

“To beat the shit out of that asshole,” Namjoon spits through his teeth as he finally get his second shoe on.

“No, you're not.”

Namjoon stills and turns to look at the younger boy who’s still crying and who looks absolutely gorgeous in the skirt he wears and Namjoon really wants to just fucking kiss him.

“Why the hell not? He deserves it!”

Jeongguk makes his away around the couch and lays his hand on Namjoon’s forearm before he starts pulling the elder back into the living room. Namjoon should kick off his shoes, but he's afraid he’ll fall if he tries to do that while Jeongguk is leading him back towards the couch.

“He may deserve it, but if I wanted his ass kicked, I would've gone to Taehyung’s.”

Namjoon stills and Jeongguk comes to a stop beside him.

“Why are you here then?” Namjoon feels like it isn't him who’s speaking right now, but it's definitely his mouth that's moving as he forms the words.

Jeongguk is staring at him like the sun shines out of his ass and Namjoon is screwed.

“Because I'm not making the same mistake twice. I know you like me, hyung, and I know why you don't want to date, but can you at least let me try, please?” Jeongguk bites on his bottom lip and Namjoon very much wants to kiss him.

Namjoon is beyond confused and he doesn't know how Yugyeom being a total jackass to Jeongguk made the younger think he should try to fix things with Namjoon, but Namjoon knows he's in no position to refuse Jeongguk’s offer right now. He can still hear Jimin’s voice telling him to either get his shit together or forget about Jeongguk once and for all.

But Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk at all. He doesn't want to forget about the tiny mole underneath Jeongguk’s bottom lip. He doesn't want to forget about the way the younger man’s hair curls around his ears when he lets it air dry because he’s in a rush. He doesn't want to forget how Jeongguk always bites on his bottom lip when he's nervous or when he thinks that he's asking for too much or when he's just shy. He doesn't want to forget about the gleam that forms in his eyes when he gets competitive. He doesn't want to forget the feeling of his hand in his, the sound of his voice. He doesn't want to forget how he sounds like when he sings, when he laughs, and when he slips into his natural Busan dialect. He doesn't want to forget about how Jeongguk looks like a bunny when he eats. And he definitely doesn't want to forget about the way it feels to have Jeongguk close, by his side, and in his arms.

Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk.

So, Namjoon, he nods his head and lets Jeongguk pull him close until their chests are bumping against each other and their lips are a hairsbreadth away from one another. Namjoon lets his eyes flutter shut when Jeongguk's soft lips press against his own and he feels a hot flash of something rocket straight towards his groin. He lets Jeongguk lead them to his bedroom and kick off his shoes. Namjoon lets the younger push him into the mattress and straddle his waist and kiss him breathless. He lets his hands pull the younger closer until all he feels is Jeongguk pressed against him and then suddenly Namjoon is pulling his hoodie over his head and he’s guiding Jeongguk’s hands up his undershirt until they're cupping his chest. Namjoon lets the younger kiss him and fondle him, but he doesn't let them go any further than that.

Jeongguk doesn't push it. He knows that this is as far as Namjoon will go and he lets the elder tuck him into his bed with a few good night kisses before Namjoon throws himself onto his couch. Namjoon didn't expect for his day to end so eventfully, but he can't say that he regrets it really. He closes his eyes and lets sleep envelop him for the second time that night.

When he wakes up, he’s greeted by a mess of black hair and a warm body pressed against his on the couch. Namjoon smiles and kisses Jeongguk’s nose before he lets himself sleep for a little while more.

Jeongguk nestles into his chest and sighs into Namjoon’s neck and Namjoon’s really glad the younger didn't wear his special cologne for his date with Yugyeom last night.

  Jeongguk becomes clingy after that.

Namjoon wouldn't mind it if he also wasn't a person who needed their space from to time to time and Jeongguk was always in his space.

He really likes the kid and he likes that they kiss and hold hands now and lay sprawled out across Namjoon’s living room studying and working on homework, but Namjoon needs space. Jeongguk can’t always be wrapped up in his arms and in his apartment and sleeping in his bed with him. It's nice having someone to keep him company when he's at home in his tiny one roomed apartment, but it's terrifyingly domestic seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen more often than Seokjin.

Jeongguk even has overnight clothes in Namjoon’s drawers now. Despite the fact that Namjoon isn’t one hundred percent happy about all the time they spend together, he still washes Jeongguk’s clothes come laundry day.

They aren’t even dating. Not officially, but it's not like Taehyung cares. He's just happy to see his best friend and his boyfriend’s best friend finally happy. Jimin tells Namjoon not to screw it up, but even Yoongi is concerned about how much of his time is spent with Jeongguk. Yoongi understands about Namjoon needing his space, he gets the same way most days and usually locks himself up in the studio until Jimin or Hoseok drag him out, but Namjoon has never had to worry about that. His apartment has always been his place and his alone. Namjoon needing his space is the only reason he and Seokjin don't live together anymore, even though they live in the same apartment complex.

But Jeongguk is always in his space and Namjoon feels like screaming.

Jeongguk asking for a key to his place is when Namjoon finally puts his foot down.

“Gukkie-ah, don't you think we're spending too much time together?” Namjoon is going for the gentle approach, but Jeongguk is overly sensitive so Namjoon has to pick his words carefully.

Jeongguk’s excited grin falls into a pout and Namjoon wants to kiss him until he’s giggling. “What do you mean, hyung?”

“I mean, when’s the last time you hung out with your friends? With Taehyung?”

“Hyung, we saw him yesterday, with Seokjin-hyung when we went out to eat at that diner,” Jeongguk says and tilts his head like he’s confused about why Namjoon is asking him this.

Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. Jeongguk’s resorting to the dreaded “we” now and Namjoon feels his fingertips start to tingle. “When was the last time you hung out with Taehyung, just the two of you, Jeonggukkie?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Namjoon gasps dramatically, aiming for scandalized and probably only reaching comedic. “No wonder Taehyung has been giving me dirty looks. He thinks I'm stealing his best friend and keeping him all to myself.”

Namjoon pulls Jeongguk into his arms and tries to cackle, but ends up choking instead and Jeongguk has to pat his back in between his giggles.

“Hyung! Tae doesn't think that. Are you kidding? He practically moved in with Seokjin-hyung already and they've been dating a month. When's the last time you saw Jin-hyung, just the two of you?” Jeongguk asks, an amused look on his face.

“Five weeks ago,” Namjoon says sheepishly and then a thought strikes him. “Actually, Seokjinnie-hyung wanted me to go to the movies with him this weekend. Said he misses me terribly and hates not being able to see me when he wants anymore.”

Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip as he looks up into Namjoon’s face. “He said that?”

Namjoon nods. “Mhhm.”

“I guess I have been keeping you all to myself recently, but it's just thatー” Jeongguk pauses and only continues when Namjoon coaxes him into talking again. “I’m not used to having things to myself. I've always had to share and I-I really like you, hyung, and I didn't think that anybody would m-mind if I took up most of your time.”

Namjoon feels guilty now and undoubtedly so since he kind of just lied to Jeongguk, but Namjoon really needs one night away from him to clear his head and get himself into gear. He needs to think about whether they should make things official or not, but Namjoon needs to think about that away from Jeongguk. Whenever they're together, Namjoon is drunk off the smell, the look, and the feeling of Jeongguk in his arms. Then he goes insane over the fact that all his stuff is being touched by Jeongguk and nothing he owns is sacred anymore, even the packer he never uses. Jeongguk had put that on his head and chased Namjoon around his apartment asking for a kiss until Namjoon tripped on the couch and Jeongguk had to ice his ankle with the damn packer still on his fucking head.

Namjoon needs a clear head if he's going to take a step forward with Jeongguk.

Namjoon kisses the younger, long and sweet and his blood is thrumming in his veins when Jeongguk kisses him back.

When they break apart, Namjoon keeps his eyes closed and lets their noses bump against one another. “Sorry, Gukkie-ah. But I do kind of need this night with hyung. I wanna think about certain things with you not around ‘cause you drive me insane and it's hard to think whenever I have you like this.”

Jeongguk pecks his lips and nuzzles his nose into Namjoon’s cheek. “What is it that you need to think about hyung?”

Namjoon smiles and Jeongguk pokes one of his dimples. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

The younger man pouts and Namjoon laughs before kissing him again. “That's not fair, hyung.”

“Don't worry, baby.” Namjoon doesn't realize what he just said until Jeongguk is looking at him wide-eyed and in awe.

“What?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You called me baby.”

Namjoon freezes. “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“D-do you mind if I call you baby?” Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk smiles and draws Namjoon closer into his embrace. “No. I like it.”

Namjoon lets out a breath in relief and laughs again. “That's ‘cause you are a baby.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“You're mean, hyung.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Baby,” Namjoon huffs.

Jeongguk just giggles and kisses Namjoon before he walks off into the elder’s kitchen. “Your baby.”

Namjoon doesn't say anything.

  Seokjin readily agrees to the impromptu movie date with Namjoon for that Friday and that makes it easier for Namjoon to breathe whenever he and Jeongguk are together.

Jeongguk cuts back on his time spent with Namjoon though and Namjoon is glad that the younger is giving him some much needed space. Still, whenever Jeongguk isn’t around, he gets a bit antsy and starts twisting the ends of his hair in his fingers.

Namjoon knows he's gotten attached, but Jeongguk is just as attached if the constant Kakao messages from Taehyung about Jeongguk not shutting up about him are anything to go by. It might be a little unhealthy the way they tend to gravitate towards one another, but Namjoon has been waiting really long to have the younger in his arms. He needs his space, he really does, but he’s starting to not mind having Jeongguk around. It's comforting and Jeongguk is nice and he’s warm.

Namjoon thinks he might love him.

It doesn't stop him from knocking on Seokjin's door that Friday night at 20:30 on the dot. Seokjin answers and gives Namjoon a hug that's a bit longer than usual since they haven't been alone together ever since the night of Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom. Namjoon pats the elder’s back then coughs awkwardly and Seokjin lets him go, his face a bit pink. They walk down the steps and into the garage where Seokjin’s car waits for them.

Seokjin, ever the gentleman, opens Namjoon’s door for him and Namjoon slips inside the car. The elder is quickly buckling his seatbelt in the driver’s side and Namjoon waits silently for Seokjin to start the car, his seatbelt already buckled.

Then they're off and Namjoon laughs when Seokjin smashes his hand on his console to change the radio station since a song he hates came on.

“Shut up,” Seokjin mutters under his breath, his eyes on the road now that the light has turned green.

Namjoon can only laugh louder as he sings off-tune to the rock song Seokjin put on. Seokjin has a small smile on his lips as he drives and Namjoon rolls his window down to let the wind blow through his hair. Seokjin grumbles about his hair being ruined, but Namjoon just laughs again and ruffles the elder’s hair. Seokjin shoots him a disapproving stare until he’s pulling into the movie theatre’s parking lot.

They park and Namjoon links his arm with Seokjin’s as they walk down the steps and make it towards the main exit of the parking lot. Seokjin pauses to stare at his hair in the window of a bar and Namjoon laughs as he helps the elder fix his hair.

“Brat,” Seokjin murmurs before he pulls Namjoon into his side as they walk under the bright marquee displaying the newest movies being shown at the movie theatre.

Namjoon wiggles beside him, not really minding that Seokjin has a hand on his waist since this is their usual way of being together, but now that they both aren’t technically available, Namjoon thinks he should feel weird about the way they look like a couple right now. They’ve always been perceived as one though and Namjoon takes a deep breath and lets it go. Seokjin rubs his thumb into Namjoon’s hips like he can read his mind and he probably does have an idea about what’s on his mind, but he says nothing about it and Namjoon lets the elder lead him towards the short line to buy their tickets.

Seokjin shoves his hand into Namjoon’s back pocket and Namjoon opens his mouth to say something until he realizes that the elder is pulling his wallet out to pay for their tickets.

“That broke, hyung?” Namjoon asks.

“You invited me, so you’re paying,” Seokjin chuckles as he unwraps his arms from around Namjoon and takes out the necessary won he needs to pay for both their tickets.

Namjoon scoffs when Seokjin shoves his wallet back into Namjoon’s back pocket and wraps his arms around the younger again after getting their tickets. “Fine, but you’re paying for food.”

Seokjin grunts and awkwardly pushes Namjoon forward towards the doors. “I’m only buying it now. If you come in to get food during the middle of the movie, you have to pay for it yourself, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and pushes Seokjin until the elder is back at his side again instead of uncomfortably plastered to his back. Seokjin pouts and Namjoon pats his cheek before he gives the employee that waits just past the front doors a sheepish smile. Seokjin hands the girl their tickets and waits for her to tear off the stubs and hand them back before he herds Namjoon towards the concession stand. Namjoon lets Seokjin cling to him as they order their food, but tears the elder away from him once they’re being given their nachos and slurpees and salted pretzels with cheese. Seokjin mumbles something about having a sleepover with pizza after the movie’s over. Namjoon chuckles and gives the elder a maybe.

They’re a bit early for their movie, but that means they get first dibs on what seats they want. Namjoon leads the way up the steps to the topmost row of seats and plants himself right underneath the projector. Seokjin sits on his left and hands him his slurpee while Namjoon puts his pretzel in the elder’s lap. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin remembers they forgot to buy popcorn.

“We don’t need it, hyung,” Namjoon chuckles.

Seokjin lets out an overly-dramatic scandalized gasp as he stands up. “Popcorn is a vital factor to having a terrific movie experience. You’re not the dongsaeng I raised.”

Namjoon cackles and Seokjin leans over to press his lips to the younger’s hair. “I’ll be right back, Joonie.”

Namjoon blushes and watches Seokjin leave, barely taking notice of the person who slips into the movie theatre after Seokjin has left. They’re wearing a red hoodie that Namjoon thinks he’s seen before and they move quickly, taking a seat at the end of Namjoon’s row where Namjoon is, like, ninety-five percent sure that person isn’t able to see the trailers that are being shown. He forgets about it when Seokjin returns with a large tub of popcorn and a hand ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he sits down. Namjoon frowns at him and vainly tries to fix whatever damage Seokjin has done to his hair before he lets the elder feed him a tortilla chip lathered in cheese and chili. Namjoon gives him a sip of his slurpee and then he’s made aware of three girls who are sitting in front of them laughing as they turn in their seats to stare at Namjoon and Seokjin.

Seokjin tenses beside him and Namjoon doesn’t like the way the girls are looking at them.

“Just ignore them,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes on his food as he starts to tear his pretzel into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He dips a piece into his cheese and holds it out for the elder to eat. Seokjin eyes it warily, gives the girls who are still staring at them a heated glare before he leans in and takes the piece of pretzel into his mouth. Namjoon coos appreciatively and wipes at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth with a napkin and Seokjin, despite the staring girls in front of them, smiles and wipes at Namjoon’s nose where chili from his nachos has ended up.

“Cute,” one girl says, practically sending them heart eyes and Namjoon, even in the near dark of the movie theatre can see that the back of Seokjin’s neck is turning red.

Namjoon coughs and thanks every deity out there for the lights finally turning off and the big screen becoming brighter, filled with flashing images that he doesn’t really pay attention to. Namjoon’s not quite sure why Seokjin picked out this movie to watch, but it’s dreadfully boring and halfway through he’s finished all his food. Seokjin gives him a pitying look and hands him a few won to buy a soda from the concession stand. Namjoon smiles and tells the elder to not waste telling him what he missed if he comes back.

He’s hyperaware of the fact that the hooded person is following him, but he chalks it down to coincidence. They may just have to go to the bathroom and when he gets into line, his suspicions are balked when the hooded person makes a beeline for the men’s restroom. Namjoon sighs, inexplicably relieved and orders his soda. He forgets about the hooded person and loiters about for a bit near the concession stand until he sits down on the bench that's in front of the restrooms.

Then Red Hoodie is stepping out of the bathroom and Namjoon almost drops his soda when he realizes it's Jeongguk. He's wearing a fake mustache, sunglasses, and a snapback on under his hoodie. Namjoon would laugh at how ridiculous he looks if he also wasn't just a tiny bit pissed off.

“Jeongguk-ah.” Namjoon’s voice is rough and there's a tenor to it that shows he's mad.

Jeongguk stills and reluctantly sits down with Namjoon on the bench when the elder pats the empty space beside him. Jeongguk sits on the far end of the bench and Namjoon sets his drink down so he can glare at him.

“What are you doing here?”

The younger takes his sunglasses off and pushes the hoodie back. Namjoon wants to be mad, he really does, but Jeongguk looks like a knock-off Mario and Namjoon finds it absolutely hilarious.

“Came to see the movie, hyung,” Jeongguk answers timidly.

Namjoon tilts his head to the side and stares at the younger man beside him. “Oh yeah? So you just happened to be here wearing that ridiculous disguise? Sure you're not spying on me and hyung, Jeongguk-ah?”

Jeongguk bites his lip and finally nods his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Why are you spying on us?”

“Becauseー” Jeongguk pauses and takes a deep breath. “Because I thought you two were on a date and the way you've been touching each other tonight only made me think that more. Why do you let hyung touch you like that, but you won't let me?”

Namjoon is definitely pissed. He doesn't have time for this kid’s overactive imagination and he one hundred percent does not have time for Jeongguk’s petty jealousy. Not now or ever. It's not “hot” having the younger be possessive enough to follow him and his best friend to the movies. It's disgusting and it's unhealthy.

“You had no right to follow us, Jeongguk-ah. Just because you're jealous doesn't give you any actual reason to do this. It's gross, Jeongguk-ah. Relationships are about trust and if you're going to get like this,” Namjoon waves a hand at the younger, pointing at his get up, “then I think we should break up.”

“Break up?” Jeongguk’s voice is low. “But w-we aren't even dating, hyung!”

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “And we never will if you keep this up.”

Jeongguk takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair and over his face. “Hyung, I'm sorry. I was justー”

“You were just what, Jeonggukkie?”

“Scared,” Jeongguk whispers.

Namjoon sighs and holds his hand out for the younger to take. He doesn't like jealousy in a partner, he really doesn't, but he really likes Jeongguk and he knows that he’d really like to date him. If Jeongguk is going to be like this though, then Namjoon doesn't want to waste his time stuck in another unhealthy relationship. He should let the younger man know what he's doing is wrong though. It's wrong to do something this extreme when he's feeling jealous. Namjoon isn't an object, he's a person with a mind of his own and he has feelings. Jeongguk needs to know this.

“Jeongguk. It's wrong to do this. Do you understand that?” Namjoon waits for the younger to nod his head. “I'm not your property. I'm a human being with crazy emotions and I make my own decisions. You can't do this every time I go out somewhere with Seokjin-hyung, or maybe Jimin-ah, or even Tae! It's wrong and it's embarrassing and it makes me mad, Jeongguk-ah.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk ducks his head and Namjoon thinks he might be crying again, but Namjoon isn’t going to let him off the hook so easily like that.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry. I’m telling hyung and Tae-ah what you did.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket and starts scrolling through Kakao to find his conversation thread with the two men he just mentioned. Jeongguk says nothing and scoots a bit closer as he squeezes the elder’s hand.

“Hyung, I was scared, okay?” Jeongguk begins. “I’ve never dated before and the only times the people I’ve liked have seemed to like me back is when they wanted to use that against me to hurt me. High school was the worst. This one senior I thought was really cute kissed me in front of everybody during gym class then pulled my shorts and underwear down. Taehyung kicked his ass once he heard, but the possibility of Taehyung beating them up hasn’t stopped the other people who pretended to be interested in me.”

Namjoon feels sick now. He understands what Jeongguk means though. Every person he’s ever been with has been toxic for Namjoon and he guesses that he has that in common with the younger. The thought makes his heart churn and Namjoon wants to make sure that no one hurts Jeongguk ever again.

“I know people have been shitty to you in the past, trust me, I understand that much more than you think, but that doesn’t excuse what you did here, Jeongguk-ah,” Namjoon says, still trying to press his point with the younger.

Jeongguk scoots even closer and cups Namjoon’s hand with both of his. “I know it doesn’t hyung and I know you do, but I was scared. I really thought that you and Seokjin-hyung were on a date and I started thinking that maybe you both were just stringing me and TaeTae-hyung along for fun.”

Namjoon’s palm itches and he kind of feels like slapping Jeongguk for thinking so low of him and his best friend, but Namjoon understands, he really does. He’d done this exact thing to Seokjin on his first date with Taehyung and Seokjin had given him a long, long lecture about not thinking the worst about people. Taehyung was nice and he treated Seokjin like a king and Namjoon is still pretty ashamed about following them on their dinner date, but at the time he was just trying to protect his friend. Jeongguk followed them tonight because he was trying to protect his friend and his own heart. Namjoon sighs and pulls the younger closer until he’s sitting on his lap.

“I’m still mad at you, but I can forgive you. You have to promise you won’t do this again, Jeongguk-ah. It’s really unhealthy and I don’t want us to have a toxic relationship. I really like you and I want to be with you, but you have to trust me and my feelings for you. I wouldn’t let anybody kiss me you know,” Namjoon huffs, burying his nose into Jeongguk’s hair. “They have to be really special to me and I don’t like it when people touch me either. I want to make this work with you, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, alright?”

Jeongguk nods glumly and nestles himself into the elder’s chest. “Okay. I’m sorry, hyung, I really am. I promise not to do this again. Next time, we’ll talk about it like civilized adults. I was just scared.”

Namjoon laughs. “You have no reason to be scared, baby. I like you and you like me and that’s it. Put your trust in that.”

“Tell my brain that.”

“I’m telling you this, Jeonggukkie. I like you and I want us to date, but we need to talk about a few things.”

“Like what?” Jeongguk asks.

“About how much time we spend together. It’s reallyー” Namjoon bites his lip and pauses before he continues. “It’s really suffocating having you so close and in my space so often. It freaked me out at first, if I’m being honest. I’m a person who sometimes just needs to be alone so that I can function properly, but you were always around and it drove me crazy. Don’t take it as I don’t want you around, because I do want you near me, just not all the time.”

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I-I kinda figured, hyung. You’d get this panicky look in your eyes sometimes when I’d go to hug you or when you’d find me in your kitchen making food. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I promise to cut back on our time together.”

Namjoon kisses the top of his head and hugs the younger man tightly. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. And remember, if you’re worried about anything, you can talk to me and we can discuss it together. That’s what relationships are about.”

“Are you saying that you’re finally ready to date me, hyung?”

Namjoon tilts Jeongguk’s head up, pulls off the fake mustache that he still has on and kisses him. Their lips slot together softly and Namjoon kinda feels like his bigger lips drown Jeongguk’s smaller ones, but it’s fine. Jeongguk still makes his presence known by letting his hand trail up to cup Namjoon’s head and bring it down so he's closer to the younger and breathes out a tiny sigh when Namjoon’s hand grips his waist. The kiss is indescribably soft and Namjoon feels a haze begin to cloud his thoughts as Jeongguk continues to kiss him. Jeongguk is warm and pliant in his arms and Namjoon is suddenly aware of the younger man’s barely there erection pressing into his abdomen as he leans over Jeongguk. Namjoon’s mind flashes to the fact that he doesn’t own a strap-on that’s supposed to be used for sex and then he remembers that Taehyung took his measurements for new pants last week so he can just ask the fashion designer to share those with him tomorrow.

Jeongguk is the first to pull away and there’s a soft smile on his face that makes Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“Hyung?”

“Hmm?” Namjoon hums.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not mad about what you did though,” Namjoon says.

Jeongguk smiles and nods. “I understand. I’d be upset as well. Despite that, thank you for agreeing to be my boyfriend.”

Namjoon laughs and kisses the younger again. They sit on the bench and wait for Seokjin to finish watching the movie and stand up together, hand-in-hand, when the elder steps out into the main lobby. He spots them and Namjoon is only slightly surprised to find Taehyung trailing after him.

“Yours came too, huh?” Seokjin asks as he nears them and lifts a brow in question.

Namjoon nods and grunts when the elder throws an arm around his shoulders and turns them so that they’re facing their boyfriends. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

“I don’t know about you, but a massage sounds really good right about now,” Namjoon murmurs wickedly and slips his arm around the elder’s waist as they start making their way towards the exit.

Seokjin laughs. “You read my mind.”

The two older men laugh when Jeongguk and Taehyung rush to open the doors for them and follow them dutifully outside.

“How’d you guys get here, anyway?” Seokjin asks as they walk towards the parking lot.

Taehyung shrugs. “A cab.”

“Then you can take a cab back,” Seokjin chuckles and waves goodbye as he leads Namjoon towards his car. “See you at my place!”

Namjoon waves at the two younger men with a smirk on his face, but he can tell that they aren’t going to complain. They’re both on thin ice and are being punished for following them tonight, so they are going to do as they’re told.

Seokjin cackles just a tiny bit too gleefully when they pull out from the parking lot and see Taehyung and Jeongguk struggling to get a cab. He shows mercy by pulling over and telling them to hop in before he changes his mind.

Namjoon rolls his window down and sings along off-key to the radio at the top of his lungs with Seokjin as they drive back home.

  His fingers are tingling a little and his knees shake. Namjoon feels like he might just vomit, but he needs to knock on this door and he needs to get his wits together.

Namjoon takes a deep breath and knocks.

Jeongguk opens the door almost immediately, as if he was waiting behind it for Namjoon to knock. He’s wearing a shimmery black dress and Namjoon feels his heart splutter in his chest. They’re going on their first official date and Namjoon feels like he might go insane if he has to look at Jeongguk in that dress all night.

“You look really, really cute,” Namjoon manages to say between his wheezing breaths.

He’s completely thrown off-guard when Jeongguk drags him inside and attacks his lips. The door is being kicked closed behind Namjoon as the younger leads him towards his bedroom and Namjoon is overly excited.

They haven’t been intimate yet, but Namjoon has been prepared for a few weeks now just in case. Except that everything he prepared is back at his place, not in Jeongguk’s dorm room. But before he can really say anything, they’re in Jeongguk’s room, the door locked and Namjoon awkwardly sprawled out on Jeongguk’s bed.

Jeongguk is straddling his lap then and his lips are persistent against Namjoon’s and the elder feels like he’s swimming. Jeongguk is soft and warm and Namjoon is drunk off the feel of him. He really wants to bed the younger, but this is the night of their first date and Namjoon is going to take Jeongguk out for dinner no matter what. So he grips onto the younger man’s wrists and rolls them over so he’s looming over the younger who’s now pinned to the mattress. They’re both breathing heavily and Namjoon swallows, his throat feeling dry as he tries to speak.

“Baby, we’re going to dinner,” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk pouts and easily wiggles out of Namjoon’s grip on his wrists. “But I want you, hyung.”

“I know, baby, trust me I know.” Namjoon doesn’t mean to roll his hips down on Jeongguk’s erection, but it kind of, just, happens and the moan Jeongguk makes spikes a hot flash of arousal through Namjoon. “But I promised you a proper date and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“But, hyungー” Jeongguk whines.

Namjoon kisses him softly and rises from the bed. “No buts. We’re going to dinner and then we’re going to go back to my place afterward.”

Jeongguk sits up on his elbow and quirks a brow up in question. “What will we do at your place?”

“Well, I bought a new strap-on, more lube, and a box of condoms with our names on them,” Namjoon says with a straight face as he fixes his shirt. “And maybe we’ll be able to try them out if you behave and let me take you out on a proper date, Jeonggukkie.”

The younger man’s pupils dilate and he nods his head fervently before he gets up from his bed and excitedly takes Namjoon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Namjoon laughs and lets Jeongguk drag him towards the door where he has to stop and remind the younger that his semi is noticeable in the dress. Jeongguk blushes and Namjoon takes off his jacket so Jeongguk can hold it in front of him as they walk out into the dorm’s hallway and steadily make their way outside where Seokjin’s car awaits them. Seokjin let Namjoon borrow it for the night and is supposed to knock on the elder’s door as soon as they get to his place to return the keys. Namjoon isn’t sure he’ll get the chance to do that though since Taehyung is supposed to be over tonight and he knows that those two are loud when they get together. He shakes his head and pushes the thought away to open Jeongguk’s door for him and waits until his boyfriend is properly seated before he shuts his door. He quickly walks around to his side of the car and climbs in. Then they’re off and halfway through the ride, Jeongguk gives Namjoon his jacket back.

He doesn’t say anything, he does his best not to laugh, but Jeongguk still pouts once he catches sight of the amused smile on Namjoon’s face.

Neither of the two men say anything until they’re pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot and Namjoon is opening Jeongguk’s door. Jeongguk hesitates and Namjoon leans in to give the younger a peck on the lips.

“If anyone says anything, I will kick their ass. Don’t worry, baby. You look magnificent in that dress. Did Tae-ah make it for you?” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk smiles and takes the hand the elder gives him. He steps out of the car and Namjoon closes it behind him before he locks the sleek vehicle. Jeongguk stays close to Namjoon’s side as they walk towards the bright lights of the restaurant.

“Yeah, Tae said the material and shade really suited my skintone,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Namjoon chuckles and then they’re inside and face-to-face with the maitre’d. “The Kims.”

Jeongguk is positively glowing by the time they’re led to their table near the back of the restaurant. Namjoon feels like he isn’t going to make it to dessert if Jeongguk doesn’t stop trying to play footsie with him under the table. Jeongguk just smirks and orders a dish that’s filled with phallic food and takes his time sucking on an array of things as they eat. Namjoon gulps and tries to focus on the fact that no one even looked twice when they saw Jeongguk in a dress.

Namjoon has asked before about whether Jeongguk may identify as a girl, but Jeongguk had told him that wasn’t the case at all. He just likes skirts and dresses and he likes being a boy too. Namjoon had nodded, he understood, and they hadn’t talked about it again. He has to admit, Jeongguk looks really, really handsome in his new dress as well so he tells the younger this and theyー

They end up skipping dessert.

  Jeongguk bounces as he flops onto Namjoon’s bed, the skirt of his dress is hiked up around his thighs and Namjoon’s shirt is unbuttoned as he climbs atop the younger.

Namjoon lets his lips press briefly against Jeongguk’s chapped ones before he’s taking off the rest of his shirt and slips out of his jeans as well. Jeongguk sits up to push Namjoon’s briefs off and looks up at the elder in question when he reaches for his binder. Namjoon nods and Jeongguk smiles before he peels it off the elder and lets his tongue stroke the pert, brown nipple of Namjoon’s right breast. Namjoon groans and brings the younger closer.

The mattress shifts under their weight as Jeongguk turns them over so that Namjoon’s head is resting on the pillows now. This is the first time that Namjoon has been naked in front of someone ever since he really became a man. This is also the first time that Namjoon has had sex in over two years.

There’s a feeling in his chest that engulfs him when Jeongguk stands to let the dress slide down his figure and Namjoon’s mouth is left watering. Jeongguk wears nothing underneath the shiny material and Namjoon isn’t sure how he didn’t notice that before.

Jeongguk’s naked body makes Namjoon’s mouth go dry. Namjoon is aware that the younger man exercises and weight lifts sometimes, when he has the time at least, but seeing the proof of it right in front of him makes Namjoon go weak in the knees. Jeongguk’s abdomen is toned and lined and all the elder can think about is licking it. Jeongguk’s body is lanky and muscular, but it's barely noticeable and Namjoon is a hundred percent certain that Jeongguk could pick him up and throw him clean across the room if he wanted to. Namjoon wants to mark up the V lines leading towards Jeongguk’s groin with tiny little love bites just to prove to anybody else who sees them that yes, Namjoon was there and Namjoon will be the only one there for a long time, thank you very much.

“Wow,” Namjoon lets out appreciatively.

Jeongguk smiles and slowly straddles Namjoon’s legs. “Wow yourself.”

And Namjoon, despite always being the one to be so collected, blushes like a schoolgirl and hides behind his hands. Jeongguk laughs and kisses his chin and forehead and whatever else he can reach before Namjoon is laughing too and his hands have fallen away from his face.

Their lips slot together with a strange squelching sound that Namjoon wants to laugh at, but is too busy drowning in his feelings for Jeongguk to really do so.

It scared him before. To let himself feel what he already knows. He likes Jeongguk more than he should, but it isn't one-sided and it's far from unbalanced. Jeongguk is right here with him. Not in front leading, or behind following Namjoon’s lead.

Jeongguk is beside him and over him and under him and all around.

They're matched and perfectly paired.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to let Jeongguk help him into the harness and put the strap-on correctly. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to focus on Jeongguk and the telltale signs his body is giving while Namjoon pleasures him. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to lay there on his bed, naked, and let Jeongguk stare as much as he wants without a hint of self-loathing marring Namjoon’s thoughts.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to accept that he's in love and he isn't scared anymore.

After Namjoon’s been buckled into his harness properly, Jeongguk suckles on the toy, keeping eye contact with Namjoon as he does. Namjoon doesn't exactly feel it when Jeongguk’s mouth sinks lower on the toy, but Namjoon does feel it in a strange way. It's the same way that someone is aware of when the soles on the bottom of their shoes are skimming across pavement or grass or sand or hard packed dirt and even gravel. It's the same way that someone is able to tell when their hair is caught on something or when they feel the slightest touch of a fingertip caress the tips of their strands. It isn't any different, Namjoon thinks, but the effect is. The effect is Namjoon left gaping as Jeongguk takes pleasure in deepthroating Namjoon’s strap-on.

He takes his time stretching Jeongguk open once the younger has let the strap-on slip from his mouth. Jeongguk doesn't complain. He merely whines and groans and bucks his hips downwards to meet the crook of Namjoon’s fingers scissoring him and pressing against the spot that makes Jeongguk keen the most. It's awkward doing it while Namjoon lies flat on his back, but Jeongguk is flexible enough for it to be doable. Jeongguk is fucking himself on three of Namjoon’s fingers and Namjoon doesn't think he's ever been this aroused before in his life.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk groans. “Hyung, Iー”

Namjoon stills his fingers and stares at the younger who’s still moving, still riding Namjoon’s digits. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” Namjoon whispers.

When Jeongguk smiles, it's like the dawn has risen over a new day and Namjoon can’t quite catch his breath. There's a glowing flush spreading across Jeongguk’s cheeks too. Namjoon can only stare as the younger rolls a condom on him, slicks him up with a bit more lube and slowly lowers himself atop the toy.

Namjoon cries out when Jeongguk leans down and bites his nipple. It sends a rush of arousal and slight pain through his system and then he feels the pressure of the younger’s weight on his hips and he knows that Jeongguk is moving. Namjoon should help, he should put some effort into this as well, but all he can really do is wiggle underneath Jeongguk. Jeongguk’s face is a light pink and covered in a barely there sheen of sweat and Namjoon thinks he looks gorgeous.

“H-hyung.”

“Hm?” Namjoon hums.

Jeongguk bites his lip and Namjoon takes it upon himself to kiss the younger’s lip free. Jeongguk blushes and gyrates his hips back onto the toy, letting out a moan that sets Namjoon’s skin on fire.

“C-Can I eat you out once I come?”

Namjoon feels his heart stop beating. Jeongguk stares at him, his hips stilling once he catches sight of the look on the elder’s face.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hears himself speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Yes,” Namjoon breathes.

Jeongguk bites his lip and starts to move his hips again. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jeongguk sighs, relieved, and pulls his knees up so that his hands are clamping down on Namjoon’s thighs now. He bounces on the toy and Namjoon groans as Jeongguk’s weight lands on him.

“Oh, fuck,” Namjoon groans when Jeongguk picks up his rhythm and keens.

It comes as a shock to Namjoon when Jeongguk moans, “Hyung, your cock feels s-so good.”

Namjoon doesn’t realize that he’s pulling the younger man down to grip his neck and throw an arm over his back until Jeongguk cries out. Namjoon has him pinned to his chest as his hips begin to move and pick up speed. He vaguely feels Jeongguk’s fingernails running across his shoulders, but Namjoon is too focused on finding the younger man’s prostate to really care. He pulls Jeongguk up a bit by the knees and pushes his way into the younger harshly, smiling when Jeongguk curses above him.

He's found Jeongguk’s prostate.

There’s sweat beading on his face as Namjoon continues to push his hips into Jeongguk, but it’s worth it when Jeongguk murmurs, “I’m gonna come, hyung.”

Namjoon keeps his pace and slows when Jeongguk cries out again, tears forming in his eyes, as his orgasm blows over him at full force. Jeongguk spurts out hot, white liquid in between their chests and Namjoon does his best to milk the younger through his orgasm.

Before Namjoon can catch his breath, Jeongguk is unbuckling the strap-on and lowering himself until he’s at eye-level with Namjoon’s crotch.

“Jeongguk-ah, you don’tー” Namjoon begins.

“I know,” Jeongguk interrupts before he smiles up at Namjoon and kisses his inner thigh. “But I want to. It’s only fair that we both get off anyways. So can I, please?”

Namjoon returns the grin and nods his head. “Alright.”

That’s all it takes for Jeongguk to dive right in and run his tongue from Namjoon’s taint up to his clitoris. Namjoon’s hips buck and he groans out as the younger uses his tongue to circle around Namjoon’s clitoris with sharp little movements, doing his best to touch where Namjoon wants him to. Namjoon’s skin feels on fire and watching Jeongguk fuck himself on the toy had been arousing enough that he could feel the sharp pain of his arousal, but it’s touching how persistent Jeongguk is on pleasuring Namjoon as well. He’s never had a partner like Jeongguk before and he hopes that he’ll never have to find a new one as well.

Jeongguk isn’t as inexperienced as Namjoon thought. He uses the rough pads of his fingertips to stimulate the elder and lathes his tongue where Namjoon is sensitive the most, grabbing hold of the lube that Namjoon hands to him soon after. Namjoon is taken aback at how skilled Jeongguk is and Jeongguk smirks up at him with a gleam in his eyes as he dribbles lubricant into his palm and blows on it to heat it up before he runs his hands all over Namjoon to drive him even closer to his own oncoming orgasm.

“Mm,” Jeongguk hums once he presses the flat of his tongue to Namjoon's crotch again. “You taste amazing, hyung.”

Namjoon grips the younger’s hair and pulls him closer to his groin, his toes curling with pleasure as Jeongguk continues with his ministrations. He cries out and feels his hips begin to move to match Jeongguk’s movements, feeling as if he's going crazy, and pretty soon Namjoon's orgasm crashes over him like waves beating upon the shore.

It’s intense and it’s hot and Namjoon doesn’t really know what’s going on because Jeongguk is still toying at his folds where the elder is considerably dripping a bit with the lube from before.

Then it’s over and Jeongguk is slowly pushing them into the shower where they help each other clean up and Namjoon props himself against the shower wall because his knees are still shaking.

Jeongguk laughs and kisses him and Namjoon kisses him right back.

  By the time that Namjoon is graduating, he and Jeongguk have been together for almost four months.

Namjoon should probably be worrying about whether his relationship with the younger will last now that they don’t attend the same university anymore, but he doesn’t. Namjoon’s been offered a position as a teacher’s aide for the English department and after two years of experience, he can try aiming for a teaching position as a Linguistics professor. It’s rare for a student to be taken on so suddenly, Namjoon knows that, but he also knows that the school appreciates his work and is heavily considering his potential enough that they’re willing to forgo all the rigorous requirements he should have fulfilled before becoming a professor. Jeongguk congratulates Namjoon on his achievement and they go out to celebrate with the others.

Seokjin and Taehyung are attached at the hip, in the midst of the whirlwind of their relationship. Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok act like an old married couple. Jeongguk grips Namjoon’s knee underneath the table and Namjoon is really glad to have these people by his side.

Everyone is doing well. Seokjin is working on getting a loan for the theater he wants to open up downtown and Yoongi’s songs have been picked up by a record label so he now works as a songwriter and producer. Hoseok is already making plans for the dance studio he wants to open up once he graduates from the university next year and a year after that, Jimin will join him. Taehyung’s designs have been noticed by one of his role models and his parents are finally going to let him drop out of school so he can really chase his dreams. Taehyung assures them all that he’s going to take his classes online though so he can at least have his degree. And Jeongguk, he plans to join Seokjin’s theater and Hoseok’s dance studio once he graduates in two years time.

Namjoon is glad they all have good things going for them and that they all have a plan about what they’re going to do with their lives.

That joy seems to pale in comparison to the joy of Namjoon realizing that Jeongguk has been slowly moving in over their few months spent together.

Namjoon hadn’t realized that Jeongguk’s red toothbrush or his favorite brands of shampoos and conditioners are in the bathroom. He’d barely noticed that Jeongguk’s shoes seem to clutter up his front door or that some of Jeongguk’s favorite things to eat are hidden away behind foods that Namjoon would never even dream of touching in the cupboards, pantry, and fridge. There’s more of Jeongguk’s clothes in Namjoon’s drawers and his closet and Jeongguk even washes both their clothes once laundry day comes around. The sweet old lady that lives next door to Namjoon is on a first-name basis with Jeongguk and often bakes him cookies that are honestly not half-bad.

Jeongguk spends more time over at Namjoon’s place than he does at the apartment he and Taehyung always share over the holidays, that Namjoon just got used to it.

He got used to waking up beside the younger man most mornings, sometimes naked, but usually not. He got used to brushing his teeth alongside Jeongguk when they get ready for the day and when they get ready for bed. He got used to seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen and on the couch watching a movie and lying on his stomach on the floor as they play a board game, or when they slept on the floor three nights in a row because of finals, or when they’re both reading. It was just natural to Namjoon when he came home late one night and found Jeongguk already asleep in bed, a bit of drool slobbering down from the corner of his mouth.

Namjoon got used to Jeongguk being in his space. It didn’t feel wrong anymore and it didn’t make the elder feel suffocated either.

It’s easy for him to shove a copy of the key to the apartment into Jeongguk’s hand on one summer morning. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word. He merely smiles and gives Namjoon a peck on the cheek before he strings the key onto his Iron Man lanyard.

Namjoon smiles and holds him after that.

He holds Jeongguk close for a long, long time.

[wroteclassicaly]

Fiercely Vigilant

Michael Langdon / Reader

A/N : Requested by an anon was a jealous Michael. I made him jealous of the emotional friendship the reader has with Mr. Gallant. Hope you all like this! Feedback is welcomed! Let me know how my writing of Michael is, cause’ I’m quite nervous about it. Hope you enjoy, Anon! Keep the requests coming, folks! ;) - Kristen

Warnings : Smut, nasty language, some violence, Michael being a cruel asshole Anti-Christ. I think that about covers it. 

You have to laugh at yourself for seeking out a dictionary, of all things to read. Another reason hand in hand with your status of sizzling gray to be ridiculed for. But really, you need to extend your vocabulary on describing this place that stretched beyond basic "This is bullshit. I'm bored. I'm hungry. I'm horny." pleas of exasperation. You were all starting to get on your own nerves. Even the purples were drained on energy most evenings.

Except Coco. That woman never shuts the fuck up. Whatever is in her cube must be a higher dosage. Perhaps Meade is sneaking in tranquilizers? Sleep deprived, wiping your blurry eyes you find yourself laughing at images containing everyone in the compound combusting into trunks and tails, humps and Dumbo ears.

Jocular. This is the word you're currently stuck on, fingernail pressed tightly into worn paper.

"And then she cut my credit card off like it was my dick, which, by the way, she wanted to suck. I'm like, honey, you're not a Hemsworth brother." A deep voice butters into your absurdly caught giggles. He raises a manicured chocolate brown brow, peering first at the thesaurus in your lap, then you. "Should've known that's what you were laughing about. You're such a fucking weirdo." Gallant pouts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You snort with a mildly affectionate pat to his strong hand, that is resting across your ankle.

"You know I could ask you to wipe my ass instead of talking to you, right?"

Though his tone is meant to be more dignified, you know he's not serious, just being sour. You understand him though, oddly enough. Which is something most people don't here. He's not purple through and through. Coco might be Barney though, jury still has its vote out on that one. If there was a jury alive.

"I'd rather manscape you," You say tiredly, closing your words up, holding tightly to your new nightly read.

Relaxing, a sigh to accompany, Gallant's posture goes slack beneath his velvet smoking jacket, his fingers back to caressing the overworked heels of your stocking clad feet. It's rare. So fucking rare for this deep of a companionship to have formed between two more opposite people. The grays work for elites and leaders here, they do nothing but serve and take what little they are permitted. They don't have night long conversations, sneak down into the library after the fires are put out to search the library together for soft core porn or even poetry, and they don't share secrets they'd never dare tell anyone else, and they sure as hell wouldn't be caught together so casually, a gray looking as if she's an elite's queen, feet in his lap, being pampered to, when she is supposed to be kissing the radiation soaked ground for the chance to serve here, to live what life she can.

Yet here you both are, closer than Gallant's friendship with Coco, closest thing you've ever felt for another human being since years before the bombs fell. It's an unexplainable thing, you feel compelled towards Gallant's company and he to yours. Beneath all his shallow and hyper - vibrant exterior is someone in pain, angry. So you soothe him, you listen. You two be. You two are.

"Ugh, I can't believe you touch her more than a straight man would. If you wanted to touch a woman then you know you have me. This is so idiotic." Comes a slouchy whine to your left on the couch across from you two. Her dress fans around her the moment that she hits the cushions and your eyes roll, feet tensing in Gallant's lap with a tight flex as they also slide out.

His exterior is changing, fighting a gapped bridge where he's more settled, to his stuck up and snotty attitude that comes so natural to him that he breathes insults over air. You don't give him the chance to decide which persona he's taking on, for you've got your book tucked away, all too aware as you stand, knowing how much time it has taken to get you relaxed enough that your chores are way behind. A plummet frolics inside your muscles, all melted things hardening like ice, shocking, spilling sharp through your veins in spreads. Tucking away your yellow treasure into your apron, you go about fluffing pillows in chairs, checking candles, making sure things are in perfect order. Doesn't matter how clean things are, they can always be knuckle raw, fingernail bed bleeding - cleaner.

They're talking now, a secret smile cracking into the corners of your mouth at Gallant still directing his part from the conversation your way. "Wish I at least had Fifty Shades in these hands. With the right lighting and a little Christian Grey, it makes one happy man."

"Nora Roberts sounds pretty good. What I wouldn't give for a solid insta feed though, holy shit in Louboutin heels. " Coco agrees, sighing into a melancholy trail off.

"You know what I think?" Gallant has you both looking his way again. When he sees in special delight that he's got your attention, he edges on his seat before continuing, fingers tightly clasped together, licking his lips in thought. "I think Langdon has some kinky shit he brought with him around here somewhere."

"Like what?" Coco is damn near exploding now, bunching her knuckles white against the rustling fabric of her dress.

And you, your feet forget what the floor is and they sink as they still to hold you up. The mention of the man that's been combing your subconscious, your consciousness, your dreams, your fucking nightmares and your nerves, automatically hatches a slash through any calm serenity you've previously picked up. Everyone here has been obsessed or occupied with thoughts of and about this cooperative man. He claims salvation by test, paradise promised by sanctuary. While others are starved for stars, your last hopes are seeing their final hours.

There's no way someone is just going to come here, make this much of an impact, promise such things, then use hideous humiliation to gain a dangerous upper-hand without a flaming hellfire catch. It doesn't help you that in your previous life you were too scared to start drama when McDonalds messed up your order. Forget keeping your calm around Langdon, especially in your interviews. You feel stupid, guilty you even let yourself ease off knowing he's still very much present. Gallant has these looks he shares with Langdon, ones that baffle you, irritate you, worry you.

Guess he's handsome's favorite. Like you have a chance no matter what orientation Langdon is.

"Chains, leather, lots of fucking leather." Gallant damn near moans himself into the floor, snapping your reverie, your ears rearing back zone impact into their conversation.

In this moment you want to simply blend in with these people for the sake of solitude. Despite your weariness to whisper Langdon's name, let alone what you're about to say, you can't help a hot excitement prickling your flesh. "Like maybe a sex swing he hangs from like Tarzan?"

Coco looks more intrigued than you've ever seen her, Gallant is sliding his tongue over his lips more than necessary. Yep, you've succeeded in getting your naughty point across.

"Gray girl has a nasty ass mind. Gotta say that I'm impressed I wasn't the only one besides Gallant, looking at his dick. What you can see of it through that designer coat. I bet he has a studio of things back at the sanctuary. I can't wait for him to take me there." She babbles on, back resting into the plush couch, coasting on her own fantasy.

~*~

You didn't say goodnight to either elite after your little sexy pillow talk and wishes session. Gallant escorted Coco off to her room, the two of them gossiping about sex swings and fresh air, as you tried to lug your large mop bucket up the winding staircase. The heat from the candles is dizzying, your vision blotching out around your thirsting lips. You'd kill Venable for a drink of water right now but you're already behind. Thanking your newly acquired upper arm strength, you heave the heavy tin onto the landing, safely tucked away for you to start your last night time task.

By the time you've scrambled back down to pick up your propped mop, an electricity seems to charge the air, candles swaying without breeze. You know he's here before you actually know. Your body bows in his direction like a violent tornadic spin-up, your dingy boot paused cautiously on the final top step, your fingernails biting into the wood of the mop handle. Langdon is doing what he does best : observing you like a wild beast, something even predators are afraid to speak of. You don't tell yourself to calm down, you know it's ill advised and won't work with him.

"Working late tonight?" He pesters, Cheshire smirk pressing his beautiful features, though his eyes this playful mood does not reach.  

You shut off your brain that's screaming alarms at you head on fractured, blurting out whatever you come up with.

"I am, Sir. Which is my fault. I got caught up, I was -"

"Talking to Billy Idol?" He cuts you off, your jaw snapping shut.

"Billy Idol?...." You give yourself a second to leap the reference, shaking your head. So Langdon is pop cultured.

"I was talking to him, yes. And trying to finish my work. I didn't know if he or Miss Coco would require my services, so I stayed around the area."

You think you're coming out strong, halfway truthful but you believe in your words, your grip loosening slightly. That strength is shattered within moments. It's as if you can taste fire on the air, its nasty breath singing your neck. You rear back to see Langdon's polished boot kick your tin bucket to the front of the stairs and over, sending it crashing to its side, soapy water drenching your skirts and flooding the stairwell. There's a red hot heat to match your fearful shock, French kissing your disgusting embarrassment, rolling right into the sheets with your unbalanced temper.

You catch your upper lip wobbling, much to Langdon's unguarded pleasure. He sloshes his shoe to splash some water up at you, laughing, like he got what he wanted in some sick form of vengeance. You didn't think he noticed, nor cared enough to try to upset you this way. Guess that's not how things truly work with him. Your silence halts his laughter, forcing your curiosity to face him.

He's watching you watch him, but this time it's as if you're on equal footing. You're seeing through one another. He tilts his head, his hair casting brief shadows across his sharp face. He's fucking undeniably breath taking. You're trembling, he's recharging, no, he's surging on your emotions.

"Maybe you'd like to have Mr. Gallant assist you? Somehow though, I don't think he'd be pleased with this line of work, nor your presence in this state. Which is why it's difficult to understand why he puts himself in your pathway when he's walking on marble and you're the mud stained earth."

"I-" You suddenly fight for the air Langdon is invisibly holding vice, hostage max.

"Though if you promised to fill his hole with Venable's cane, then hold him after, maybe he'd indulge you."

There's a spark he recognizes with astonishment, not blocking, not surprised to get you, but for the first time powerless to bewilderment. You aren't thinking, you're feeling. Feeling your way through every damned patch of thorns, of bullshit, using your hands to battle your way. Your palm connects with a warm, muscular-bone shaped flesh, fingertips brushing slight into plump, soft lips. The echo your hit on Langdon causes is haunting, an eerie flush dusting across your skin.

You would swear on everyone's lives here that you saw nothing human in his eyes moments after he gets his bearings. Your pride is short lived, arm suddenly branded by his painful grip, hot like an iron, banishing your bones to dust, muscles twisting in being drug to his room, his office, whatever it is. Your body is seemingly everywhere at once, the room flying violently past your vision. Your legs crumble at the same time your back collides-tailbone first into the heavy double doors, locks sounding, making you itch. Langdon is tossing you by your wrist into his desk, your hip jutting into its sharp edge.

Scrambling back you decide it's fight or flight. He's already circling you, unyielding, so you need to do this. Propelling backwards behind his chair you reach for something glass, a stupid paper weight, holding it tightly. "I'll smash your fucking skull into your brains, Langdon, and I don't care what will happen to me after. It'll be worth it to see you die if you fucking touch me!"

You don't want him to meet death's door, though, you are startling to realize you've felt this way since you laid eyes on him, and that sets off a powerful lurch in your step, paperweight slipping, forgotten, rolling around his approaching feet. You let him grab you, let him seal your fate, permission all granted. If someone is going to die then it will be you, you just can't hurt him. He grips your apron strap, your book clattering in a thump, and then you're one with the cold floor below you, inches from the confines of the area rug. When he straddles you, you forget how to breathe, choking.

Bowing up, then down again, your arms fold to your sides, body holding. Langdon descends above you like an angel forged out of dark, enriching blood, whispering things like wings to his shadow, his coat black feathers you hunger to stroke. His leather clad legs have you caged in, his chest eases atop yours, his hair cascading a private curtain to enclose you in fate. His nose nudges yours, not giving in, changed, in synch with this newly slow dance tempo. You're gliding, gliding somewhere where only you two can walk on the dance floor, where the music exists solely for your ears.

This is more terrifying than you had felt before with him. Suddenly you're unsure of anything you've ever done in your entire life, questioning every waking decision. Hitting him is all you can be proud of, because it led to this. And this.... this scares you, being moved by violence towards a dangerous soul, it binds you. Langdon's ring clad finger strokes down your chin, across your jaw, up to your cheekbone to smear around dried tears of humiliation that you never knew you had cried.

He's got a red patch wound across his mouth from your imprint, an urge to lick at the skin, taste your hot hit on him tempting enough you feel your pelvis jolt off the floor, directly colliding with his.

You shiver into motions you can't control, gasping on cans of air that reach Langdon's lips. He tastes them, drawing his fingers back down the path they came, working to cup your breast through your apron and your overshirt. If you thought his presence fucked your nervous system up, then you know you're going to hell in a handbasket now. But you don't have time to question it, no. Langdon easily brings you up onto your shaky footing, holding you around your waist, fingertips skimming your breast, whilst he lets his other hand grip your tightly worn and issued twist at the top of your head, pulling until it releases your hair.

You sigh into a pregnant tremble, your head lighter, everything spinning, spinning to stillness. For an unusual amount of moments Langdon is quiet, observant in concern, defeating his voices to silence. He won't hurt you, not really. He can't.

The fact that that wasn't what actually upset him stirred his demon, spoke to his soul. You were guarded around him, shielding yourself by sheer emotion. No magics, no seduction, no wit. You didn't want him to see, but you let that idiot Gallant inside. The one that was so desperate for love Langdon was honest to Satan scared he'd try to find something with you.

Physical or not, he couldn't bare it.

"Why did you do this? I don't understand what happened," You whisper gently, seeking.

"You're an obstacle I did not expect to find here, nor do I want you. Gallant is a fucking problem. I should end you both, drive a fucking stake through your hearts as you're embracing. What a sweet little death for two insatiable romantics." And he's mocking you again, only this is tipping over into the bottom of the ocean cruel.

You scoot from his grip, appalled at what he's implying. Is the male ego that thick? Even now?

"Then you're not who you claim to be, because if you were, you'd know that Mr. Gallant would carry you over this buildings' threshold, ride off in your god forsaken carriage with you and leave us here to fry feed the cannibals." You finish, ignoring the sting in your eyes at him stating clearly what you already know.

He doesn't want you. But you shouldn't care beyond lust and competing for affections, having him when no one else does, that should be all you want. Not hurt that runs so damn deep you want to carve your heart out and demand he step on it, finish you. What's this otherworldly reason for wanting someone you don't even know, a sociopathic egomaniac - to love you? If love were to catch you, wrap itself around you like poison-why is it running so ahead of you that an abyss can't even capture its rapture, with a.... a man like this?

Langdon can read you so well again, continuing his monologue, spoken tongue to mouth, yours.

"Given the right environment, deprivation of human contact until the body cries out for something, any-fucking-thing, emotional stimulation, anyone can become more than they should, or ever knew that they could be together, Y/N." His voice is speaking to you, not down on you. And he's moving closer again, forward.

You don't know anything but this man on this earth. Who is everyone? Who the fuck are you? You just want to be in him, he in you. Together. No separation. You don't fight Langdon's touch, his forehead softly propping against yours. "I want every single part of you that you cling to, so I can shatter you, then put you back together. I want you to let me in the way you let him in."

Fucking breathe, don't forget that. No, you can't use Langdon's air. Not yet.

"I may not want you, but I need you. I shouldn't, but I ache for you. And I've eaten, but I could ravish you until there is nothing left but what I desire to be." He's crowning your chin in a gentle touch, feather-like, almost as if you can share the drumming pulse right from his fingertips through you. He too is a little more shaky, something you are too slack-jawed to comprehend.

It settles like snowfall, quiet enough for live clouds to form above your heads. Langdon guides your cold and sweaty palm to wipe off on his shirt, taking note to your nerves, not entirely objecting. He still likes you squirming. You're swung by a force so inhuman, you believe it has prayed over you in hisses, forever winding into your skin. There's no turning back, but you knew that from the moment he got here.

You're moving, like ghosts, fast paced, not quick enough. There's orange and yellow blurs pattering across your vision in fuzzy shapes, candlelight. This place is leaving you flabbergasted. It's like any other room but it's his. His sanctuary.

Your body is laid back across some sheets, stretched out like an art exhibit on the mend, striving for greatness. Langdon's coat is off, his scarf following, drifting into the chair you were unaware is here. You don't know exactly what you should do, your animalistic instincts trying to snap their violent jaws through leashes of your thinly held self-control. There's a wisp that snaps an air so warm you bite into your cheek, fisting the covers beside you, head lolling to the side, a moan vibrating throughout your entire body. You arch to it like a willing prisoner on the verge of her freedom.

What are you doing to me?  You don't voice it, all stomping surround sound guides it. You sense cosmic connection, fucking space extended, mother nature pumping your blood. You wither around like a fish on dry land, thirsting for a stream of whatever Langdon offers you. Maybe you can hear music, anything you wish.

Are you dreaming? Did you fall on those stairs? What is this?

"Don't restrain it, don't hold back, don't let the human reservations consume what your body wants. I can smell you," Langdon breathes, giving you his supply, knees pressing into his bed. "How openly ripe your heart is, how I want it bared to me, unguarded, the way Mr. Gallant takes you to try and make his pathetic existence matter."

"I'm not, I'm just," Fuck, it's like he's controlling the weather in here, executing your every attempt at a clear breath. " We talk, that is it, Sir. I'm just here to be whatever it is they deem me-"

"Bullshit!" Langdon roars, arms wildly flailing out, posture still staying perched nearer to your knees. "You're spouting a previously written verse. How dare you think you can lie to me, even now? Even after you struck me and I never slit your weak, little throat?"

His temper doesn't level quickly, not like you're used to seeing if he's irritated. The changing movement coaxes you to be bold once more, tears nearing your lash line, shame dripping past your slick thighs. "If you know I'm so weak then why are you getting off on trying to keep proving I am, Langdon? That seems below you, doesn't it? Like me, like I am to Gallant outside these walls. Hell, in them if he could have a shot at something more, a shot at you."

His brow raises, chest shapes his ribs visible beneath his black undershirt at your usage of his last name. He notices your acidic hiss as you spit out the last part of your sentence, zeroing in on him. It's clear. So you dislike your friend's adoration, yearning for him? So many complicated layers between human beings.

He wasn't aware he clouds his own knowledge. This further proves that you're unhinging him to a sway he can't fathom. A sturdy hand filters above, up, to lay beside your knee, your body still locked in place. "You envy one another in ways, then you act as if you care for each other, despite everyone here thinking you belong outside, or that you should be licking the very floors they fantasize were built for them."

"It's not that way all the time. Better than nothing, knowing him more than they do," You softly respond.

"And this is why you continue to let him in? Because his presence feels good enough to make you forget the loneliness?" Langdon questions, seemingly so very interesting now he's tilting his head, making his hair fall over his eyes. You want to object to those beautiful things being covered, but you remain mum. He's got it and he lets it click.

"We share the most degrading human emotion," says Langdon, this time dropping a knee to your right, lifting himself above you slowly.

"Is that the answer to why you're interested in me and Gallant, Sir?" You rasp, wanting to scoot away, brain warning you, everything else unraveling fast.

"Michael." Another knee that presses, bringing him atop you like your dark angel. For a moment you think he knows Gallant's first name, then it sweeps you into a magnetic design, your thighs hitting his kneecaps.

"Use my name however you see fit, Y/N. Let me break this lonesome disposition inside you. Give it all to me, not to a worthless attention seeking man. I don't care what he wants, I don't care if he doesn't pine for what's between your legs. He'll overtake you before either of you know it."

"He's doesn't want me like that," You stutter. "You're mad because I won't fold into you like the rest?"

"You won't let anyone in but him, when I should be already inside you." Michael confirms, as if this is so obvious a rat could figure it out.

"So just your ego. To conquer. Okay then, I'm out." Your body does start to move this time, salty tears spilling, bypassing your wishes, before Michael completely wipes himself from your space. You have to blink a few times to make sure you can still see him, far away, like he can move without even walking. He's not close enough, you want to hit him, take him, taste him, give all he wants even if you're terrified. How can he mess with you like this? It must be in this air, polluting, veiling.

"We share jealousy, you and I. But together we can cure it, rid ourselves of unsatisfaction." His back is firm against the heavy wooden door, candlelight curving out every space you can see from your placing. "If you let me in, let me be the one to break those walls down and build mine around you."

"Michael, please.... Just." You choke on your stretching gasp, a fist to your throat, arm holding across your lungs. What more can you say? He wants you to stop being guarded, stop letting what little you let out with someone that isn't him. Some man that reeks power, god-like, is chewing on his lip, wetting it, unbuttoning his shirt to smooth his fingers across his glowing flesh, what he lets you see of it.

"Open your fucking legs." Michael barks out, striding quickly, meeting in front of you.

A searing heat releases your leashes, uncaring. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to draw blood, needing to taste something soon. You throb even more than you have been, tumbling, spinning, stumbling into Michael Langdon. Doubt is trying to wave itself in there, more warnings. Michael cuts them away, peeling back his shirt without eye contact faltering, muscles in his neck moving.

"You could have anyone here. This is too easy. There's better people for you." You try one more time. Denying yourself, this is insanity at its finest.

"I don't want anyone else this way, I never really have had the use for it beyond release. These morons here, they don't count for that kind of time. I want this endeavor to be...worth it." The fabric of his shirt drops at his booted feet, his entire chest expanded to your line of sight. He's taut, not overly so. Skin slightly tanned, creamy to blend. His muscles are strong, but they're not overpowering, no, that is elsewhere.

He radiates everything your mother warned you wasn't good, but you can't let this be wrong when it feels so fucking right. You attempt for your final-failed try.

"I can't please you, you're judging me as if I'm some key you've finally gotten. I'll disappoint you, Michael, I will." You berate yourself in shameful truth, already petrified of shedding your clothing, your skin, warped against his hard body, all the while you're pussy is growing more damp, threatening more tears if it's not attended to.

He gives a sigh so loud it could be a beasts' rumble. It lets him give his body to you, pressing over you, so hot you're sharing his heartbeat, breasts straining to be freed, to feel his delicious skin that houses whatever he is. He dips, rolls his hips like a snake dancing for its helpless prey, knees working against you, pelvis thrusting in tilting circles. Your apron, your skirt goes up your body, over your knees, his leather covered legs nudging it, commanding it around your hipbones. His knuckle moves so fast that it's not until you hear fabric rip, a shining glint off his ring that vanishes between your thighs, its sharp body slicing the fabric of your stockings apart down the middle, leaving a gateway to your panties, closer to you.

He's not talking, he's performing. His ringed finger circles your navel, brushes back and forth across your abdomen, spelling, shaping, mapping the elastic of your underwear, causing you to shake away, not getting anywhere. It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. Just him testing you, stroking, getting your body slick with perspiration that sparkles like jewels in the rooms' lighting. And when you think he's done talking for tonight, planning to take, he startles your glazed over gaze at his working fingers - that pause on you.

"I'm not judging you by your cunt," Michael unravels on a long brush with a deep breath, inhaling you at the same instance he cups you warm, firm, fingers slipping between your sticky folds, kept covered by your sopping cotton panties. "Although, if I were.... yours would be filled with my cock, womb drowning in my seed. And that's something I'm not willing to give to just anyone, Y/N."

This time you do get closer to him on your own accord, hands finding purchase by nails biting painfully into your palms, pumping to push against his chest. He hums, a genuine grin pleasuring his features. Easing, you're sharing a way into you, he's finding you, you're coming together. He's denying you now that he sees you want it, teasing you, however. You bite off painful insults, he's chuckling, swiping a finger in circles, pushing down so hard you cry out.

Michael is saying something that you try to wake up for in your swollen state. He's showing you his damp finger, commenting how your juices coated him through a layer of fabric. You're halted, stamped to his watchful eye, the pop of his finger sucking your taste off. "You want to touch me more than you want my fingers to spread you apart, don't you?"

You're whimpering, nodding yes, trying to keep a hold of being here, but you're slipping, losing yourself in him, damn near begging.

"Don't hold back. Tell me what you want and then we'll take it, Y/N, together."

"Break me down and be with me, Michael." You find yourself answering immediately, right away, throwing yourself off this precipice.

Hefty arms draw around you and they drag you close, hands working to free you of your apron, buttons ripping, scraps, meaningless clothing everywhere. You need to get back to what Adam and Eve were. Bared, nature covering them barely, concealing enough to birth their story. You and Michael. You want nothing to stand between you two.

Concept of time isn't meaning anything anymore, it's rare and stops for you. Your clothing piles beside the bed, Michael's boots thump to hardwood, your hearing swerving in and out, sensitive to each sound you hear past your roaring heartbeat churning blood through your ears. You engulf tightly, parting your legs further like he called for, heels of your feet pressing into the backs of his strongly moving knees. Your hands are shoving themselves to the button on his pants, impatient, maniacal. He can't stop to assist you, too caught in pressing his lips to your collar bone, leveling a reward to your breasts in stride.

Firm planes of muscular structure drag across your nipples that harden with temperature, the promise of temptation full-filled. You have his zipper down by the time he's taking a neglected peak into his mouth, a gasp thrust into the air from you. His hair trickles across your chest, soft and sweeping. You maneuver a scoop into each side of his leather, noting he's simply wearing thin boxer briefs that cling to him like a wet t-shirt would. It lights you like no other.

Desperation doesn't cover what possesses you in this instance, so close to having this, taking this with him. Exerting yourself to extract this specimen form his too tight for any one person - bottoms, causes you to grit your teeth to challenge. Michael sucks, kisses, prods his tongue at your nipple, paddling the pumping throb your cunt is beating into you. A willing dance partner you sway in his steps, swallowed by his shadow, his solid golden fresh skin glued to your heaving body. You want to cry wantonly that you're coming, yet Michael hasn't touched you enough for it to peak.

Then again.... he doesn't need to, he.... he just. Can. You can't explain how the wheels in your head are turning as your bodies meet over and repeat. You're spinning in suspense, hung out to float, cunt clenching around nothing, recognizing him already, as if its been made to house him. Patting yourself on the back is what you want to do, a giggle tossing over your bare shoulder, Michael's pearly whites grinning into your skin.

You've gotten his leather pants down below his ass, eager fingers measuring bravely. It's there, it's thick, silk with slick, straining deliciously that you're salivating, not shy like you'd pictured you be in all your fantasies. Drawing your nails like claws protruded, your rake them down his shoulder blades which work to hold him up, streaming his back, resting purchase on his ass, then you give it your all, both of you swirled into a gusting gasp. Your sense of smell is stronger, alive, heady to the copper you know you've set free tearing into Michael's skin. It pleases you.

This King reigns in his self-control, eyes damn near black, blowing out all that icy blue. His lips red and wet, inviting you to taste your own salty sweat off his mouth. A kiss, an offering. You launch at it, granting yourself permission to tangle your fingers into his air, wrapping around your wrists, yanking in your fist. Each movement you make glides his heavy cock through your slit, rudely scattering what is overflowing from your pussy.

He's getting huffy, you're abruptly impatient.  Michael finally frees back, lingering his look on you, fighting for his own oxygen. He's flushed, soaked, needing. And it's you whose to give it to him. You're to surrender.

It's what this whole thing was about. Letting him in.

Dropping your legs from around his lower waist, you watch him, unsteady breaths trampling your chest cavity into pathetic particles, then you slosh two fingers in voyage all across your dripping sex. Your thighs shake, knees struggle to frame this. His eyes are nearly growing impossibly black, almost hollowing him out. If it hurts then oh well, but you can't keep going on like this. You have to have him before the next second passes.

"Come here," You whisper, using your hands to separate your folds for him.

Alight, mischievous with a given gift, Michael takes his cock through your lips and gives no formal warning. Only foul, filthy, fitting, and desirable.

"You're going to let me push my cock into you now, aren't you? Fuck you until I'm emptying myself inside you, hiding." He dribbles to his knees, holding you by your thighs, keeping you shown. "Do you want me to hurt you? I can make it hurt, oh how I can make it hurt." He's dropping by your ear in a bend, lips letting you in on this choice.

"Michael just take it all, you can have it all. It's yours, it's been waiting for you," You belt out, whimpering like a frightened animal, spooking Michael into a fast thrust.

It's brutal, it stretches you beyond your means, bouncing your body up the bed. Those razor claws sink to Michael's wrists, your ass trying to meet his experimental rhythm, fast and punishing. You can hear everything full blast again, like a roaring train louder than the bombs were, the destruction, the night noises, the loneliness. Michael walks his fingers down your ankle and drags your leg over his shoulder.

You turn to press your face into the bedsheets beside you, a searing pain locking your muscles around him so hard you can feel your sticky wetness seep out from around where you're joined. He strikes a hand out and forcefully cups your chin in his hand, moving up and down in front of you, like he's gliding. Your mouth is shaped to form an O, not able to look away, pinpoint.

"I want you to look down and watch me fuck your selfish, greedy cunt." Is Michael's demand, wrought out iron to steal and every other damned thing you can think of that holds structure.

Who are you to refuse? Intrigued, ride hitched, you hang onto him, dash into his painful thrusts and moan loud enough to wake whatever is left of the world's population. You're swollen around him, your thick and creamy arousal pooling all over the sheets, noisily mashing at his cock, against his balls with each slam they make against your ass.

"That's it, Y/N. Let me in, let me deep inside. I'll never leave you."

"Michael, fuck, more, let me kiss you."

He surprises you both by answering without pause, biting into your plump lip, licking his tongue into your mouth, letting his lips workout the breaths he tries to inhale -into your shared airspace. You release his wrists, moon marks a bracelet of markings to him. He nuzzles your breast, hips slamming into the bed just as you grab his neck's nape, cradling. And then it happens faster than either of you knew you needed it to. He gives a little more into you, focused, discovering.

Piles of debris could've fallen on you both, unbeknownst to you. Michael barely grazes your clit on an upstroke that hits a slick spot you didn't know exists, sending your cunt to sheathe him tightly, your warmth milking his cock, raining down on him that he curls into you, crying out. You're overheated all too much, shivering, panting, an explosive shake clasping your pussy, pulling until you're boneless,  Michael's body lax to keep atop you. You feel like your ears are hearing static. Only white noise and Michael Langdon.

It's a deep-set fascination watching his cum spill back down your thighs, white and hot. You lick your lips, already starving for so much more. It's there, it has to be. Michael doesn't put himself away yet, instead hums looking over you, settling in front of you on his knees. He's gotten the key and this door is sealed behind you both.

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans Au Chapter One

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. 

Disclaimers: I don’t own Chris Evans (FML, that’s why it’s shit tbh.)

Word Count: 1, 817 words

(Don’t skip it, or you won’t understand this chapter! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻)

Read Prologue Here!

***

Your heart felt just about ready to leave your chest. "M-my free period." It came out as more of a statement than what it was really meant to be- a question.

The corners of Mr. Evan's eyes crinkle when an amused grin spreads over his face. "Yes, Y/n, your free period."

You blush, blinking stupidly "Uh, why?"

He doesn't seem bothered by your general slowness to the situation. In fact, he seems overly amused by your reactions and takes it as an opportunity to tease you. "Because you're a horrible student"

You frown and bite your lip. And maybe, a message of God, you catch his eyes flicker to the lip caught between your teeth and his pupils dilate in the slightest. But just as quick as it came, it left, leaving you to question whether you were really seeing it or it was just your constant wishful thinking playing trick on your eyes.

You smile a bit at his teasing.

He shifts a bit and clears his throat.

“Y/n, you’re an extremely talented writer. Your last paper was...magnificent,” he breathes.

You blush, chuckling nervously at his praising words. “Hardly.” And you begin fiddling with your sweater’s sleeve.

“No,” his immediate answer forced you to snap your head up. “Your paper is beautiful. Like, actually truly amazing. You’re amazing.”

You swear you forgot how to breathe that exact moment. Your eyes are wide and you blink a couple of times, trying to get your mind to adjust on the fact that the most beautiful man you’d ever met actually thought you were amazing.

Wait. Why did he think you were amazing? Where did he even get the idea that you were amazing?

Now it was funny. Not because it was like, funny-funny, but because the thought that Mr. Evans thought you were amazing seemed like a far-off dream for the greatest time and now here it was; staring you in the face. It was quite comical.

You snort, ignoring the raised brow Mr. Evans sends at the unladylike gesture.

“Yeah, sure...”

He leans in his brows furrowed, eyes trained on your face. In search of something. almost like he was looking for a different reaction or maybe even a sign that you were joking.

When he saw that wasn’t your intention, he leans away, thick arms crossed over his firm chest. The man looks like a Goddam Michaelangelo sculpture.

He sighs. “Y/n. Your writing is some of the best I’ve seen.” He says it so seriously, it’s hard to accept the fact that maybe he’s lying.

Not to mention the man’s eyes were mesmerizing, breathtaking. You can’t exactly pinpoint what it is about them that attracts you so much. But the little green specks at the center of a beautiful shade of blue and they’re gentleness and seemingly everlasting understanding along with the ridiculously long eyelashes that encased them seemed like a safe bet.

“Beautiful,” you blurt in a breath after a moment of silently staring at eachother. With you lost in his eyes and he, you thought, trying to convey the honesty behind his words. After all, there was no way he’d just stare directly into your eyes without it being about that, right?

He frowns a little. “Huh?”

You immediately snap out of your daze, blushing. “Uh...nothing. I just meant...your uh, board it looks beautiful!” You point to the bulletin board behind his head and he glances back at it with the same confused frown.

You grip the edges of your sleeves harshly, pursing your lips. When he turns back around, he’s grinning. “You know, you’re the only one who’s ever said that.”

You sag, relief that he’d eaten the lie you’d fed, flooding you. “Uh, yeah. Very aesthetically pleasing. I like the pictures.” 

They were cut-outs of different things being held up by small pins. Famous musicians, works of literature, art. In fact, you were well-versed on most of the things he had on there. 

He chuckles a bit and you feel as light as a feather when the melodious sound reaches your ears. “I get a lot of the inspiration for books and paper topics I assign you guys from there.” 

“Huh, that’s actually pretty cool.” And you were being truthful. It wasn’t everyone who could stick to having such an extensive yet artistically appealing board.

“I guess so,” he shrugs lightly. “Anywho, we’re here to talk about you not me Y/n.”

You gulp, nodding slowly. 

“Right then, as I said; your writing is truly breathtaking. A-and your essays are wonderful too. But,” he pauses, looking at you with a cocked brow. “You’re always distracted in my class and,” he laughs a little. “I don’t know i-if you just have trouble listening to me babble on about works of literature o-or I’ve made you feel uncomfortable in some-”

“Lord, no!” you shake your head frantically. If only he knew him babbling on about works of literature is the highlight of my day.

He seems relieved as he scratches his beard lightly and you try not to shiver in delight at the view. His beard must tickle, you giggle absentmindedly. But then you remind yourself you mustn’t think such foolish things.

“Something bothering you?”

“N-no.”

“Then why are you anxious?”

You freeze, looking at him with wide eyes. “How d-did you...”

“You’re hard to miss, Y/n.” He grins a little. 

Okay, that’s it. Your heart is going to give out if you don’t get out of here soon.

With burning cheeks, you clear your throat. “Can I uh- why d-do you need me for my free periods, Mr. Evans? I mean, you said yourself, I’m a good student.”

He shakes his head. “And you are. At home. But when you’re here... I don’t know...You seem, off. And I want to work with you individually. Get to know the real you before we make a decision on how we can help you focus better in my class. We’ll discuss what’s distracting you, and prep you for college.” He smiles gently, his eyes trained on your fiddling hands and you notice his hand twitch. 

Almost like he wanted to reach out and touch you. Yep, you’ve lost it Y/n. Your wishful thinking has turned you straight up delusional.

He ends up dragging his hand slowly off his desk and letting it fall limply beside him. “Sound good?” 

You struggle to respond right away. It sounded like a great opportunity to get your grades up and be closer to your crush, but that was also the problem. The closer you were to him, the stronger your feelings got. You didn’t want to hold onto any foundationless hope. 

But then again, how could you say no to those eyes? And that face?

You sigh, “Okay.” 

***

“Wait. Hold the phone!” you friend, Margo, raises her perfectly-shaped brows, a small smirk on her face. 

“So, let me get this straight. You’re going to be spending all your free periods with Mr. Hottie, every day?”

You twirl your milkshake with a straw. “Well, technically not every day. We only go to school-"

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. No the point. You’re going to be alone, five days a week, for an entire forty minutes each day?” she blinks a few times, her big brown eyes wide with shock. 

You let out a small, quiet, exasperated sigh. “Yes, Margo, we’re-”

“And no one else will be around during that time?”

You slam your fork down briskly, starling your best friend. “Yes, Margo! We’re gonna be in a room, alone, for forty minutes every day for five fucking days every fucking week! Now, will you let it go?” Margo’s mouth is agape at your harsh growl, her hands held up defensively. 

“O-Okay, geez. No need to get aggressive! And did you just- did you just curse?”

You groan, burying your face in your arms. “That’s not the point Margo.” You raise your head, “I’m freaking out! I’ll end up spilling the beans about everything, feeling pressured by his constant presence. And he’ll think I’m an idiot and I’ll be so embarrassed I’ll be forced to move away with my family. And I can't because my dad has a really good job and my mom, she loved this place. I can’t possibly-” Just as you begin hyperventilating, Margo slaps your arm lightly.

“Y/n! Calm down. That’s not going to happen, trust me. And plus, what makes you think he doesn’t like you?”

You stare at her with a ‘really?’ face and scoff. “You’re kidding, right? There’s absolutely no way he would ever like me.”

“Why?” She says it so nonchalantly. As if the answer isn’t staring at her right in the face. Literally.

You look at her even more incredulously. “B-because Marge! I’m a child to him! I-I’m horrible in his class a-and-”

“And he stares at you when you aren’t looking. He complimented your writing, which bt-dubbs I’ve been telling you to show off for a while now. And now, he’s actively seeking to help you. Not you and Linda. Not you and Jason. You. Just Y/n and Mr. Evans alone in a room for-”

“Stop being ridiculous, Margo! There’s just no-”

“Y/n age is just a number.”

You slump forward, banging your head on the table repeatedly, your cheeks hot as coals. “Can you just not, Margo? Stop giving me false hope, it-”

“But I’m not! Everything I’m saying is true. What makes you think you could never be enough for him?” you perk up at that.

You huff lightly. “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that the man looks better than a young Paul Mounet! And I’m a friggin potato with facial features!” you gesture wildly to your face. 

Margo shakes her head and her bouncy black curls follow her movements. “Okay, don’t know who that is, but that’s beside the point. Y/n, you’re gorgeous.”

You straight up laugh at her. “French actor? Early 1900′s?”

“Y/n.”

“Fine. I don’t know where you see that, but fine.” you shrug, sipping on our milkshake. 

“Do you even hear yourself? Do you really think that low of yourself? You’re-”

“Messed up? Yeah.” 

Margo sighs, shaking her head, but doesn’t say anything else. She’d been your friend for three years and a half. Bubbly and popular, she was the exact opposite of you, but somehow, you’d ended up being the best of friends.

She was a short, dark-skinned girl with a curvy shape and no shame in it. She always said “real women have curves” whenever someone made a rude remark. You admired her strength and overall confidence. You could never pull off the way she dressed and acted even if you wanted. 

“Hey, are you sure Mr. Evans isn’t staring at you when we walk by?” You’re more curious by her earlier remark that you’d like to admit.

Margo snorts, sending you a knowing look. You blush. “Girl, if I’ve ever seen a man look at a woman, it’s Mr. Evans looking at you. And it certainly isn’t me he’s looking at. Trust me on that.” You hum, unconvinced. 

“When do you have to see him anyways?”

“Tomorrow, last period,” you can’t help but feel a bit excited. Because despite thinking it a catastrophic notion, being near him was-

“Oh! Yes, honey! You’re going to get the best period with him!” she rubs her hands excitedly. 

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile. 

“I sure am.”

God, this was a very bad idea.

So why did it feel so right?

Read Chapter Two Here!!

***

I know this is absolute crap and all over the place, and I’m sorry but I think the mucus clogging my airways has now made its way up to my brain and has taken my neurons captive.

*Sigh*

Anywho, as always send me feedback (please do) reply, send requests, asks, messages, whatever you please! (I’ll try to respond the best I can from above a pile of used kleenex tissues)

A special thanks to:

@bombsandsparkles @meowsekai @godohammers @sp2900  @weirdvishy -my lovely “Mr. Evans” humans

And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97 @sherlockedtash88 @lilypalmer1987

(Don’t hesitate to tell me if you want to be tagged.)

[richrubies]

Set-up (Jay Park x Reader)

➳ genre: jealousy x humour

Jay knew there was no reason to be jealous.

He knew that your relationship was solid – no, not solid. If we were talking the three scientific phases, your relationship was gas. Untouchable. Yes, definitely untouchable.

So why the hell was he feeling like he was about to go and knock Sung-min out for standing so close to you.

It wasn’t as if you were wearing a skin-tight dress – no, you’d visited the set wearing a pair of black jeans and an over-sized hoodie, with your hair in a messy bun on-top of your head.

And yet, all of the crew had taken to you like bees to pollen.

Even worse, is that you’d spent a majority of your time sitting and talking with the influx of men in the room – in other words, not paying attention to Jay at all.

He couldn’t blame the guys – you were a natural beauty. You drew people in with your smile and kindness; Jay scoffed at that thought as soon as it appeared – if half of the people on the set knew how tough and crazy you were during an argument, they’d shun you without a second thought.

Jay deserved an award for being your boyfriend.

At least that’s what he told himself as he pouted from his seat, watching as you laughed happily on the other side of the room, sitting between Dean and Zico, making exaggerated hand movements while everyone laughed alongside you.

Oh, it pissed him off more than he could express.

What were you saying that was so funny?

Were you telling them about the time he accidentally walked in on your grandma getting dressed and that she hasn’t stopped hitting on him at family gatherings since?

Or about the time he went swimming and a wave dumped him so hard that he lost his swimming shorts and almost got arrested for public indecency?

The more he saw you and your group of fanboys laugh, the more suspicious he became.

Whipping out his phone, his fingers practically glided along the keyboard as he sent of a trail of messages.

The vibrating of your phone pulled your attention away from Dean who was telling the group about his recent shenanigans. Opening the messages with a frown on your face, you excused yourself from the conversation for a moment whilst you dealt to your grumbling boyfriend.

The SMTM set was lively the moment you had walked in, with set crew running around, fixing last minute issues before going live for the upcoming seventh season in a few days’ time, despite the time was nearing 1am.

You’d come to the set to bring Jay food, and to offer any assistance to the set team – after-all, you did used to work as one of the prop artists before moving on to working with YG. Your offer had kingly been rejected, which had given you time to catch up with old faces.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Sung-min and Hyuk, and even longer since you’d last hung out with Jiho, and so you leapt at the opportunity to do so.

All of the other producers and competitors had long since left after your arrival, most of them reluctant to leave after having found you on set; you were a crowd favourite with your wild humour and uplifting nature.

You re-read Jay’s message about his shoulders and frowned, looking over your shoulder to see a sullen Jay sitting in one of the prop throne chairs, one leg thrown over the arm, and the other placed on the ground. He was glaring right at your little group of friends, a cloud of jealousy storming right above him.

Oh boy.

Jay wasn’t usually a jealous man – well that wasn’t true. He was, but he denied being so, claiming it was a matter of “feeling uncomfortable with other people being too near because he was worried about your safety”. But you knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew that his pathetic reasoning was just him rambling, attempting to maintain his level-headed CEO image, even behind closed doors.

But you knew Jay. In other words, no amount of Jay’s denial would stop you from knowing the blatant truth – Park Jae-beom was a thirty-one-year old sook who didn’t like to share.

Placing your phone back in your pocket after sending your last text, you ignored the constant vibrating as you wrapped the conversation with ease by announcing that you were getting tired, and promising the men that you would visit the set often, along with ensuring that you’d all go out to dinner together soon.

As they each went their own way, muttering about how fast time had passed, and how good it had been to see you, you in-turn, walked in the direction of Jay who was still sitting in his plastic throne, looking every bit the king of your heart, that he was.

As you approached, Jay shifted so that his elbows rested on his thighs and he let out an exaggerated sound, ‘Ugh, babe, feel how stiff my shoulders are!’

Rolling your eyes, you stood behind him and gently squeezed at his shoulders and rubbed his back, cooing, ‘You must be in so much pain!’

‘Why didn’t you come earlier?’ he asked, holding back a cry of pain as you squeezed at his shoulder blades, attempting to get the fake knots out of his back.

‘You’re so tense!’ you continue to massage as Jay squirmed away from your touch.

‘It must be all of the hard work I’ve bee– YA! That hurts!’

Halting your pain-massage, you lean over his shoulder to look him in the eye, ‘Yah, were you jealous?’

‘Ha! Me? Of who? Jealous? What? No! Never!’ he blurted out quickly, ‘What’s there to be jealous of?’

Rubbing at his back to make up for the hard massage you’d just given him, knowing he’d lied about it actually being sore, you murmur, ‘Ah…so you didn’t just sit here for the last forty minutes, glaring at me and the guys?’

‘…Nope.’

‘Ah…that’s weird, because I could have sworn that you were sitting there, practically setting Hyuk on fire with your eyes. Shooting at him with laser-eyes, pew-pew,’ you tease him.

‘I don’t get jealous,’ he tells you with crossed arms and a raised nose.

You hum, causing Jay to look up at you with a mouth wide open, ‘It’s true! If you want to come to the SMTM set to see me, but spend all your time focusing on other men, then I’m completely fine with it!’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah! I’m so fine with it. It’s cool. It’s as cool as a cucumber,’ Jay rambles while you watch him with a raised eyebrow, knowing that he was feeling the complete opposite.

‘Yes, sir-ee, it’s fine by me! I mean, why waste time on your handsome and loving boyfriend when you can have a long secret discussion with a bunch of SINGLE men?’ you couldn’t get a word in as Jay muttered to himself, ‘What was so funny anyway? Stupid Zico.’

Not able to hold back your laughter at his ridiculousness any longer, you hid behind your hand as Jay looks up at you with a glare.

‘Sorry, hun, I’m not laughing at you, I swear,’ you say between giggles which only became louder the more you looked at Jay’s sulky face. He looked like a kid who wasn’t allowed to buy a toy.

‘It’s not funny!’ he defends, causing you to bark out another loud laugh while he pouted.

‘Aigoo, you’re so jealous! You’re so cute,’ you coo, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands.

‘I’m not jealous!’ he says, adamant as he pulls you into his lap and holds you tight, his chin resting on your shoulder, ‘I’m really not!’

‘그래? Fine…You’re not jealous. That’s good, because the guys asked to meet up for dinner sometime soon.’

Jay nearly threw you out of his lap as he stood up, ‘Those jerks! They spend all night hogging my girlfriend, making her laugh and standing too close, and now they want to take you out to dinner? Ha!’ He began to laugh manically, ‘Mother-fuckers.’

He turned to you, who had been standing, watching Jay in amazement at his sudden outburst – it was the first time you’d seen him react like this; small fits, you were used too, but this was on a whole other level.

‘So? Did you agree to go?’ Jay asks while you give him a small smile and nod, despite knowing it’d only annoy him further.

‘They’re trying to steal you away from me!’

‘Yah, you idiot,’ you all but giggle as he began to pace, muttering and cursing despite the many crew members who were still on site, and in hearing distance, ‘They invited you as well!’

Jay halted almost instantly, his head moving so fast that you were sure he had given himself whiplash, ‘What?’

‘They want to do a group thing! Not just me, they want you there as well, you dork.’

‘You set me up!’ Jay accuses while you laugh freely, ‘You wanted to see if I’d react like a crazy man!’

‘That’s it…You’re banned from visiting the set,’ Jay says, his cheeks red from having lost his composure.

Laughing, you walk away from a shaken Jay, ‘Whatever, you’ll be begging me to come to the set by tomorrow, cry-baby!’

‘I’m not a cry-baby! And I wasn’t jealous!’ Jay says as he follows after you like a puppy, his hand instantly seeking yours as you walk, ‘Honestly!’

‘You’re so cute. Come on. Let’s go home, I spent so much time talking to all of the handsome judges and artists that I’ve tired myself out,’ you tease him, only to laugh as Jay yelled,

‘YOU’RE BANNED FROM THE SET! I MEAN IT!’

[pulsarsmash]

PULSAR’S TOP 10 FAVORITE ANIME OF 2017

 PULSAR'S TOP 10 ANIME OF 2017:

Its that time again! Here's my ten favorite anime series of the past year. A few notes: 

1. This is just one dude's opinion. If your favorite isn't on here, it's not personal. 

2. I decided to include sequel series on this list after a few years of not doing that, because there were a couple this year that were so good I felt not including them would be unfair. 

3. If I didnt finish a show, its not on here. Meaning there are a couple shows like Inuyashiki and Juni Taisen that, while I've liked what I've seen, aren't on this list.

Here we go!

#10: GABRIEL DROPOUT A consistently funny comedy about an angel who, after graduating from angel school and being assigned to Earth, discovers video games and ends up becoming a lazy bum. Meanwhile, her best friend, a demon fresh out of demon school, has the opposite problem: she's far too sweet and kind to be an effective agent of evil. This show is a lot of fun and features a couple great supporting characters (a demon with serious delusions of grandeur and an angel with a sadistic streak). If youre looking for some laughs, this is a great show to check out!

GABRIEL DROPOUT is available on Crunchyroll.

#9: KONOSUBA - SEASON 2

Imagine the gang on Its Always Sunny In Philadelphia launching a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. It would probably end up something like Konosuba. 

I didn't think this show could top last season in ridiculousness and hilarity, but it pulled it off. This is one of those shows where your sides hurt by the end of some episodes because you've been laughing so hard. 

If you aren't familiar with Konosuba, it revolves around a group of four would-be adventurers: Kazuma, a neurotic and slightly perverted NEET; Aqua, an incompetent crybaby goddess and healer; Megumin, a mentally unstable mage obsessed with blowing things up; and Darkness, a masochistic knight. These four are complete idiots and manage to screw up just about everything they try to accomplish... and you'll end up loving them because of it. Watch this one from the beginning if youre looking for a great comedy and like seeing the "sent to a fantasy world" trope completely turned on its head. Seasons 1 and 2 of KONOSUBA are available on Crunchyroll.

#8: PRINCESS PRINCIPAL

This show was 2017's dark horse, it seemed to fly under a lot of peoples radar. Which is a shame, because this is a very fun and inventive spy/intrigue series. Princess Principal takes place in an alternate version of Britain which has been split in two by war. A group of young women double as spies for the upstart commonwealth who are trying to unseat the monarchy. And their secret weapon? The country's own princess, who is in on the scheme. With awesome steampunk-inspired character designs, great action sequences and a story with continuous twists and turns that will keep you guessing, this show definitely deserves a second look from people who may have missed out the first time. Princess Principal is available on Amazon Prime.

#7: KAKEGURUI KAKEGURUI is another show that flew under people's radar in 2017, largely because Netflix decided to wait until the English dub was finished to release it in the US. But I can tell you it was worth the wait. This anime follows a young woman named Yumeko who transfers into an elite prep school in Japan, where the student hierarchy is determined through gambling. Yumeko quickly finds herself a target of the student council when it turns out that not only is she a VERY skilled gambler, she is also very good at figuring out if someone is cheating. And she may or may not be a tad bit insane. If you like over-the-top psychologically-intense shows like Prison School, you are going to love this anime. It also has my favorite intro of any anime in 2017. KAKEGURUI is available on Netflix in English and Japanese starting this month! 

#6: SCUM'S WISH Most romance anime are very light and fun, or they are over the top to the point of self-parody. SCUM'S WISH is not one of those anime. This show is about how painful and unfair love can be. Two high school students appear to everyone to be a perfect couple. But the truth is they are both actually in love with other people (their teachers), and are simply using each other as a physical and emotional replacement. The characters in this show are not tropes, and they aren't necessarily all likeable either. One character I would almost call the best villain of the entire year in anime. But in the end, this show makes you care about all of them, to the point where you even want the worst of them to be happy in the end. Scums Wish is not a fun show. In fact, it is incredibly painful to watch at times. But it is absolutely worth watching. SCUM'S WISH is available on Amazon Prime.

#5: THE ANCIENT MAGUS' BRIDE A young woman named Chise is about to commit suicide when she is approached by a man offering to help her "find someone who wants her." Feeling that she has nothing left to live for, she offers herself up for auction, and is purchased for five million pounds by a mysterious individual who turns out to be an ancient mage. And he has selected Chise to be his apprentice... and his future bride. The Ancient Magus' Bride is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL show. There is a sense of magic and wonder to this anime that just draws you in from the opening episode and doesn't let go. And the relationship between Chise and Elias is fascinating. This show will likely top a LOT of people's best-of lists, and I absolutely understand why. The only reason its not higher on my list is it's only 13 episodes in, and there's a lot of story left to tell. I can't wait! THE ANCIENT MAGUS' BRIDE is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub)

#4: MISS KOBAYASHI'S DRAGON MAID A techie gets drunk one night, misses her train stop and ends up on the outskirts of town. She comes across a dragon, and being drunk, makes friends with her invites her to stay with her. She proceeds to go home, pass out and forget everything... until the dragon shows up on her doorstep the next morning, dressed as maid and ready to get to work. This for me was the biggest surprise of 2017. I went into this show expecting to drop it after an episode or 2, and ended up falling in love with its cast of hilarious and ridiculous characters. The relationship between Kobayashi and Tohru the dragon (which becomes more romantic over time) is absolutely adorable, and the supporting characters/dragons are all a ton of fun to watch. This is one of those series that just makes you feel good while watching it. Definitely give this one a shot! MISS KOBAYASHI'S DRAGON MAID is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub)

#3: ATTACK ON TITAN: Season 2 Attack On Titan, a show about a world where titans (giant humanoid creatures) threaten humanity's existence and have forced them into a giant walled city, is one of the most popular anime series of the past decade. After a four long wait, expectations for this season were impossibly high. Well, I'm just going to say it: Season 2 of Attack On Titan made Season 1 look like a kids show by comparison. This season ramped up the intensity and sheer terror to 11. Attack On Titan, in my opinion, is no longer a shonen-action series. It's straight up HORROR. And this is a good thing. The best thing about this season was the decision to split up the main trio of Eren, Armin and Mikasa and focus more on supporting characters like Sasha, Ymir and Krista. Ymir in particular went from being a background character to becoming the heart of the show, with her tragic arc being the center of the season's conflict. Fortunately, AoT fans won't have to wait much longer for Season 3, as it will be coming out this year! ATTACK ON TITAN Season 2 is available on Crunchyroll (subtitled) and Funimation (English dub). Season 1 is also available on Netflix and Hulu

#2: LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA Originally a crowdfunded OVA, and then a sequel, Studio Trigger's LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA finally received a full season this year, and it was absolutely worth the wait. This is an extremely fun and entertaining series about a school for young witches and a group of new students who have joined, including a young girl named Akko from Japan who loves magic, but doesn't appear to have much natural ability... until she discovers a magic wand that once belonged to a legendary witch named Shiny Chariot. Akko is instantly likeable and you will find yourself cheering her and her friends on even as they make obvious mistakes and get themselves into ridiculous amounts of trouble along the way. Her dorm-mate Sucy (who has a serious obsession with potions and isn't afraid to use her friends as guinea pigs for her experiments) damn near steals the show. And its a Studio Trigger show, so you know the animation is going to not only be great but exciting to watch, and that's definitely the case here. The show wisely takes an episodic approach for the first half, with the overall story arc coming into play in the second half of the series. LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA is not just one of the best anime of the year, it's one of my favorites of the past decade. LITTLE WITCH ACADEMIA is available on Netflix in both Japanese and English.

#1: MADE IN ABYSS

I agonized for a while over whether to make this or Little Witch Academia #1. If you were to ask which show is more fun to watch, Little Witch wins by a landslide. But Made In Abyss is the show that simply would not let me go this year.

In a world where a mysterious chasm has opened up in the center of the earth, cave raiders delve into the depths of The Abyss, as its known, seeking out secrets and treasure of the world below. A young aspiring cave raider named Riko one day receives a letter from her mother, a famous cave raider who has been missing for years, telling her to meet her at the bottom. With the help of her new friend Reg (a human-looking robot Riko found while scavenging), Riko begins a treacherous journey to the bottom of the world.

MADE IN ABYSS is a throwback in some ways to the dark fantasy epics of the 1980s like The Neverending Story. But this series ramps up the darker elements of its story over time. Do not let the cute art fool you: this is NOT a kids show. This show goes places I never expected, and in some cases places I would never want to go back to again. This show never feels "safe" the way kids' shows are expected to. The central characters are always in danger, and one false move could get them killed... or worse. There are times where I had to pause this show in the middle of an episode just to decompress because I felt like I was about to break down.

Prepare to be terrified. Prepare to be heartbroken. And prepare to see the best anime of 2017.

MADE IN ABYSS is available on Amazon Prime.

Thanks for checking out my list. Let me know what your favorite anime series of 2017 were!

[parf-fan]

Halloween 2018

I had hoped to have this finished and posted last week, but it took longer to write than I'd planned (and also I got sick, which slows everything down).  As it is, it only went through two-and-a-half drafts, so it is not the most well-written thing I've ever posted, for which I apologize.

This full-on essay is a critique of the 2018 Halloween scenario.  As such, it contains spoilers – major freaking spoilers – below the cut. I beg of you: if you've not yet attended the Halloween event, DO NOT READ THIS UNTIL YOU HAVE.  Even if you can't go, but plan on watching videos of it, wait to read this until you've watched the videos.  Not simply because of spoilers, but also because I do not want my opinions to affect your initial viewing.  You have been warned, and I entreat you to heed it.

Any critique worth its salt begins with the strong points, of which there are many, and I should like to talk about them anyway.

Half the new plot is awesome.  Midsummer-Night's Dream is my shit, and I am beyond stoked about the inclusion of its characters.  Even on the second day, when I knew it was coming, I could not stop myself from physically bouncing up and down in my seat from excitement at the introduction of Titania and Oberon.

The manner in which the ridiculous weather we've had all season (plus rehearsal month) was worked into the plot – not merely lampshaded or joked about, but as an actual plot-point – may be the biggest stroke of genius I've experienced at the Faire to date.  It is clever as heck, and adds an extra level of immersion.

SIX MONARCHS!  Oh, poor poor Kensington.  He didn't even freak out, he skipped directly to dead-inside acceptance.

The moment at King's Court in which the faerie monarchs are magic-tugging the goblet – and by extension, Triboulet – back and forth stuck out at me because of the excellent physical acting of Joshua Kachnycz.  He left absolutely no doubt that he was truly being magically pulled.

Likewise, Joshua's quick-change into the guise of Puck seemed exemplary to me (at least when both fog machines were working).  True, he did not change his whole attire, but in proportion to the parts he did change or add – in the middle of the stage, too! - I think he did it quickly and well.

Triboulet being Robin Goodfellow is not only totally in keeping with his character, but also bears out something he told me in Gauntlet once, something I meant to make a post about but never got the chance while I was thinking about it.  I had asked whether he had any genuine loyalty to Spain, or whether he was merely in it for the pay.  He responded with something along the lines of “Who said anything about pay?”.  Upon asking him to elaborate, he indicated that he was never hired by Spain, but rather was bent on causing chaos for the sake of chaos, stirring up shit for the pure fun of it.  That was when I knew that he'd be revealed as a faerie trickster come Halloween, but I didn't suspect Puck specifically until about two minutes before the reveal.  tl;dr, Triboulet as Puck matches perfectly with how I've been interpreting him all season.

Furthermore, the fact that it's Puck causing the primary mischief enables me to utter such phrases as “everything's Pucked up”, “Puck this”, “you motherpucker”, and “Puck you”.  It is the stupidest play on words possible, and I love it, and will likely not stop using it until everyone in the shire hates me or the season ends, whichever happens first.

Everything involved in deciding the fate / punishment of Puck is just beautiful. From seeking asylum in England, to being reduced to prose (which, mood), to throwing himself on Titania's mercy after learning about Jane's past, just all of it.  Side-splitting, well done.

THE NEW WORDS TO THE ROGUES' TREATY-SIGNING SINGING!  Oh my gosh.  When I realized what was being sung, I laughed very loudly and fairly long, probably confusing a few patrons who didn't notice the difference, possibly irritating some, definitely killing the moment for a few.  I love it.  I love it immensely and will never be over it.  For any who didn't notice or couldn't make them out, the new words are “Nosferatu, some spooky dudes,” over and over.  It is comedy gold, for the scene is so solemn and gratifying, and the new words sung in total seriousness, and with no specific attention called to them.  Comedy freaking gold, I tell you.

The mid Parting-Glass speech.  Holy shit.  Just.  Fuck me up, I have Emotions.  A lot of emotions.  I already almost cry upon hearing it, I'm gonna fuckin' bawl my eyes out on the last day.  Fuck.

The entire plot with Titania and Oberon and the conflict over the seasons and said conflict spilling over to harm the humans is spectacular, and I love it.  But the other new plot?  Not so much at all.  Why? Distilling down every issue to its core, the thing in common with them all is this: it's just bad writing.

What the wine plot tells me is that the writers' first impulse upon being presented with multiple lead romantic relationships is to do some sort of love-triangle-square bullshit.  Yet love-triangles/squares are boring and overdone, and present no challenge in terms of devising conflict.  They are uncreative.  And basing full half your plot around them is simply poor storytelling.

Similarly, one of the things I most admired about the main season was the presence of conflict without a joust to the death.  Setting up the Joust and conflict  without the promise of fatality is more of a challenge, and therefore the successful result is more engaging.  I take no issue with the fact that the Ultimate Joust is generally to! the! death!, but greatly admired the achievement of pulling off the plot without it just this once.  So when the Halloween Joust was revealed to have returned to its deadly state, I was let down.  If nonlethal Ultimate Jousts were a more common thing, perhaps I'd not be so upset about this.  But I believe this is the first one I've seen, and we all know it'll be to! the! death! once more next season.  Which I will have no problem with.  But returning the promise of fatality this season is a step backwards in quality.

During main-season Joust, I frequently found myself just beaming at the field, happy to watch six knights, all honorable in-universe (or so it seemed) and out, doing what they loved without filtering their enthusiasm through masks of hate or greed.  It was so wholesome a thing to be able to Favor any knight in wholly good conscience both in-universe and out.  Sure, Henry and Francis were being prideful idiots, but not so seriously that it compromised their morality overmuch, and thus I gladly Favored them.  I would not expect this of Joust every year, but I loved that it was so this season.  I loved that pure moment of contentedly smiling over the field, filled with love for all those riding upon it.  And I hate that I've been robbed of that moment three weeks too early.

The pre-joust dialogue was not between Francis and Henry.  I mean obviously, it wouldn't be, since they were both enchanted.  But it didn't even sound like enchanted versions of them talking.  It was straight-up Don Alonso and Sir Robert.  Literally.  Every word they said was the exact same stuff we hear from the Bad Knights, complete with the promise of drinking wine from hollowed skulls.  Perhaps it was just because I was already in a disappointed state of mind, but it just didn't seem effective.

The point that may gall me the most as a storyteller: the solution to saving the day came out of fuck-all nowhere. It was not hinted at, foreshadowed, or set up in any way.  Because I'm extra salty, let's look at some recent previous plots for a moment.  In Halloween 2016, the thing mentioned several times throughout the day was that Excalibur could only be pulled from the stone by one worthy to rule England.  Catherine drawing it forth thus fulfills a narrative promise.  In Halloween 2017, the point stated several times throughout the day was that Rumple could not be harmed by mortal man.  Thus, when Catherine successfully breaks his power, we understand why she is able to.  Main season 2018, the recurring thing throughout the day was the back-and-forth between the jesters. Thus, we can track the point to which Jane arrives at in shooting Triboulet.

But Halloween 2018, what is the point mentioned repeatedly?  What do the antagonists / new characters emphasize?  That the mortals cannot throw off the magic of the wine before sunrise.  What, then, does that indicate?  What is the logical storytelling resolution of that? That a faerie will be the one to undo it, or at least enable the humans to.  That is the narrative promise.  The fact that the mortals are able to break it on their own doesn't make sense, and cannot in any way be predicted or deduced or traced through after the fact from anything elsewhere in the plot.  That's poor storytelling, mate.

The Halloween plot is meant to up the antie.  To take things to the next level.  To be grander, more sweeping, more epic.  That's a simple fact of its existance.  And this year, the writers' idea of grander and more epic was to go from friendship-love saving the day to romantic-love saving the day?  NO! FUCK YOU!  You know better, I know you do!  Romantic-love is not inherently stronger or more important or more valid or more valuable than friendship-love, and I've always treasured the Faire as one of the few settings in which I can count on that truth being understood.  This is a betrayal.

Besides, the power of true romantic-love saving the day is amatonormative and just so. fucking. overdone.

My next point involves a different point, one I'd been meaning to write about since week one but never had time to.  I had truly hoped that the Chessmatch would be between the queens.  That's one of the things that made 2017 work so well.  The king got to win his glory at Joust, and the queen got to win her glory at Chess.  It balanced them out, and ensured that one ruler did not appear more plot-important than the other.  And so it should have been this year.  When I saw that it was not so, I took some consolation in the knowledge that the queens would at least have their moment in saving the day in Halloween.  But they didn't.  I mean, Catherine was the first to throw off the effects of the wine, if you count that, but it's not really the same. The queens were both wholly robbed of any opportunity to display their prowess and win their own triumph, and I am very much not okay with that.

Which brings me to the subject of the queens.  It may be most effective for this next point to quote directly from my stream-of-consciousness bullet-point brainstorming of all the issues I found with this scenario.

YOU MADE THE QUEENS FIGHT i will never forgive yo[u]

WHY DID YOU MAKE THE QUEENS FIGHT

LIKE REALLY

I DON’T GIVE A SHIT THAT THEY WERE ENCHANTED, I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT IN-UNIVERSE RIGHT NOW

HOW DARE YOU BREAK THAT BEAUTEOUS, WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIP AND SOLIDARITY WE’VE BEEN TREASURING ALL SEASON AND LONGING FOR FOR SO LONG

AN[D] OVER FUCKING ÉROS????? ARE YOU SHITTING ME

As the Halloween Chess initially unfolded before me, as the kings' tempers rose and they became more and more volatile toward one another, I was already thinking about the post I would write about the new scenario, and I noted that I would include something about how I was glad that at the least they didn't have the queens turn on one another.  I made specific plans to mention that as a silver lining, a partial saving grace.  And then they fell to the quarrel/fight scene between Hermia and Helena, and all I wanted to do was scream and throw things and, in hindsight, cry.

Let me take a moment to reiterate.  I fucking love Midsummer-Night's Dream.  It is my absolute favorite of Shakespeare's plays, it's the first play of any kind I ever saw, it was a facet of my childhood, and I was in two separate productions of it.  And in that play, the quarrel/fight between Hermia and Helena is one of my favorite scenes.  It's so much fun to perform, and gave rise to my tagline: though she be but little, she is fierce.  But that scene has no place here with these characters.

This then brings me to my next point.  In-universe, none of the fighting makes sense.  Since the looks matched up, everybody's wine!love was requited, and nobody felt a claim on someone another now wanted. I've watched Chess all four days, and the three most recent days, I've made active effort to track the development of the conflict, having not understood it before.  But I still cannot see what they are fighting about.  Yes, it was stated that the wine would fill the drinker with rage, but what we saw between the kings in the main season, that was rage.  This is rage combined with a massive fuckin dose of irrationality.  The reasoning gone through to arrive at both the brawl and the joust comes down to insane troll logic.  This is the second thing that bothers me the most as a storyteller.  If Oberon's line about the wine had simply included a mention of irrationality along with the rage, the whole conflict would seem a lot less bullshit.

And now, the third thing that bothers me the most as a storyteller: you guessed it, the cup.  Listen, Dumbshow-lampshading the utter lack of mention or explanation of the cup following King's Court does not make it good storytelling.  Last year's lampshade about the treaty worked because we'd already had a whole main season about that.  But the cup was just. abandoned, and not long after being introduced.  Of course I see the need for something to call the faeries to the shire, but you can't take the entire inciting macguffin of so primary a plot and so thoroughly ignore it for the rest of the story.

This is even less excusable when considered with the fact that there was ample opportunity to keep the chalice involved.  Simply have it present at Chess, mention in the preamble that the match is partially for possession of  the cup (albeit maybe temporarily), and add a line to Triboulet's toast-proposing, something about the toast also being in anticipation of the victor toasting his opponent's health from the goblet.  Once the wine takes effect and everything starts going to shit, the kings no longer care about the cup.  The cup should then also be present at Joust, since the faerie monarchs are wagering possession of it on said game.  It doesn't have to be made a fuss of, it just has to be there, and probably spared a few words in the part of the recap given by Titania and Oberon.  This would at least settle the plot point, if not resolving it, and actually turns it into something of a successful red herring.  At the start of the Chessmatch, the audience is expecting a continuation of the plot from King's Court, not a sudden love-square.  Reprising the chalice at the beginning of the match would bear that out, lulling the audience in to a false sense of plot-security, if that makes any sense.  The wine plot is then eased in rather than sudden; not because it begins any subtler, but because the fakeout plot lasts a little longer, and overlaps.

And a final, less significant note: the fae don't look like fae.  They pretty much look human.  Oberon looks his part a little better, 'cause he's got slightly odd eyes and an unusual crown, but that's it.  And Titania simply looks like a human in an orange dress and flower crown.  True, the style of her dress is not of the English Renaissance era, and that makes her stand out a bit, but it isn't disquieting.  At least the two previous years, the faeries have been visually off-putting, disturbing, unsettling, bordering on creepy. This post says it better than I can, so allow me to quote from it:

also i think that for me personally you are not doing midsummer night correctly AT ALL if you haven’t put a lot of work in on the part of the actors and costumers and makeup and other elements to make sure that the fairies are as unsettling and otherworldly and uh FAE as possible. the fairies aren’t supposed to be cute. titania should strike fear into the audiences’ hearts just by being onstage.

All in all, I have never been so disappointed in something from the Faire.  I am heartbroken, in a way.  This universe, the Megan-Zach universe, has been so very good from the start, and has just built exponentially the entire time.  There was the 2016 main season, and that was friggin' fantastic.  Then the 2016 Halloween plot, and that was even better.  Then there was 2017 main season, and that was better still.  The main season plot gave way to the 2017 Halloween plot, and bloody hell that was even better! Then there was the main season 2018, and holy fucking shit on a stick, that was freaking incredible!  And then there's the Halloween 2018 plot – which, nope.  They'd been building and building these three seasons and now, in this final moment, they partially blew it.  I've been informed that this is the last year of Megan and Zach as our monarchs, that this is it for this universe.  And this is not the note anybody – actor or patron – deserved to end on.

There are some silver linings though, and I should be remiss to not mention them. (Though most of them are not significant enough to be true silver linings, but rather what I refer to as pewter linings.)

First, I am pleased that they retained the bout of flyting.  As the day is no longer saved by Jane, the back-and-forth between the jesters is no longer necessary for the plot, and as such, neither is the flyting. It has been one of my favorite moments all season, and I am grateful that they left it there.  Particularly when considering that they had to remove the sample performance of an out-of-house performer in order to make time for the new segment.  I think that a good decision.

At the end of the chessmatch, Puck announces  the upcoming joust through an entertaining impression of Kensington.  Even if I weren't staying through the wine-affected monarchs' end-of-game bullshit in order to experience the faerie/weather plot, I'd stay just for that impression, because it's hilarious.

Getting to see Catherine wielding a sword at Joust almost makes up for a third of the wine plot.  Despite the awfulness of what enabled that moment, the moment itself is hecking fantastic.

After the faerie wine has been dispelled, Henry has a line saying that the enchantment could not have made him behave like that unless he already had the potential to do so.  This bears out an crucial point in the series of fic I'm (still) working on about the Bavarians.  I had already decided that faeries cannot manipulate anyone – physically, mentally, or emotionally – into doing something that the person in question did not already posses the capacity to do, and though it's not exactly a plot point, or even stated directly in the fic, it's very important to me, and is sure as heck gonna be mentioned in the author's notes.  So it was rather nice for that to be confirmed as canon.

At Finale, the human queens sometimes acknowledge that there was potential for them to have looked at each other after the wine. Moreover, they also acknowledge that that course of events would have been at least slightly less awful, and do not seem averse to the notion that this hypothetical version of events would've led them to become enamored of another woman.  This acknowledgment does not make up for too much, but it does help a little.

The real silver lining, though, the closest thing the wine plot has to a saving grace, is Sir Walter.  It wasn't just a matter of his reactions to everything being entertaining, as they always are, but genuinely interesting.  This line of plot takes his role as only sane man to the next level.  He went beyond “how can I salvage this festival day” to “how can I save these four people and both their realms from war and ruin”.  It was no longer a matter of stress for him, but of the wellbeing of two nations and all those therein.  This conflict threatens more people and more peace more than any conflict he's experienced here before (that we've seen), and that change altered his actions and reactions in a very tangible way.  It was quite enjoyable to see him go from just stressing over the day to stepping up and actively trying to change the course of events, even in conflict with the orders of his rulers.  He flat-out refused to announce the joust, for one.  And even during the final battle of Joust, he kept putting himself between the queens, knowing that it would result in his ass getting kicked.  If they're teamed up hurting him, they can't hurt each other.

There's also the extremely interesting fact that half the time the faeries did any sort of magic that physically manipulated the mortals (freezing everyone, making everyone fight each other in aid of the kings), it didn't seem to have any effect on Kensington.  Now, granted, I may just be looking at the wrong places at the wrong times on this one, but if absolutely nothing else, I know he is definitely unaffected by the everybody-fight-each-other enchantment.  This is both fascinating and really cool to me, and has the potential to open up some compelling character details.  I think I may sometime compile and run through a list of the different potential explanations I've thought of for this. (I'm sure it won't be too difficult to guess my favorite possibility even without seeing what all I've come up with, but it should still be a nifty post.)

Overall though, despite these pros that would've been impossible without the wine plot, the wine plot is, to my mind, terrible.  It is not badly executed, of course.  Far from it.  It is executed brilliantly and beautifully, and truly the actors and stagecrew and sound and effects teams have my admiration no end.   But being well-executed doesn't make the writing any better.  It is poorly-written, overdone, borderline cliché in places, and did not add to or enhance my experience.  I know the writers are capable of better, and cannot for the life of me determine why they settled for something so frustratingly mediocre.

How do I know it's bad writing and not just a plot I don't like?  Because when shit started going down, I became angry at the writers, not the characters.   That is the ultimate test of quality.  If something you don't like is happening in a story and you become angered at the people within the story, then what is happening makes sense, and does not jar you from the world of the story, although you disapprove.  If something you don't like is happening in a story and you become angered at the writer(s), then what is happening does not make sense, and you are jolted out of the world of the story, remembering it to be fiction.

I hate the wine plot, and what's more, I hate that I hate it.  I wanted to love the Halloween plot in its entirety, and hating so much of it just breaks my heart.  And in total honesty, I know that certain people were eager to see my reaction to the new plot, and I expect that they're at least somewhat crestfallen that I detest a good bit of it, and that knowledge just makes me even sadder about the whole thing, and I'm angry that it fell out this way, and I'm let down, and I'm disappointed in the writers, for – not to sound like a broken record – I know them to be capable of far better than this.

[backtothestart02]

Drabbles - Prompt 13

A/N: This one is super cute, you guys! I think you will love it! <3

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing. :)

PROMPT : Original timeline (if Eobard hadn't killed Nora) - Barry and Iris come home passed curfew from their first date in high school and have to face Nora Allen, Henry Allen, and Joe West. -Guest and sendtherain

Iris West was quite possibly the prettiest girl Barry Allen had ever seen.

No. Scratch that. Scratch that. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and known and grown up with.

You haven’t grown up with any other female besides your mother, Barry. Who is also very beautiful, remember.

He frowned, frustrated by his thoughts and how there seemed to be multiple personalities attacking each other inside of his head.

The giggle sounding across from him easily snapped him out of it. He blinked and looked at the beautiful girl sitting across from him, pointing her spoon at the likely ridiculous look on his face.

“What’s that frown for, Barry Allen?” She stuck the spoon in her mouth and sucked the remaining ice cream off it. “Not having a good time?”

He was dazzled and smiling like a love-struck idiot.

“I’m having a great time,” he said, reaching across the table to take her free hand in one of his own and run his thumb over her fingers.

Her quiet gasp nearly made him panic, but when she made no effort to untangle from his grasp, he let himself relax.

“Me, too.” She smiled timidly, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

She licked her lips, lifting her thumb up to play with his too, and all he could think was oh my God, I want to kiss her.

Bzz. Bzz.

“What’s that sound?”

Bzz. Bzz.

“Barry?”

“Huh?” he asked lazily, not really paying attention.

“Barry, your phone!”

He blinked. “Wha-”

She nodded towards his pocket where the device was moving about and vibrating madly.

“Oh my God!” He released her instantly, a feeling of dread causing sweat to trickle down the back of his neck.

“Have her home by nine, Bartholomew, and not a minute later!” Mr. West had barked earlier when they had left the house.

The order had both confused and terrified him because Iris’ father had always been extremely fond of him until he found out he was taking his daughter out on a date. What was even more troubling was when he mildly complained about the early curfew time and Iris informed him that her normal curfew was eight.

It suddenly made so much sense why most of their nighttime activities were talking on the phone and their in-person hang-outs happened during the day.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“What?” Iris demanded, slamming her hand on the table. “What does it say? Is it my dad? Is he gonna kill us?”

“Not us.” He shook his head rapidly as he looked at the message. “Me.” He turned the phone around to show her the text.

BRING MY DAUGHTER HOME, NOW.

Iris gulped.

“We better go.” She was already pulling her legs out from under the picnic table outside Big Belly Burger.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed her hand quickly after she rounded the table and they both ran as fast as they could till they made it to their bikes parked nearby and then sped to the West house.

…

Standing in front of the house on the street, fourteen-year-old Iris and fifteen-year-old Barry took a simultaneous deep breath.

“You don’t have to come in, Barry.”

He laughed nervously. “No, I think I have to.”

She turned to look at him. “My dad has a gun.”

Barry turned to look at her, eyes wide.

“He’s a cop, remember?”

Some more nervous laughter. “Right.”

She grabbed her hands and laced her fingers between his.

“I had a great time tonight, Barry. You don’t need to walk me to my door.”

He thought about his life, the possibility of being grounded, and what kind of impression he’d make on Joe West after tonight.

“No.” He nodded once. “I have to do this.”

“You’re sure.”

“I can’t keep you out late and take the coward’s way out when I bring you back, Iris.”

She smiled. “You’re no coward, Barry Allen.”

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He blushed fiercely. She tugged on his hand.

“Let’s go.”

His stride longer than hers, he quickly caught up to her. He was just about to turn and kiss her – might as well get one in – when the front door opened suddenly, and there stood a glaring Mr. West…and concerned Mr. and Mrs. Allen.

Barry dropped Iris’ hand instantly.

“Mom? Dad?”

Iris fumed beside him.

“What is going on here? A search party? We’re not even that late!”

Joe refused to look Barry in the eye.

“When your date here neglected to text me, I got worried.”

“He called us to ask if we knew where you were,” Nora intervened.

“They didn’t know either,” Joe growled.

Barry started to rethink running to his own house.

“But,” Henry interjected, “I told him you probably weren’t far since you’d taken your bikes and that we’d come over and wait with him.”

“Apparently your father thinks highly of you, Bartholomew.” Joe finally met his eyes.

Barry’s heart sank. He knew Iris was Mr. West’s number one priority, but the glaring disappointment in his eyes when he’d been so friendly for him for years stung worse than the impending grounding and talking-to he’d no doubt receive from his parents before going to bed that night.

“We were just at Big Belly Burger, Mr. West,” he said, shifting his foot against the flooring. “I’m sorry we’re late. We just lost track of time.”

Joe folded his arms against his chest.

“And how did that happen?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Because we weren’t watching our phones the whole time!” Iris snapped.

Joe’s eyes blazed as he turned to look at her. “You watch your tone, young lady.”

“We were talking!” she shot back, unthwarted. “Sitting at a picnic table, eating ice cream, holding hands.” She took Barry’s hand in her own and held them up so her father could see. “And what time is it really?”

Nora hesitated but managed to answer before the boiling Joe West.

“Ten o’clock.”

Barry paled.

Oh my God. I’m never going to get another date with her again. I won’t even be let into the house.

“That’s fifty-nine minutes past curfew, Iris Ann West,” Joe informed her.

She sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, Dad.” She looked away and lowered her hand to her side, but she absolutely refused to let go of Barry’s.

Henry cleared his throat.

“Well. Now that we know you’re both okay and haven’t been up to no good, we should…go home. Right, Barry?” He looked pointedly at his son.

Barry lifted his eyes to his father and instantly untangled his hand from Iris’.

“Right. Yes. Definitely.” He turned to Iris, started to lean in to hug her, but the glare from Joe was enough to stop even that. “Goodnight, Iris.”

He went down the steps, not looking back. Iris’ bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes.

“I hope you’re happy, Dad,” she spat before pushing passed her father to go up the stairs.

Henry and Nora watched the heartbroken girl dash away and their dejected son slowly make his way down the street and then looked at Joe pointedly.

“What? They broke curfew. That’s a punishable offense in this house.”

“After tonight maybe, but…” Nora let the sentence hang.

Joe connected the dots. “You’re not suggesting I actually let them kiss.”

“It is their first date,” Henry pointed out.

“Exactly,” Joe said. “Their first date. And as far as I’m concerned, their last one.”

Nora’s brows narrowed, and she folded her own arms against her.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.”

“There is nothing wrong with our boy. In fact, you loved him like your own before tonight. What’s more, you know your daughter is telling the truth, and that those two are absolutely infatuated with each other and have been for the last couple years at least.”

“Honey-” Henry tried, but it was no use.

“I’ll be damned if you refuse to let my beautiful boy take your daughter on another date just because they were a little late the first time.”

“Nora!” Henry said, shocked.

“An hour is hardly-”

“Mr. West,” Barry interjected, suddenly before them again.

Joe turned to face him. His parents remained silent.

“If it’s all right with you…” He counted to three and then took the plunge. “I’d really like to kiss your daughter goodnight.”

Nora and Henry were as blindsided as Joe. They could only turn and look at him to see how he would respond.

Maybe it was the bold choice, maybe it was the permission he was seeking, or maybe it was because Joe realized this was the same kid who came over almost every day since he and Iris were in kindergarten and that he’d hoped would one day sweep her off her feet, but his face softened.

“Iris!” he called up to her, not turning around, not looking away from the young man in front of him. “Come say goodnight to your boyfriend.”

All three individuals were as shocked as Joe that the b-word had passed by his lips, but they didn’t say a word to him. Henry and Nora walked out onto the porch and quietly told their son they’d start walking down the block and he could catch up with them. Barry nodded subtly.

Then Iris was coming down the stairs, her cheeks stained with tears. Joe left them be, walking further into the house. He held up his hand – all five fingers – signaling the sign to Barry of how long this could last. He nodded to him too.

Then Iris was in front of him and they were on the porch alone and their hands were laced together again.

“I must look like such a mess to you,” she laughed nervously, her eyes red from tears.

“Not a mess,” he assured her, and she looked up at him. “Beautiful.”

“This is a terrible end to a first date. I don’t even know if we’ll get a second.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and he didn’t think he could love her more.

“I think we will,” he said softly, starting to lean in.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, covering her lips with his own in a single, sweet kiss.

When he pulled back there were stars in her eyes, and he grinned like the sappy, lovestruck fool he was.

“Call me tomorrow?” she asked, barely restraining herself from bouncing up on her toes.

“If I still have my phone,” he said, and then added, “Or I’ll conveniently walk by and you can wave to me from the window.”

She giggled. “Goodnight, Barry Allen.”

He smiled and kissed her again, lingering a few moments before pulling away.

“Goodnight, Iris West.”

He nearly fell down the stairs, but he managed to make it down the stairs, waving to Iris once his feet hit the sidewalk. He ran to catch up with his parents who weren’t too far ahead and had no doubt caught sight of their son’s first kiss.

It didn’t matter.

He was still grounded. His phone was taken away to prevent any late-night texting.

The landline was free game.

So was Iris’.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.