#it's honestly sad what a big part of my life this has become

[manchasama]

In light of Nartothelar finishing the comic I commished from them, I am going to spend my Friday night ~productively~

So. The original idea was posted in 2022. And like all my fics, I think about them a lot, and notes to myself, come up with breakthroughs, change plots around, etc etc etc. And I would SWEAR I posted some of this, but I can’t for the life of me find it. And so. So. Sooooooo.

I’m gonna post the current plot of the RoadTrip!AU :> There will be some repeat beats, and it certainly isn’t the MOST fleshed out fic, but it should give a pretty good idea of what the fic should look like, and give a little more context to the comic.

Let’s start it like we did before. Emmet has been searching for Ingo for...a long time now.

Only that’s not entirely accurate, is it? He’s continued to work at the subway, continued to perform both his and Ingo’s duties diligently, allowing the authorities to perform their exhaustive investigation. Because that is what he’s supposed to do. That is the most anyone can do.

He wakes up every day (to an empty room). He feeds his Pokemon (and Ingo’s). He gets ready for the day (not looking in the mirror but aggravatingly aware of its presence; he also can’t bring himself to cover it). He pauses for a moment as he reaches for his coat (there are still two on the rack).

The day proceeds as normal. He walks to work. Greets the same people every day. Stops for coffee (the second cup isn’t taken, but he gives the barista a sad smile of thanks). Greets the depot agents and gets the day started.

Singles train in the morning (hard part first). Lunch with Elesa (a bright spot in his day). Double train in the evening (end on a good note). Walks home, occasionally battling an over-eager out-of-towner who challenges him. He can’t do anything but his best, and never really understand when the overwhelmed beginners get mad at him for it.

Dinner (at an empty table), loud Pokemon around him (to cover the silence). A few endless hours of going over reports, clippings, cold-trails gone colder, before he forces himself to stop. Goes to bed (in an empty room).

Emmet wakes up (to an empty room). He can’t stand it anymore.

He knows Ingo is alive, knows it in a way that others can’t understand. A “gut feeling” doesn’t help with a search, after all. So, he has to go out and search himself. Take the avenues others can’t or won’t. Find the impossible and make it true. He’s determined!

And in the impulsive way that Ingo had never been able to fully curve, Emmet up and leaves with barely a phone call to work to let them know he wouldn’t be in for a verrrry long time. (He tells them he won’t be in, and they wish him to get better soon. He corrects them; he is not coming into work ever. Or until he finds Ingo. He hangs up on the ensuing chaos to finish packing what he needs and wrangling his Pokemon.)

Cue Elesa barging in the house on him before he can finish up (she was called in by the depot agents). She absolutely pins him down and demands more details, of course, and once she realizes he is serious she calls in the big guns and gets Drayden on the phone. To her consternation, he is less supportive in her efforts to stop Emmet. (Drayden knows his boys, knows their cores too, and was honestly counting the days until Emmet cracked).

Elesa comes around to it (she has watched him become so faded, and this is the first sign of his old spark that she’s seen), but insists he slow down just a bit. He needs to wrap up properly at Gear Station, make sure his place is taken care of while he’s gone, and most importantly say his proper goodbye to her. (She will support him, and worry for him, and always be here when he’s ready to come home.)

Emmet begins scouring the world for help. His first stop; tracking down the local legends. In this world, while they are rare and elusive, there isn’t just One legendary Pokemon. Zekrom and Reshiram are extra elusive to humanity because of the History. But Emmet knows the general whereabouts of one trainer who has a Zekrom. And so he goes to find N.

(It’s pointless to keep this secret in these notes, but in the story it would not be obvious yet that Emmet is a Reshiram turned human. Surprise lol. But the interaction with N would be so interesting! Seeing N from an outsider pov react to a Pokemon that chose to become human. Having Emmet confront Zekrom who is not his brother, but understands. “I miss the you who isn’t you.”)

((Fun fact; I waffled SO LONG on deciding which dragon was which brother. In my notes about this part, I had Zekrom!Emmet lol. I STILL say either is good, but I have chosen and I will stick to it. Plus now I have art for it so it’s set in stone 8> lolol))

The scene is going to be a mash up of N and Emmet metaphorically circling each other warily, and Emmet and Zekrom butting heads. Zekrom definitely approves Emmet’s pursuit of his ideals (It’s a Truth, Emmet would argue), but the situation is beyond their limited powers.

Little snippet from my notes.

Emmet, staring at N. “You have a Zekrom.” Emmet is not so sure he’s comfortable, but he also cannot be stopped.

N, wary. “What a strange what of phrasing it. But yes, I have Zekrom.”

So it goes, so it goes. Emmet zeros in on the Pokemon who are said to grant wishes, but does not see hide nor hair of it. He tracks down a Pokemon said to be able to create strange portals, but they are the least helpful of all. He travels to Sinnoh, and for a while it seemed promising.

He looks for Uxie, the pokemon of knowledge. The lake trio is curious about him, but ultimately says nothing of import before vanishing. Uxie does grant Emmet an image of spear pillar maybe hinting Ingo is there, but provides no context.

At spear pillar there was a reaction, a swelling of power, of presence. But it fades away, leaving Emmet alone again. For whatever reason they found him wanting perhaps. (Dialga and Palika are unable to mess with the timeline during Hisui, it's too fragile to meddle with. Thus they can do nothing to help Emmet.)

One after the other, Emmet wanders the globe. He keeps an ear open for any mundane rumors as well, just in case. Asks if anyone has seen a man with his face. No one ever has.

Emmet is running out of leads. He will Not Let This Get Him Down. So he does everything he can to do it Right when he finds the Celebi, to ask them for help. Despite his preparation, they just flit away unhelpfully. He tries very hard not to get irritated. He might fail in that.

Then he spots a kid peeking out at him, looking as grumpy as he feels. After a bit of coaxing (“I am Emmet. What do you want?”), the kid comes out saying they can help. It takes a bit, but Emmet works out this is a Celebi that wants to be human. It’s not a common desire, and most Pokemon don’t have the power or ability to do it themselves, but it did it. And it still cant figure out how to fit in with humans, how to act like them. In the rare case it’s not immediately called out as a Pokemon in disguise (“It’s not a disguise! I am human now!”), it’s still considered far too strange to most people, who keep their distance. So it returned home to rethink its strategy. If Emmet will help it with that, then Celebi will help him.

As for how it can help, it confirms that Ingo is not in that time. Emmet counters that what can Celebi do as a human kid? Because the act of turning human is turning human. It’s not a disguise, it’s not an illusion. Humans and Pokemon think differently, react differently, have different desires and motivations. A Pokemon who truly changes loses most of their powers, because a human mind doesn’t work well with the instinct that drive those powers.

And in reverse, they can’t just change back, because they would lose what they gained as humans. Lose that way of thinking, that sense of self. It’s like running a sentence back and forth in a translator; what you get back is twisted from what it once was, and you know you’re not who you were. You can get close, but you will never be that person again. It’s not something done lightly.

(It’s impossible to lose all the power, because that too is inherent to who they are as well.)

The Celebi admits they can still do some minor time travel. Small jumps, and they can only hold the portal open for a short time. It takes a lot of power, so they’ll need to rest in between. Plus they don’t know exactly when Ingo is either. But they won’t change back into a Celebi, so he can take it or leave it.

It’s the first solid lead Emmet has. It’s less than ideal (lol) that Ingo got lost in time, but it explains why no one has been able to find even a hint of a lead. He will absolutely will take Celebi up on its offer without hesitation. The first lesson? Giving yourself an identity. He insists on Celebi choosing a name, because if someone else chooses it for them, it’s too much on the Pokemon side of things. She chooses ‘Anya’, and is now that much more human.

Now that he has direction, Emmet now has to figure out the method. Without knowing when he needed to go, he knew he’d have to cover a lot of ground to make sure that they didn’t miss Ingo along the way. On foot wouldn't do. Travel Pokemon would be better, but exhausting for all. There was one thing that Emmet was verrrrrry qualified to drive however. It just needed to be made portable.

He decides to gamble on a crazy idea. It was a mental exercise he and Ingo did as kids, a fun little project that had no use but was fun/cool to figure out how to do it. They've always had the idea of fighting on a train, and they were making their own. It was an engine that would travel overland, with a moving rail instead of staying on a track. Parts of it were still hypothetical, they never got around to working the logistics before the battle subway became a thing, but the train itself exists.

It's a steam train designed to work either on electric or fire to heat it (it exists! I found an article on it, pretty fun), and they would be having Pokemon to help with the various aspects of running it. Another reason they didn’t pursue it was because they would never have gotten the okay to have a train careening around the country side without a set path, but lol shhhhh.

(Fun fact, they have designed the conductor’s area with a switchable plate that connects to the water boiler. It can conduct heat/electricity to heat the steam needed to drive the train. Yes, it’s designed so they can tap into their fire/electricity powers to run the train while they are driving it.)

Thus Emmet dusts off their idea and gets to work on making it a reality. As quick, safe transport, a home base built in? It's perfect. To make it work, he needs a few things. One is of course the train itself. They used to spend their free time fiddling with it just as a fun side project, so it's not in bad shape.

The second thing he needs, which they never fully worked out a method for, are the tracks. Desperation is an intense motivator, and he has a terrible wonderful idea on what to do. He will need enough track for the length of the train he plans to take (engine and a car or two), plus leeway for maneuvering. And he needs something that will move the tracks. What better than a group of psychic Pokemon with enough precision to be able to lift and lay the track in a moving railroad. With the benefit of being able to handle terrain not normally maneuverable, if they keep a cushion of psychic power beneath the rails to keep them straight.

Why not just have them move the train? Because the train is way heavier and would exhaust them faster. Plus it’s much easier for him to control it himself than trying to control the Pokemon controlling the train.

So Emmet returns home with child in tow. He is starting to understand that people like to be Informed of things, so he lets Elesa and Drayden know he is around. He does not mention Anya lol.

Emmet and Ingo need to have a house in this AU, large property for both their pokemon and their hobby. It’s definitely more edge town, but still within walking distance of Gear Station because I say so. 30 minute walk? Sure. Emmet goes to uncover their project and starts going over it to determine what work is needed.

The work needed on the train is minor, he and Ingo had kept it in working condition over the years, and only in the last bit when Ingo vanished did Emmet let it sit untended. So he turns toward planning his task force. The rail needs precision though, so it can’t just be any partner.

Chandelure chimes in at this point, and she and Emmet have a heart to heart over things. Chandelure wants to be the one to help, has to be the one to help find Ingo. She hasn’t been able to control anything, let her control this. Emmet of course is grateful to her, but insists that it can’t be just her. Plus, he needs her help sensing Ingo in their travels, and how can she do that if she is concentrating on the train? She still learns telekinesis despite that, and is ready and willing to help if needed. She is the most skilled, and will be able to teach other Pokemon what’s needed.

Elesa shows up as Emmet is working on the train. Elesa meets Anya. Elesa calls Drayden to let him know. Drayden is busting down that door within the hour to meet his grandchild. (“She is not my child” “Such an adorable grandchild!”) Grandniece? W/e lol

So part of the story at this point would be Emmet trying to figure out what Pokemon he needs to find for his needs. I had some initial ideas, and some newer ideas, and I’ll be copying both here. If you’ve seen this before, that’s why :>

Some possible pokemon to consider and discard

Gothitelle - can see trainers lifespans. Very much a turn off to emmet, but also not suited for fiddly work

Abra line - not ideal, but powerful psychic. Emmet was going to settle for one, because he figured the high intelligence would help it understand what was needed and be accurate, if one wanted to help him.

Hypno line - predatory powers, not helpful for emmet’s quest. Puts targets to sleep.

*Espeon - would be a good battle partner, but not what he’s looking for. Plus he does not think he’d be able to befriend an eevee to the point it would evolve for him (ha ha haaaaa)

Wynaut line - no particular trait he’s looking for. A last choice

Spoink line - a possibility. Its powers could be used on items as well as enemies, so it might make a good choice. Spoink not being able to stop bouncing is a worry tho, meaning it needs special care to be kept healthy.

-Chinling line - no particularly good traits, plus a friendship requirement for evolution. A last choice. (wild ones follow the train eventually)

Munna line - no no nope if it created shapes based on emmet’s dreams he might cry. His dreams, not food.

*Solosis line - hardy! Able to survive in many difficult terrains! However most want to be battle partners, so he has a hard time finding any who want to help run the train. He is disappointed, thought it was going to be his solution since they are more powerful in groups. - It is more interested in physical battling. Emmet appreciates the enthusiasm, but it doesn’t really help his cause. Until it handshakes with Espurr. It’s not the same as linking up with another reuniclus, but it is able to help guide espurr to control their powers better. Useful as backup/emergency situations.

Elgyem line - Emmet does not like the messing with mind aspect of the pokemon. Might do in a pinch. A last choice.

Lunatone - Weaker during the day, and Emmet doesn’t plan on driving at night much. Might be good as a backup for that. But also not being able to pair with Ingo and Solrock make him sad.

Solrock - More helpful than Lunatone, but same applies. He wants to pair with Ingo if he were to partner with one. Also for both psychic is a secondary trait so weaker than other choices

*Espurr line - Emmet found out about it on his travels. He is charmed. He desperately wants to tease ingo about it. He wants one. It’s completely practical he promises. - First attempt, but he quickly realizes they will not be able to help. They can’t control their powers with enough delicacy. However they still really want to travel with Emmet, and so he gains a companion.

Hattena line - A possibility. Definitely a difficult personality to work with, would have to be handled with caution. (Eelektross does not like, and Emmet ends up discarding)

Mr Mime - A good choice, based on its abilities. Emmet might have gone for it

*Natu line - Emmet wants to find a Xatu. He needs its direction to help direct them which way in time to travel. It helping with the rails is secondary to that. - Emmet hears about Xatu’s ability to see past/future. He manages to convince either a Natu or Xatu to accompany him, but they are disinclined to help with the train. Still, they DO indicate he should start traveling to the past. He takes that as a good sign. (I like the idea of a Xatu flying above the train, though their dex says they stay stationary. *shrugs*)

Ralts line - More of an emotions pokemon, but the later evolutions would make fine battle partners. Not a top choice, but not last either.

-Woobat line - Elesa wants him to get one. He doesnt need a feels good pokemon! (He might get one) (Skyla totally makes him take one)

Sigilyph - More of a guardian. Not a first choice for the rails. Emmet doesn’t quite get how they think.

Indeedee - May not have heard of them. They would be good candidates, because they like to serve, but not sure they’d want to do physical labor for that.

Slowpoke line - too slow. Nope.

Exeggutor line - An interesting pokemon, but impractical for the trip

Girafarig - Would make such a fun battle partner, but not a strong psychic. Discarded.

Meditite line - Psychic power mostly to bolster its fighting style. Discarded.

Blibug line - Emmet would want an orbeetle, so it depends on if he runs across an entry for this or not. Good choice tho.

Baltoy line - Not quite a fit for what Emmet needs. Too old, might be hard to convince it to partner up. Might consider it as a last option.

Beldam line - Emmet considers it! Even if the psychic power isn’t enough, the steel affinity makes them more likely to be able to move rails well. He would need four of them tho, which puts them lower on his list.

Bronzor line - Emmet doesnt need a pokemon who makes it rain. But it is an interesting one. Lesser choice.

Delphox - Emmet doesnt have time to train one up to the final evolution right now. But he wonders if Ingo would have liked one.

Inkay line - Like Eelektross can float and survive out of water. Possibility

Emmett starting his journey to find the right kind of psychic Pokemon he needs to work the rails. His first stop is to find an Espurr. It’s a logical choice. Shush Anya, it has nothing to do with little frown and empty behind the eyes stare.

Honestly tho, he does actually try to find a good partner among them. First of course they have to find where they can be found. Then he has to see if any would join his cause. Some want to fight, some want to join TO fight, but none really care about his need for a psychic lifter.

He does run across one who isn’t interested in fighting, who shadows him as he goes around looking for a partner. Every time he asks if it wants to join him, he’s met with a blank look, so he figures that’s a no. Finally though he’s just about ready to throw in the towel, when he all but trips over it being too close to his legs. He apologizes and goes to head off, but it keeps. Following. He asks again if it wants to go with. Blaaaaank. Still follows. Finally he starts getting a clue that it just doesn’t communicate as expressively as most Pokemon. (He might be a little more in love with it). This time he is more patient, and figures out that it does want to go with and help him out.

They go through some training, trying to get the Espurr up to a base level for the job. Espurr doesn’t pass the training unfortunately, but Emmet is not about to abandon it over that. He may not have a conductor, but he does have a new partner.

Next area is to find the Reuniclus. Now this is a battle arena, and Emmet would normally be delighted by this. His Pokemon certainly are. It’s definitely hard not to have fun with such a challenge to over come. The more of them there are, the more powerful they are. None of them want to partner up tho, despite the fun battles, except one. Emmet explains he does not need a battle partner, but someone who will help with the rails. It is dismissive, going to head off. Emmet decides to come up with a compromise. He will take it on as a battle partner if it helps, but only if it can help Espurr with its control.

The Reuniculus agrees to try it out, and we have more training with the pair. They work out how to psychic handshake between species, and while it’s shaky, it’s usable. Reuniculus actually finds the exercise fun, challenging, so it’s not as put out as before, and now is enthusiastic about the trip.

Emmet takes a break from finding psycics to help to track down a Xatu. This would be an Emmet Anya chapter, as they talk over the logistics of the travel. Anya insists she can do it, even limited by human form, he should know that. (Not saying outright, but to those in the know it would be an obvious nod to Emmet’s situation.). He agrees she knows her own powers well, and he will take her word at it. But which way should they go? Does she know? She does not, just that Ingo isn’t in THIS time, and that’s not right. It’s hard to put into human words.

So they decide to try and find a Pokemon who can help their dilemma. The Xatus are definitely stand-offish, and most ignore their questions and requests for help. Perhaps it comes to them camping out, discussing the trip in question, and one of the Xatu overheards and is interested in such a journey. Seeing the past and future is all well and good, but traveling it would be an Experience. Once they get the understand that it will help them, Emmet asks which way. It indicates the past. Emmet asks if it’s sure it’s not just looking at Ingo before he disappeared, since that is what is tripping up Anya most. It assures them it’s MUCH better at this than she is. And thus a small rivalry is started.

Emmet decides to try the Abra line. He figures they are known for being able to communicate with humans when inclined, so it would be easier to convey what they need, as well as get a group of them to help. He just needs numbers at this point. Plus the Abra line is likely to be quite precise, so more helpful than his current explosive duo.

There are others he’s considering of course. The bug Pokemon is high on his list, but he figures he needs to put aside certain preferences and go for ones better for his cause. Alas.

While on the hunt for an Abra colony, he runs across a small group of Eevees in distress. (There is a pair of twins in the group, who walk around almost literally attached at the hip. They move in unison, and it brings a melancholic sort of fondness to Emmet.) They are being pursued by some bad trainers, who are trying to force the Eevees into certain evolutions for some underground battle ring. Either to participate or sell, something like that.

That will be an Event, where it’s Emmet versus bad trainers. He’s going to have to teach some lessons, probably more than once if it’s a group. I think he’ll have to run across them a couple of times. An initial “saves them but they are gone by the time he chases off their attackers” situation. And then he keeps running into people harassing this group of Eevees as he treks around looking for Abra.

Once Emmet catches on that this is an organized group and not just some bad trainers, he gets serious about eradicating them. Taking them out, and calling in local law to get them arrested and all.

Derailed from his original goal, he heads back out to again find the Abras. The Eevees find him first. They camp out with him, he and Anya tell them about their goals because they seem interested. The next morning the lot of them evolve into Espeons and present themselves like “here we are!” Basically Emmet accidentally befriends the Eevees so hard they evolve to Espeons just so they can help him out. He now has his task force.

(I would like to add this hilarious bit one of my friends provided for this scenario: extremely blurry video titled INSANE UNOVAN BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF FIVE POKEMON TRAFFICKERS AT ONCE (NOT CLICKBAIT) (HOW IS HE DOING THAT??))

Can you believe we’re not even at the road trip yet??? This is why it’s so hard for me to write, because I just keep adding MORE in.

I don’t know how much time would be spent, if any, on showing the training, but we’d rejoin when they are wrapping up preparations for the trip. Elesa is a frequent visitor, probably have some rotating people visiting scenes. Elesa insists on Emmet taking a rotom, and Skyla pops up with Swoobat. I think this will be a character development chapter, setting up personalities with each other.

The day before Emmet intends to leave, Drayden is in Emmet’s house as the final preparations are made. We’ll have a heart to heart between adoptive father figure and trying-not-to-spiral eldritch being. It will be great. (Really tho, Emmet is mostly just vibrating to get started. He knows he’s going to have a long journey ahead of him, but he’s optimistic that he’ll find Ingo at the end.)

Elesa and Skyla come over in the evening after Drayden leaves, and they can do their exchange then. Following day, Emmet gets to set off. I think we can even have the depot agents at the send-off? We’ll have to see how close they are in the previous chapters.

The train is both transport, protection, and sleeping/living quarters. It's able to hold all their Pokemon, plus the new ones, and an astonishing number of Joltiks. The reason to utilize tracks and let the train run as a normal train is that the train is heavy. It would take considerable more pokemon to carry it at speeds and lengths that they need. Track is much easier to move, though it does require precision and concentration. The Espeons get really good at it, however. Especially the twins :>

So begins Emmet's journey through time in search of Ingo. He retains his positive outlook, never letting the failures get him down. Sure, there are the occasional rumors that pop up about the phantom train that can be seen traveling the countryside, but it's never seen twice, and usually doesn't even get a footnote in history. Emmet isn't careless about driving near towns or roads, and those start to vanish the further back they go.

Almost on the first jump, Anya over does it. She wants to prove to Emmet that she is useful, that she can do this, and she pushes the jump too far back for her to handle. First thing to address is that Anya has been overconfident in her abilities. It’s not that she thinks she’s better, it’s that she’s determined to push passed healthy limits. So while she can open portals, they are taxing, and the further back she goes the more taxing it is. The first jump is a doozy, back at least 50 years, and she nearly passes out for it. Emmet is doing a heckin concern over it.

When she tries to brush it off, Emmet gets mad. She gets mad back. It’s argument time!

Anya thinks Emmet is being too condescending of her and her abilities. She said she’d help, and this is how she helps! Why is he even complaining? Doesn’t he WANT to find his brother?

Emmet is wondering why she is being so stupid about it? What good does it do them if she kills herself traveling? He does not want to be stuck in the past thank you very much. He does not understand why she’s trying so hard for someone she barely knows.

Because of how she over taxed herself, she can’t really tap into her power for a while either, so they are stuck in that time for now. Emmet is aggravated he cannot seem to communicate properly with her. He is concerned! But not because he is stuck, because she is not doing her safety checks! He already knew it would take a long time. This is Not the way to do it.

She is aggravated because she knows she could do better if she let go of her human side. She’s assuming he’d ask that of her to go faster, and is lashing out prematurely.

It takes a while for them to communicate and hash things out. By the end, she realizes he is fine with her human limited efforts, and does not think less of her for it. Emmet has a better time getting across that they are partners, and that this is not something to rush into dangerously.

They agree that they’ll just travel the country side for now, until she recovers from the strain. They don’t know how long it will take tho. So they’ll just…look for clues. They decide to leave Unova tho, because it’s too close to modern day, and they risk seeing someone they know and messing with time. Off to a neighboring region!

(Along the journey, some chimecho take a liking to riding along the current of the train. Their chimes are a soothing constant on the journey. Still wild tho)

So arrival in Alola, which does not have an organized league presence. Is the island challenge still a thing? It’s a smaller region, also lots more water in between, so they tend to park the train on the island and go walking to explore. What lesson should be learned here I wonder.

Learning to Relax (tm)

I need to research Alola and find out. It’s definitely vacation-esque tho, which probably rubs Emmet the wrong way. He was never one to take days off, and this is the very stereotype of a vacation spot. So maybe it’s getting Emmet to learn how to relax a bit.

Alola people work hard in the morning to get all the chores done, then spend the afternoon playing. Emmet first of all finds his work fun, so the separation of the two does not compute. And secondly, playing seems like a waste of time. Why not spend it battling or training? What kind of pokemon things can be done that are not battling?

This I think will be heavy on Emmet and the pokemon interacting. Okay after some research. Since they are looking for clues, they will visit a few places. They will also get sidetracked, which is where Emmet will learn some patience.

First thing upon landing. They decide to park the train, and Emmet tries to figure out where to go next. He has some sparse knowledge of Alola, but not a lot, and of course it’s out dated. Emmet DOES remember that the local TV station is about 55 years old, so it should be in service now. A central hub of information, a good place to start to see if anyone has heard of Ingo before.

When he turns around, all his pokemon are playing on the beach. He is annoyed, because he wants to leave Now. Anya is like “what’s your rush buddy weren’t you the one who told me it’s going to take time?” And Emmet is like That is different. Why are we wasting time messing around?

To the grumbles of his team, he gets everyone back in the pokeballs and on the way. Probably leaves the eevee family to guard the train, since they don’t have pokeballs? Or even if they do, w/e.

Makes it to the TV station. It’s a very relaxed, small time thing. They report on local news mostly, and no one has reports about any new visitors to the island. (Emmet is going to be infamous, poor thing. Small islands love to gossip, and he is the only newcomer in a while. Also how did he get there? Wasn’t by boat.) They promise to spread the word just in case, and where is he going to be staying so they can reach him?

Emmet did not think that far, and doesn’t really want to stay in one place, so he gets the Tourist Treatment. Told about all the hot spots, bragging about the island challenge, etc etc.

I think also Emmet might know about/ask about ultra wormholes, but they have not been discovered just yet. In a few years.

Emmet cannot sit still. He forgoes finding a place to stay, just staying in the train. But days of inaction on the beach is not his forte, and honestly his team tired of it after two days. They are battlers, and a break is nice, but they are all itching to GO. Anya isn’t ready yet tho.

So Emmet finds the Poni Gauntlett. He needs some battles please and thank you. There are some verrrry good trainers here, and Emmet has a fine old time. Honestly, he’d probably spend weeks there happily and not notice. I think Anya gets tired of it real quick, and goes off on her own. Makes her way to Melemele island and finds that orangu place to complain her woes away. It takes emmet a While to realize she is gone. Then he has to go FIND her.

Once he finds her, they once again argue until they are blue in the face. She wants to relax, DO something fun. He thinks battling IS fun. They work our a compromise.

She DID find out about a cemetary on Akala island, that supposedly has memories of people linger. They decide to check it out for Clues. On the way tho Emmet finds his Joltik are Missing. They fucked off to pikachu valley for a snak. The adventures of themb. They get back on track, don’t find anything at the cemetary, and eventually head back to the main island. Anya is feeling up for another jump, so with a quick check in on the tv station (if needed), they’re off again.

One thing that should permeate these chapters is how close the people are to their pokemon. It’s very ingrained in their society, even moreso than modern Unova. It’s a refreshing combo to our two legendaries let me tell you.

The next jump is going to be like 20 years. Emmet will not let her do more than that, for fear of her tiring out again. She argues that it’s too easy for 20 years. Eventually they’ll settle on like 30, and more as she grows stronger.

And that is the end of my notes for Emmet’s journey. Obviously I need More things for them to do over the years, and regions to visit. It’s a lot of research (so if anyone ever has suggestions I am ALL EARS). Until then, just know Things Happen. Eventually, he can sense they are getting closer. He’s not going to explain it (they know after all), but he just knows. Knows they are close. Knows when the next jump is going to be the last. He’s excited, nervous, overjoyed, and so impatient to get there. Anya opens the portal, and they go through it one last time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of history.

Ingo has been in Hisui for a while, and has adapted to living there well enough. He’s been appointed the honor of being Sneasler’s warden, and he’s trying very hard to fit in with the clans. It’s hard though. Something about it doesn’t feel right. Something is missing. Some part of him is so unknown, he just doesn’t feel like himself. But he has no idea what’s missing. Is it just the loss of memories? It feels like more than that. More than missing someone, he is missing a part of himself.

I’m going to have to change the order of events in canon for this to work out, so that Ingo and Rei can meet earlier. Some of the fic will be dedicated to that, and to setting up how Ingo has been fairing in Hisui. I have no notes on this apparently, and I have been fighting a migraine to get this posted tonight, so it’s going to be a bit sketchy. Just means I’ll need to update it later when I flesh it out more! :>

Another thing is that Ingo and Melli are going to spend more time together, because Lord Electrode loves Ingo (electric type solidarity), and Ingo likes to hang out with the Lord. And woe be it that Melli let this Pearl clan upstart mess with his Lord! I am of the opinion that while Melli can be grating, it comes from good intentions. He IS a good and attentive warden. When Adaman goes behind his back to have an outsider interfere with his ward, of course he’s going to be abrasive and condescending. He wasn’t even consulted about a decision being made for Lord Electrode. He had to barge his way in. (Yes, he was excluded because he was going to be a blocker, but still. Kinda douche move!)

Ingo, despite his lack of memories, has that New Yorker Unovian patience. He doesn’t mind a trainer who is confident in their own abilities, even if they can’t quite back it up. It’s the basis for becoming better, he feels. If you aren’t confident in your ability to win, how can you expect to put your all into a battle? If you do lose, train more and come back later. Melli technically does this.

(Ingo’s memory issues are actually exacerbated by the inherent but forgotten knowledge that he is also Zekrom, so none of his broken memories feel fully "right" without that explicit knowledge. One of the side-effects of the side-effects of him being an ex-pokemon who still retains typing, is that Lord Electrode really likes him. So Ingo actually hangs around that area more, finding comfort though he's not sure why.)

So due to immersion therapy, Ingo and Melli do tend to get along okay in this story. In fact, it’s not uncommon for them to be hanging out around Lord Electrode. Okay it’s more of Melli doing his token complaint about Ingo being there, but they do end up discussion the state of the mountains, people they’ve seen passing through, etc. It helps that Ingo wasn’t originally a part of the Pearl clan, and so doesn’t have the historic clan tension. Melli can’t keep up the animosity on his own, especially when Ingo doesn’t understand half the references. And then suddenly Ingo is pushing Lord Electrode out of the way (A distant part of Melli winders how was he strong enough to move the large Pokemon), and Ingo is struck by the frenzied lightning instead.

The thing about the frenzy, is that it latches onto the Pokemon and won’t let go. It drives them into a rage, and their base instinct is to attack. Ingo, however, has a human mind. Human rationality. And something is trying to swallow him whole. The Zekrom side of him is trying to rise to the front and force him to change back. Instinctively, Ingo knows this will destroy who he is, his sense of self, the history he can’t remember. There will be no chance of returning to who he was if he gives in. So he fights it. He doesn’t understand what he is fighting, but he fights it with every bit of himself.

At the same time, the desire to lash out at people, at Melli and Electrode and all the little Voltorbs around him, is almost irresistible. He wants to throw out his pokemon, command them to attack. He knows if he allows himself to do that, they will be infected by this power as well. He can’t do that to them. It hurts so much, he’s so angry, and he can’t hurt anyone. He won’t.

Melli get an up close encounter with a truly angry and terrifying Ingo. If Ingo’s self control was any less, Melli would not have walked away without injury. As it is, Ingo can’t suppress entirely the desire to lash out. It’s not electricity crackling around him, and the arcs of power sting when they hit Melli and Electrode. But with the assistance of Electrode and his pokemon, Melli is able to fend off the uncontrolled attacks, until Ingo gathers enough of himself to flee the area. Melli hesitates too long to try and stop him.

Now the people of Hisui have to deal with the knowledge that the frenzy can affect humans as well. They have no reason not to think that, after all. Rei is tasked with tracking down Ingo, and Melli insists on accompanying him. (He may not admit to Ingo being his friend, but he will explain that Ingo saved his Lord, so it’s his duty to help try and save the foolish old man.)

The thing is, they can't just lob Ingo's favorite food at him to calm him down. For one, they don't know what it is. For two, his brain is more human, so food alone isn't the same kind of comfort. Rei tries to challenge Ingo to a Pokemon battle, hoping that he can wear him down that way, but Ingo refuses to engage with his Pokemon. Every time he starts to lose control, to lash out against Rei and Melli, Ingo flees the area. Fueled by the frenzy, he is able to outmaneuver them to escape.

What Ingo knows in his frenzy is that he wants....someone. He doesn't know who, but he's raging at the world for this person, raging at god too because why not. But he retains enough of his mind to know not to lash out at the people around them. He'll yell at them and drive them off, because he does not know how to calm his rage and fears what he might do. He won't fight them. He WONT. Ingo's disorientation and undirected rage drive him on, but he doesn't know where to go. Ingo is basically terrorizing the highlands with no particular goal except to avoid people and not come apart at the seams, and no one can figure out how to help him.

Something in his subconscious drives him to Spear Pillar. The Zekrom part of him knows it’s the closest place to Palkia and Dialga, to Arceus, as the resident legendaries. Surely they sensed him being here. Surely they could have helped. Surely they know where the one he wants is. Why won't they answer him? (Because he is not a legendary anymore, but a human. Because there are rules. Because they are quite frankly busy with their own frenzied issues.)

Rei and Melli catch up to him there. Rei is again trying to face off against Ingo, but Into continues to refuse to fight. He doesn't want the frenzy to affect his Pokemon (despite the fact they are perfectly willing for that to happen if they can help him). He doesn't want to give himself up (he doesn't even know what this means with his missing memories, but he's resisting reverting to being a Pokemon. He subconsciously knows he could never return if that happened, not the same way).

So these two stories come together at this point. Emmet has realized his search is coming to an end next stop, and Ingo's basically at the end of his rope to fight against the force tearing him apart.

The scene is you have frenzied Ingo, atop spear pillar, being confronted by Rei and others trying to stop/help him. And behind him something appears in a rush of noise, obscured by the billowing steam coming off it. Emmet steps out of it, steam leaking from his mouth as well as he responds to Ingo's current state (Ingo sparking in response as he will always respond to his twin), knowing that they need to battle it out here as humans to save Ingo's sense of self. He's excited and ecstatic, and confident he can drag Ingo kicking and screaming back to himself.

Through the power of "because I the author said so", Emmet understands enough of the situation, can feel the power and frenzy, can sense his twin's distress, maybe even overhears people as he approaches on what's happening/how to fix it. Either way, he challenges Ingo to a battle.

Ingo wants to refuse. He's still irrationally angry, still wants to (bite, scratch) battle, but also HE is here. He's here, but Ingo still can't remember through the anger and fear and pain. Emmet being practical and insistent. Ingo tells him he doesn't want his partners to be frenzied. (Possibly Chandelure goes to his side (and indeed the frenzy bleeds into her almost immediately, but she stays by his side, ready to fight)). (Sneasler is going to be sticking with Rei, being more helpful there without getting frenzied herself).

(When Ingo first sees Emmet, he can't recall the right name. He starts trying to say "Re--" but stops himself, because he knows that's wrong. Emmet definitely picks up on that, and I think it would be nice to have him recite some of his scripts, both as affirmation of Ingo and Emmet, and to jog Ingo's memories. The whole "I am Emmet.  I am a subway boss together with Ingo" that kind of thing.)

In the face of his loved one's determination, he throws out two of his pokeballs (because he knows, he knows Emmet loves double battles more than anything). Emmet lights up, because of course Ingo would do that, even in the most dire of circumstance. He calls out their pokemon, and they have a wild, fantastic battle.

Emmet likes winning more than anything. With each pokemon defeated, more of the golden glow bleeds off. Ingo's pokemon drained the infection from him, and were able to release it with the battles. Ingo could not have done that without giving up his humanity. So in the end, Emmet does win, but so does Ingo lol. (Emmet's delighted laugh "how many new friends/partners did you meet?!" because Ingo keeps sending out more and more. However Emmet has also made new partners along the way.)

Bonus because it makes me laugh and likely wouldn't end up in the story:

During the battle, Rei is calling out that calming the frenzies with the favorite food worked before.  Emmet laughs a bit, reckless and amused.  Gets in close enough to stuff a meal bar or something in Ingo's mouth.  "You're not yourself when you're hungry, brother!"  Teasing.  Ingo getting Irritated and snapping his mouth shut, breaking the bar in half as he roars out Emmet's name because what else are little brothers good at but being an annoyance!  "Didn't work!" Emmet says, not particularly worried about it as Ingo redoubles his effort in defeating Emmet.

(Once we realize it's a twin dragon AU, probably during the Emmet vs Ingo stuff, we can do a flashback to how they decided to become human.  Bbie dragons spying on trainers and their pokemon doing battle.  Emmet's tail wagging in excitement, the weight of his brother on top of him as they spy, Ingo's hand slipping off his head into his face so ofc Emmet snaps back in playful irritation, etc.  They try battling a trainer, but the trainer is more interested in catching them than fighting, and the fear of being caught and separated makes them scramble to escape.  The longing to participate in the epic battles, sure that's what they want to do.  They don't even have to fight directly, just the close bonds, good friends, fun fights.  And ofc finally the transformation into children.  Probably do a Drayden adopts strange homeless children scene)

Some post battle wrapup and scenes. They end up all piling into the train to head back down to one of the settlements. Ingo is still kind reeling from the pain/relief and all that. I think at the very least Rei and Melli are going to be around. Emmet didn't pay them too much mind, more focused on helping his bro, but when Emmet goes to lead Ingo to the train to rest, the other two doth protest, thinking Emmet is taking Ingo away. So Emmet invites them to come with, he mostly wants to get the train to more stable ground and out of the cold.

Preface this with I don't ship the twins with anyone, but I like platonic affection a lot. Emmet sits Ingo on a seat and goes to conduct the train, and Melli sitting awkwardly next to Ingo, no idea what to do. (Possibly some discussion here between them, the “are you human” kind of thing. Still a hopeful/positive AU, so nothing cutting.) Ingo leaning against him in exhaustion, and now Melli REALLY doesn't know what to do.

At some point Ingo gets up to go to the front with Emmet. Just hugs him from behind, careful not to get in the way of what Emmet's doing to direct the train, pressing his forehead against Emmet's back. Not sure if Ingo's gotten or getting his memories back at this point, or if it's a gradual thing, or whatnot. And idk the thought of Melli and his Skuntank getting along great with their Garbador also struck me as charming.

Once tensions ease, Rei probably goes off to save the land and all that, all that’s left is the wrapup and the travel back. Obviously I’m missing a lot of interactions between characters in these notes, as Anya was a later decision to the battle at spear pillar, etc etc. There’s a lot of room here for details and additions. But I think this is the pretty solid foundation of the fic that I will one day hopefully write.

*collapses into a dark room to nurse my poor head*

p.s. Bonus, this song is kind of the inspiration to Emmet's decision to get up and DO something. I'm not one to go "ALL THE LYRICS MUST FIT" when it comes to music, so it's mostly the vibes of the song and the rather "train traveling" kind of beat to it that does it for me.

[j2hoes]

Hopes And Fears Part Three. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.

Word Count: 2.4k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature Language

I’ve grown fond of the early mornings whilst stuck at Split River. The first glimpse of the sun shining over the gardens, a warm hue welcoming the day. With no students roaming the halls, all I hear is the quiet sounds of nature. On the odd occasion, I’m even able to spot a rabbit or deer, grazing gently on the acres of freshly trimmed fields surrounding the school buildings.

It’s become a habit of mine, each morning I find myself lounging besides the flowerbeds. Allowing myself to feel each blade of grass that delicately brushes my skin. For a while, I forget that I’m no longer alive. I can simply exist.

It’s not uncommon for Wally to join me. Sprawled on his back, gazing up at the clouds. Pointing out different shapes and imagining different backstories for all of the cloud animals he sees. Besides that, neither of us speak much. Only enjoying one another’s company as we relax in the morning light.

Spending this time has given me the opportunity to process everything. Wally helps me to work through my emotions and thoughts. Nothing ever being too much for him to listen to, though I’m still afraid to divulge everything. I’m sure he can sense that I’m holding back, yet he doesn’t pry. Content to just listen. In all honestly, I truly believe that these moments with Wally have helped me more so than Mr Martin’s support group has. Despite attending every session since my memorial, I consistently leave the group feeling unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. In fact, it doesn’t seem as though the teacher wants us to discuss the past, our lives and our deaths. Only wanting us to focus on the present, the state we are confined to. I find myself struggling with this a lot.

“What do you think you would be doing if you hadn’t died?”

Pushing myself up on my elbows, I look over to Wally, who is resting on his stomach, absentmindedly plucking grass from the ground.

“I was supposed to go to college, play football. Hopefully make it pro, that’s what the plan was anyway.” He tells me, full of confidence yet his tone of voice suggests that’s not the pathway he would’ve chosen for himself.

“What about like outside of a job though?” I pry, the boy has my curiosity heightened. “Like, surely you have other things that you wanted to do?”

His eyes focus in on the pieces of grass that he’s now twisting together in a makeshift sort of chain. Deep in thought, I can see the cogs working in his brain as he tries to think of an answer for me. I’m sure it’s not something he’s necessarily thought of before, following the path that his mom set out for him upon birth.

“You’re gonna laugh, but I always wanted to get married and have a family. I know that times have changed and you lot don’t really believe in marriage and stuff that much anymore but I’m a family guy. Always have been.” He admits, finally looking at me and I see the honesty written across his face. “It just sucks that I’ll never actually get to experience it.”

My heart aches for him. One fatal accident and his entire future was stripped away. Never getting to experience the things he always dreamed of. It breaks heart, knowing what he could have had.

“Wally, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no big deal, really, I’ve spent the last few decades accepting my fate and it’s not so bad here.” He tells me, a sadness shining in the brown of his eyes, trying his best to cover it up with a soft smile. “What about you? Other than taking over the world with your best friend, what was the plan?”

Giggling slightly as he references Abby’s speech, I start to wonder what my life would’ve looked like. Truthfully, I have no idea. My life revolved around dancing and cheer, other than that I have no clue as to who I am. Up until my death, I didn’t believe I was worthy of love, the one chance I took was with Spencer and look how that turned out.

“I suppose I wanted to leave Split River, Abby wanted to go to New York so I figured I would study there.” I reply, knowing New York was never my dream. I just couldn’t bare to part with her once high school ended. “It would be quite nice to live on a farm. Out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by animals, I think that would’ve been my dream.”

“Now this makes sense.”

Crossing my legs underneath me to sit up properly, he’s unable to hide the bright smile on his face. Clearly finding some amusement in what I said.

“What makes sense?” I ask, to which he laughs quietly. Pulling a clump of grass out of the ground, I launch it in his direction. “Hey, you dickhead, I didn’t laugh at you, so you can’t laugh at me.”

“No, no. I’m not laughing at you.” Wally speaks through chuckles, rolling on to his back. “It just makes sense now why you like to sit out here.”

His arms are thrown across his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. I can’t help but stare as his muscles flex, admiring the sight in front of me. Following his body, I find myself biting the inside of my cheek as I notice his top has risen up his stomach ever so slightly. Highlighting the small trail of hair that dips below his shorts.

“Did you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out, before I even realise what I’m saying.

Slapping my hand across my mouth, embarrassment floods my body, eyes wide as Wally smiles. Eyebrows raised as he looks over to me. Sly smile making its way on to his face.

“No. No girlfriend. Why?”

“I was just wondering. I mean, star high school quarterback, you must have had girls queuing up for your attention.” I’m able to stop myself before I begin a long-winded rant. Helping to ease at least a tiny amount of my embarrassment.

Wally rolls his eyes at my comment. “Well in that case you must’ve had boys queuing up for your attention. What with being head cheerleader and all.”

“Ha ha. Okay, I know it was a stupid question.”

Fortunately for me, I’m saved from making a fool out of myself even more by the sounds of cars entering the parking lot. In unison, we both turn to face the sound. Observing the students that have started to filter into the building, chatting loudly amongst one another as they do so.

My vision locks in on Spencer and his gang of hooligans. They’re jumping all over one another without a care in the world as they make their way into the school. Trail of awestruck girls following behind in the hopes of garnering the smallest amount of attention from one of the jocks.

If only I was able to tell them what they’re really like. Perhaps they wouldn’t make the same mistake that I made. Perhaps I’d be able to save them from the same fate that I suffered.

“So I was thinking we could have a pool day. I think Charlie would be up for it, maybe not Rhonda, but it could be fun for us all just to chill out. You haven’t really spent much time with anyone else apart from in our sessions with Mr Martin.”

Wally’s words echo around my head though I’m not paying any attention. Despite, no longer being able to see the group that I was fixated on, I’m still closely watching the area that they had just previously been walking through.

Two weeks later and Spencer and his friends still evade justice. Police presence at the school has increased drastically with crime scene investigators cornering off the old toilet block. Maybe I’m impatient, but it feels like they’re getting away with it. Receiving no consequences for their heinous actions.

“Y/N, are you listening?”

Wally’s words finally drag me out of my thoughts and I meet his eyes. “Yeah, pool day, sounds good.”

“And we’re inviting Charlie and Rhonda.” He states, eyebrows raised as he knows I wasn’t truly paying attention to a word he said.

“Oh, no. They’re nice but can we just do it alone? I’m not sure I feel up to doing a whole group thing.”

Wally nods, though his eyes narrow. Sensing there’s something off with me. He’s good at noticing whenever my demeanour changes, or whenever something is bothering me. It’s part of his nature.

“Yeah of course. We should probably head to group first though.” The athlete pushes himself off the floor as he speaks, waiting for me to stand as well which I reluctantly do, not before releasing an annoyed groan. “You know, one of these days, you might actually enjoy the sessions.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow Wally towards the gym. He holds the doors open for me as we enter the building, his small act of chivalry makes me giddy. I make no effort to show this however, politely thanking the boy as I walk through.

“Ah here they are! Took you two long enough.” Charlie jokes as we enter the gym, taking our seats. I sit between Dawn and Rhonda with Wally seating himself between Charlie and Mr Martin.

“No guesses what they’ve been up to.” Rhonda comments, lollipop hanging out the side of her mouth as she does so.

“Thank you Rhonda.” Mr Martin chimes in, stopping the conversation from escalating any further. “So today, I figured we would get to know our newest member. Y/N you’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and we still don’t know too much about you.”

“I’m sure Wally could tell us all about her.” Rhonda remarks under her breath. So quiet, I almost don’t catch it.

“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” I snap, my tone harsh and confronting.

She laughs in response, the annoyance on my face evident as I glare at her. Her snarky and sarcastic nature hasn’t proven to be a problem for me, though I think that may be about to change.

“Y/N, tell us about your death. We’re all dying to know what happened. No pun intended.” The teacher interjects, attempting to diffuse the tense situation yet I still feel on edge.

“No thank you.”

“Oh come on Y/N, none of us are going to judge you. You know that.” Charlie tells me, offering me a reassuring smile.

“No, she’d rather just listen to all our trauma. Isn’t that right cherry pop?”

Rhonda’s words strike a chord within me. I’ll admit, the other ghosts have been very open about their deaths with me. All discussing in detail what happened to them to result in this fate. Sure, I haven’t divulged into the details of my death as of yet, but it’s for good reason. Not only am I still trying to process it myself but I don’t want them to look at me any differently nor do I want them to take pity on me when they learn the details.

“Do you have a problem with me or something Rhonda?” I ask, swinging around in my chair so that I can face her directly.

Upon doing so, I take note of how Charlie and Wally are quick to sit up straight. Feeling the anger radiating off me and awaiting any possible confrontation that may be about to occur.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The girl retorts, crossing her arms over her chest before she continues speaking. “You waltz in here and make no effort with any of us besides Wally. Who, let’s not forget, you made to feel like a piece of shit on your first day after that unreasonable outburst. You listen to all of us recounting our deaths, the most traumatic things that could’ve happened to us and still none of us know what happened to you. It hardly seems fair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Rhonda. I’m sorry that i’m still processing what happened to me. I’m sorry that I’m not ready to discuss it with a group of strangers. I am so sorry that I’m not getting over everything as quick as you would like me to.”

My voice is raised as I speak, hurt that she would even think that my choice not to share what happened is a personal attack on the group. No matter how hurt I’m feeling, the anger completely outweighs it. Angry that she can’t see that I’m still struggling and angry that my murderers are still attending this school. Instead of being locked behind bars for the rest of their life, like they deserve to be. Nobody can understand what I am going through and that makes me so astonishingly angry.

“Boo hoo. You’re still processing, we’re all still processing. Not to mention the fact that we’ve barely seen Wally these past couple of weeks because he’s been trailing around after you, trying to make you feel less threatened by him. He’s even taken off that stupid football shirt that he loved so much! I hate to break it to you, but he was here first.” She argues, tears well in my eyes as she mentions Wally. I lock eyes with him and see his downcast expression. Was she right? Was he only spending this time with me to make me feel better and less scared? “You should do everybody a favour and fuck off back to the old toilet block where you came from.”

“Rhonda!” Charlie exclaims, clearly shocked by her words.

“Is that how you really feel Wally?” I ask hesitantly, the dejection evident in my voice.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Nodding slightly, I understand completely. Pushing myself out of the chair, nobody speaks as I make my exit from the room.

“Lovely chat.” Rhonda shouts, one last attempt to get a reaction from me. Even as I shove open the doors with an obnoxious slam, I don’t look back.

The entirety of my body feels heavy as I drag myself down the hallways. Nobody comes after me, not even Wally. I feel truly alone, hurt and confused. Death was supposed to be peaceful and yet here I am. Suffering more than I ever did when alive.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[harmonia-university]

Some history facts with Prof. Elsie!

Hey! The name's Elsie, and I'm a history professor at Harmonia University! I specialize in human history, but I'm pretty passionate about history in general so I guess the Askblog Council came to me with all these questions from you guys, heh heh!

You probably saw me a while ago anonymously answering a few of these questions. But I think I'm brave enough now to show my face to everyone and be an official member of the Blog! I believe these questions were asked a while ago, but now I have the time to answer them so...well I guess I should address them eh?

What can you tell us about humans?

Well I think I've mentioned before, and it's probably obvious just by looking around, but they're nonexistent here! They did exist at one point, we were all living harmoniously together...until some unfortunate circumstances that led to a big war between humans and Pokemon. From then on, humans began to disappear and then just...completely vanished, without any warning.

Was it ever stated how all the humans disappeared? Is it simply an extinction event or more of a supernatural thing?

That's a pretty big topic in today's history research actually! After the war, although the Pokemon won by a landslide, there were still a good amount of humans left. Although the roles shifted a little bit, as before Pokemon were often companions to humans, almost like a pet...but now we were more independent. Living among them as civilians.

The complete disappearance is truly an enigmatic event that is a big debate among experts nowadays! Some associate it with a giant meteor shower - the biggest one seen in history that wiped out humans, as us Pokemon are quite durable. There's also been recounts of a blinding, soul crushing flashing beam of light that wiped them all out. Either way, life was becoming more unsustainable for humans as things evolved to fit Pokemon-kind more...that probably accelerated things. But from how fast it happened and the fact that the event was very poorly documented...there's more reason to believe that someTHING supernatural caused it.

What are your thoughts on humans as a whole? How do you feel about their unfortunate fate?

My family was always very close with humans. I've only heard great things about them, and all the cool stories of how my family, against all odds, won the biggest battles in international leagues and tournaments, all thanks to a trainer that knew how to make a small, weakling species like ours, very strong! I grew up with a very positive outlook on humans, and it makes me really sad that things ended the way they did. Like I said earlier, we wouldn't be here if it weren't for the humans. That's probably what led me down this path, honestly. Haha!

What's the geography of the world like? How has the geography changed since the human times?

The humans were in the midst of restructuring and renaming the regions in the world. To make them more...friendly sounding I guess. Certain areas also wanted to be their own thing...so that's where regions like Unova and Alola come from.

When the humans were wiped out, this was an unfinished project that Pokemonkind were determined to finish. Physically, the world is the same. But how everything is divided is probably different from what you're used to.

The region that Harmonia University is in - Arboria - although one of the biggest regions in the world, remained in one piece, somehow! Our downstairs neighbour got split into a few parts...Unova and Alola, as Ive mentioned, and some of the desert areas became known as the Orre region.

Another example where things are different...the Freyurr region! This was comprised of 3 different regions before - collectively known as Scandinavia. After the human extinction, this region became one with 3 distinct areas with their own language and culture.

What happened to Pokeball technology? It seems like it could be dangerous, but on the other hand it could be useful - especially for transportation! And it's low cost, low space, I'm surprised I haven't seen any evidence of the technology being converted for modern use.

Pokeballs are pretty much nonexistent nowadays, near impossible to get your hands on as a normal civilian! It was one of the biggest things that the Pokemon back then had a gripe about with the humans. Although not completely inhabitable, living in a Pokeball was very unpleasant - it's basically like being put into a very deep slumber, for who knows how long. Not much room to do anything or move around in there. Plus, many humans caught and collected tons of Pokemon with no rhyme or reason - many of them were left abandoned in Pokeballs and PC’s, never being able to see the light of day.

Other than for research and education purposes, Pokeballs have been banned all around the world ever since Pokemon civiliazation was born. We don’t even use them to capture our own ferals.

I've heard rumors that humans had experimented with themselves to turn into Pokemon before, but I'm assuming it's all just a myth. Was there ever a possibility that some of the humans ended up becoming Pokemon due to their experiments?

Pah, I'm pretty sure that was all a hoax. I'm sure humans have tried, but honestly they didn't make any breakthroughs in that front. I don't think human genetics were wired in a way that would even make that possible. They were able to kind of do it with Pokemon due to there being a particular species with properties that could allow it. But humans to Pokemon...nah that'd be a complete rewrite of everything! Or maybe...a really fun dream.

Do the Galar fossil Pokemon exist? How do fossil Pokemon work, are they revived or have they just always been around?

Yep, they do exist. But there's a bit of a catch...all of the fossil-revived species living today were revived during the human era, or are descendants of those that were. We've had to abolish a lot of those fossil revival labs, as newly found fossils would just come out as feral Pokemon with really nowhere to go. Now there are some such Pokemon in captivity, but it's strictly for ethical research purposes!

Anyways, I think that's all the questions that were left over for me! Hope that was informative. Our history isn't pretty but I think it's still really important to learn about it all. Haha! Well, if any of you still have questions, or just want to come chat with me...I'll be available!

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Three

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 13k

Chapter Warnings: angst obviously what would this story be without it, poppy and nico having an overdue conversation, nico moping again with his big sad brown eyes, nico being jealous again, drinking, cursing, meddling friends, being stood up, mentions of controlling parents as always, a little touching maybe a little more kissing too and even more meddling friends

Summary: Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Two)

A/N: I have nothing to say honestly just hope you enjoy I really don't know why I struggled writing most of this despite knowing what I wanted to do with it I think just figuring out how I want certain conversations to go and how to get from a to b is pure stresssss I'm not entirely in love with it but what can you do also proofread her? I hardly know her

but if you have anything to say pls send it my way lmao I'd really like to hear any thoughts or opinions 💓

Poppy

Poppy was once told by her good friend, Kelsey, that she would be able to tell everything she needed to know about a guy by the way they answered one very simple question. 

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

She thinks about it more often than she really should, if she’s honest with herself, but Kelsey’s rationale behind each potential answer is actually a stroke of rare genius - and Poppy often finds herself applying the logic to most people that she encounters.

Guys who say super speed are the ultimate red flag. No one wants a quick finisher, no matter how fast they may be in any other aspect of life. Some things specifically require time and patience. Sacrificing your partner’s satisfaction all to say you can run the world record fastest 5k is the ultimate ick.

There’s an argument to be made for the endurance choosers, it sure has its perks, but Poppy thinks it’s a boring pick. To be given the option of any superpower, and to choose perseverance, of all things? Get a life. 

Anyone who chooses x-ray vision is a certified pervert, obviously. The same could be said for those wanting to read minds, although most of the guys Poppy has seen in her life struggle to comprehend the things she says in plain words, never mind whatever nonsense is circling through her inner thoughts. 

Those who choose flying are one dimensional, rarely able to see beyond what’s right in front of them, because, if they could, they’d choose the much better option of teleportation.

Who chooses flying when you could just think about somewhere and instantaneously arrive? With your hair in tact and no risk of bumping into any territorial birds.

Teleportation is what Poppy would have picked if anyone would have asked her a week ago, for the mere fact that commuting anywhere is the bane of her entire existence, and if she thinks too hard about it or looks to much into it, it always has been. 

She associates it with sitting in the back of her dad’s Bentley as a child, a tangible, frosty silence lingering in the air between her parents after one of their many even-toned arguments disguised as discussions, the fresh pine scent making her car sick and the leather seats making the back of her thighs sticky. 

Or the fragile bones of her hand being crushed by her mother’s tight grip as they rode the Amtrak over to Manhattan, Priscilla sneering at anyone who dared step too close on the crowded carriage, Poppy being dragged throughout department stores in the name of mother-daughter bonding time, and clutching to a tiny consolation Macy’s bag housing a sparkly lip gloss like her life depended on it the whole way home. 

She thinks of all the hours of her life she’s wasted on the Palisades Parkway, no longer able to enjoy the scenic route whenever she has to drive back to her parent’s house in Alpine after having watched one too many crime shows where a broken down car leads to a girl’s face plastered all over the news.

Even driving to work can feel like hell when the traffic is bad, what should be a 30 minute drive sometimes turning into an hour, Poppy’s fingers cramping around the wheel and her feet itching to touch solid ground after too long.

Teleportation sounds perfect.

And, there’s even a romance element to it. Being whisked away to Paris in the blink of an eye, suddenly sitting outside a boulangerie, decadent, rich hot chocolate on a table in front of her and a plate full of pastries, all because she mentioned a slight craving for a pain au chocolat. 

Teleportation has always been the only correct, green-flag answer to the question. 

Until Poppy properly considered time travel, that is.

The concept of it has always been a little too much or her to handle - too many strange loopholes, too many bad examples from the sci-fi movies her brother had loved as a kid. Travelling back in time to when her parents were her age and accidentally capturing her adolescent father’s attention à la Marty McFly? Sounds like hell and horror to Poppy. 

But that was before she screwed everything up.

If she could have any superpower right now, currently weighed down with the burden of hindsight - which people have always told her is a funny thing, but she thinks is actually somewhat diabolical - she would pick time travel a thousand times over.

Because if human beings have a specific part of their brain that is dedicated to forcing them to sit and stew on their every poor decision for days on end - lets them rethink and regret everything until they’re blue in the face, and can’t think of anything other than how idiotic they have been - it should also offer the kindness of being able to go back and change what they so royally fucked up.

That’s what Poppy thinks, at least, as she throws herself down onto her bed, her back hitting the duvet in a whoosh and all she can do is stare at the ceiling and wonder how and when she became such a certified moron.

There’s a part of her that suspects it’s in her genes. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Nature and nurture, she was born and raised to be a full blown fool.

Poppy comes from a long line of privilege, and while it does take a certain element of intelligence to amass the wealth her family has, it also tends to go hand in hand with ignorance in its many forms.

Behind every fortuitous business move her father makes are a million other mistakes - failed ventures, bad investments, shoddy pieces of advice accepted from the untrustworthy snakes he surrounds himself with. Hidden beneath every rung of the social ladders her mother has managed to climb, there are the ugly faux-pas’ slipping through the cracks of a former, more unsavoury life she can never run too far from. And her brother - well, she suspects he’s just an idiot, there are no two ways about it.

She knows that she needs to stop blaming her family, though. This time, it’s all her.

She can’t blame her father for the way she overthinks, the man who makes every decision in life with the littlest regard for how anyone else feels about it. She can’t blame her mother for the way she places such little value on herself, the woman who walks into every room like she owns it and refuses to let anyone make her think otherwise.

Except maybe she can.

If she had the nerve to talk to a therapist, they might disagree - might say her overthinking comes from her dad’s lack of communication skills, a part of her brain always filling in the gaps of a half-assed, other side of any conversation with him. Or they might say her insecurities come from her mom constantly putting Poppy down while telling her to be more sure of herself - stop slouching, Poppy, no one will take you seriously with the posture of a candy cane.

She’d love to know where her need to repress her feelings so deep that she becomes an impenetrable, cold, dark fortress comes from. The need to push and shove when someone tries to get too close, because God forbid anything is ever easy when it comes to her affections.

It would have made the past 4 days since Nico had walked into her apartment and kissed the life out of her a whole lot easier. 

4 days spent reminiscing, rethinking and regretting every single thing she had said and done since their lips parted, since he had put his heart on the line and she’d whacked it away, full swing, as if too desperate for the victory of a last-bat home run.

If she could time travel, she’d do the whole thing over.

-

“Don’t go on that date, Mohn.”

She had read the words on his lips before they registered through her ears, the sound of her blood rushing throughout her body occupying every sense for a brief moment.

What the hell is going on?

Nico had kissed her. He’d grabbed her, pulled her into him, and she’s pretty sure he had made her heart stop for a good second - there’s no other justifiable reason for the way it had been reverberating against her ribcage ever since. 

And then he stood before her, a desperate, pleading projection playing in his dark irises, lips still slick from where her own had just been, cheeks flushed, shoulders rising with subtle panting breaths, waiting for a response to a question she couldn’t even remember hearing.

“W-what?” She’d stuttered, blinking hard and shaking her head as if to rattle her brain into whatever semblance of cognisance she could muster.

Nico had kissed her, and then wanted to talk? As if she had the brain power left for any kind of discussion after that?

He seemed proud of the mess he had made of her, lips lifting at one side, drawing her gaze immediately to every movement they made, so focused on the memory of how pillowy-soft they had felt against hers that she didn’t notice him stepping a little closer, raising a large hand to tuck her hair behind her ear until she flinched at the contact.

“Sunday, Poppy,” he had uttered, unfazed by her skittishness, “Your date, don’t go.”

She had blinked again, completely overwhelmed on every front. She could still taste him on her tongue, he was so close she could smell his cologne, tunnel vision only seeing him in front of her and the hand that cupped the side of her face in her peripheral, her heartbeat echoing through her skull and every nerve, every slight hair on her body, standing as if trying to close the distance between his body and hers.

It was the sensory overload that made her go against all other instincts.

“I can’t.” Her voice had sounded like it hadn’t been used in weeks, croaky and unsure, her next words stammered, “I can’t not go, I mean. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go, Poppy,”

“No, I do.” That had sounded a little surer, the fog in her brain slowly clearing only for something more tumultuous to pass through in it’s place. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Nico blinked once, then again, frustration clear in the furrow of his thick brows as he seemed to stew on his next words, desperate to say the right thing. There was a prolonged, tense beat, before he had asked, “Have you ever thought we could be more?”

“More?”

“More than friends.”

If her heart hadn’t stopped when he had kissed her, it must have stopped then.

His back straight, eyes looking directly into hers, a hopeful, inquisitive gleam shining from within them - he had never seemed so sure of something for as long as she had known him.

Poppy couldn’t stop the little voice in her head questioning, where the hell has this come from?

“Have you?” She had asked with a eyre of disbelief.

 Not once in the years she had known him had he ever made it seem like they could be more. There had always been an unspeakable, undeniable barrier between them. They were friends. They’d always been friends. Just friends.

Friends who spent most of their free, personal time together, friends who bought each other sentimental gifts they’d never get for anyone else, who shared intimate details about their lives and their pasts, and kissed each others heads like a goodbye ritual. Friends who broke each other’s hearts, seemingly beyond repair, without explanation.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I mean,” He had paused, breaking eye contact for a second as if wracking his brain for the right answer, sensing a teetering tension between the two of them. “Yeah. Yes. I have.”

She had narrowed her eyes at him, weighing up the possibility in her mind that she wouldn’t have liked any response he gave to her, every prospective answer causing a flood of doubt and uncertainty to crash in rushing, destructive waves through her mind. “Since when?” She’d asked, trying to level her bite.

If he’d ever thought they could be more, what the hell have they been doing all this time?

“Since I met you, I think,” he had shrugged.

Wrong answer, again.

“And you only bring it up when I have a date with someone else?”

She watched a series of antithetical emotions pass through his features, understanding, confusion, acceptance, denial, resilience, cowardice. He had seemed to find the small margins between all of them, when he had come back with, “It’s not because of your date, Poppy.”

“Then why?” She tilted her head as she continued to analyse him, again not sure what she was looking for, or what she wanted to find. That something tumultuous was already whirling within her, too late to be stopped, and Nico could seemingly see the warning signs.

“Why are you getting mad at me, right now?”

“I’m not mad,” she had denied, not even knowing if she was lying or not, “I’m confused. 2 weeks ago, we weren’t even talking, Nico-,”

“You said you forgave me for that.”

“I didn’t-.” She’d cut herself off before she could say something that would upset him, the conversation spiralling so far out of control from the momentary bliss he had provided only minutes ago - but she was too far up shit’s creek without a paddle, there was no turning back. She’d been wanting to have a proper conversation with Nico all week, what better time than the middle of the night on what was now his birthday? “That’s not exactly what I said.”

He had taken a step back, lips parting with an unreleased gasp, the once-hopeful glint in his eyes transforming into hurt. “You don’t forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that either,” she sighed, wanting answers, not to cause him anguish. “Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then tell me what the hell is wrong? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t understand where this has come from, Nico! You come in here and kiss me out of nowhere and tell me not to date other people and I’m just supposed to blindly follow along when I don’t get what the hell is happening with you!”

“I think me kissing you makes it pretty obvious what I want to happen, Mohn.” He had tried to ease the tension, his voice level and steady, stepping forward with his hands raised in an attempt to calm her, but she had taken a slight step back, clearly unaffected. 

“It doesn’t.” She’d stopped looking at him at that point, keeping an eye on his feet to watch his encroaching steps. “Nothing about you is obvious. You don’t tell me anything and all I can think about is what I did wrong.”

If he couldn’t see the tears pooling at her lashes, he had to have heard the break in her voice - a sure indicator that she was close to crying - but his steps had stopped, feet seemingly stuck to their place on the hardwood flooring of Poppy’s apartment, and she could feel her heart shatter knowing he wasn’t persisting again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tries to reassure her, but it’s no use.

Maybe she would have believed him if he’d held her while he said it, transferred the meaning through touch to her skin, gripping her with every word until she truly understood the weight of them.

“It had to have been something. You don’t just stop wanting to know a person for no reason, Nico, so what was it?” She made her way to her couch, perching on the edge of the seat with her knees pressed together, and looked over to where he remained standing.

She could feel her temper flaring again. 

How could he have the nerve to do this to her - to turn her world upside down in a matter of minutes - and not have the answers she needed to accept it?

“Poppy-,”

“I need to know. I can’t drop it and forget about it, and I’m sorry that I made it seem like I could, but if you want us to move on from this, if you want to come here and kiss me like that, and tell me you don’t want me seeing other people, I need to know what happened.”

“I-,” Nico sighed heavily, shoulders drooping, any confidence and bravado he had displayed after their kiss now a distant memory. “I don’t know.”

She had an immediate, striking thought, that maybe if she asked closed questions, he could give her an answer, and so, with misplaced courage, she asked, “Was it her?”

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Did she ask you to stop talking to me?”

It was a thought that had been plaguing her for longer than she’d like to admit - unable to shake the idea that maybe Talia had seen one of the texts she had sent, had gone through Nico’s phone and seen any of their older messages, any photos he might have kept on his phone, maybe a memory had come up from snapchat, maybe someone had mentioned Poppy and her curiosity had been piqued. 

Poppy had always thought if she was dating someone, and they had a Poppy, she might feel some type of way about it. 

But her and Nico were just friends.

Nico rounded the couch, sitting on the cushion beside Poppy, their knees knocking as he reached into her lap and took her shaking hands in his.

“Do you really think I’d stop talking to you just because someone asked me to?” Their eyes had met again, sadness brewing in the dark coffee colour surrounding his dilated pupils, and a glassy film coating her own. “Poppy, I would never.”

“I don’t know what to think, Nico, because you won’t tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense! I try wrapping my head around it, try coming up with some kind of explanation, but nothing I say is going to change what I did to you, Poppy.”

Her question before had gotten her an honest response, had elicited something real and undeniable within him - he’d never stop talking to her because someone asked him to. So it was his own decision, subconscious or not. Maybe she could help dig further, she thought.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked after a beat.

“I,” Nico pondered over it before rushing his answer, a wave of emotion flashing across his face before his eyes locked on hers, ready to let her in. “Because I wanted to.”

That was a start - a simple question, a straightforward answer. 

“Was that the first time that you wanted to?”

“No.”

Poppy could feel some semblance of confidence coming back. Closed questions, concrete answers, she could keep this up.

“When was the last time you wanted to kiss me?”

She could have asked the first - she sure as hell wanted to know it, but if he’d thought of being more the entire time they’d known each other, there was a lingering possibility there were many times - and they would be there until sunrise if they started from the beginning.

“Finnegan’s.” 

“The bar?”

“We went there when we came back after we crashed out of the playoffs, do you remember?”

She remembered.

It had only been a couple of days before Nico had left for his summer back home in Switzerland.

Their loss in Carolina had been devastating, the boys came back broken and defeated, and all just wanted to drown their sorrows before they broke for their off-season. Poppy had been out with Nia and Kelsey and a few other friends at another bar when Jack had responded to her instagram story, saying they’d be at the Irish pub that was a staple within the team, and she should come over and join them.

She had made her way over pretty late, wanting to make sure her friends were okay without her, and arrived when most of the boys were completely shit-faced, past the point of tears and moping and deep into a mass state of hysteria and loud jubilation for the successes along the way.

She had found Nico in a booth in the far corner of the bar, head slumped over the back, eyes seemingly tracing the cracks in the ceiling until she crawled into the bench behind him, leaned over with her elbows resting on either side of his head, and took up his entire view. 

“What’cha doin’?” She’d asked, lips twisting at the sight of his dizzy eyes trying to correct themselves to focus on her. 

He’d quickly given up, pressing his eyes closed to shut out the risk of nausea taking over, the outer corners crinkling, the sides of his nose scrunching and his eyelashes fanning a shadow over his cheekbones - her own eyes were level with his lips, so he couldn’t really hide the way they curved at the quick glimpse of her.

“Suffering,” he had muttered, squinting one eye open to catch a brief, upside down glance of her. Nico was never this down after a few drinks. He was giggly, he was loud, he was touchy and clumsy - he was never the hide away in the corner sad type. “Wanna join me?”

“Always.” She affirmed, making her way around to his side of the booth and sliding in beside him until her bare thigh pressed against the somewhat scratchy linen of the pants he wore. 

“I’m probably not the best company tonight,” He remained in the same position, neck craning so the base of his head could rest atop the back of the seat, and his eyes closed - giving Poppy the perfect opportunity to properly look him over.

The few moments they’d had together, alone, over the past few weeks, he’d been pent up, stressed, overworked and on the brink of eruption, so this was the first time in a long time she’d managed to catch him without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Only, that weight wasn’t so easy to shift.

She saw it in the bags under his eyes, in the unkempt playoff beard he was yet to shave off, in the stuttered way his chest rose and fell with his attempts at deep, calming breaths. 

As she watched him, the corner of her lip tucked between her teeth in contemplation, she knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better about this. He just had to feel it out, process it in his own way without her interference - but she wanted to be there, at least.

And as much as she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he did the best he could, and led his team through one of their strongest seasons in recent franchise history, she wanted to provide him comfort in the quiet, too.

“I don’t mind.”

And so, with little trepidation, she placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and rested her head next to it, glancing up to see the push of a dimple forming on his cheek as his arm stretched around her and welcomed her into his warm embrace.

“You wanted to kiss me then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Didn’t seem like the right time, though,” he followed up with an answer to a question she hadn’t even asked, yet. “I was leaving too soon and I didn’t want you to think I’d just kissed you because I was drunk and upset.”

Her eyes moved to his lips, a question for herself whirling around in her head. Would she have wanted him to kiss her then? What would have happened in the aftermath? Where would they be now? Would she have thought that? Would she have spent her summer stewing over what it meant, and how his lips had felt against hers?

Before she had much time to think it over, Nico continued, being spurred on by such a distinct memory that he was rolling towards the answer she had been waiting for, and she wasn’t going to stop him to try and decipher her own feelings.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I went home, thinking about wanting to kiss you, or not kissing you, and what it all would mean, and I kept trying to distract myself thinking I could just figure it all out when I came back here but then I met Talia, and I felt wrong for thinking about you when I had her.”

That had made sense. Nico was always a guy that would do the right thing. If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t think of the prospect of something with someone else, even if that someone was Poppy, and that something was a culmination of years of pent up feelings finally coming together to form something potentially wonderful.

She didn’t quite need or want to hear the rest. Didn’t want to hear how he’d gone looking for a distraction, and found just that. 

Nico was loyal, and for him to maintain that essence of himself, he had to ignore the possibility of Poppy. Some subconscious part within him saw her as a threat to the stability he had with the perfect girl from back home, and he boxed her away to make room for what could be with Talia.

It stung, but he was right. Neither of them could change what had already happened.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

She’d nodded after only a second, barely even thinking about it.

Jack’s words from New Years Eve rang through her, suck it up and move on.

Nico had his reasons, she had her answers. He wasn’t bored of her, wasn’t tired of her or annoyed by her. He’d been so caught up by his unspoken, untranslated feelings for her that he twisted himself into untangle-able knots that were only just starting to loosen up enough to be picked apart.

“Could you maybe say it?”

“Yeah, I could.” she had said through trembling lips, the hurt in his voice burrowing through her eardrums, lodging itself in her own throat, and dripping slowly but surely into the depths of her chest. “I will.” She had to be more sure, needing to erase any doubt she had planted within him. “I do.”

“You do?”

He still held her hands in his from when he had sat down, palms warm and slightly perspirant from his tight grip around her knuckles.

“I forgive you.”

His mouth twitched into a shaky smile, his eyes catching the soft light and twinkling with emotion, and she definitely wanted to kiss him, then.

She had wondered if this is what he felt when he’d kissed her before, this burning need. Her fingers twitched in his hold, her heart thudded in her chest, and her lips parted in anticipation, until she could finally slam the breaks on her torpedoing thoughts.

“It’s just a lot to process, and I don’t really know how I feel.”

She had wished she could take it back as soon as the words left her mouth, and Nico’s features had folded as he took them in. He broke eye contact almost immediately, head dropping to look down at their hands until he released hers back into her lap. 

“I get it.” He uttered, forcing a smile as he glanced back up at her, briefly. “I sprung this on you out of nowhere, I’m s-,”

“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted before he could go there, knowing it would send her brain into overdrive if he let even the thought of regret fester between them, “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to be sorry about it.”

Relief washed over the both of them in a warm, steady stream as he nodded, leaning into the back of the couch, legs spreading as an elongated sigh wracked through his torso. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and Poppy’s eyes flickered to the flex of his fingers, the strain of his wrist, the flash of protruding veins where his sleeve had pulled up with the stretch of his movements. 

His eyes closed, and she took him in just like she had that night in Finnegan’s bar.

She’d had an urge then, a desire even, to provide comfort - to share his burdens, make him forget the pain he had just endured, wash it all away with encouraging words, gentle touches. A shoulder to cry on, two ears to listen, and, albeit she didn’t entirely know it at the time, a whole heart that was his for the taking.

And take it, he did, held it all summer, bent it all sorts of ways out of shape up until New Years Eve, and it was still in his hands. Smushed, dented, squeezed to within an inch of his life, her heart was his.

It was up to her now to figure out what she wanted him to do with it. 

“I made a promise to my mom about the date, Nico, I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact he had maybe been a little too lost in the moment to make such a crazy demand of her. 

“And I think maybe we both need a little time to properly think about what is happening here.”

“Time?” He practically shot up, alarm in his eyes.

“We’ve barely been apart all week, Nico, I think that might be why we’re both so,” she struggled for the right word - pent up, emotional, strung out, “Intense.”

She had known she was emotional, overthinking to the point of ruin, but maybe he was too. Maybe that’s what had led to the kiss, to the outburst of sentiment. They were both in the depths of a pressure cooker of emotions, and some space might do them good to gain a little clarity.

Maybe with a little more time to think on it, to consider what he was admitting to, have a little breathing room, and act more on something concrete than a fleeting in-the-moment feeling, he might change his mind. He deserved the opportunity to do so, she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“How much time do you think you would need?”

“I’m driving up to my parent’s house on Friday, so I would have been away for most of the weekend anyway, maybe we check back in on Monday and see where our heads are at?”

“4 days,” he muttered as if he’d just counted them in his head. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?” He had nodded in response, and there was something like hope that lingered between them, sharing small smiles and gazing through glassy eyes. “You’ll be so busy you won’t even get the chance to miss me.”

She believed it to be true - Nico had his family over, would be spending the latter end of the day with them, and had 2 big home games in a row to worry about. Poppy would be the last thing on his mind.

If she had blinked in the moment, she might have missed the way his observation slipped to her lips, lingered there for a brief second, and glanced back up to flicker between her eyes again. “Not possible.”

“Poppy, have you suffered some kind of brain injury I don’t know about?” Nia’s voice rings through the speaker of the phone pressed to her ear, already supposedly-styled hair fanned out around her as she lays staring at the ceiling, willing herself to get up and go before she’s late.

No matter how much she doesn’t want to go on this date, her mother will kill her if she hears anything other than a glowing review. On time, preened to perfection, polite and sociable. 

“Maybe I hit my head in my sleep at some point,” she thinks out loud, glancing back to the sharp edges of her bedside table and wondering if she could have thudded into it in the night.

Surely she would have a scar or a bruise.

“You must have,” Nia agrees, “That’s the only logical explanation why you’d ever consider telling the guy you’ve been hung up on since you first met him that you need time to think about how you feel,”

“Ni,” Poppy groans, “I called you for advice, not a lecture.”

“If you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, and you my friend, are a dumbass.”

“In my defence-,”

“Nope!” Poppy doesn’t know what Nia is doing on the other end, but she hears something clatter as if being slammed down on a table in protest, “There is no defence, you’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t know how I felt about it, Ni,” Poppy sighs, sitting up and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know why so much of her time tonight has been wasted trying to look so good when she doesn’t even want to. When she’d gone to visit her parents, her mother had practically given her a full blown rundown of the guy she was meeting.

Tucker Lyon, she can’t help to instinctively roll her eyes at just his name, works in investment grade finance for one of the Big 4 - she hadn’t cared enough to ask which one. His family are property people, her mom had said, and own enough Manhattan real estate to hold some serious power. Priscilla had met his mother years ago at some luncheon in the city, and apparently the two had been in cahoots since then to set their children up.

Poppy doesn’t want to be set up with some walking red flag, biting her tongue over a plate of food too small to satisfy her hunger while he mansplains stocks and shares to her.

She wants to be in whatever bar the guys are holed up in, tucked under Nico’s arm, side practically glued to his, sipping cocktails and celebrating him like he deserves to be celebrated.

But instead, she can admit, she has been a royal idiot.

“I still don’t know, it’s all come at me full force and I don’t understand my feelings.”

“Bullshit!” Nia scoffs, “You knew you were into him the second he first flashed those dimples your way.”

She isn’t entirely wrong.

Poppy had once harboured a slight crush on him. In the very early stages of their friendship. One small enough that when she realised it was completely one-sided - and she was being delusional to ever think his cute nickname for her and his insistence on spending time only with her was anything more than his attempt to make a friend - she could swallow it down until it was barely anything.

She trained her heart not to stutter when he approached her, told her brain to shut up when he flashed her one of those perfect, all consuming smiles, and could cross her arms to restrain her hands from wanting to hold his whenever they walked side by side.

She’d become so good at suppressing her feelings, she’d forgotten she had them.

She had forgotten all the times they had hung out alone over the years, never second guessing all the looks and the touches, the times he’d let her stay over if it got too late to go home alone, and the times he’d waltz into hers like he owned the place.

She’d forgotten when she had seen him with Talia, always claiming the feeling in her gut was one of loss and reminiscence, not envy and bitterness.

She’d forgotten when the Hughes brothers had helped her move a couple months ago, and Luke had questioned the amount of Nico he was helping to scatter throughout her apartment. Pictures on her bookshelf, pictures stuck to her fridge with souvenir magnets from Swiss gift shops, a couple hoodies, Devils branded shorts and big t-shirts of his he’d come across in the boxes. 

“I didn’t realise you and Cap were so close,” Luke had picked a frame out of one of the boxes, the picture of Nico and Poppy at the Halloween party inside, and waved it in her direction as she stood with her hands on her hips, figuring out if she wanted to alphabetise or colour code the books she was displaying. 

“Huh?” Poppy tilted her head towards the tall boy, watching as he shook his curls back into place and ran a hand through them. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat lugging her boxes upstairs, and now that everything was finally moved, Jack had gone to get them food, and Poppy and Luke were getting started on unpacking the easy stuff. She looked to the picture in hand, reaching over and taking it to get a closer look. “I guess we were, I don’t really know.” She wasn't a good enough actress to properly pull off the nonchalance she was aiming for.

“You don’t know?” Luke scoffed, rifling through other pictures in the box - all framed, mostly of her and Nico, some just the two of them, some of them in groups, but always side by side. Always grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got like a shrine in here, PJ,”

“It’s not a shrine,” she had argued, “You don’t keep pictures of your friends? Sounds kind of cold, if you ask me, Moosey.”

“I keep pictures on instagram and my phone like a normal person.” He chuckled.

“Generational gap, you kids are done for when the cloud goes down, you know. Physical media is forever.”

“You sound like my mom.” Luke jibed, and true to his nature, unable to stop himself before he inadvertently crossed a line, he asked with a weird wiggle of his eyebrows, “So, you wanna keep Nico forever, huh?”

“Shut up, Luke.” If Poppy had something soft enough, she would have thrown it at his head. The photo frame in hand seemed like overkill, and she didn’t want to hurt the kid, just make him stop. She didn’t much like talking about him, what they once had, what they once were. Even if he did have the wrong impression of what they were. It was upsetting, and she didn’t want to get upset - not in front of Luke. “You can keep those in the box.”

Luke had reached out for the frame in Poppy’s grasp, had watched as she hesitated giving it back, as she looked down and took in the huge smiles on her and Nico’s faces, and as she made the decision not to put this one back. Maybe she could phase it out, wait until she took a nicer, more meaningful picture with someone else before she replaced that one.

“I’ll keep this one out. I look cute.”

"Sure." His sarcasm was not entirely appreciated.

She had heard him chuckle to himself as she stood the frame on one of the shelves, placing it between a scented candle she had no intention of ever lighting and a small faux lavender plant. Not shrine-like at all.

She’d forgotten about any suppressed feelings until Nico kissed her.

Until he opened up Pandora’s box, releasing all her pent up emotions to roam freely, creating chaos and causing havoc through every corner of her entire existence. 

For the past 3 days, she’s thought about him with everything she has done. 

On Thursday afternoon, sat alone in her office, going over emails and wondering what he would be up to with his family. Was he happy, were they having fun, did he think about her for a second?

On Friday evening, driving alone on the long winding roads to her parent’s house and listening to the commentary for the game on the radio. Making it to the house in time for the 3rd period, and seeing the team celebrate. Was he well rested, excited for his family to watch him play at home, did he look up into the staff suite at the Rock and wish she was there cheering him on?

On Saturday, retreating to her childhood bedroom after another tense family dinner, snuggling up with the dogs on her bed as she watched the game. Was he beating himself up, had he gone straight home on his own after the loss, did he have the same urge to call her as much as she wanted to call him?

Did he, on any of those nights, lay awake thinking about that kiss?

About how right it had felt? How he had exerted his subtle dominance over her with such ease, large hands encompassing her face and holding her to his lips like his life depended on it?

Did he think about where it could have gone if she hadn’t shut him down? Where they could be if he’d made a move before?

She’s been thinking about it. Non-stop thinking about it.

Thinking about that kiss, and the possibility of others - the moment in the bar, all the other potential moments he had wanted to kiss her and hadn’t. The fact that maybe her feelings had never been one sided, and she’s wasted years pushing them down for nothing.

“Do you think I made a mistake not cancelling this date?” She asks her friend in a moment of vulnerability, her mind reeling with the possibility that she has already fucked up what could be.

“No.” Nia assures her, surprisingly. She’s been calling her an idiot all night, what does she mean, ‘no’? “I think he needs to sweat a little, let him think about you out tonight with another guy, and come tomorrow, his mind will be made up.”

“You don’t think we might be overestimating how much it bothers him?”

“Don’t make me call you a dumbass again, Pop.” Poppy can hear the rolling of her best friend’s eyes through the phone. “And send me a picture of your outfit before you leave.”

Nico

Nico has never been so physically uncomfortable in his life.

For a man who plays contact sport for a living - has played it for a good chunk of his existence, and has suffered countless knocks and injuries, slept in one too many uncomfortable positions in planes, buses, trains and even hotel beds, and who’s face has had more than enough encounters with the wrong end of a pair of skates - that is saying a lot.

But every inch of him, every fibre of his entire being, feels irritated in some way.

It’s a feeling like unforeseen static shocks passing over every surface of his skin. Like little bugs crawling all over him and he can’t swat them away. Like random strands of fine hairs that can’t be seen by the naked eye but God, can he feel them. He feels them everywhere.

From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he feels something prickling, stinging, burning. 

Itchy.

Like a scratch he can’t reach in the very middle of his back.

And it’s not like he doesn’t know what it is.

He’s felt it ever since he left Poppy’s apartment in the early hours of Thursday morning. He had hardly slept, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours in before his alarm shrilled from where it charged on his nightstand. 

He has tried to use the same coping mechanisms that get him through his bouts of homesickness - where he closes his eyes and tries to provoke a memory for each sense.

He pictures the views from one of his many hikes, endless fields of green grass, crystal clear lakes, winding footpaths and mountains that stretch as far as the eye can see. He imagines gathering around a fondue table back in his favourite restaurant, and can smell the freshly baked bread, can taste the melt-in-the-mouth flavour once it’s been dipped in oozing, melted cheese. He can feel the softness of the freshly washed sheets back in his childhood bedroom and can hear the chorused chirps of the birds outside his window in the early mornings. 

It’s a technique that has helped ground him in the past, and he had thought that maybe if he applies the same logic, it will dull the ache in his fingertips that yearn to reach for his phone and text the girl who has asked him for space.

If he thinks hard enough, he can still taste the sweet but subtle vanilla of Poppy’s lip balm. He can smell the fresh-cotton essence of her laundry detergent, can hear the melodic sounds she had hummed into his lips, can feel the softness of her skin on the pads of his fingers, can see, clear as day, the dazed expression etched into her features like she had gotten caught up in the fantasy too.

If it wasn’t so easy for him to mentally transport himself back, he wouldn’t have been able to make it 4 days without seeing her. 

He had known it would be hard, but, thankfully, he thinks he got himself enough of a fix to make it to Monday.

He’d taken all he could with just one press of his lips to hers, had taken more of Poppy than he had ever dared to take before, and his subconscious was clinging onto it for dear life, hoping with everything in him she could decide to give him more.

4 days.

He has never known time to be so cruel. For it to drag out every minute like it was an hour.

If his life had a remote control, best believe he would be jamming the hell out of the fast forward button. 4x speed, skip to the next chapter, not wanting or needing to know what happened in the in-between.

He’s always thought himself to have patience - good things come to those who wait, after all - but this had become the ultimate test.

He had tried to immerse himself in whatever was going on each day, hoping they would pass quicker, less painfully, but it had been no use.

His birthday had passed by in a dizzying blur. He’d had a late morning skate, had come home to his family waiting for him, had gone to dinner with them, caught up over Italian food in one of his favourite spots by his apartment, and had driven his parents, his sister and her boyfriend back to their hotel with the promise of dedicating some time to them before the game on Friday.

Every single thing had reminded him of her.

Being at the Rock and wondering where in the building she might be, and if she was reminded of him with the littlest things. If she was thinking about him, what she was thinking about him. Seeing his family, imagining her place at the table as they all exchanged laughter and stories over pasta and wine. Thinking about what she might contribute to the conversation, how she would get along with his sister, how they’d gang up on him and poke fun, but she’d hold his hand under the table and squeeze to let him know it was all in good humour.

In the locker room after the win against the Blackhawks, trying his best to get involved in the celebrations but just wanting to call her, to hear that she had watched, and was proud of him and the team. And even after the loss against the Canucks, he wanted to hear the same. He wanted to go straight to her place, the passenger seat of his car painfully empty as he drove himself home in complete silence. 

And he had tried his best not to get too into his head about the whole space thing.

Poppy was right, after all. Things had gotten intense.

He had been intense - marching over to her place and kissing her out of nowhere. As right as it had felt, it was stupid. It was hotheaded and impulsive and it wasn’t considerate of her feelings.

But, God, he was so caught up on her he couldn’t help himself. He should have seen in the days they had spent together prior that they needed to speak more about everything before he threw himself at her like a neanderthal. 

He’d only considered what conclusion he had reached, and as much as his conversation with the guys on the plane gave him an idea of Poppy’s mindset, some words needed to be exchanged before he planted one straight on her. The whole thing could have gone so much better if he just knew how to communicate everything with her properly.

Even before the kiss. Before New Years, before Talia, before Summer - if he knew how to speak about his developing feelings for her, this whole mess could have been avoided.

He wouldn’t be sat alone in a bar, yet again, as his friends surround him, partaking in the celebrations that are supposed to revolve around him, wallowing in self pity.

He wouldn’t be thinking about Poppy, out in some fancy restaurant somewhere else in the city, with some stick-up-his-ass loser who doesn’t deserve a second of her time, and imagining her giving him one of those earth shattering smiles - the one where her the outside of her eyes crinkle in the corners, and every time he sees it he imagines the lines settling there as she ages, and it’s always a version of the two of them, old and grey, side by side, smiling together.

He imagines her taking him back to her apartment, curling up with him on the couch Nico helped her haul up the stairs after she had found it for crazy cheap off of some sketchy ad on Facebook marketplace. He sees her slowly replacing all those pictures she has of her and Nico with pictures of her and him, phasing him out of her space like she would eventually phase him out of his life.

He thinks about her taking him to her bedroom - the one he had yet to see in her new apartment, but imagines it’s just like her old one; way too many pillows and throws, a thick, plush duvet that looks like she’s climbing into a cloud, and a beat up stuffed toy her grandmother had given her when she was young. 

He doesn’t want to wish that Poppy is currently welcoming someone into her life that doesn’t suit her, but he can’t help himself.

He hopes this guy is late - and doesn’t even apologise for it. He hopes he orders off the menu for her, or criticises her choice of wine for not pairing with her choice of food like a complete snob. He hopes he’s awful to wait-staff. He hopes he’s type of guy who writes a suggestion on the tip line of his receipt instead of leaving a minimum of 20%. He hopes he chews with his mouth open, spits when he talks and scrapes his knife along the ceramic of his plate as he cuts his food, causing that toe curling sound that makes Poppy want to scream.

He hopes he doesn’t offer her his jacket, because she always refuses to take one out. He hopes he doesn’t think to give her a piggy back, because she always wears shoes out she knows she doesn’t want to walk in, but always wants to walk home if it’s nice out. He hopes he walks on the inside of the sidewalk, leaving her to the dangers of walking roadside, and walks too quick for her to keep up with little regard for how she likes to take her time on a night and stretch the evening out. 

He even hopes he smokes. Poppy hates smokers. And if, God forbid, they kiss, he’ll have smoker’s breath, and she won’t want to do it again. 

She won’t stand in front of him, eyes glazed over, lashes fluttering, brows furrowing, lips still pouting and fingers twitching to reach back out, yearning for more.

She won’t even kiss him back.

Not like she had kissed Nico. Not like she had clutched at his shirt like she wanted to hold him close to her forever. He wouldn’t get to hear that sweet, subdued sound she had made when his tongue had swiped tentatively at hers, or feel that slight pressure of when her lips had closed around it, sucking almost at the muscle before opening back up to allow for more of a taste.

No one else can get that.

No one else will savour it like Nico has, thinking about is for days on end, replaying the moment over and over until he has perfect recall of every small detail.

It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t shared much detail about this date, Nico thinks as he swirls the ice around his empty drink, sat right at the bar away from the sectioned-off area that Timo had rented out for the party.

If he knew more about it - about the who, about the where - he probably would be in a cab by now, knowing he was crossing a line but unable to do anything about it, his will outweighing any common courtesy just as it had a few nights ago. Or he would have spent the last few days in a google deep-dive, trying to figure out the kind of man her mother would approve of. Enough to set her up, at least - he doubts Priscilla Jensen entirely approves of anyone.

Nico finally makes eye contact with the bartender, and as she starts to make her way over, he feels like a divine intervention occurs - an arm falling onto the bar top beside his, a glimmer of metal flashing into his dark eyes - the reflection bouncing from a bracelet that is welded around the base of a slender hand.

“I’ll take another of these,” he lifts his glass when the bartender arrives, gesturing to the old fashioned he’d somehow landed on over beer tonight, “And whatever she’s having, please.”

 “Vodka diet coke, please,” a voice rings out from beside him, and once the bartender busies herself with the order, she asks, “Shouldn’t I be the one getting you a drink? I heard it’s your birthday,”

“Why should either of us pay when it’s going on a tab?” He chuckles, angling his body better to face her. 

“Ooh la-la, a tab,” Nia mocks, “Now I feel like I’m a part of an elite club!”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve never had your drinks put on someone else’s tab before.”

“Not the New Jersey Devils captain himself, it’s such an honour!” She raises a manicured hand and presses it to her chest, a playful smile etched into her features. 

“Did you come over here just to poke fun at me?” Nico asks, touching on the dynamic that has long been between the two of them. She mocks him, mostly all bark and no bite, he takes it on the chest, knowing she’s doing it from of her warped version of almost sibling-like love, and Poppy usually acts as the mostly-unnecessary mediator, dividing her attention between them both. 

“Of course I did,” she affirms, “You looked all mopey and miserable, how could I not?”

“How is me waiting for a drink ‘mopey’?”

“Uh, let me think,” she taps her finger to her chin, before lifting it to point at each feature she references, “The huge pout on your lips, your giant caterpillar eyebrows all slanted and frowny-,”

“Forget I asked,” he mutters, lifting his lips into a quick smile and thanking the girl behind the bar as she brings them their drinks. “Didn’t know you’d be out tonight,”

“I’ll be sure to send you an e-vite to my google calendar when I get home later.”

Nico’s throat tightens slightly at how similar Nia and Poppy are - always quick with a response, most of the time sarcastic, most of the time able to elicit a genuine laugh to rumble from the depths of his chest. “I see why you and Poppy are so close.”

“Hm,” she hums, making a show of checking her phone, “You barely made it two minutes, but it could be a new record.”

“A new record?”

“For how long you can go in conversation without mentioning her.”

“She’s your best friend, the one person we have in common, it’s normal for me to bring her up, Nia.” He reaches for his drink to take a gulp, hoping the ice might make his throat feel a little better.

He doesn’t even know why he’s denying his lack of willpower when it comes to Poppy - 2 minutes actually seems like quite the achievement when he thinks about how long he’s restrained himself from reaching out over the past 4 days. Nia approaching him like this has been the perfect excuse to think about her - to talk about her without feeling like he’s overstepping or assuming.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Is she a good kisser?”

Or not.

He chokes on his drink, thankful the liquid isn’t coming out of his nose with how much he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“She looks like she would be. I’ve always thought about it but there’s never been a right time to try it out. Maybe I should take a leaf outta your book and lay it on thick and fast when she least expects it.”

How he even thought he could gain advantage in this conversation is beyond belief. He’s out of his depth with Nia, as usual. She isn’t afraid to call him out - she never has been - and she’s the one person in the world Poppy would confide in. Of course she knows about the kiss.

“Is that what she said, I laid it on thick and fast,”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy.” She chuckles, picking up her cocktail and stepping away from him, “Thanks for the drink, Nico, try to enjoy the rest of your birthday party.”

“Wait!” He reaches out to stop her, not wanting to let a golden opportunity slip from his hands so easily. “You would have bought me a drink before, for my birthday?”

“I think you earn about 5 times my annual salary in a month, so probably not.”

“How about you answer a question for me?” He proposes, “As a gift.”

“I could,” she sighs, sitting down in the stool beside him, “But I heard you get touchy after gifts.”

He immediately regrets asking, but not enough to let her go. He’s come this far, and he has 4 days worth of questions he desperately needs answers to.

“Funny,” he gives a condescending smile, which clearly pleases her as she gives a genuine one back, lifting her spare hand to gesture for him to carry on. As if it’s that easy to narrow down all the things he wants to ask her.

One question. 

What did she say about the kiss? Did she like it? Would she do it again?

What did she say about him? About how she feels? About what she wants?

Where is she right now? What did she tell Nia about the date? About the who?

“The guy she’s out with,” he can’t even bring himself to say the D word, “Is he nice?”

The look she gives him is almost pitiful. In fact, there is no almost about it. She clearly thinks he’s pathetic, but it’s too late to retract the question now that it’s out there.

“I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t like the way his stomach turns at her answer.

He had wanted this, right? For him to be a gratuity-withholding, uncouth slob with bad breath. 

But the thought of her being out with someone that has the potential to hurt her, hurts him. His chest feels tight, his head feels muddled, and that everlasting itch returns to the tips of his fingers - the weight of his cellphone becoming that much heavier in his back pocket.

“I mean,” she carries on with a shrug and reaches for her own phone, “He was a no-show, so we’ll never actually know for sure.” She swipes at her phone until she brings up her message thread with Poppy, turning up the brightness to show Nico the picture she had asked her to send earlier. 

It’s a selfie taken in the overly tall mirror she had once made him pick up from Ikea, claiming it wouldn’t fit in her car and his was much bigger, and he doesn’t know why his first instinct is to scan the background just to confirm his earlier intuitions about her bedroom. Too many pillows, cloud-like duvet. He can’t see the stuffed toy, but he assumes it’s somewhere in there.

Poppy looks unbelievable. 

Her dress is short, like the one she had worn on New Years, fits snug around her waist and emphasises her curves in all the best ways. Her legs seem to go on for miles, adorned in knee high boots no doubt to provide some semblance of warmth. Her hair is pulled back, and she wears gold jewellery - rings, some small hoop earrings, and he’s only just able to stop his fingers reaching out to pinch at the screen because he can see the gemstone bracelet without the need to zoom in.

“Can’t be that nice if you’re standing up a girl that gorgeous, huh?” Nia asks, suggestively, leaning her chin into the palm of her spare hand as she looks up at Nico. “Some guys just don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

He figures he actually should be embarrassed about the relief that floods through him - washes over his entire demeanour, expression changing from defeated to victorious in a matter of mere seconds.

The crease that seems to have permanently formed between his brows smooths out, posture corrects itself, and his lips even almost turn up into a smile.

There’s a childish, territorial voice within him that wants to exclaim, Thank God! But he’s grateful that he’s able to mute it.

And, despite being privy to Nia’s games - despite knowing exactly what trap he is being lured into, what he’s about to fall for - he can’t help but suggest, “You should tell her to come out.” Because, despite knowing he had taken the bait, he can’t find it within himself to care. “I think I asked her one too many times to ask again.”

The one thing he had twisted himself into knots over since first hearing her utter the word date, hadn’t actually come to fruition.

There is no date. There is no uncouth slob.

There is Poppy, dressed as pretty as she is, practically waiting for someone to show her a good time. 

He can do that. He wants to do it - to be the someone that’s good to her.

“Oh, should I?” Nia asks, a knowing smirk causing her lips to twitch mischievously. She’s been playing him this whole time, and once again, he doesn’t care. “I don’t know, she seems resigned to spending the evening on her couch watching New Girl,” she sighs dramatically, clearly looking for incentive - once again, reminding him too much of the girl he longs for. “I don’t know if there’s much convincing to be done.”

“I’ll add you to the tab for the night.”

Rookie mistake, offering something up so quick.

“Is that all my efforts are worth to you, Nico, a few measly drinks?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m actually out with a client tonight,” she looks back somewhere toward the other side of the bar, Nico can’t even bring himself to follow her gaze. “Been trying to sign them to my agency for a while, and if I can fix this deal, I’m up for a promotion.”

“Nia,” he warns, not liking how long this story is becoming. Forget good things come to those who wait. He’s waited long enough. “What do you want?”

“They’re big Devils fans, I think a night with the team could really open them up to the benefits of working with me.”

“Bring them into our section.”

“And maybe some tickets, too.”

“Fine.”

Nia gives him a triumphant smile, “Great, I’ll let them know.” She salutes him as she stands back up, gathering her drink and phone between the fingers of one hand before backing away. “Nice doing business with you, Captain.”

“Aren’t you gonna text her?”

“Oh, Nico,” she jeers, using her free hand to grasp him by the chin. “Dear, sweet, naive Nico,” she gives his head a subtle shake before patting at his shoulder condescendingly, “She’s already on her way.”

If anyone asks, Nico isn’t admitting to keeping an eye on the door since Nia had made her way back over to her side of the bar, but he knows as soon as Poppy has arrived. He watches her make her way over to her friend, watches the two of them embrace and talk between themselves for a good minute. He watches and waits until her eyes meet his from across the crowded room, and it’s like everything else stops.

He’d somehow managed to immerse himself in the party spirit since he had found out she was coming, fitting back into the group, toasting along with them, engaging in conversations with his teammates, his mood vastly improved in comparison to earlier in the night - of which he’s sure Timo is relieved after his short-lived exile from Nico’s good graces — but everything fades to black when he sees her lips curve upwards from afar.

Someone is talking beside him - hopefully not to him, he thinks, he doesn’t remember being mid-discussion with anyone - but it’s just drowned out mumbling right now, and all he can do is tilt his head toward the doors that lead to the bathrooms, and wait for her to respond. When she nods and separates herself from Nia, he excuses himself from the group, edging out of their section and following her path, losing her a little in the thick crowd of people - the bar still packed from where they had played the Giants game earlier.

When he gets through the doors, he’s thankful no one else is lingering back there - no rowdy queue for the bathroom, no staff, no one but him and the girl who seems to be holding his heart like a hot potato, not knowing the best way to carry it without getting burned.

“Hi.” It’s a weak starter for a heavy conversation, but if he’s honest with himself, she’s taken his breath away.

The picture from before hadn’t done her justice. She’s a little worn into her look for the evening now, hair not so neat, skin a little shiny, lipstick faded - but this is exactly how he likes her, especially when he takes in the way her eyes gleam and her cheeks puff out with her smile.

He makes a conscious effort not to let his eyes drift directly to the smile - to her lips, which even the thought of them elicits such a vivid memory.

“Surprise!” she sings quietly, arms outstretched and hands shaking theatrically.

He steps toward her with his hands behind his back, fingers clasped together until he’s confident that his knuckles turn white, fighting the urge to curl his arm around her waist and pull her into him, needing to be closer. He watches intently as her eyes flick down to where his hands should be.

She backs into the wall behind her, not to escape his approach, but more to prepare herself for it - like she’s settling in and embracing it.

She isn’t running. She isn’t pushing.

She’s waiting.

“I’ve missed you.” Nico wastes no time in telling her the truth - telling her what she’s refused to believe every other time he’s said it, but he can tell with the tilting of her head and the rounding of her eyes that understanding has settled within her. She has no comeback, no it’s only been a few days, and he thinks she must have felt the drag of them in the same way.

“I’ve missed you, too.” 

Whatever anxiety has rooted itself deep inside him for the past 4 days dissipates almost immediately. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He admits, without shame or reluctance. After Poppy had helped him overcome whatever had been censoring him before, there is no point now in holding back or beating around the bush. “You look so good, Mohn.”

A rush of confidence allows for him to close the gap, standing right before her as she leans against the wall, neck craning ever so slightly to look up at him. He still won’t touch, hands laying against the stone at either side of her hips, not daring yet to let even a sliver of his finger graze at her flesh.

“You look good, too.” She breathes, eyes glancing down to do an appreciative once over of his outfit, and he doesn’t miss the glint of pride cross through her eyes when she catches the glimpse of the gold that peaks out from the neck of his sweatshirt. 

“I’m sorry about your date.”

“Are you?” Her lips twist into a knowing smile. It’s an example of one of her many traits that he loves - she can detect his bullshit a mile off.

“Mmhm,” he nods, “I’m sorry a world exists where any man is stupid enough to stand you up, Poppy.”

“I’m the stupid one,” she argues, and he misses her gaze as soon as she takes it away, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment. “I should have listened to you and cancelled in the first place.”

“I was stupid to ask that.”

“Maybe we’re both stupid.”

“Definitely.” He probably shouldn’t be agreeing to her calling herself stupid, but it comes out before he can think too much on it. They’ve both wasted too much time. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” She asks, and a slight movement between them catches his eye, her fingers twisting together as if she’s withholding her touch, too.

“It’s better now.” He smiles fondly as she rolls her eyes. 

“How are your family?”

“They’re good.” He doesn’t want to go into too much detail about how shamefully miserable he has been over the past few days - doesn’t want to tell her how his mom had called him out on his lack of contribution to conversations, and he’d managed to pin it on the stress of the season. She still raises a brow at his insufficient answer, and he expands before she can tell him off. “Everyone but Luca made it out, my sister had to go back already for work, but my parents booked a trip to Halifax to visit the Phillips’, I lived with them when I played up there, they have a few friends to visit in Canada but they’ll drop back to see me again before they fly home.”

He feels the tickle of soft fingertips at the inside of his arm, slowly grazing down as he speaks, and as he watches Poppy, he thinks she must not realise she’s doing it - letting intuition take over as she’s distracted by the conversation. He lets her take the lead on initiating any touching, and it takes all the restraint he has left not to barge through the door she’s attempting to slowly eke open. She’s the only person in the world who could make him audibly hear the metaphorical creaking.

“Did they get to watch you win?”

He doesn’t even know why he finds himself grinning at the question, but the tone in which she asks it bears a hint of pride. She had watched the game on Friday.

“My dad was pretty much in the stands in full gear, everything but the pads and skates, and my mom was repping Foundation merch, she’s run off across the border with my beanie.” He likes the way her face lights up.

“I’ll get you another.” She raises her other hand to card her fingers through his hair, and, for once, he’s thankful not to be wearing any sort of hat. The soft scratch of her nails is soothing, and he just about manages to stop himself leaning into her touch and purring like a cat.

That would be embarrassing.

He feels outnumbered, both of her hands on him, and it feels unfair not to be touching her - so when his thumb extends itself on the wall just beside her hip and strokes at the soft fabric of her dress until it’s softly digging in, he watches intently for any hesitation before he lays a palm flat against her side.

It feels like things are progressing both torturously slow and overwhelmingly fast at the same time. His heart feels like it’s slamming into either side of his ribcage, and like nothing else occupies his chest, the sound of it echoing as if banging on the walls of a deep, empty cavern.

“Did I already tell you how much I missed you?” He honestly can’t remember, but he’ll tell her again if he needs to.

The hand that had run through his hair rests now on the side of his head, her thumb swiping softly at his cheek as she cups the side of his face, and before he can even make sense of what is happening, he’s being pulled forward. 

He bends to her advances with quick reflexes to avoid clashing, and their noses bump just before their lips meet.

Her chest rolls forward until it presses into his, and both his hands grab at her sides to pull her flush against him, legs tangling, hips pushing together, bodies touching everywhere possible all the way up to their mouths. 

He gives her all the control otherwise, allows her to determine the pace, responding to her every move and every touch with fervour and heat. She pulls at him, one hand grasping at his sweatshirt and the other cradling the side of his neck, and he quickly lifts one to stifle the blow to her head as she collides back with the wall, barely noticing the pain where his knuckles meet the stone.

Their tongues press together at the same time, and Nico doesn’t even realise his lack of patience got the better of him until their battle for dominance kicks off between their lips.

He can taste the same vanilla lip balm, can smell her signature coconut scent, can hear soft, subtle moans, can only see the back of his eyelids, not daring to open them, just wanting to feel. And he can feel everything. 

He feels the softness of her hair beneath the hand that is protecting her head from the discomfort of resting against the hard surface behind her, can feel the skirt of her dress bunching up in his grip, can feel her touch, fingertips dancing at the the base of his skull, thumb pressing into his jaw, her other hand making that same grabby gesture at the thick fabric covering his torso, squished between his heart and her chest, and he thinks he can feel the thump of her own heart on the other side.

He can feel her thigh pressed between his, the friction causing a heat to build deep in the pit of his stomach, swirling and whirling down, down, down until it culminates into the hard press of his hips into hers, and a rushed gasp combined with a guttural groan causes their lips to part.

They take deep breaths in unison, their chests bumping with every inhale, and he tries otherwise not to move.

He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, scrunched shut, even, and he tries not to be selfish - ignores the need to get a good look at her, to have this version of her ingrained to his memory too - and attempts to coax her back to him.

“Poppy,” he sounds just about as breathless as he feels. “Are you good?”

She hums in response, a subtle nod given, but he needs to hear her say it, and he tells her as much with a quick squeeze to her hip. Her eyes flutter open, gleaming and bright, framed by thick lashes and crinkling slightly at the outer corners as her lips turn up into a mischievous grin. “Better now.”

His chest feels like it’s about to burst open, like there’s a bear within him that is going to break out and pull her into its clutches, dragging her back safe to her home in his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, because he has to - he doesn’t care if it’s rude to leave his own birthday party, doesn’t care that he’s been the most ungrateful person in the world all night.

He’ll make it up to Timo, get him something big the next birthday of his that rolls around. Throw him a party. Or he’ll take care of the tab the next time they’re out. Maybe even let him have the window seat the next time they’re on the same plane home. 

Except, he won’t be doing any of that. He’ll be taking the reins on booking flights and putting Timo straight into economy, smack-bang in the middle of a row surrounded by a family of 5, screaming kids, arguing parents, the back of his seat being kicked the whole 8 hours to Zurich.

Because, just as Poppy’s swollen lips part to accept his advances - as her chin lifts, about to drop with a big affirmative nod, and he’s about to get everything he’s wanted the past 4 days and beyond - the doors to the back swing open, and his 6 foot teammate stumbles through, arms outstretched as he notices the two of them practically intertwined.

“Here you are!” He exclaims, voice booming in comparison to the soft breathy tones he and Poppy had been previously speaking in. “Poppy, you made it!”

“Hi Timo,” Nico feels her retreat, feels her legs brush past his and back to her own space, her hand on his chest now the only part of her that touches him, and he follows her lead, taking his hands back and trying not to clench his jaw or his fists as she converses with the man who was once his friend. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, should be back on the ice in a couple weeks.” Timo had suffered an injury in one of their games at the back end of December, and hasn’t been fit to travel, and Nico finds an unspeakably bitter part of himself wishing it was something to do with Timo’s legs that were injured so he couldn’t have interrupted their moment. “Glad you’re here, this one has been miserable all night.”

He can’t be this oblivious, Nico thinks. Why is he still here? Why isn’t he retreating back to the bar and leaving the two of them to whatever he had clearly barged in on.

And when Nico looks back to his teammate, his long time friend, he sees the oh-so-evident glint of mischief and disobedience in his grey-blue eyes.

He is getting his own back.

Nico knows he was petulant to blame Timo for Poppy not being invited, knows there was nothing he could have done to change her going out on a date, or them not speaking for months while he was with Talia.

He doesn’t need him to enact his revenge to see he was wrong to ignore his texts, or to mope around at the party he had put so much effort into. 

He tries to give him a pleading look to stop whatever he is trying to do, but it’s no use.

“The guys will want to see you, Poppy, Jack’s beating himself up about his shoulder, could use a friendly face.”

“Oh,” Poppy casts a glance back to Nico, and he gives her a nod, implying that she go see to her friend. “I’ll go find him.” 

He can wait. He’s waited 4 days. He’s waited years, in fact.

And, after that kiss, he knows he won’t have to wait much longer. 

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nico mutters in their shared native language once he’s watched Poppy disappear through the doors to the bar, with a quick glance back and an apologetic smile before they closed. 

“Just saving my brooding captain from being arrested for public indecency,” Timo shrugs with a shit-eating grin as he passes Nico and heads toward the bathrooms further down the hall. “You’re welcome!” He calls back in English, raising his hands and giving a patronising thumbs up.

Nico runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and wishing it was Poppy’s in its place.

It’s just an hour, maybe two, in the presence of his friends. Drinks, music, everyone in a good mood for the most part. It’s hardly like he’s walking out into a press conference after a 5 game losing streak and about to have all the blame placed upon his shoulders. 

It’s a party. 

Poppy’s here.

He can do this.

He can wait.

Next Chapter

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw or if I forgot you I'm a muppet tbh)

[imaginarylungfish]

my thoughts on the end of mha

i've had a few weeks to process the ending of mha now. when i first heard there were only 5 chapters left, i was shocked. i thought when hori said he had more story to tell, we were gonna get like 10 more chapters or something. so yeah, i felt like i got some whiplash there.

but after i had some time to recover from my shock, i got sad. this manga has brightened many a sunday for me. sure, i understand the criticism of the final war arc, but i can't say i was ever bored. i always wanted to know what was happening next.

and while i was sad the villains didn't live/we didn't see a rehab arc for them nor did we see much emotional processing by certain characters after the war, i understand this manga couldn't go on forever to adequately tackle all those stories. that's what fics are for, i guess.

izuku's ending

a really big thing i liked about the ending was izuku becoming quirkless again. that's what i wanted. i have some gripes with the execution, though. it was weird that izuku didn't show any emotion about losing ofa except in the battle. i still think that was a bit of a fumble on hori's part. you're telling me the kid who cries about everything wouldn't cry about losing something that let him live his dream? just seemed ooc.

but anyway, izuku ending as a quirkless hero was exactly what i wanted. that's exactly the way to conclude his whole arc. however, unless you fill in the blanks with headcanons, the impact of that arc is a bit lost on the reader. do we see izuku's acceptance of his inherent worthiness of being a hero (due to his unwavering spirit rather than the need for a quirk)? we don't. do we see society's acceptance of quirkless people as inherently equal to people with quirks? we don't. we must fill in the blanks ourselves. and i just don't think that type of fill-in-the-blank should happen. we should get that from the mangaka.

i also found it weird that izuku became a teacher at ua and then a quirkless hero. i understand there was some fun shock value/bait-and-switch to this little plot point (which i have to admit was amusing). but it kind of just didn't make narrative sense to me once i had my little laugh. like, pick one, hori. does izuku lose his quirk and become a ua teacher or does he lose his quirk and become a quirkless hero? having both muddies the waters.

we knew mha was going to end in a hopeful way. that's what this manga was about. it was all about trying and pushing past limits to succeed, despite the odds. i knew it wasn't going to end with izuku being depressed or anything. he was going to be happy in the end, whether he ended up as a quirkless teacher or quirkless hero because that's just who he is--he doesn't give up. so, i wish that was more of the focus of the last chapters since izuku is the protag after all. but i got the big thing i wanted (which is more than some others can say), so i can't complain too much.

katsuki's ending

i'm actually really satisfied with kastuki's ending (and his whole character arc, honestly). katsuki's whole thing was that he felt inferior to izuku his entire life because of izuku's innate heroism. so, katsuki bullied izuku to make himself feel better since katsuki always felt like he needed to be the best. but slowly, we see katsuki's worldview change as he enters ua high, fails the provisional licensing exam, and sees izuku's continued mastery of his quirks.

throughout the manga, katsuki has to grow up and mature. he has to realize that while he was born with something that makes him a great hero (his quirk), that's not all that it takes to be a great hero. and in fact, izuku has the other part (empathy and determination).

katsuki learns how to be more of a team player and less self-centered. he balances out his need to win and be the best with including others in his thought processes. enough so that he sacrifices himself for izuku, apologies to izuku, and gives izuku the final push in the war.

katsuki shows emotional growth and maturity throughout the manga which i think culminates not only in the final chapter but also in his reaction to hearing the news that izuku lost ofa. his show of emotion is big for him since we know this is not something he normally does. (i still can't believe we saw katsuki of all people cry after the war, but not izuku. ugh, i'll forever be salty about that.)

it's made clear in the final chapters through his words and actions that katsuki cares about izuku. he not only verbally expresses to izuku that he is sad they can't compete anymore, but he also checks in with izuku about how much of ofa he still has, and ultimately, works to get izuku's dream back. if that ain't redemption, i don't know what is.

so with one of the last panels of the manga being katsuki reaching out his hand to izuku (!!!), calling him deku to reinforce izuku's heroism? what a great conclusion. i am satisfied. thanks, hori.

(plus, there were no canon ships which i'm happy about. that's something that i'm glad hori left up to interpretation. now, we can all go read fics with our favorite ships without too much retconning. i think we all won in that regard.)

shoto's ending

i love shoto, so i will always want more of him. but i think that's exactly why i'm fine with his ending. i don't see it like an ending. it's a start for him. he finally gets to be himself, to be shoto. sure, he still probably has a long way to go in terms of getting over his family trauma, but throughout the manga, i think we get to see his growth in that regard which culminates with his battle with dabi and subsequent aftermath.

his story was always tied to his family's story, which made him a complex character. and while i can't say i loved everything that hori did with the todoroki family, i do like what he did for shoto individually.

i will always love shoto's thoughts during his fight with dabi. i think it exemplified his character growth. he was such an angry, cold teen when he entered ua. but he learned how to make friends, accept his trauma, and become his own person. throughout the manga, he learns how to interact with others in the way he wants. despite his treatment as a child (ie. abuse), he decides to reconnect with his mom and work with endeavor. but the main thing is that he chooses it. he gets to dictate what he does now. that's huge for him.

i particularly loved the scene where shoto says he just wants to talk with dabi/touya during their fight. it reminded me of a little kid who just wants to get to know his big brother. but also it showed the maturity shoto gained throughout the story. instead of avoiding things like he originally did at the beginning of the manga, he wants to face them head-on. he has learned talking with others and gaining new perspectives is helpful and that arguments, even though unpleasant, can be productive.

and like i said before, i have some gripe with how some pieces of the todoroki family arc ended. however, i was satisfied with shoto's ending. i loved the "favorite food convo" callback. touya's response was hopeful yet heartbreaking at the same time.

i do wish izuku and shoto talked after the war because i just think izuku would want to know how shoto's doing instead of whatever the fuck this was:

but again, overall i am satisfied.

ok i'm going to stop writing now. i already wrote more than i thought i would (and even added panels). i do have thoughts on ochaco's ending and other random things, but i think that's a post for a another day. i did the main three and that's good enough for now.

overall, i was satisfied with the ending of mha, especially after looking back on it with all pieces put together. the story impacted me in more ways than one and i look forward to re-reading and learning more in the future!

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #27] Keeping Quiet

warnings: angst, hayun, cu ajummas, astrology, drinking, enter stage left: park seojoon !!, danbi putting jaykay in his place!!, a shag :( but sad :( nothing quite like yearning for someone who is quite literally inside you!!, unprotected sex, 'byeol baby', 'koo' (waaaa), honestly just big pouty vibes all round!!

wc: 18k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Oh, it's hopeless ," Hayun pouts with a playful whine as she heads down the stairs of an inner-city apartment block. Files in hand detailing all the relevant listings within her budget, it's the third property she and Jeongguk have walked away from that morning. "Has the rental market here seriously gone downhill that badly?"

He nods, sucking a little air between his teeth. "You gotta widen your search. You're looking at, like, the most expensive types of apartment in the most expensive part of town."

'Expensive' has always been Hayun's taste. There's nothing wrong with wanting the finer things in life, especially not if you work hard for it, but she's only been able to pick up part-time work as a seamstress since she's been back. 

It's exactly the same sort of work she had been doing up in Seoul - but working in a tailors just off of Apgujeong-ro in Gangnam is a far cry from the little shop on the outskirts of her old city. It's not a bad location - is near the KTX station, so gets a lot of traffic from businessmen, but not enough to afford what she really wants.

She sighs, knowing he's right, as he holds the door open for her. Winter air blusters around her dark hair, worn loose, catching a little in her glossy lips. Hooking the hairs away with her ruby red nails, she seems disheartened.

"You and Jimin manage it," she says, as if the financials are comparable.

"Yeah, but I'd never be able to afford that place on my own - and even so, I can only manage it 'cause he was willing to go 60-40 with me until I finish school," he adds, taking the files from her so she can put her hands in her coat pockets. It's bloody freezing.

Humming a little, Hayun nudges into his arm. "Why don't we become roomies? 60-20-20. A great deal all round."

Jeongguk sort of hates the way it feels like a small flame is flickering in the pit of his stomach when she says that. It's mild. Subdued. Doesn't have any fuel behind it. Not like it once would have done.

Still, he smiles.

"We do have a really comfy sofa," he says, playful in the distance he's creating. Knows she was insinuating something else, and knows that his bedroom is not a Hayun-friendly area anymore. The birds he'd once made because of her origami butterflies have a new meaning now; they're important because of someone else. It's your dreams embedded in their wings, not his former mislaid hopes of something flourishing between him and her.

"Great," she replies. "You can sleep there, and I'll take your bed."

"Fuck that," he snorts. "I'm having my bed."

"Well then we'll share," she purrs.

It's a flirt that Jeongguk would have eaten up six months ago; one that makes him feel a little guilty, now.

"Nah," he says, then thinks of you. "I'm no good at sharing."

Just like that, you're in his head again and his is vision blurry from all the fucking glitter that clouds in them whenever it happens. He thinks of the way you'd agreed to sleep in his bed with him after the evening with the ties, and how he'd been hoping you would stay a few nights ago, too. He didn't sleep a wink that night. Didn't revise. Didn't do anything fuckin' useful. Just sat, and stewed, unable to pick himself up off the floor.

He knows he was unkind and that an apology needs to be made, but he's never been good at swallowing his pride. Your disdain for Hayun comes from your own personal experiences, and it was naive of him to assume it was all because of him. Stupidly, he'd thought that you were jealous; that your irritation came from some form of protective nature. The same sort of one he has over you.

Just because he's not good at sharing doesn't mean you suffer from the same affliction. Was foolish of him to think you did.

Mistakes made with Hayun in the past are not to be repeated with you. He knows this. Knows that he can't hold you close in a bid to keep you where he prefers you. You're just like the birds that watch over him at night. You need to be set free.

So that's what he's trying to do.

He doesn't want you to become another bad decision. Knows your friendship is worth more than that. Thinks that maybe a little space to breathe could be good; that perhaps lines need to be redrawn.

"You don't need to tell me that," Hayun laughs as little as they head towards the subway. "Possessive is basically your middle name."

He frowns.

"Protective," he corrects. "Possessive sounds... I don't know. I don't like it."

Looking over at him, Hayun marvels at how much he's grown in the time since she's been away. Immature when she was leaving, Jeongguk couldn't stand to watch her leave. Thought he was being deserted by the person he held closest. For months leading up to her move, she felt like she was constantly being dragged in two directions - between the man she loved, and the boy who loved her. As hard as it was for Jeongguk, it wasn't exactly easy for her either.

"Well, we're talking about your bed, Buddy. Your possession . I think possessive is perfectly apt - unless you're protective over it, too?" She teases. "Is it not empty these days?"

Of all the conversations Jeongguk wants to have with Hayun, this is not one of them.

"Let's not talk about my sex life," he laughs a little, not wanting to be awkward in how he brushes off the conversation. She doesn't get the message.

"Why not?" she flirts. "We used to talk about it all the time."

"Yeah, 'cause you used to be my sex life, Hayun," he laughs again but it feels so sickly sweet that he might be sick. "You know I've never been one to kiss and tell."

"Boring," she sighs, nudging into him slightly as they walk along.

"Well you tell me about yours then," he jokes back, knowing that sex isn't a topic for the pair of them to share anymore.

"Oh, I'm basically a born-again-virgin," she sighs. "The break up was a long time coming. As soon as I stopped being attracted to him, well, yanno. Stopped sleeping with him. Haven't been laid in months. Pretty sure I wouldn't even know how to have sex anymore."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Well," she considers. "We're both single for the first time in forever..."

"Don't."

"What? I'm just saying."

"Well, don't," he smiles, to mask the awkwardness of a feeling he doesn't understand. "It's dangerous. Us hooking was like... catastrophic."

"You ever think about it, still?"

"Hayun," he whines. "Please."

"I do."

"You shouldn't."

"I know you do, too."

He shakes his head.

"I remember your last drunk voice note, Gguk."

She says 'the last' because it used to be a common occurrence. Something to look forward to every month or so; admittance that Jeongguk still found the idea of sleeping with someone new impossible. Drunken mumbles of how he couldn't ever work out if girls were flirting with him or not, and how it didn't matter 'cause he was thinking about her anyways.

Hayun used to listen to them and feel a blush blossom all over her entire being. Used to see a notification from Jeongguk at arse-o'clock in the morning, and knew it would be confirmation that she was still adored - and doesn't everyone want to be felt about so fondly?

She'd never directly respond to the messages. Would just tell him to take some medicine for his hangover. Knew that acknowledging his tipsy tongue would likely cause issues. After all, she did still have a boyfriend who never knew of her past with Jeongguk.

Her boyfriend had thought Jeongguk was just a kid with a crush. Didn't realise how Hayun had taken his heart and crushed that instead.

"That was like, nine months ago," Jeongguk cringes. Only remembers the timing of it, 'cause it was Yoongi's birthday celebrations. Had watched on as Seoyeon adoringly made a speech about her other half, and had wished Hayun could have been there. Wondered if her eyes would have flicked to Jeongguk, just like he knows he would have glanced at hers.

The next time he got drunk, you were there to keep his brain busy.

And so he didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't do anything.

"So?" She laughs at his embarrassment. "You don't just wake up one day and stop feeling that way."

"Maybe I did," he says, knowing that he absolutely did not.

Though if he were to think about it properly, he'd realise that no, he didn't wake up one day feeling differently. Instead, slowly, gradually, day by day, his feelings have changed - but just like the seasons, he doesn't notice. Likely won't until another feeling is impossible to deny.

"And maybe you're a big fat liar."

"Well, did you ever think about me?" He asks a little flippantly, not expecting an answer. "When you were with your ex? Did you think about me?"

He anticipates a 'shut up' or a 'none of your business'; a coy smile that could mean nothing but everything all at once.

Hayun was previously a girl of subtleties, but she's been confronted with the idea that maybe Jeongguk prefers girls who are anything but - the Jiyeongs of the world. Bold. Confident. Or perhaps even worse: the attention-seeking glitter-coated girls. Never been her style - but she's never really been one to lose before. She isn't about to do it now.

"Sometimes," she smirks. Knows that such a response will probably drive Jeongguk insane.

It's not that she wants to cause him distress. Quite the opposite. She wants him to find comfort in her again. Wants what she let go of once before. Wants him to want her. Wants to belong somewhere; foolishly, she always thought she'd have a home in his heart.

And even though it's been derelict for nearly two years, it is still there. It sits abandoned, overgrown and the lock is rusted. The key doesn't work anymore. Maybe if she tries hard enough, though, she'll ease it open.

Her answer plays out in Jeongguk's head even after he changes the topic.

Sometimes.

Every now and again it comes to the forefront of his mind. How often?

She had a boyfriend. Was I better?

Moved cities for him. Was I hard to let go?

Why on earth would she still think about fucking Jeongguk? Am I the reason it ended?

The questions echoing in the space where sensible thoughts should be go unanswered.

He's walking Hayun to work. She's on the late shift. Wonders if he should offer to meet her after work.

For reasons he can't explain, he doesn't want to. It has nothing to do with the fact he's getting closer and closer to your neighbourhood. He absolutely isn't thinking about you, and worrying about seeing you, or the look on your face if you were to see him with Hayun.

Funny. He used to care about her seeing him with you. Worries about the opposite, now.

Even funnier?

How desperately you're trying to pretend like you're not jealous of Hayun's place in his heart, no matter how dilapidated the ruins of it may be.

"Oh, and another thing!" You enthuse, sitting once more outside CU, the gaggle of girlies - Minsu, Jinnae and Junghee - listening with great intent as you divulge more about the Hayun situation. "So then, she started saying how she wouldn't like another girl being so close with her boyfriend - but I set Jeongguk up with Jiyeong! I was hardly trying to break them up!"

"She's got a classic case of the green-eyed monster," Jinnae assures you, as she sips on a hot coffee from the convenience store. They're back to spy on Eunyeon's ex-husband's new squeeze, but are finding your unfathomably attractive bartender issues far more interesting.

"Mmm," Minsu agrees. "Show us what he looks like again?"

When you do, they all coo. "Oh, isn't he handsome?"

"I know he's pretty," you whine - it's like you're going round in circles. "But I'm still annoyed with him."

"He's a bit too much of a bad boy for me," Junghee sighs. She's not a tattoo lover, but has admitted that Jeongguk's got a 'lovely little face'. Of an older generation, it's no surprise that she isn't a fan of the body art, but you don't pay too much notice. Nodding across the street, she whispers. "Like him. Charming face but the tattoos all over his hand? A shame."

Looking over towards her gaze, you half think that maybe there'll be a new boy in the area to take your mind off Jeongguk.

"Isn't that..." Jinnae gasps.

Fuck.

"Yep," you wince, taking in the sight of Jeongguk strolling down the road with Hayun.

Unmistakable is Jeon Jeongguk, even without his signature smile. He's listening to whatever Hayun is saying - and does eventually crack a grin when she starts laughing, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Dressed down in baggy pants and an even baggier shirt, a thick puffer jacket hides the Jeongguk you know so well. You like it when he's cosy and comfortable, but it does sort of make you a little bit smug that he's not outwardly trying to make a big impression with his outfit choice.

But then again, this is Jeongguk you're talking about. He's still got that face. Still got that hair. Still got those hands peeking out from his sleeves, and still has those contemplative eyes that you've missed over the last few days. He leaves an impression even when he's trying to blend into the shadows.

The first night you met him is case and point; how even in the shrouded haze of a dark bar, he shone. He does it without even needing glitter.

"So that must be Hayun," Minsu assumes correctly. You nod.

She really is beautiful. They're attractive in different ways, Jeongguk is far more your type than she is, but it's not hard to see why someone like him would be interested in someone like her. Dark hair perfectly permed to wave around her features, she's put together well. Lips as red as her nails, you're beginning to learn that this is her trademark; her warning sign.

It also just elevates how different you are. A glitter girlie through and through, you never wear a red lips because you are aware that sometimes there is such thing as too much - and with the amount glitter you're always wearing, you don't wanna overkill it. Red lips had been reserved for Seokjin and Seokjin only - but you hadn't been wearing glitter with him, for the most part. Always knew how much he hated it.

She reminds you of a version of yourself that you don't like very much, and perhaps that's part of your issue. Maybe it is just projection.

But fuck, she was a dickhead. And she did hurt Jeongguk. And she has come back like she never left and she is taking her old place; the one that you had foolishly thought was yours. Sort of feels like you were just keeping her seat warm now.

"Dunno why on earth they're here," you hum. "Jeongguk lives in the middle of the city."

"Oh, he's got money," Junghee enthuses, but you just laugh.

"He doesn't live alone," you explain. "Splits the rent with a friend who does have money."

"Well, why don't you go for his friend instead?" Junghee asks. "If he's just as handsome and rich, what more could you want?"

A good shag.

"Jimin is great," you laugh. "But we're not compatible - and hey! That's not what this is about. Jeongguk and I aren't, like, romantic. We're just friends. I'm just upset because he's, like, replacing me."

Funny, how you and Hayun both have disdain for one another, when you both feel the exact same way.

You watch as they take a corner just a few roads before yours, and wonder where on earth they could be going. You'd message him and ask, if you weren't ignoring the memes he's sent you. He hasn't even sent them to your main chat feed, just forwarded them on instagram, where you've got him muted regardless.

Yes, you're being a little petty, but you're still pissed off.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jinnae sighs. "There's a reason they say boys and girls can never be just friends."

"That's not true," you pout. "We can be."

Giggling amongst themselves, they begin to relay stories of the boys they were friends with, and it's so nice seeing that the fundamentals of human relationships really haven't changed. Boys will always be stupid (and so handsome it's hard to think straight around them).

You're almost able to forget Jeongguk, and the fact he's in your area with Hayung, until fifteen minutes later, when your eyes notice a familiar figure waiting by the traffic lights across the road.

"Crap," you hiss, trying to soften your curse words around the older women you're with.

They all hum in confusion, Minsu being the only one to follow your gaze. "Oh! He's coming over."

"Shit," you curse now, unable to control it - which earns you a tap on your shoulder from Jinnae.

"Language young lady."

"I'm sorry! I just. Ahh! Can I borrow your hat?" you panic, not wanting him to clock you.

Dressed in sweats and a shirt that you know full well belongs to him, you're thankful you've gone for a plain black puffer coat. Far less obvious than one of your faux fur ones, but it also means you stick out like a sore thumb.

Ajummas will do as ajummas do - they're all in burgundy and blue; hues of maroon and splotches of neon scattered in patterns. Floral and a little bit garish, there's nothing subtle about any of their outfits.

You're casual, 'cause you're meeting Danbi for pole in half an hour. It's the first time since Sunday that you'll actually get to spend proper quality time with her and you're looking forward to it so much - your heart has been heavy. You'd only gone to CU for a snack, but the gaggle of gossipers had been there again, spying on Eunyeon's ex-husband again - and so naturally, you've been with them for an hour, now.

Jinnae practically throws her hat at you, and Minsu rummages in her bag for a fan. It's winter, and freezing out - you're only outside because of the industrial strength heaters that are practically boiling you alive outside the convenience store - but it will help block your face. You angle yourself away from the passageway up to the shop and stay silent as Jeongguk approaches. The ajummas also decide now is a great time to be silent, which only draws attention to the table.

You don't watch so have no idea if Jeongguk clocks you or not, but know that once you hear the bell of the door you're safe for a moment.

"Oh my god," you whisper.

"He's tall!" Jinnae says, surprised. "Far taller than I thought he would be."

You whine, knowing full well that Jeongguk is probably the best looking man within a ten mile radius.

"At least he didn't notice you," Minsu says, but that just makes you feel even worse. It's not like he should magically be aware of your presence, but you half thought that maybe some sort of cosmic entity tied you together; would defy the laws of human function and draw him towards you regardless.

You've barely had a chance to breathe by the time he's at the checkout, heading straight back out into the cold of winter - though your cold shoulder is far harsher, he thinks. Much more bitter.

Jeongguk pauses as he leaves the shop. Unwraps his gimbap with nimble fingers, the movements coming naturally to him. Never has to worry about pulling on the wrong tab and the seaweed unravelling in his hands. Is good with his fingers, in all capacities. Is ambivalent as he turns to face your direction.

Looks you dead in the eye. Takes a bite of his gimbap. Furrows his brows, 'cause it's delicious, and swallows it back with a satisfied hum. Lips pursed, he cleans his teeth with his tongue, and nods. Toys with his lip ring a little.

It does the thing .

You wanna whine.

Instead, your eyes are frozen on his, cheeks a little blushed. The rest of the ladies you're with are also staring at him. The silence is masked by the shop music and traffic on the road nearby, horns honking occasionally, until Jeongguk says, "hey, B."

The ajummas you're with don't even wait a second before the launch into their trade.

"Ah! What is it with men always thinking they can harass us?" Jinnae begins to scold, with Minsu joins in almost as quickly.

"You're too young for us! Look elsewhere."

"I swear, young men these days have no manners."

"We know everyone's aunties," Minsu threatens. "We'll tell her you were bothering us."

He holds his hands up - as much as he can, given the fact he's holding onto his gimbap and coke for dear life - and protests.

"I'm not! I'm not!" he promises, panic in his tone, eyes darting around the table at all of the other women - and then he settles on you.

You're not looking at him, now. Your eyes are on your hands, picking at the nail varnish on your fingers.

And he hates it.

In fact, it pisses him off. It's childish . You're both grown ups. Don't need to be giving each other the fucking silent treatment - as if he hasn't been doing that already.

"Was just looking for my friend," he says, his annoyance thinly veiled, but somehow still charming enough to get the ladies quiet for a moment. "Thought I saw her, but apparently she isn't here."

Minsu grimaces, and earns a tap on the arm from Jinnae.

Jeongguk hooks his thumb around his coke, holding it in the same hand as his gimbap, and reaches into his back pocket. Pulls out a small plastic pouch. It's a mystery bag - the kind by the counter with candy and a small toy inside. The Sanrio branding plastered all over it only further confirms this. He tosses it down in front of you. Says nothing.

It's a special edition. A new theme that had been brought in for the new year.

You pout as you look at it, noticing the packaging is covered in disco balls, reminiscent of a New Years Eve party.

All of the characters have been given little party outfits. Are glittery. Whichever character you pull will be byeol-ified from the get go. The Kuromi version is already sitting on Jeongguk's shelf, taking up a place on his chessboard.

He had picked it up on New Year's Day during his Powerade run to the convenience store for you and Jimin. Saw it and thought of you. Let you unwrap it, and watched on with starry eyes as you enthused over the fact you think he is a Kuromi boy. He doesn't really understand what that means, but he did like the way you had imitated his pout when you were trying to explain.

And so when he saw mystery bags by the counter again, he had picked one up. Knew you were outside - though is considerably confused about the ajumma situation - so figured he'd make peace with you.

When you look up, Jeongguk's already walking away.

You part your lips - go to stand, and call after him - but Jinnae puts her hand softly on your arm.

"Let him go," she says. "Just this once. Let him walk away."

"But-"

She shakes her head.

"It's obvious he cares. I won't debate that." Looking down to the sparkly packaging, knowing that it must have been your darling eyes that made him buy it, she smiles. "But walking away? Pretending that he doesn't care? Honey, he's acting like a kid."

"We've all raised boys," Minsu adds. "If you pander to them, they'll keep up with the bad behaviour."

"He's not a toddler," you laugh, strangely comforted by their wisdom.

"No, but he is a boy, still," Jinnae smiles back, and squeezes your arm. "Your ex-"

"The handsome one," Minsu interjects.

"-You always chased after him, yes?"

With a pout, you nod. Every single time.

"And he learned that there were no consequences to his actions," she sympathises. "If you care about your friendship with this one, then show him there are consequences. Show him your expectations of how you should be treated."

"But-"

You go to protest, but stop yourself. All you want is for things to be okay again - but Jinnae is right. Him walking away is just a sign he isn't fully ready to face up to it, yet.

"Honey," Junghee sighs. "You are better than any man who behaves like a baby. Sometimes they need a little push to grow up."

"Trust us," Jinnae smiles. "We're giving you the advice we wish we had been given! Decades change, but men don't. Still the same simple creatures."

And so, when you arrive home a little later and open up the mystery pouch to find a sparkly My Melody, you try out a little simplicity. Just send him a photo of her. No message. No plea for him to respond. It takes him three hours to read it. Just responds with a thumbs up emoji. You wanna scream.

So used to Seokjin and his insistence on always being mature, you've no idea how to handle Jeongguk's immaturity. He's petty .

Trouble is, he's just like you.

You sort of see why Seokjin hated it, now.

But Jeongguk is just a friend. You've no reason to be arguing with him like you would a partner. You don't speak to any of your other friends daily.

Just because the silence between you isn't normal for the pair of you as a collective, it is normal in the grand schemes of everyday life. Maybe it's okay.

A residual guilt lies in his stomach for the rest of the week, of which he can't seem to shake.

No amount of water he could drink would wash it away. It sits there, quite content, when he's in the gym, when he's sat at his desk staring into the void, when he's getting ready for a shift at Dionysus. It snuggles up; gets comfortable, even if it makes Jeongguk anything but.

He opens your text thread more times than he cares to admit over the week, but never texts. Nor do you.

Time typically taken up by Jeongguk is replaced with preparations for Taehyung's showcase at Ryu Gallery.

It's not a huge undertaking, but there is coordination and logistics that need to be taken into account. Tae's given you full control of liaising with the gallery professionals, which feels daunting. The process is new to you, so you're having to learn on the fly, but all has gone well so far. You've enough understanding of the gallery scenes to know what to do and say, even if you don't always know how to execute it.

For the most part, it's fine.

There is one day, though, where nothing seems to go right. The vans hired to move Taehyung's art are a no-show, and all the other affordable options are booked up. You spend all day trying to figure out a solution. There's only one person you know with enough trunk space to fit Taehyung's largest work.

He ignores your call. You figure he's studying.

So instead, you text him.

I really need your help. Please don't ignore me.

He calls back within thirty seconds. Arrives at the storage unit no more than ten minutes later. Barely utters a word to you. Opens the passenger door for you to get in, even when you say you'll walk to the Gallery.

"It's miles away. Don't be stupid."

"It's fine," you insist.

"Just get in the car."

"I-"

"Get in the car."

And so you do. The drive is silent. An apology rests on the tip of your tongue - but you aren't gonna give him it.

He helps you unload, silent, still. Makes sure everything is as it should be. Plays nicely with Tae and Nabi, even if he's a little cold with you. Rehashes the same dumb conversation with you as you prepare to leave.

"I can walk."

"No, you can't."

"I'm very much capable of walking home alone, Jeongguk," you say so sternly that he almost wants to snarl a response back.

Fine. Walk home alone. See what I fucking care.

Instead, and quite surprisingly, you find his hard eyes softening.

"Please," is all he says - and how can you refuse?

Jeongguk says nothing as you both get into his car. He looks ahead, stoic in the stern facade he's portraying. Hard to read, it feels almost like you're strangers again - but when you were strangers, you were both enthralled by the idea of what if.

He could have been anything, and so could have you.

He never anticipated that you'd end up being his favourite person in a crowded room. Always liked your glitter - always sought it out when he was behind the bar and looking for a friendly face - but never knew how much he'd like the girl wearing it. And once he learned? Well, he never imagined ever feeling this awful in your presence.

But see that's the thing.

Despite the heaviness of such a feeling, he doesn't want you to leave. Doesn't want you to walk away from him. Will take the uncomfortable tension in his car, if it means he gets the comfort of you being close by.

The city is far too small, he decides as he comes to a stop by your apartment. Got there far too quickly.

"Will you come?" You ask. "To Tae's show, I mean."

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

You nod. "Okay. I just know you've been studying and like, if it's just gonna add stress-"

"Byeol, it's fine," he insists. "I'm gonna be there. Are you going out afterwards?"

"Probably," you say. It's been strange not including him on your night out plans, though you sure his are the exact same. It's a whole group affair; a pocha bar for food and cheap drinks after the show, then Dionysus.

Jeongguk's in charge of the guestlist for the club, and you know you're on it. Taehyung confirmed it - so you know that he knows you're going out. Just wanted to hear it for himself, apparently.

"I'll see you then," he smiles.

"See you then."

As he drives off, you inhale an almighty sigh. Fuck .

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

Danbi sits with you later that evening in your living room, her Spotify playlist humming through the television speaker. Lights dim, glasses of wine on the coffee table, you both needed a breather from stress-ball Taehyung.

"I swear, men don't know how to regulate their emotions properly," she huffs, with a roll of her eyes, even despite her fond smile. Reaching over for your drink, you can't help but agree.

"You're telling me. He's a Capricorn right?"

Danbi nods.

"Earth signs," you sigh and pretend like you aren't thinking about your favourite Virgo. "Notoriously bad at opening up. That'll be where your issues lie."

"He's so forthcoming, normally, though," she pouts. "Had no problem with his feelings and confessing them to me. I don't understand why he can't deal with his feelings of stress."

"Different parts of the brain, maybe?" You shrug, not knowing if it is or not, but throwing any excuse into the void. "Like, think about it - you have no problem cooing over dogs all day long, but the second it comes to be openly affectionate with Tae-"

"I'm just not a PDA girlie!" she whines. "Do you think it bothers him?"

You shrug. "He normally seems okay with it - but that's not the point here. The point is that boys don't make sense. Everyone says they're so simple and yet I've never met anyone more confusing than Jeongguk."

Danbi smiles. Wondered how long it would take to get you rambling on about him.

"And like, I know ," you sigh. "He's a Virgo . I should have seen this coming. Wanna be all up in your business one moment and then off-grid the next. Classic Virgo. I just don't understand how he can be so rational and reasonable when it comes to me and my feelings, yet when it comes to his? Oh he just freezes up. I don't understand it. Do not understand. Do you understand?"

Maybe it's the fact you've both had a little too much wine, but Danbi can't understand either.

"What I don't understand why the fall out of such a small argument had to be so big," she hums. "Like you both said something shitty, but that's it. There's no reason why you still need to be in a mard with one another."

"Hey! He said something shitty."

"And you decided to start chewing out the girl he, like, lived and died for. Was always gonna get a bad response, darl. You know this."

Regretfully, she's right. Being a dick about Hayun was only ever gonna bite you in the ass when it came to Jeongguk.

"I just don't get how she can repeatedly be awful to him, and he just forgives her at the drop of a hat. I say one, maybe two unfavourable things, and it's like I've committed war crimes. Literally he's not spoken to me since, other than that god-awful CU run-in."

"You need to tell me more about those ajummas, by the way," Danbi laughs. "But like, trauma isn't it? Why do you say 'how high?' when Jin asks you to jump?"

You're silent.

"You want to keep him happy, 'cause him being upset with you made you feel horrible . You don't wanna feel that kind of pain again, so you do everything within your power to avoid it," she analyses. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jeongguk is just the same when it comes to her - so cut him a little slack, there. Yes, he was awful in what he said to you, and yes, you deserve an apology - but you weren't being fair to him either, my love."

You pout. "She's the worst though. Why can't he see that?"

"Maybe she's great in bed," Danbi offers, which only makes you frown more. "Or maybe she's just a manipulative bitch who knows how to play the poor boy like a fiddle."

That sounds more like it, but it makes you feel so bad.

"Think about it," she continued, before referencing the subway sighting from hell. "She knew Tae was coming to meet me for dinner a week or so back. He'd mentioned it on their group chat. Her shift at the tailors had finished, like, half an hour before then - and yet she invited Nabi to meet her right as she knew Tae was coming to meet me. Weasled her way into our plans and for what? A chance to scope me out?"

You consider her points, and are still so relieved knowing the truth of the subway sighting. Danbi had come home and ranted to you about it for a solid thirty minutes. Taehyung was seemingly just as blind to her intrusion and Jeongguk always is.

It's sort of a relief to know she's like this with Danbi, too. Hayun doesn't seem to like people taking up spaces that she left. Expected her seats to still be free upon her return.

It's just annoying that Jeongguk's lap is apparently her favourite.

While Taehyung's always liked Hayun, he's never been interested in her. Not romantically. Had a bit of a thing for Nabi when they first met in college, but nothing ever came of it. He didn't feel compelled to chase her. Not like he did with Danbi. He's glad for this, because he really does cherish his friendship with Nabi.

He also never really had to see the fall out of Jeongguk and Hayun, 'cause Jeongguk never wanted to put Taehyung in an awkward position. Kept his pain hidden away, only for Jimin to see.

Despite this, Taehyung is well aware that whatever went down wasn't pretty. Jimin doesn't cut people out for no good reason - but he also hasn't insisted that anyone else should, nor shared any of Jeongguk's dirty laundry.

By protecting his friend, he sort of feels like he's damaging him, too.

You do, at least, have one thing that Hayun can't compete with: your value to Taehyung when it comes to galleries.

Makes you smile just thinking about it the next evening, standing beside the artist himself as even more punters gush over his work.

The Ryu Gallery is a steep step up from the painting cafe.

It's a black tie event; cocktail dresses and silk shirts. The champagne in the flutes is real, this time. Taehyung's collection is being showcased alongside small artists from neighbouring cities. A few of them are fairly well-known within the circuit, and for him to rub shoulders with those he admires? Oh, it's incredible . The smile on his face, whenever he thinks no-one is watching him, is adorable.

You're pleased for him - and he's pleased to have you around whenever someone in a suit worth more than his monthly rent starts asking him questions. Still his official (unofficial) agent, you're doing all of the business talk for him. Building contacts. Creating a network for him.

From across the room, empty champagne flute in hand, arms folded across the front of his white shirt, Jeongguk doesn't mean to stare at you for quite so long.

Hair up, you've dyed it. The blonde is mostly gone, but there's a gradual fade now - dark to light - and he wonders how the fuck you managed it. Knows it must have been a salon job, but wonders how on earth you had time between the last-minute artwork transportation and the opening of the show.

You didn't. Danbi did it after half a bottle of wine and it's a miracle that it looks the way it does.

The dress you're wearing only adds to it.

It barely covers your ass, but is so puffy and pretty, it doesn't look indecent. He thinks - but is not entirely sure - that it's the Selkie dress you've been whining about since October.

He doesn't know what Selkie is. Just heard you say the word four million times.

You had wanted to order it, but apparently your size kept going out of stock as spooky season approached. "It's just a black dress!" You had pouted - but now that he can see it for himself, he knows that it was an understatement.

He's never seen you look more like yourself. A sheen of shimmer covers your skin, and your eyes are just as sparkly as they always are. Even your dress has a little sparkle.

It shouldn't. It's plain black. You and Danbi had just gotten a little creative with a can of fine-mist glitter hair spray the night before. Wine, apparently, leads to good decisions.

Sometimes .

You sort of look like a fairy, he thinks to himself with a smile - but then remembers you scornfully berating him for still 'believing' in them, when you had been arguing about Hayun.

In discussion with some men in suits, a hand resting on Taehyung's arm as you enthuse about his artwork, Jeongguk thinks you were made for a role like this. Eyes so kind, smile so genuine, he never doubts that you mean every compliment given to Taehyung.

Your other hand is holding onto a champagne flute, and Jeongguk counts your rings when he notices there are more than your usual three. One on your pinky and your thumb, two on your middle finger, and one that rests midway up on your index finger. None on your fourth finger. Never on your fourth finger. Nails black, they match your dress.

And that's when he realises what's missing.

There's no bird around your neck.

His gaze drops, throat bobbing as swallows down the 'fuck you' he wants to shout. He wouldn't mean it.

Just knows how important the necklace is to you. How important it is to him. How important it is that you've stripped yourself of it.

It's half an hour before Jeongguk dares to stand by you.

Looking at one of Taehyung's pieces, there's no one else beside you.

Until, like a magnet finally succumbing to its pull, he's back where he belongs.

"You're not wearing your necklace," he says quietly.

"Didn't match my dress," you simply say, but you both know it's a lie. The dress is just as whimsical as your eyes are sparkly. It would have looked perfect.

"Should have worn a different dress, then," Jeongguk says a little childishly.

"And you shouldn't have shown up with such a shitty attitude," you say, voice sweet despite the scathing nature of your words.

"Yeah, well maybe-"

"We're not doing this here," you hiss quietly. "Grow up."

Part of him wants to fight back, but it's mainly just because it's an excuse to talk to you for a little while longer. He doesn't actually wanna fight. He wants to say he's sorry and that his mind is everywhere all at once at the moment, and that he's only felt any semblance of clarity over the last few weeks when you've been in his sheets.

It's not for any deeper meaning other than the simple fact you help him switch off. Are good for him. Exactly the kind of influence he needs for his mile-a-minute brain.

So instead he nods. Tells you to have a good night. You wish him the same back. He goes to turn away but pauses, and says, "you shouldn't have worn a different dress. It looks great on you - gorgeous, actually - but the bird wouldn't have ruined it."

Oh, but it already has.

You don't thank him for his compliment. Try not to think about how gorgeous he looks, hair waving around his movie-star face, sparkly eyes pretty, dainty chains around his neck almost matching the shine in his irises. In all black except for his white shirt, he's your favourite artwork in the whole entire gallery.

Instead, you just walk away from him and back into the crowd, leaving him to find your friends once more.

He doesn't go to them immediately. Instead, he takes a moment to himself. Looks at some more of the art that isn't Taehyung's, and finds he doesn't like it half as much.

In a dress just as red as her lipstick, Hayun finds herself beside Jeongguk looking at the same painting. It's dark. Abstract. Not his cup of tea, yet he was drawn to it regardless.

"Here, buddy," Hayun smiles as she passes a champagne flute over to him. There's no hesitation to the way he accepts her offering, a subdued smile on his lips. Nodding towards the painting, she tries her best to pretend as if she didn't just watch the tense conversation unfold between you two. "Cool isn't it?"

"Mhmm," he nods, taking a sip of champagne. The bubbles catch in his throat, and it feels like he's swallowing marbles instead. Sort of wishes he was. Any excuse to leave the awkwardness of this evening would be welcome by him. "Not my favourite."

"Really?" She asks.

"Yeah. Think I prefer things a little more complex," he considers. "Not enough for me to focus on, yanno? My eyes get all jittery."

He doesn't even realise he's glancing over towards you, again. Needs a little glitter to sort his eyes out.

"You're such an oddball," Hayun smiles."Tae reckons this artist is the one to watch at the moment."

Jeongguk turns his nose up. "Tae's stuff is way better."

"Well yeah, but you're biased," she says warmly.

"You don't think so?" Jeongguk chirps a little surprised that she'd prefer something so boring.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Tae's work - this is just far more my style. When I finally have an apartment, I'll probably get something like this."

"Maybe Tae can put in a word for you," Jeongguk suggests. "See if he can get you something from the artist."

He doubts it very much - has seen the price tag - but it's a thought that seems to inspire her.

"You're a genius!" She smiles. "What would I do without you?"

Oh, it's rotten how everything seems to remind him of you; of the way it feels like he'll die without you. Had always been a joke before - but it really does seem like death would be preferable to an endless reality of this .

He feigns a smile. Shrugs. Changes the topic. "You going out after the show?"

Hayun pays no mind to the fact he ignored the question. Nods. "Yeah, we all are, aren't we?"

"Think so," he confirms. Wonders if you're still gonna be there or not.

Almost as if she can read his mind, Hayun asks, "Is she coming?"

" She has a name."

"And yet you knew exactly who I meant," she smiles, but it's entirely fake.

He doesn't like her tone.

"She's really important to me," he says, not looking for a fight, but fancying one regardless. "Please can you at least try to be nice?"

"I'm always nice."

Her tone is pedantic. She's being a little sassy for no good reason. Jeongguk doesn't have the patience at the moment to humour it. Has been too stressed - too upset - this past week. His social batteries are what they usually are.

And so he snaps a little.

"Can you not be like this?"

"Like what?" she recoils slightly.

" Mean ," he says. "We both know you weren't nice on New Years. You really upset her."

Hayun enjoys this fact, but hides her smile well. In fact, she pouts. Furrows her brows.

"She wasn't exactly kind to me , either."

Jeongguk knows this is probably true. Also knows that you likely think you were entirely justified.

"I don't care," he says. "She's the whole reason Taehyung's been able to network like this. Tonight's a celebration for Tae, yes, but we wouldn't be celebrating if it wasn't for her. I'm not asking you to be besties - just be nice. Please."

Hayun's silent for a moment.

"I'm not trying to be an asshole," she says quietly - and then she does offer some honesty. A rarity. "I've come back and someone else is sitting pretty where I used to. I don't know where I fit in anymore. This shit is hard, buddy."

"You'll make it harder for yourself by making enemies," he says softly, accepting her words to be genuine. He knows you've only seen the worst of her, but underneath it all, she's human, too.

"She looks at me like she wants to skin me alive!" Hayun whispers, with more animation than is really needed.

"Well, she kinda does," Jeongguk laughs, but doesn't elaborate. Will let Hayun stew on that one. "Look, just be kind, okay? She'll be nice if you're nice."

"Fine," Hayun shrugs. "But you better give her a talking to, as well. She called me a little weirdo last time I spoke to her. Who even says shit like that?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sounds exactly like the kind of thing you'd say.

"She's not really talking to me at the moment, so," he shrugs. "I probably won't."

Oh, now this does please Hayun. Pleases her so much. Suddenly, she does feel like playing ball. Will be nice as pie. Will give you all the smiles in the world. Will be kind. Might even kill you with it.

The smile of hers prevails throughout the night. You notice it occasionally, but do your hardest to ignore it. Barely even look in her direction.

Maybe it's wrong for you to take your frustrations out on her. Maybe she isn't all that bad - after all, Jeongguk is one of the best people you know. Surely someone he holds so close can't be that awful. Surely .

As the evening dwindles down, your group of friends gather up together to head to a bar downtown, celebrating Taehyung's success - except, he's not with them.

Nor are you.

You both stay behind just to do final checks with the exhibition coordinators, and then head to meet the group downtown.

They're in a pocha bar just a couple blocks down from Dionysus. There's only a few of you within the group that really have any business in a pocha bar. Afterall, what use is a happily committed person in a hunting bar?

Designed quite literally for the single to mingle, each table has a digital tablet affixed to it. It's where you order your drinks and food - of which, when you arrive, you can see your group has already got sorted - but also acts as a messaging device between tables.

If you see someone that tickles your fancy, you challenge them to a game, or just a chat. Something to get a little bit of communication bubbling; see if it could boil over.

Grinning to yourself, you think that Jeongguk's ragtag group of friends must be a nightmare for any other groups of single men in a pocha bar. You can't imagine groups of straight women wanting to message a table other than theirs.

That's the downside that comes with a pocha; you're divided on the basis of gender, because apparently sexuality is limited to attraction of the opposite sex.

Always makes you roll your eyes - but the food is cheap and the drinks are even cheaper, especially when it's a table from across the room buying them for you.

Though your tables are next to one another, the boys are at one end, and the girls are down the other. It's the only way you could be sat together.

Jeongguk sits opposite Yoongi, on the chairs closest to the girls table. Jimin, Namjoon and Hoseok are further away, closer to the digital tablet.

Squeezes Danbi's shoulders as he walks past, Taehyung nabs the seat at the far end of the table. He'd much rather be next to her, but equally doesn't mind being with the boys.

Separated by a gap in the tables, Seoyeon is 'beside' Yoongi. Right where she should be.

Opposite her, beside Jeongguk is an empty seat. Nabi is in the next seat over, facing Danbi. A table of six with only three girls sitting around it, the two chairs closest to the tablet are also free. An abundance to choose from, but there's only one you want.

Foolishly, as Jeongguk's eyes meet yours, you forget there's a thorn in your side. Are reminded as she enters your peripherals, thorn wedging deeper into your flesh, and waltzes straight through the gap in the tables.

His eyes don't leave yours. Not when she approaches. Not when greets him. Not when she sits down beside him.

All you can do is watch as she takes your place.

Though you suppose it wasn't really yours in the first place.

You push the unpleasantness of the feeling in your stomach to the side. Fuck Hayun. You don't wanna be such a misery guts, but she just ruins everything. Ruined Jeongguk and his perception of love, ruined New Years (almost) and now she's ruining your night.

She doesn't have to, you remind yourself. Just ignore her existence.

And so as Danbi passes you a shot, you do just that.

The music in the pocha is unbelievably loud; probably to encourage closeness between people, but it just means you spend your evening giggling with Danbi instead of even trying to get the boys attention - and that suits you just fine.

You don't pay notice to Jeongguk, nor Hayun, nor anything that could make you feel shitty in any regard. It's been a successful night. Taehyung did so well. You know that you'll be waking up to enquiries in your email inbox regarding his work.

Taehyung is the first to notice a message pop up in the corner of the tablet over on your table. Of he course he was. Had been glancing over to Danbi endlessly.

Red and imposing, the notification mark sits right where the chat threads should be. You're closest to it, so as Taehyung's laughing about the fact some idiotic group of guys had the gall to message your table when it's obvious you're with them, you click through.

"Table 12," you say with a little extra animation and wiggle of your eyebrows. Jimin's looking around, counting from the door to work out who it is - and when he spots a group of four girls giggling away, he knows it's them . And then you're laughing, too. "Oh shit. Wrong table. They meant to message you guys."

"What are they after?" Jimin enthuses. "Are they talking about the handsome stud in the middle of the table?"

You snort a little, holding back a laugh. "Not quite."

Your eyes flick over to Jeongguk, then back to the screen. You poise yourself a little flirtily - get in the right headspace to read such a message.

"Tattoo guy" - you glance up towards him again, and think it's sweet that he looks a little bashful. - "Fancy giving us a tour of your tattoos? Show us yours and we'll show you ours."

Another message pops through as you're reading aloud, so you continue.

"P.S. you'll have to take our clothes off first to see ours."

"Holy shit," Danbi laughs, and you find yourself laughing too - more so at the look on the faces of all of the boys. Even Yoongi looks a little bewildered - but so does Seoyeon.

Confident girlies are always the best girlies - you bet they're a lot of fun to be friends with.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you tease Jeongguk. Secretly, you like the idea of Hayun having to watch other girls swoon over him; get her sweating out that 'irreplaceable' attitude she likes to parade herself around with. "Do it!"

He swallows as he looks at you. Is ignoring the taunts and excitement from the boys around him, even as they ping bottle caps at him. His chest hides the thud, thud, thud of his heart well; the challenge of flirting with girls who aren't you making him feel all strange.

But you're encouraging it.

Maybe he should.

"On one condition," you add with a giggle. God, he's missed you. "You have to make up fake stories for all of your tattoos."

Jimin laughs. Agrees. "Gotta tell them the most unhinged shit, and see if they still wanna shag you."

The tables enthuse over Jeongguk's potential faux tattoo history, and decide he got his snake to overcome a fear - but it failed and now he screams every time he looks at it.

"You have to do the scream, too" Seoyeon giggles, then does the most adorable little squeak you've ever heard. Yoongi looks at her with liquor-laced lips that are abundant with love. "Like that! Gotta scream like that."

Jeongguk imitates her, and has everyone cracking up. He repeats it - looks down at his tattoo, and screams out a tiny little squeak. Earns a confused look from the table next to him. Does it again. Some of the wait staff also look at him now. You and Danbi are practically falling onto one another's laps from how ridiculous but how committed to the bit he is.

"Okay, okay," Taehyung laughs. "What about the flowers?"

"Hmmm.. He's allergic?" Jimin says right off the bat. "Had the ink infused with pollen, because he thought it would cure him. Arm nearly fell off instead."

"Perfect," Taehyung beams, chortling with laughter.

"I'm not gonna be able to remember any of these," Jeongguk smiles - but truthfully he's just nervous. Doesn't wanna go and strike up a conversation with strangers. Wants to stay here and keep the people he cares about laughing.

His gaze falls on yours, and he's pleased to see that your smile doesn't fade.

It's so nice to see him sparkle again.

He purses his lips, fond dimples etching into his cheeks.

And maybe it's the alcohol, but you think he's got eyes that are worthy of forgiveness, even if a 'sorry' hasn't left his pretty lips.

They part a little, his tongue nervously flicking at his lip ring. It does - as it so often does - the thing . It's as if he wants to say something, but the words never quite make it out.

It's only been a moment or so, but you notice Seoyeon nudging Yoongi from across the table, being far less than subtle as she draws his attention to the pair of you.

Immediately dropping Jeongguk's gaze, you feel your cheeks flame a little, just as rosy, as the flutter in your heart is delicate.

He hasn't said sorry, you remind yourself. He's not forgiven.

And yet being in his company after a few drinks just makes all the residual hurt of the past week or so fade into nothingness. Happiness comes so easily around him.

Or at least it does, until Hayun starts to toy with Jeongguk's arm, pointing at tattoos that you don't know the meaning of, and saying shit like 'you can't lie about that one,' or 'you held my hand so hard I thought you'd break it when you got that one.'

You lean over to Danbi, and squeeze her arm.

"Just gotta make a quick call," you say, holding up your phone. "Won't be long."

She nods and hurries out a "yeah, yeah. Of course. That's fine, go for it. Want me to order any more drinks?"

You scan the table, which is littered in bottles and small spillages, and decide that above everything else, you're hungry.

"Sotteok sotteok?" You suggest, having seen the table next to you get the delicacy - rice cakes and sausages on a skewer, coated in sauce - delivered to them ten minutes ago.

"YES!" she exclaims, immediately reaching over to the tablet to order some, then grins back over at you. "Go, make your call. I'll keep your food safe from the boys."

"Angel," you grin right back, excusing yourself. There's no commotion as you do so - everyone is engaged in their own conversations, music blaring, chaos in every corner.

Danbi explains where you've gone to anyone who asks, and nobody questions it.

Nobody except for Jeongguk.

"Call who?" He queries, brows furrowed. Thinks it can't be anything work-related - too late for that - but also knows how many fuckers in suits tonight seemed to know you in relation to Seokjin. Wonders if maybe it's him.

When Danbi just shrugs, Jeongguk nods.

He studies the space left by you, empty and vacant, and wonders if you'd rather be with him , right now. Wonders how often you've thought about him tonight. Wonders if you think about him when it's just you and Jeongguk together.

Wonders if you ever think these things about Hayun.

He tries not to waste his time worrying, eyes focused on the windows towards the front of the bar, but he can't seem to help himself - and when he finally does catch a glimpse of you?

He smiles . Laughs, even. Tries to keep his giggle to himself, and is thankful no one notices.

Directly across the street is an arcade, lined in neon lights and cheap cash grabs that will give you no return. You pry the final few coins out of your purse and sink them into an endless pit of despair, just in the hopes you'll get a teeny tiny little My Melody plushie.

The mechanical whir of the machine is obscured by the music blasting out, some song by a new group that you don't know by name. Prime location, in the middle of the nightlife district, you're sure you've sunk more money into this arcade than you probably have into any of the bars. As soon as you get a few shots in you, you convince yourself you can win everything .

You've never won anything.

Still, it's not just the shots that have you here today (though you and Danbi have worked through two bottles of soju each, and the night has barely started).

It's your need to think about something else, other than the sorry state of affairs between you and Jeongguk, that has you gambling.

Things shouldn't have to be this complicated, you think as you rummage around for another coin in your purse. The bastard machine just eats it and barely even tries to hook onto the plushie that you've expertly lined up.

It's an endless slog of effort, money, time put in. Nothing left to show for it.

Funny, how often that seems to happen.

You return to the table empty handed. No one else realises where you went. No one except Jeongguk - but he isn't paying attention to your return.

Mainly because a message came through while you were away. Table 23. "Black dress - hate to see you go but love to watch you walk away."

Danbi had read it with a giggle in your absence, and as soon as you return, she finds great pleasure in showing you.

"Table 23?" You laugh, flattered. "Don't wanna turn around. Are they cute?"

Danbi glances behind her shoulder, but averts her eyes almost immediately. "Oh crap. They're looking," she whispers as she leans in a little closer to you.

Nabi uses her vantage point on the opposite side of the table to scope them out. Hayun's too busy listening into the boys conversation and inserting herself where she isn't wanted to pay attention to you.

"Okay," Nabi enthuses. "There's three of them. Two of them keep looking over, but one of them refuses to, even when they nudge him, so I think it's him."

"And?" you giggle, still wanting to know if he's cute.

"He..." she pauses. Bites her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"He...?!" You laugh, not caring to stop yourself, with a little shake of your head. There are stars in your eyes, lights from the bar reflecting in them like the Northern Lights. You're a sight to behold when you're like this; just as radiant as your glitter is sparkly.

"Hey."

The voice behind you as someone comes to stand by your table is new . Deep. A little purry.

"Hi," you smile, looking up to the man now standing in the space between your table and the next group over. Tall, you think first. Handsome, second.

"Can I sit for a second?" He asks, not even bothering to introduce himself first. Nabi scoots over instantly, a smile plastered all over her face. Danbi is pinching you beneath the table.

"Sure," you nod, a little coy, not wanting to give away your total satisfaction.

He's dreamy as he takes a seat, shirt white, hair slicked back in that sexy kinda James Dean way that always makes you a little hot under the collar. He smiles, and his eyes are just as kind as his grin is charming.

"A bar like this is no place for a dress like that," he says resting his arms on the table. Leans forward a little. Is engaged in conversation with you, and you alone.

"No?" you flirt a little. "Where should it be instead?"

The insinuation of your question is clear, and you know that his mind will have jumped to the only logical answer: his bedroom floor.

But with a smile like his, you should have known he'd be a gentleman.

"Somewhere classier," he supposes.

"Are you saying I should leave?" You raise a brow.

He shakes his head. Doesn't drop his eyes from yours. "No. At least, not without giving me your number."

"I don't even know your name," you say with a roll of your eyes.

He holds out his hand for you to shake. You consider it - but instead, you hold out your own hand for him to kiss. With a smirk, tongue running along his teeth, he concedes. Holds your fingers and rests his pretty eyes closed as his lips press against your knuckles.

"Park Seojoon."

You nod. Accept his name into your brain. Feel Jeongguk's eyes burning into your hand, which is still being held by Seojoon.

A few drinks in, and a little vindictive, you're glad . It's stupid because you will scream if anyone else decides you're jealous of Hayun - but you sort of want Jeongguk to be jealous that there's someone new sitting in the seat opposite you.

"And yours?" Seojoon asks. "It's only fair."

"Give me your phone," you say, not wanting to give him an easy win.

You also wanna check he isn't a sleazebag with a girlfriend.

You've met plenty of those. Dated one not so long ago - and he wasn't too dissimilar from Seojoon. Tall, handsome, chivalrously charming. Yeah. You know men like him.

And yet he doesn't hesitate. Unlocks his phone. Lets you have at it. You do as you wish, with no complaint from him - which is open up instagram. His search history is pretty clear: the bar you're currently at, a few of his friends, some idol singer who you assume he has a crush on. Nothing that screams red flag.

Typing in your username, you give yourself a follow, and hand it back.

"There. Don't need my number, now."

A message pings through on the table tablet.

Table 23: He knows how to cook

Table 23: Has his own apartment

Table 23: Is a CEO

Table 23: Massive cock

Table 23: His personality, I mean

Table 23: Dunno about his dick

Table 23: Saves cats from trees on the weekend

"Please ignore my friends," he laughs. "I think they're going for the hard sell. So embarrassing."

"So none of it's true?" You grin right back, enjoying the ridiculous nature of it all.

He shrugs. Smirks. "Some things are. Some things aren't. I'll let you find out which is which."

Even more messages ping through.

Table 23: He showers twice a day

Table 23: Speaks 14 languages

Table 23: Is still a virgin

Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head, but his smile prevails. He looks like a movie star; suave and sweet all at the same time.

"I gotta go sort my friends out," he laughs. "But I'll message you, okay?"

With a giggle and small nod, you say, "I'll be waiting."

"Okay," he grins, all bashful and endearing, not really wanting to go.

"Okay," you tease a little.

He's barely even left his seat before Nabi and Danbi are squealing.

Jeongguk's eyes are down, and he's twiddling with his thumbs. Face of thunder, you think he's being a baby. A big, pouty baby. Good .

"Right," Jimin declares loud enough for you all to hear. "Dionysus? I wanna dance."

You hold hands with Danbi and Hoseok for the entire walk. It's only a few streets over, but being drunk always makes the walk so much longer - plus you really shouldn't have had so much to drink on such an empty stomach, especially after running around prepping the show all morning.

"CU," you hiccup as you walk past the convenience store. Open 24 hours, you dread to think about the sorry state of people of whom the cashiers have to deal with. Knowing that you're a mess at the moment? Yeah. You feel bad. Will probably apologise to the poor uni student working behind the counter. "Snacks."

The others are walking ahead a little and you don't bother to stop them. Will just meet them in the club. Your names are on the guestlist, courtesy of Jeongguk, so it's not like you'll have to queue to get in.

Unless he takes your name off the guestlist.

Of which he half considers when they get to the bar and he realises you're not there.

"You seen B?" He asks Jimin, but is met with a shake of his head.

"No clue."

Half an hour later, under the bright strobes of the club, Jimin finds you asking him the exact same thing.

"Where's Jeongguk?"

And again, all he can say is "no clue".

You spend the night missing each other; emotionally, physically.

There are only so many places you can be in Dionysus. In fact, from the bar, Yeonjun can often see you both and wonders why you're so far apart from one another - but also notices the bright red ball and chain that seems to be attached to Jeongguk. The closer you get, like the magnets you are, the further she drags him away.

It's painful to watch, Yeonjun thinks. Can't seem to figure out a good reason why Jeongguk is wasting time with anyone that isn't you.

But waste it he does.

His one night to let his hair down, to feel fucking normal , and instead he feels like his head is gonna cave in. The shots aren't helping, and the way his head snaps to every glimmer of light just in case it's you is borderline embarrassing.

It's not until just gone 1 AM, when he returns from that little courtyard of his, Hayun closely behind, that he finally catches a glimpse of Hoseok and Danbi. You're nowhere to be seen and when he questions it, Danbi doesn't wanna tell him jack shit.

"Just wanna know if she's okay," Jeongguk explains as they stand by the bar, but again, Danbi doesn't give a shit.

"I know she's okay," she simply shrugs. "There's your confirmation."

"Dan-"

"You haven't even fucking said sorry yet!" she erupts at him, a little fiery when she's been drinking and ever so protective of her friends. None of the group are with them, so she doesn't hide her frustrations. "You fucked her, then basically told that her a nasty piece of work is worth more to you than she is. What was it you said? That Hayun is trying to fix your friendship?"

Jeongguks tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, a little pissed that the entire conversation has been relayed to Danbi. Jimin obviously knows most of what happened, but he was in the apartment. It is unfair though, for him to think you wouldn't need to vent about what had been said. He knows he did.

When he doesn't reply, Danbi rolls her eyes.

"If fixing your friendship with Hayun comes with the price of ruining the friendship you have with a girl, who's quite literally only ever wanted what was best for you, is it really worth it? Huh?" Danbi antagonises.

He goes to speak, but Danbi shakes her head.

"I know you're Tae's friend, and I'll never get in the way of anything between you guys - but if you think for a second I'm not gonna prioritise my best friend just to make things a little more comfortable for you, you're wrong. You know just as well as I do how much her piece of shit ex fucked with her. So either you be fucking nice to her, or you leave her alone. "

The final sentence stings Jeongguk like a wasp.

It's not too dissimilar from what he's said to Hayun.

Danbi sighs. Looks down. Shrugs her shoulders as her hands tap against the tops of her thighs. Walks a little closer, because she knows fighting with Jeongguk is the last thing you'd want her to do.

"She's at home. Texted me about five minutes to let me know she got there okay... just," she sighs again. Knows that you'll probably be annoyed with her for telling Jeongguk about it in the morning. "Just tell her that you're fucking sorry, okay? Fix it."

Jeongguk is in a taxi en route to yours within two minutes.

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

You've barely changed out of your dress, just in your matching black set, when your phone begins to ring. The caller ID is one that you've been wanting to see all week, but you're not sure you want to answer, now.

Just can't seem to help yourself, though.

Reaching over for the shirt of his on the back of your chair, you pull it over your body.

"Hello?"

"B..." Jeongguk breathes out. "I... Fuck. I'm at your door. Please can I come in."

"A bit presumptuous for you to show up first," you hum, arm folding across your chest, hand resting on the crease of your elbow.

"I know," he says, about to launch some ramble about how he's sorry and how he thinks he might die if things stay as they are - but then the latch of your door goes, and there you are. Phone to your ear, in little more than a shirt that belongs to him, with an unreadable expression on your face, you shrug.

"Could have knocked."

"Didn't wanna wake anyone," he says, as if he wouldn't have knocked had the call gone to voicemail.

"Danbi's out," you shrug, and then push the door a little further open. Silently invite him inside. He's always welcome, even when you're mad at him. Maybe especially when you're mad at him. Could be anywhere. Could be away from you. And yet he's right where you want him to be.

He's only in your apartment for a moment or so before he clocks the white roses on the kitchen counter. Another 'sorry I couldn't make it' gift from Seokjin. The card is face up, so it doesn't take much for Jeongguk to know exactly who they're from. He says nothing of them.

"Freezing in here," you say, then knock your head to the side and encourage him into your room. "C'mon. I've got the heater on in there."

He does as you say, 'cause he considers himself lucky to be in your home. Lucky that you didn't open the door just slam it in his face. Lucky, just for the simple fact he knows you.

"What brings you here?" you ask, taking a seat on your bed.

Jeongguk stands. Looks around your room. Likes that you've got your little pink neon light on. The glow hazes around your body, ethereal in the way it makes your glitter sparkle.

He doesn't answer immediately.

You're still tipsy, and so is he. Hair dishevelled, jacket tossed on your bedroom floor, Jeongguk looks good. Not that he doesn't always, it's just... nice seeing him dressy. Smart pants, a button up shirt. The sleeves are rolled, forearms exposed just like they were in the bar earlier. Girls drool at the mouth from the sight of him alone.

And he's in your room.

You have something people want.

Him .

You'd quite like to keep it.

Yours .

He nibbles down on his bottom lip, unsure of how to phrase anything that wouldn't sound awkward. His lip ring glistens in the neon light, and it's like you're wearing novelty glasses that scatter hearts around bright light when you look at him.

So you stand.

Say nothing.

Brazen in your drunken haze, you shrug.

Reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it up your body, over your head.

When your eyes meet Jeongguk's again, his lips are parted. He's confused. Mentally, emotionally, physically. Doesn't really understand.

You're naked save for the matching set you're wearing. It's one he knows well. One he's taken off many times before. One that he didn't think he'd be seeing tonight.

"If you're here to fuck me, then fuck me," you say a little coldly. "If not, you can go."

"B, that's not why I'm here," he says, but his eyes are on your body, now. His lips fold in on themselves. Throat bobs as he swallows.

"So go," you say.

He shakes his head.

"Well, I don't wanna talk," you say all rather childishly. "So this is your option. Fuck me, or leave."

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair."

"Why are you being like this?"

The answer is simple: You want to be useful for him.

Oh, it's so pathetic. You want him to use you.

Not in a sexy, degrading kind of way, but a pathetic, needy kind of way. The same kind of way you let Seokjin use you. If Jeongguk fucks you, your drunken, out-of-sync head will think it means you still serve a purpose. Like he still needs you.

"Said it yourself," you shrug. "The people I care for use me."

He furrows his brows.

" I never used you," he hisses. "Not once did I ever fuck you just to use you."

"So then why the fuck did you?" You hiss right back, angry for the sake of being angry. "Why do you sleep with me? Still?!"

"Because I care about you!" He matches your volume, not really sure if he has the appropriate words to articulate himself with. "Because you're my friend, and I care. Because it was something we both wanted at the time. Because I like the way you feel, and I like the way you make me feel. If that's using you, then so be it - but not once was my own gratification at the top of the list of reasons why. Not once. Not ever."

Anything he could have said would have been wrong. You would have argued against him, contradicted yourself, gone round in circles regardless of what he had said.

"So it was never just because you wanted to fuck me?" You scoff. "There was always a big list behind it? Intentions? You never just wanted me? It was never just enough to want me?"

Jeongguk knows you. Knows what you're doing. Doesn't fight back.

"I wanted you. B, I still want you," he says softly - but when your hard gaze doesn't ease, he gets defensive. He also, strangely, starts to undo his shirt buttons, too. "And what about you, huh? Did you not use me? Hm?"

You're silent as he reaches the bottom of his shirt; toned chest exposed, honey skin warm.

"I can't hear you, B," he taunts. "Is that not exactly what you've done with me? Used me ?"

And then his fingers are fiddling with the buckle of his belt, too, standing so close to you that you can smell his aftershave.

"I never fucking used you," he whispers harshly, hands cupping your cheeks to pull you closer. You nestle into his touch, eyes wide and a little watery. Hands holding onto his waist, you're reminded of just how warm he always is. His nose nudges against yours.

You're both drunk. None of this makes much sense. Not now, and likely not when you're sober either.

"You're my best fuckin' friend. My best friend. You know how much I adore you?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Lifts his lips to press them against your forehead. "Never used you, Byeol. Never ."

It's not an apology, but it is something .

And after a week of nothing?

Oh, it's so lovely to have something .

"Please," you begin to say quietly, as if he's not already half undressed with no intention of leaving you. "Don't leave."

"Didn't come here to fuck you," he says. "But I also didn't come here to leave either."

"You don't have to fuck me," you say, a little embarrassed and ashamed of the ultimatum you'd thrown his way in the heat of your anger. "You can stay. I don't give a shit about the sex. I'm sorry. I just, I was so mad with you and I don't understand what's going wrong with us and-" you pause, scared you might cry, but catch your breath first before it wobbles. "And I think I was trying to reduce you to meaning something far less than what you do. I've been a terrible friend. Awful. I just..."

Jeongguk shakes his head. "I've not been a saint, either B. I'm sorry, too. Both said some shitty things. Both know we didn't mean them. Right?"

You nod, face still loosely in his grasp, brows pinching together all forlorn and pitiful.

"Look like a lil emoji, you do," he smiles down at you. "Can we just go to bed? I'm still a little drunk and I really don't wanna stand up anymore. Just want things to be normal again."

There's nothing more to argue about. Nothing that will make either of you feel any better. You're his only remedy.

And, so, somewhere between half-drunk apologies, and rambles of who was the bigger asshole, and who appreciates who more, you begin a dance you know all too well.

You touch. Stroke. Hold. Know that you shouldn't, but you roam. Feel .

He does the exact same thing back.

Whines a little, dulcet and needy, whenever you reach a spot he likes.

Neither of you seem to mind that the fumble is a little awkward, or the fact that you're both starting at zero. It's unlike you. You're both normally ready and raring to go - but the night has been draining and neither of you really expected to end up in this situation.

Truthfully, you know that you shouldn't take things further.

But you also know it's the only way things will really feel normal again.

Eventually, encouraged , Jeongguk sinks himself into you, unprotected. 

Skin on skin, it's nothing new, but it's important, you think. Want him close. Want him yours.

And when he's like this?

Well, you've both said it before. It sort of feels like he is.

"Don't wanna fuck anyone that isn't you," he husks into the crook of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. "I know you're mad at me, but I don't wanna fuck anyone else."

His slow hips build up pace as he fucks himself into you, repeating himself. "Only wanna fuck you. You know that right? No one feels like you do."

You're not sure you believe him. It makes you sad. So inexorably, pitifully sad.

Yet the way he feels inside you makes your heart swell .

And so you say nothing; just let dulcet little whines escape your lips as he fucks himself deeper into you, wanting his intentions to be known.

You want to believe him. Want to believe that his words are as honest as you like to tell yourself his heart is.

"It doesn't matter," you husk back to him. "Doesn't matter if you wanna fuck other people. You're not mine."

But if he's not yours, it means you're not his either, and Jeongguk kind of hates that reality.

So he fucks you like you are. Buries his head into your neck, keeps you trapped beneath the safety of his body, does all the hard work so you can just feel good. With him. For him. Because of him. In spite of him.

He doesn't kiss you, but he wants to. Not just because he's horny and he likes the way it feels, but because it sort of feels like he'll cry if doesn't. Instead, he rests his nose against yours. Will let close the gap, if you want to.

And see the thing is, you're just so scared he'll say something that will shatter your soul, that you think it's safer to kiss him. Think your soul will be better protected if your lips are on his, even if it means he can steal it.

Pressing your lips up against his, you let him whine into your mouth. It's indistinguishable, but you swear you can almost hear his words: I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours. Or maybe, just stupid, stupid, stupid.

Either could be applicable.

Jeongguk doesn't think it matters. His words mean nothing. It's his actions that hold weight now. His choices .

He's made a few bad ones in the last few hours, but not you. Never you.

"Speak to me," he husks into your lips.

But what is there to say? He's choosing you now, granted, but he chose her tonight. Chose her in front of his friends. Chose her during the week. Let someone else choose you, instead.

"Byeol, baby." He grits through strained grunts. " Please ."

The way 'baby' always gets you folding has you so mad at yourself; but all you want is to pretend like he means it.

"Koo," you whimper back as he continues fucking himself into you.

"Yeah?"

"Keep it like that," you manage to say. "Feels so good like that."

"Yeah, baby?"

You nod. Press kisses into his neck. Let your nails scratch down his back. Leave evidence of him losing himself to you on his skin. Paint him in the colour of what it's like to love you, even if he doesn't.

When you reach down to rub yourself a little, to bring you closer to an orgasm, Jeongguk knocks your hand to the side. He wants to do it. He wants to be the reason why. He has to be. He has to make you come undone to make up for the fact it feels like he's falling apart, too.

It's embarrassing how quickly he gets you there. Stupid how your heart swells when your pussy miscommunicates, and tells you that your orgasm actually means something . Lame, how much your smile softens for him.

But then he's doing just the same. Asking where he should finish, and stuttering when you beg for what you want.

"Please, Koo. Inside me. Please."

But there's a weight to filling you raw that he can't bear, yet. He's not strong enough. And so he edges as far as can, pulling out only when he feels his release travelling through his body. Wanks himself onto you, spilling his cum all over your pussy; mound, lips, clit. You're his, his, his . Or at least, at this moment, you are. Once you clean yourself up, the feeling will fade.

Your mind taunts you. Something about Egypt, and rivers.

As his body collapses on yours, Jeongguk spent, you hold him close. Hug him. Never want him to leave, because you're scared that you'll lose him again. Scared that he'll choose her. Scared that he'll leave, just like Seokjin always does.

Of course, he doesn't. He tosses you his shirt as he goes to grab your something to clean yourself up with from the bathroom. Waltzes around your apartment in just his boxers, as if it's a home you share. Strokes your back when you both go to brush your teeth, and is the one to grab the water when you eventually head to bed. Stands by you just beforehand, and rids you of his shirt. Gets you naked, 'cause he wants to feel your skin against his, in the simplest, most human of ways.

He tells you to get into bed as he heads back to the sitting room. You do as he says, and watch him through the gap in your bedroom door as he goes to check the front door is locked. There's no intention for him to leave in the night. Will never leave his side of your bed cold. Won't abandon you.

Because he does choose you. He chooses you time and time again.

And though you don't realise it, yet, he chose you tonight. You over her .

Perhaps it wasn't a linear choice and perhaps there were half a dozen smaller choices that contradict his largest one, but it counts for something.

"I got you something," he whispers against your shoulder, finally back in your bed with you.

"Hmm?" You question, a little curious but not really wanting anything from him.

There's a coldness to your disinterest; one that Jeongguk is well aware of, but trying to ignore. He's only known you like this once, really - the time he lied to you.

Knows that you're probably processing through similar emotions. Knows it means you likely think he's lying about something. Knows that he should tell you what happened in your absence tonight - but he's scared, and thinks he'll lose you entirely. Thinks things are already hanging by a thread. 

Doesn't realise that the red strings of fate take more than just a vicious pair of ruby nails to tear through them.

And so he doesn't tell you.

Instead, he leans over the edge of his bed to grab his coat and rummages around in the pockets until he finds what he's after.

The softening of your eyes as he presents you with the pretty little plushie you'd been trying to win earlier on in the night? Oh, it's like Jeongguk can breathe again.

"Know you wanted it," he mumbles, passing it over to you. Looks away a little, then focuses on your hands, where you gently clasp the My Melody.

He doesn't tell you the part where he spent 30,000won on a plushie worth no more than 5000. Doesn't tell you that he accidentally won a Cinnamoroll, too, and gave it to a group of kids who really had no business being out so late in the party area of town. One of the girls, who could have been no more than thirteen, had a little Cinnamoroll scrunchie in her hair. The group unanimously decided that she'd be the one to keep it.

The simplicity of such an exchange between friends had Jeongguk thinking of you. First and foremost, you're his best friend. There's no person he'd rather be with when he's feeling as torn apart as he is now - but when you look at him, and smile softly, he feels like maybe you could help put him back together, too.

"You got me her," you say, stating the obvious.

"I got you her," he confirms. Watches as your eyes sparkle in the low luminescence of your neon light, pouring over the little plushie, checking all the details. "Is she okay?"

You nod. Hold her close. Look over to Jeongguk. Find that he's far too far away. Reach your arm out for him to come closer. He reaches up for your fingers, and just holds your hand. Pulls you closer. Gets you exposed, your sheets pooling around your waist as he moves you. Your other hand is still clutching your little plushie, not caring for keeping yourself covered anymore, coming to sit in Jeongguk's lap, right where he wants you.

"Look," you say softly, wiggling the floppy ears of the plushie. "See her ears?"

Jeongguk watches you with subtle adoration, and hums a quiet confirmation.

"What colour are they?" You ask, deciding to give him lore he never asked for.

Stroking his hands up your waist, just to keep you close, he wonders if it's a trick question. "Pink."

You shake your head. "Nope. She's wearing a hood. Her hood is pink. Her ears are white."

"Trick question," he pouts, which makes you smile. Kinda was. Kinda knew he'd get it wrong.

And so you kiss him to say sorry. Kiss him, as if you aren't just friends. Kiss him, as if he's not holding on to your bare waist for dear life. Kiss him, as if he's not naked, and nor are you. Kiss him, like it's normal.

He keeps his forehead pressed to yours when you withdraw, and lets his nose nudge up against your own. Strokes gently against it. Loves the way it feels. Just another thing about you he'll never understand, but also never complain about.

"What was that for?" he whispers.

"For being a good friend," you whisper right back. "I know I'm not always easy."

Jeongguk shakes his head. Doesn't think he's been a good friend in the slightest. Knows you'd agree, if you knew the chain of events that had led him to your door.

His hands stroke up your back and encourage a hug, of which you naturally fall into. Arms around his neck, you press another kiss into his hair, as his lips do the same just beneath your ear.

"Best friend," he whispers against your skin. Hugs you tighter. Never wants to let go. "I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry."

You shrug. Neither of you have acted like saints over the last week or so. You afford him a little extra wiggle room, because you know he's not really been himself lately. Things said in the heat of the moment aren't always a reflection of true feelings.

You pull away a little. Stroke his hair back. Tuck his long fringe behind his ears and smile at how pliant he is for you. And then you kiss him again. Hands on his cheeks, lips soft. Just once.

"I'm still tipsy," you lie. "Don't get used to it."

"I won't," he promises - but oh, how he wishes he could.

See, Jeongguk thinks he knows , now. Thinks that he knows the way he's feeling. Thinks he understands his brain, and his heart, and the silly little things they tell him; secrets whispered only for him to know. You've done it again, Jeongguk. We told you not to. You said you wouldn't.

But he ignored them then, and he'll ignore them now, for he knows that in the coming weeks he won't be able to.

"I've never known you without your tattoos," you mumble your thoughts aloud, eyes on his arm as your fingers trace the lines. Jeongguk's never really given it much consideration before. Had been too busy looking at you even to realise your contemplation. "Never seen your skin without art on it."

He's slow as he rests the side of his index finger beneath your chin and tilts your head in the opposite direction. Your eyes are on his other arm, now.

"There," he says softly. "Looked just like that."

You smile. Stroke your fingertips up the inside of his bare forearm. Deliberately move from freckle to freckle, marvelling at the wonder of his natural markings; the things that make him human.

"I wonder what it would have been like to know this version of you," you say quietly.

"Me too," he replies. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you know this version."

"You are?"

Part of you is disappointed. Feels like maybe he's aware there wouldn't have been space for you with Hayun around.

He nods, looking up at you with wide eyes and an awareness that he needs to be careful with his words. The lines beneath his eyes deepen as he smiles, little specks of pink light catching in his dark irises. Prettier than any flower, you think.

"We both had life to live," he says. "Lessons to learn. At least, I did. I think if I'd have met you sooner I would have ruined things."

"How so?"

"Dunno," he lies. Remembers the way Hayun told him his feelings would ruin things, too. Saddens him that he was put on this earth to love in abundance, and yet all his heart ever seems to do is destroy things.

"Probably would have fallen in love with you, or something stupid like that."

The silence he's met with is expected.

The way you shrug, and say "maybe I would have fallen in love with you, too," is not expected.

It silences him. So you just smile.

"I guess we'll never know. Doesn't matter, though, does it?"

"Suppose not," Jeongguk says with a tight, closed-lip smile. His lip ring doesn't do the thing, and the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's late and there's no need to be over analysing careless words in the comedown of a drunk hookup.

You fall asleep far easier than he does. Content in his arms, you know that awkward feelings towards his ex aren't worth fighting over. If you and Jeongguk were together, then maybe. If he fucked her again, then maybe. If he started withholding small portions of truth from you to spare her, then maybe.

But for now, you'll put her down as an annoyance. Bad pollution. Rain falling on your journey to work. One pump of shampoo left in the bottle, when you really need three. Not something to stress about, just something to be aware of.

And when you wake up to a still sleeping Jeongguk wrapped around your waist, like an expensive watch on his wrist, the red stain of the bar stamp still smudged on his hand, you forget her entirely. Can't recall her name. Don't know her perfume. Decide that she doesn't exist. Has no place in your life.

Yet if you were to pay attention, you'd know it was her lipstick tarnishing the back of his hand; smeared as he'd push it off of his lips on his way out of the club, trying to rid himself of the way she felt. Trying to mask the sensation that came with succumbing to her. Trying to attribute the feeling on his lips to the pressure of them against his hand, not her lips.

Jeongguk wakes up with you. Showers with you. Orders breakfast - but when it arrives, he can't stomach a damn thing.

"Hangover," he lies.

"Unlike you," you say. He's never normally one to turn down food, even when he's hungover.

You're still learning about him. Yet to discover that guilt ravages his appetite.

It's a lesson you hadn't expected to be taught so soon, but when he looks up at you from across the kitchen, eyes a little watery and gaze forlorn, you just sort of know.

Can't explain it. Can't articulate it.

Your frown is soft, eyes just as defeated as your shoulders now appear.

"Maybe you should go home," you simply say. You don't want confirmation of your assumption that something happened last night. "I'm sure you've still got lots of studying to do."

Oh God, she knows.

He knows you know. Knows that he can't do anything. Knows that if you don't know, trying to explain himself will only be an admission of guilt. Knows that if you do know, explaining himself won't make anything better. Will likely only make things worse.

"Lots to do," he nods. Doesn't wanna disturb your day any further. Your life. Doesn't wanna keep doing things that will only cause irreparable damage.

So for now he goes home, and causes just temporary damage.

Is on the living room floor with a tube of E6000 glue and a few panels of shattered display case when Jimin arrives home from wherever he stayed the night before.

Tossing his wallet down on the kitchen island, Jimin knows this is a new break. Knows Jeongguk's already fixed up the last one.

"Do we need to sign you up for anger management, or something?" Jimin tries to joke, but it comes out so sternly it seems like he actually means it. Maybe he does. Maybe Jeongguk should. "Two in two weeks must be a record."

"Just need to practise some breathing exercises," Jeongguk says. Has already googled it. Knows he can't keep doing this.

He never has, and never would, lash out at anyone else. It's not anyone else that he's frustrated with. It's himself. Doesn't know how to function with a head like his. That's all.

"I'm worried about you," Jimin eventually says. Knows Jeongguk won't take well to him prying, but knows that he has to express his concern regardless. "Ever since Hayun got back-"

"I know," Jeongguk interrupts, but is soft with his voice. "Trust me. I know. Head's a fucking mess. And then there's Byeol."

Jimin had been looking in the fridge for something to eat, but pauses when Jeongguk mentions you. Still refers to you affectionately. Only ever calls Hayun by her name - not Yun, like he used to. He doesn't interrupt. Knows Jeongguk must wanna talk, and doesn't wanna make him clam up.

"I just... I'm repeating shit. Making the same mistakes. Don't wanna lose her, but am scared that if we stop, like... doing stuff, that she'll get bored. That I'll lose her regardless," he admits. Is embarrassed by his own emotions.

Jimin has seen first hand how much you care. Has fucked you himself, and knows full well that just because sex isn't on table between you with him, it doesn't mean you don't want to be his friend. The idea of sex being the only thing tying you to Jeongguk is abhorrent. Offensive.

But also entirely understandable.

Jeongguk is a product of his past traumas, just like everyone else. He's been hurt, and how he copes with his feelings is a direct result of that.

"She's not Hayun," Jimin says. "Don't lower her to that level."

And then, just because Jeongguk can't hold it in any longer, he splutters out the truth. 

"She kissed me last night." 

It's red. Her nails, her lips, her laugh; the memory of it. Dangerous. Damning. 

"Hayun. She kissed me, and I kissed her back."

He spares the details. Doesn't share how she'd asked to see the courtyard in which she knew Jeongguk had spent the turn of the New Year with you. Doesn't share how she'd sat with him on the bench, looking up to the stars. Doesn't share the questions asked and the answers given.

"Said you think about me sometimes. Were you lying?"

"I'm many things, buddy, but I'm not a liar."

"What... What do you think about? When you think of me?"

He shouldn't have asked. Morbid curiosity got the better of him. He didn't expect her to list specifics. To reference the summer he got his first tattoos and how he'd always fake a little pain afterwards so that she'd kiss him better. To mention the same summer, in his parents house when they'd been away on holiday and he'd been house sitting. How she'd stayed there the entire time with him. How every room, except his parents, now has a memory of her in it.

"Sometimes I think about fucking you," she had said. "But a lot of the time I just think about what it was like to kiss you."

His achilles heel. A weakness. One she knows well.

And for a moment - too tipsy for his own good, too frustrated with the idea of you leaving with someone else, too stubborn to listen to his heart as it told him to stop - he leant into the weakness. Let her lips be reminded of his. Let her hand roam his body. Let his roam hers. Surprised her when he didn't go straight for her ass like he always used to, but went for her chest instead. Pulled away almost immediately - and that's how Hayun now knows that you really are a threat.

"We don't have to stop," she had said.

Jeongguk had shaken his head. "We do."

"We're single. What harm will it do?"

"You really need me to answer that? History not speak for itself?"

Hayun was quiet for a moment. Nodded. Looked down. "It's her, isn't it?"

Just like before, Jeongguk had said, "she has a name."

And, so, just like before, Hayun said, "and yet you knew exactly who I meant."

Jeongguk shakes the memories from his head. Forgets the way she kissed him again. Forgets how he let her. Forgets how her hands were back on his body, and how they got a little over friendly. Also forgets that embarrassment that comes with someone trying to touch your cock, only for it to be soft. Forgets how his brain was screaming chess, chess, chess at him.

"You can't come and blow my life up just as I'm starting to sort it out, Yun," he'd pleaded as he finally walked away. "Don't. Please, don't."

Jimin isn't stupid. He knows there's more than what Jeongguk has told him. Something as simple as a kiss wouldn't result in this, surely.

"And DB found out?"

Jeongguk shakes his head. "No. And then... And then I showed up at her door-"

"Gguk," Jimin sighs, a little disappointed for what he knows is to come.

So Jeongguk just shrugs. Can't defend himself.

"Did you at least tell her?" Jimin asks.

He doesn't need to answer. The guilt is written all over his face. Jimin closes his eyes. Sighs. Tips his head back to heavens, as asks anyone listening why they had to curse him with such an idiot for a best friend.

"What did I say, huh?" Jimin huffs. "Told you not to fuck her until you sorted your head out - not to go and fuck your head up even more and then fuck her again just for the fun of it-"

"Wasn't for the fun of it!" Jeongguk stresses. "Jimin, I- Oh fuck ." He puts down the shards of the display case he's been holding and rubs a palm over his face, pushing his hair back. He looks so fucking defeated, but Jimin thinks it kinda serves him right. "I've gone and fucking done it again."

Jimin doesn't want Jeongguk to clarify what he means by that.

And Jeongguk doesn't really want to admit it.

They both know exactly what Jeongguk's done.

Or more so, what his heart has done.

"Well then stop fucking her!" Jimin almost laughs. "Christ, Gguk. Do you seriously just never learn your lesson?"

"I know," he pouts, letting his body slouch against the sofa. "I know, I know. I didn't mean to. I just... I just wanted to be with her last night. Byeol . I wanted to see her. And I was gonna tell her, but she was already pissed off with me and so I was trying to fix things-"

"You can't fix things with sex ," Jimin shakes his, exasperated.

"Well," Jeongguk considers. "I kinda did."

"Gguk."

"Sorry," he grimaces, knowing that trying to make a joke of it all isn't the correct thing to do."I think she knows. She pretended that she didn't, but I know her, Minnie. Know how she works, how she excuses the bad behaviour of the people she cares about. She knows something happened."

"Then she deserves your honesty at the very least, Jeongguk," Jimin says. "Sooner rather than later."

Jeongguk frowns. Knows Jimin is right. Knows that the damage is already done. His bad choices have been made.

When he tries to study that afternoon, he can't.

When he tries to eat that evening, he can't.

When he tries to sleep at night, he can't.

All he can do is stare at the glitter on his forearm from where your head had been resting the night before.

The stars are hidden by clouds, tonight. Curtains open, the city lights leak into his room. Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks he won't be able to see the stars for a while. Too much cloud. Will take a while to clear.

Yet when he closes his eyes and is consumed by visions of you, it's like his mind is a telescope, and you're a galaxy reserved just for him.

His star girl.

But stars burn out; and Jeongguk doesn't know how much longer he has left.

Phone vibrating beneath his pillow, he almost considers ignoring it - but then hears the faint familiar rustle of paper on his sheets. 

A bird has fallen.

He reaches for his phone. Checks the screen. It's you. There's no real message, just a link to a youtube video. Some ASMR type thing, with a clickbait title. STRESS = 0% !! ULTIMATE REVISION BREAK ASMR TO HELP YOU SLEEP!! (no talking).

He takes the confirmation of you being awake to message you.

JK: are you free tomorrow?

You: why?

JK: don't be difficult, b. just wanna talk to you about something.

You: it can wait. no heavy talks until after your exam, okay?

It only confirms to him that you know . You have to. Wouldn't reply like that if you didn't. Doesn't make him feel any better.

JK: a bird fell, too.

You: it can wait, too.

JK: are you sure?

You: positive.

He almost locks his phone.

Tries his luck, instead.

JK: sunday, tomorrow

You: at least we know you'll pass your exam if they ask you about days of the week

JK: will you still come round?

He locks his phone, now. Doesn't wanna see your answer.

Doesn't get one.

You leave him on read.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[leaentries]

luke hughes x chubby!reader headcanons part 2

part 1

SFW & NSFW under the cut!

SFW

so this has been on my mind all day, luke being just so protective of you.

this man is not afraid to stand up for you or put someone in their place if they do wrong by you. his arm is constantly always around your body in a protective manner, pulling you into his side whenever you’re out somewhere with a lot of people

if y’all ever go out to clubs or parties, he will not take his eyes off of you incase he needs to sprint into action and whoop some dickwads ass.

i dare someone to ever make an inappropriate comment about your looks or size anywhere near him, because that might be the last thing they ever do

he also has a tendency to make sure you don’t bump/run into things. if you’re a bit on the clumsier side of life, lukey boy has your back. always covering the corners of counters in the kitchen or table if you bend over, holding your hand and helping you out of the car, guiding you by the small of your back through places, etc.

luke’s goal in life is to take care of you. so with this comes his uncanny ability to read your body language

this dude can look at you for .2 seconds and know what you’re feeling. he wont hesitate to help accommodate your needs. if you’re tired, luke is doing everything in his power to get you to bed and comfy in his arms. if you’re hungry, he is finding out what you’re craving and getting it for you ASAP. oh boy, don’t get me started on him feeding you.

luke has actively said in an interview that his favorite thing about being in the nhl was the food bars, so it’s no surprise that he loves being able to shove food into you as much as possible.

he definitely always makes you a plate or shares his pre-game meals with you. he’ll just walk over to you with a big grin on his face and two plates in his hands full of food for the both of you

you will always get the certain “have you eaten today?” “what did you eat for lunch?” “do you want me to get you some food?” texts multiple times a day

he will get so so sad if he notices you not eating properly and taking care of yourself, so he takes on the task of making sure you are fed properly every single day

i also am bringing this back from my last post, but i just strongly believe that when y’all are home, he is a level 1000 clinger

he just loves your body so freaking much, just how warm and soft you are. he’s not afraid to tell you this either, he’s just such a big ole teddy bear when it comes to you and all your curves

NSFW

luke definitely has a tit fucking kink. just the thought of your full boobs wrapped around his thick cock is enough to make him throb with need

100% loves to cum either on your boobs, stomach, or inside if you let him

he is so pitiful when he’s in a more submissive kinda mood, definitely whimpers the second he sinks into you. it honestly is kinda a power trip for you, cause you have THE luke hughes whimpering at just your touch

he loves eating you out. he’s a munch. he will do it anytime you want, all you got to do is ask. he just loves to please you. he will lap at your puffy lips and suck your clit until you’re screaming his name.

it’s his element. other than the ice, his favorite place to be is between your thighs.

he loves when you kiss and lick up and down his abs, the feeling of your tongue dipping into the defined lines of his muscles will have him cumming in seconds.

he also loves when he can just rub his cock through your lips, grazing your clit and giving just enough stimulation for the both of you to become hot and bothered before slipping into you

his ears and neck definitely get bright red when he’s flustered.

making him flustered is very easy for you to do, especially if you are wearing anything slightly revealing. simply run your hands up and down his body slowly and whisper in his ears and he will fall to the fucking floor.

he will press down under your soft belly rolls while he fucks into you so it just feels that much better.

loves when you ride him so he can watch you boobs bounce. he just loves watching your body bounce on top of his cock; stomach, boobs, ass, he loves it all.

a/n- look at me posting 2 days in a row, woohoo!! i still have so much more to say about luke, so i will most likely be making a part 3 😋 sorry if this is a bit short, i just have a lot of thoughts and i want to spread them out into multiple parts! feel free to send in requests for our lukey boy and chubby!reader!! thank you for reading :))

[darth-memes]

I really mean it. Don't trust any review that you see online about anything Star Wars. Specially the Acolyte and the latest series. You would be surprised how many are made in bad faith, and with the Acolyte they have multiplied. Talk to your friends that have actually watched it and talk about it in a reasonable way. It's ok if you don't like the series or decide is not your thing, as someone who has really liked it, I know that it's far from perfect. Don't engage with reviews online unless you really really trust the person, because many are made with bad faith and/or nostalgia-tinted glasses that honestly make people forget how the original trilogy really is. It's the reason I stopped reading or watching ANYTHING resembling a review related to Star Wars because it is surprising how easy it turns into a toxic rant that many times can be boilt down into racism and misoginy.

Honestly, even avoiding all of that, with the Acolyte I almost burnt out of the fandom of how terrible it was. I luckily didn't received any hate myself but I have a friend who posts information and fun facts between other things (doesn't do reviews, or opinions, it's mostly all factual(if you have an instagram follow him in @skynobi_starwars, he is always on top of the latest news and posts frequently but without spaming)) on instagram and he was showing me the amount of comments just spewing hate whenever he posted anything about the series and it was disgusting. He said that there had always been some, but they had basically multiplied.

But that's his situation, mine was in real life. I have a coworker who also loves Star Wars and his mask fell off when on episode 3 the wItches showed up and suddenly all of his critiques were about the amount of black people and lesbians that were there. By the next episode everything was just shit and how they should fire the entire team. Basically screaming and being impossible to talk to. Which honestly made me really sad because he had always been a person with who I could talk to about anything Star Wars related. Worst of all, a younger coworker who was wondering if to watch the series entered into watching "reviews" that were outright lying about what happened in the episodes or of people that straight up didn't watch it. He showed me a few and they were all the same. I had to spend a good while proving to him how the series was review bombed even before starting and just proving almost every lie those people were telling and how most of it. It was exhausting and terrifying, I was also really worried because this coworker is very young and what he showed me bordered some alt-right beliefs that should be near NOBODY. And, holy shit, was this a slide to the far right pipeline.

The only reason I didn't burn out is because I have a trusted group of friends with whom I could comment the episodes and have fun making jokes about it. Curiously, my dad also watched it and enjoyed it. But that's basically that's all I had to reduce my feedback of Star Wars for WEEKS to not burn out with how everything was going both online and real life.

And I know that there's a lot of toxic parts of the Star Wars fandom. My recommendation is not engage with any of the big names in the fandom (you know who I am referring to, specially in Youtube). Again, it's not that you cannot be critical, there is a lot to be critical in Star Wars, there is also much that one may dislike, but there is a line. And a lot of people that called themselves reviewers crossed and are so far away in their delusion of how anything that Disney does becomes an attack against them that they will never be able to enjoy the saga again. But raging like that will just result in another Rise of Skywalker, not another Empire Strikes Back.

Instead, look for friends with who you enjoy talking about Star Wars and have fun watching, playing, reading, etc with the saga. Because at the end of the day that's what we want, to have fun with it and enjoy the journey. Sometimes it may disappoint, but if you are always looking for that like a big part of the fandom that posts online, you are never going to enjoy it again.

And isn't Star Wars better when you focus on what makes you happy about it than on what you didn't like?

(Also, again, watch out for the people who are being racist, mysoginistic, homophobic... I can't emphasize how even I, that I try to curate as much as I can my experience in the fandom, I found them fast this time)

[fruitsoxs]

hi socks just wanna let u know i have been thinking about those vashwood as roommates headcanons and i always come back to it cz it’s somehow??? so comforting??? 10/10 chef’s kiss thank u!

it's honestly my comfort au-- so here's a part two ! (here's part one)

Having Vash and Wolfwood as roommates would include(part two);;

warnings;; I included some nsfw headcanons this time. they're at the end and have a warning. This also has a bit of fighting/angst that ends in fluff notes: i have a couple of fics in the work for this au. let me know if there any big moments you would like to see written out into a full fic! (also possibly a knives spin off??)

Their jobs/majors

I kind of feel like Vash is studying in the science department. Specifically something that has to do with plant science? Botany, Environmental science, maybe even biology? I know it’s a little on the nose but I really do think it would work perfectly for him

Maybe he even opens up his own little flower shop in the future??

No matter what he has a lot of labs and he is always tired after them.

He probably has a part-time job as a barista at a little cafe on campus

No thoughts just Vash in a cute little apron

He’s a fan favorite among the college kids. They say he makes the best coffee, and he sometimes gives people little freebies when they look sad

His manager Meryl actively yells at him for it, but she doesn’t actually care that much.

He ALWAYS will give you freebies if you come in to visit him. He gets a free drink as an employee, and he’ll save it for you just in case you come in. Sometimes he’ll even take it to go and drop it off for you

Wolfwood gives huge phycology vibes. Mans had a messed up childhood and wants nothing more than to help other people through that stuff

Either that or he’s an art student. I can see that too

He takes school very seriously, but he is horrible at math. He cannot divide to save his life. He’s had to retake his math class like three times

His job? Well nobody knows and at this point everyone is too scared to ask. (He’s a security guard lol)

Whatever it is, he hates it. He comes home grumpy and needs lots of hugs and kisses.

He’ll be all pouty and pissed off, and then you’ll give him a little kiss on the cheek and a small smile will break out 

Bonus; Knives is on the track to becoming a surgeon. I will die on the hill that he is going into the medical field. (he’d look so good in scrubs) and i know McDonalds knives is kind of funny, but I'm thinking he’s actually and EMT. Imagine getting hurt and having Knives be your first responder (id die on the spot)

First Date

It’s not really a date- well you don’t call it a date. Vash just walks in with a couple of free tickets to a haunted house event thing  and asks if you and Wolfwood want to come

You’re like hell yeah

The drive there is like the calm before the storm. You listen to some music, seated in front with wolfwood driving. He definitely has his hand on your thigh. Vash is super excited about finally doing something that isn’t getting high and playing games

You all thought it was gonna be some dumb little spooky house. They’re never that scary. It’s just fun to see all the decorations and actors

Oh boy were you wrong

It’s so well put together. The actors are really into it, and they have amazing make up. When you’re standing in line, some clown girl walks up to Vash and you watch the regret build up on his face. The guy is already terrified

The first hallway is pitch black, and you have to rely on a feeling your way through it. Vash is mumbling about how much he hates it the entire time

Wolfwood is like “Don’t worry guys I’ll protect you.” And then proceeds to let out the loudest scream when the lights come on and there’s a girl dressed up as a ghost standing there

Soon all three of you are huddled up, holding hands, and shaking

These things should not be that scary!!!

It’s Vash who gets you kicked out

He gets so spooked that he runs into a bunch of boxes and knocks one of the fake walls down. The entire thing has to stop to fix it

You’re all banned

After that you go eat pancakes and complain about how scary it was

When things get tense

Fights can happen sometimes

None of you are perfect, and those boys have gone through some shit

Vash tends to shut himself away from you when he’s upset. He doesn’t come out of his room, and when he does he pretends like he’s fine. 

He doesn’t like burdening other people with his problems.

Eventually it just starts to feel like he doesn’t trust you enough to let you in. SIt gets really bad when he tells you to go away one day, and you watch Wolfwood walk into his room 30 minutes later

It doesn’t really turn into a fight. You just get sad, and even a little insecure. So, you avoid him back. Not because you’re vengeful, just because you feel hurt

A few days of the two of you not talking and Vash is in tears by your door

He begs for forgiveness and explains why he’s like this

You tell him it’s okay, but what he does really hurt you. He promises to work on it, and he does

That night the two of you make up for loss time

Wolfwood and you fight a lot more

Most of the time it’s silly little arguments that you solve pretty fast

Wolfwood is bad at communicating in general. But especially when it comes to his feelings

He has really bad days sometimes, and he can get grumpy really fast these days, and one day you really piss him off

He won’t tell you what you did though, he just gives you the cold shoulder

That pisses you off because you’d so be willing to talk it out and apologize, but he won’t tell you what you did 

So you’re mad now too

Things are tense between you too, and it all comes to an end on movie night when you start arguing about what movie to watch

You want to watch one of your favorite movies from your childhood and he says that it’s a stupid movie

Things get heated fast, while Vash just disappears into the background. He that the two of you need to workout your problems on your own (but he really wants to intervene) 

When the tears start falling, Wolfwood immediately stops

He takes a breath, and the two of you sit down and just talk. 

You talk ALL night about what happened, and what the two of you could have done better. In the end, you fall asleep on his chest while he plays with your hair. 

You have movie night the next night to make up for it, and he puts the movie you wanted to watch in before you can even talk about it ( he ends up loving the movie and after that you two watch it all the time)

Id have to make an entire other thing for when Vash and Wolfwood fight because it’s no fun for anyone

NSFW stuff

After the three of you finally get past the awkward stages and start fucking, you find out these two are…horny

They’ll grab you and go to town any time

They really like to share you, but there’s no jealousy in the relationship so it’s okay for one on one time as well!

Wolfwood will pull you into steamy make out sessions whenever. He’ll do it out of nowhere. I imagine he just really likes you, and can’t get enough

He’s very handsy. He’ll constantly have his hand on your hips, or your thigh, and your waist. He likes touching you

He’s the type to sneak risqué touches in public. He like watching you struggle to not let anyone else know what he’s doing

Quickies everywhere with Wolfwood

Vash is a lot more loving (not that Wolfwood isn’t loving– he probably has cried during sex) 

Vash takes his time though. He wants every moment with you to be special. He likes to do stuff like rubbing your back, and peppering kisses down your shoulders. He’ll run his hand up your shirt, and kiss your neck softly. He builds up to it

He really likes shower/bath sex. It’s intimate and relaxing

He also like when you take control (i know he’s a whimperer)

He is so bad at any type of public sex though. He gets embarrassed way too easily (and i think Wolfwood has fun with that) 

When the three of you do it together it’s fucking electric 

[magpod-confessions]

hi. so because i'm normal about jonathan sims and jmart. um.

i really like jmart. i think there could have been MUCH better buildup, but... ultimately it's a very cute ship. i think the appeal, yeah, is a lot that it's just canon. but.

they're both deeply broken people. jon wasn't loved enough. his grandmother tried her best, but he was never cuddled, never read to, never had a chance to *be a little kid*, really. and martin was never loved. maybe he convinced himself he was just never loved the right way, that his mum just didn't know how to show it because he was so *insufferable* and *incompetant*, but no matter the lies he tells himself, martin was not shown love by his mother.

and then they meet. and martin gives and gives and gives because that's all he knows. and jon has no idea how to receive because he never really had anything to receive. and jon's coping mechanism, with that unknown situation, is to reinforce his emotional walls. martin does not know how to stop giving. so they don't work at this point, not at all.

and then jon's emotional walls come tumbling down. well, moreso that they were violently destroyed, with prentiss and all. jon has no support system!!! tim hates him because he's a fucking *stalker*, martin... well... he can't rely on martin, of all people. and sasha... he never knew her too well, but she's acting strange. so jon and martin don't work together at that point, romantically, i think partially because jon won't let it.

in big part, jmart is built on mutual trauma (NOT traumabonding!! i know it's used that way in podcast, but that's not the correct definition) and ... martin being pretty much the only person jon has left. of course, there's basira and melanie and georgie, but they don't *get it*. they didn't go through everything jon did alongside him. sure, martin didn't either, but martin has been there the whole time.

it's partially a relationship of proximity, partially shared trauma, but i do think a lot of it is genuine care for each other (even if that care stems from the former two reasons).

anyways. theyre really cute. tma could have been just as good without it, but---and im saying this as someone who typically despises most romance in media---i really adore them and their dynamic. it opens up so many doors for both character- and self-exploration.

martin learning to love without sacrificing himself. jon learning to love openly, period. explorations of trust and how mutual trauma that affected people in different ways can shape them, etc etc etc. and of course, this is all in fics and in my own mind, because . theyre dead . (i wont accept any ending but that, honestly. theyre not Somewhere Else to me). but. it's nice. they mean a lot to me as characters and as people and as a pair. thumbs up.

and some jon ranting!! because i. admit. finally. that i might be a bit of a jon kinnie.

jon doubts himself, constantly, unless his decision is completely impulsive (ex. the coffin). he can't *let* himself feel, fully, because as a child it was always annoying/obnoxious, or too much, or wrong in some ambiguous, nebulous way.

he's out of touch with himself emotionally. it's... not so much that he doesn't get emotions, it's moreso that he's repressed the majority of his own so intensely that he has a hard time dealing with others' emotions because he's not too sure what it's supposed to feel like without a heavy flavouring of shame.

he's read a lot of books. he knows, in theory, what sadness or romantic love or anger or excitement feels like---and occasionally in practice, when the repression and 'compartmentalisation' (bottling it up) becomes too much and it all boils over---but he has a hard time relating those hypothetical and heat-of-the-moment feelings to actual, real life people.

he struggles with empathy, severely. partially an autistic thing, partially a trauma response. yknow. he's genuinely well-meaning when it comes to comforting those he cares about, but he's not sure of the right thing to say because of how severely that muscle has atrophied. he was never taught that with his grandmother and her neglect (and yes, no matter what he says on tape, it was emotional neglect) and then not having very many friends... he missed those prime developmental stages as a child.

he never empathised with book characters, i don't think. he was always the observer, never really fully putting himself in the role of the protagonist. he definitely used books as an escapist coping mechanism, but it wasn't in a visiting-this-fictional-world way, it was more of a losing-himself-in-the-story way, if that makes sense. there was always a sense of detachment. reading was an *in between* of his life and the life of the protagonist.

he struggles with his and others' feelings because, from his perspective, his emotions are uniquely shameful, uniquely embarrassing, and uniquely *harmful* to other people. so, he represses them, and doesn't let himself feel them unless they're 'useful'. and then, when he can't apply this ideology to others' emotions, he has no way to deal with them. he freezes up because this is a situation in which he has no real experience in, and, as a child who was punished for behaving autistically *wrong* ---whether by his peers or his grandmother---he's scared to make a wrong move.

he sees himself as a person who is uniquely capable of harm. other people can hurt other people, sure, but jon can hurt them in a *special* way, a *worse* way, because he is a fundamentally wrong, bad person.

yeah👍

.🗣️

I AM EATING THIS I agree with this yea

[scrollonso]

Always — Lawhan

for @ellearts and not beta read at all...

Sitting in silence isn’t something new for Liam and Jack; they’ve done it plenty of times before. They don’t always need words to convey how they’re feeling — sometimes they just need each other’s company to feel better.

It feels a little different this time, though. Because Liam is in his underwear and most of his clothes are shed along with the mask he’s been wearing his entire life. There’s a lightness in him now — one that reaches down to his very bones — because he knows, finally. Or, maybe he’d known all along and had just become such an expert at hiding it from everyone else that he eventually started hiding it from himself, too. But he accepts, now.

He accepts who he is and the reason why all of his relationships have failed. He accepts that the only thing broken inside of him are the pieces of himself he’d torn apart trying to make himself belong.

And, above everything else, he accepts that this feeling he gets in his chest whenever Jack is around — whenever Liam so much as thinks about him — is love. The real, honest, life-altering kind. The kind he’s been searching for in every woman who gave him the time of day, without realizing it’s always been right by his side.

And it’s a scary thing to come to terms with, knowing it could change everything.

When Yuki is 800 miles away, and isn’t here for Liam to explain it to him. But it feels like a part of himself has slotted into place now. It turns out the piece he’d looked for in Hannah, in Andrea, and in Danielle was inside himself all along. And he knows — he knows — that this is the biggest step to healing things with himself. Because now that Liam knows, understands, and accepts himself, he feels whole enough on his own that he doesn’t feel the need to make up for his past mistakes. Liam doesn’t feel like he has to make up for the fact that he isn’t enough. Because he is.

So Liam feels like he can breathe a little bit easier now. He feels free.

But Jack feels like a different matter entirely, and not just because Liam is so in love with him that he can feel it pulsing in his veins.

He can tell that something is going on with Jack. He can feel the — not hurt, but confusion, maybe, that’s radiating off him. It feels like grasping fingers reaching out for something. It feels like maybe Jack has come here to find out what it is, exactly, that he’s reaching for.

They’ve been sitting in silence for maybe ten minutes when Jack finally breaks it.

“So, Mick broke up with me.”

Liam startles at that, his head swiveling to the left to look at Jack — to take in the expression on his face, the language of his body, the glint in his eyes. He looks…not sad, exactly, but sad-adjacent, like maybe he’s having mixed feelings about it. Liam isn’t having mixed feelings, of course. Liam’s only feeling right now is relief, and he has to swallow down the thank god that almost slips from between his lips.

“Oh. Okay. Uh, what— what happened?”

Jack sighs. “Well, he was engaged to Laila, for one.”

Liam chokes on his beer. “He was what? Engaged?”

Jack hums in confirmation, unsure what exactly to say next.

Liam doesn’t even want to touch that, honestly. He kind of feels like he’s reeling a little bit, like he’s gotten whiplash from the sudden change in direction. Because whatever he’d thought Jack was going to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I was weird about it at first, you know, because I've known him all my life and suddenly he's engaged but still wants us to fuck on the side,” Jack admits. “But… but then I talked to my dad, and I made my peace with it. Y’know?”

Liam nods his head. “Okay, so that's why you broke up with him?”

“Well, I asked him to move in with me.”

Liam almost chokes again. Because — because of course he did. That’s such a Jack thing to do.

He has a habit of trying to hold onto long-dead things because he’s scared of being left behind. He loves so big, and loud, and fast — and it’s such a beautiful thing to witness, and to be on the receiving end of — but it makes him impulsive, sometimes. Makes him dig his claws and teeth in to try and keep that love from leaving him, even when that love isn’t the good kind; even when it doesn’t come close to being enough for someone like Jack.

“And he said no, because he thinks I’d break his heart — he loves Laila. He said he’s my first, but he won’t be my last.”

Liam thinks that’s probably the smartest thing Mick has ever said.

And look, he doesn’t hate the guy — they were friends, even though that’s kind of faded since he started seeing Jack — but Liam knows, without a doubt, that Mick isn’t the right person for Jack. He’ll be the right person for someone, for Laila maybe. But not Jack, who needs affection, and attention, and reassurance. Jack, who needs to feel seen, and heard, and understood.

Mick couldn’t even call him by his name half the time, for god’s sake. He was always Doohan.

“That’s… a lot,” Liam acknowledges. “How are you feeling about it all?” he asks, because while Liam is certain this is the right thing in the long run, he doesn’t ever want Jack to be hurting.

Jack sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I feel… I feel like I should feel worse, if that makes sense?”

He pauses and looks to Liam, maybe to gauge his reaction. So Liam shifts in his seat, tucking one of his legs up onto the couch so he can comfortably turn and face Jack as he’s talking. Jack mirrors him, pulling his own leg up onto the couch so their knees are pressed together. Liam nods encouragingly, and Jack gives him a sweet smile before continuing.

“It sucks,” he says, “because I feel like I’m back on that goddamn hamster wheel again, just running around in circles and getting absolutely nowhere. But… but I don’t really think I’m sad about him. About Mick.”

“You’re not?” Liam pushes.

“I think, unfortunately, he was probably right,” Jack says, grimacing like it hurts him to admit it. “He was the first guy I’ve ever been with, y’know, and I’m grateful for that, but. But I was never going to fall in love with him, or anything.”

It’s probably selfish for Liam to feel relieved at the sound of that, but he can’t quite control the way he lets out a breath and his entire body relaxes.

It’s just — Jack doesn’t have to want Liam back, this isn’t about that, but. But Liam and Mick are actually kind of similar in a lot of ways — though they’re different in far more — and Liam would probably spend the rest of his life sick with envy if Mick turned out to be the one for Jack, instead of Liam. If Jack fell in love with someone who was like Liam, but not him. It might have made him crazy, actually.

“I mean, that’s good, right?” Liam asks. “It’s not like you’re losing the love of your life.”

Jack’s breath hitches, and his face falls as he says, “Like you did?”

He hadn’t planned to talk about this right now. He’d wanted to give himself time to adjust to the new label he’s assigned to himself, before sharing it with anyone else. But… but this is Jack, and Liam trusts him more than anybody else in the world. He trusts him with his life and with his vulnerability, so he knows that his heart is safe with Jack, too. Because even if Jack doesn’t want it, he would never do anything to hurt it.

So he takes a steadying breath, like he’s preparing to go into battle, then he says, “No. No, I loved Hannah; she was like my best friend. But… but she wasn’t the love of my life.”

Jack’s eyebrows pull down in confusion as he asks, “She— she wasn’t?”

Liam laughs a little, shaking his head. He gets Jack’s confusion because he was confused about it for a long time as well. But he knows that not being in love with Shannon will never take away from the fact that he did love her. She’ll always be important in Liam's life, and she’ll always hold a piece of his heart, but she wasn’t the great, big love of his life. That honor belongs to someone else.

“I, um,” Liam hesitates, glancing down for a moment at the way his bare knee is pressed against Jack’s. “I’m gay.”

He’s met with stunned silence, and the swirling anxiety in his chest forces him to look back up at Jack’s face. Jack’s mouth is parted in shock, and his blue eyes are wide and shining as he meets Liam’s gaze. For a moment, Jack is completely still, frozen by the revelation. But then, gradually, a slow, wide grin spreads across his face, and his open palm lands on Liam’s bare thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, voice filled with excitement and something that sounds a lot like pride. “Oh my god, Liam. That’s… that’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.” There’s genuine joy and elation in his voice, but for Liam, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything except the warmth of Jack’s hand on his leg, the feeling grounding him, comforting him.

“Yeah?” Liam asks, his voice coming out a little breathless from both the intensity of Jack’s touch and the overwhelming relief that washes over him at seeing Jack so happy, so accepting.

Jack laughs, bright and light. “Yes, of course!” he exclaims, and then, without warning, “Come here.”

In a heartbeat, Jack is kneeling up on the couch, towering over Liam as he leans forward and throws his arms around him in a bear hug so tight and fierce that it knocks a bit of breath out of Liam. Jack’s arms wrap securely around Liam’s shoulders, and Liam’s face is pressed against Jack’s chest, where he can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. Liam’s own hands come up to tentatively rest around Jack’s waist, and he finds himself melting into the embrace, feeling like he’s somehow found a safe haven.

Jack rests his cheek on top of Liam’s head, holding him tightly, protectively, as if he’s telling Liam through the strength of his embrace that he’s here, that he’s got him, no matter what. Liam has spent so much of his life carrying burdens, constantly bracing himself for impact, and here, in Jack’s arms, it feels like he’s allowed to let it all go, to just be, with Jack holding him together.

A laugh escapes from Liam, muffled against Jack’s chest, and Jack joins in, the sound rich and joyful as they sway slightly from the force of their shared laughter. As they pull back just a little, Jack keeps his hand nestled in the space between Liam’s shoulder and neck, his thumb tracing light, comforting patterns along the base of his neck. They’re sitting even closer than before, knees brushing, faces mere inches apart. Liam could count every one of Jack’s eyelashes if he wanted to, and the thought is surprisingly tender, making his heart beat just a little faster.

Jack’s voice is soft and a little breathless as he says, “Sorry. Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

Liam looks at him, feeling strangely open, and murmurs, “I don’t mind.” His voice comes out a bit too honest, even to his own ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wants Jack to know.

Jack’s eyes widen, and a faint flush of pink rises on his cheeks, a mixture of bashfulness and hope that makes him look impossibly endearing. “No?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

And as his gaze dips down to Liam’s lips, Liam can feel a warmth spreading through his chest, something steady and sure. “No, Jack,” he replies, his own voice soft but full of meaning. “I don’t mind. Not when it’s you.”

He feels Jack’s hand tighten on his shoulder, and he opens his mouth to say something, but the words fade as he watches Jack’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Liam wants to lean in and taste him — wants to get lost in everything Jack. But something holds him back, a last moment of hesitation.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry, that was too much. You’ve just brok—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

In an instant, Jack is surging forward, pulling Liam closer as he does, and then, in the blink of an eye, Jack’s lips are on his. Liam doesn’t have to wonder what Jack tastes like anymore; he just flicks his tongue out and steals a taste. When Jack moans into his mouth, Liam swallows it down, pressing closer, pushing Jack backward until there’s enough room for him to swing a leg over Jack’s thighs and settle in his lap. And when Jack’s hands splay across the curve of his ribs, Liam melts into his touch.

It’s his first time kissing a man, but Liam knows instantly that it feels right. There’s no sense of performing, no need to think about his next move, because everything flows naturally, instinctively. Every touch, every taste, every breath — they all feel like they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

He knows, right down to his core, that this is exactly where he belongs.

Jack’s fingers curl around Liam’s waist as he captures Liam’s bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug that makes Liam whine louder than he’d intended, his hips jerking of their own accord. Jack’s grip tightens, and he breaks their kiss only to press their foreheads together, both of them breathing hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” Jack pants, his breath hot against Liam’s lips. “Holy shit, you’re— you’re... Liam.”

“I want you,” Liam whispers, peppering tiny kisses from the corner of Jack’s mouth and all along his jaw. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Because even before Liam truly knew it, he’d wanted Jack. Liam’s soul has been reaching out to Jack’s from the very beginning. And he might have spent too many years ignoring the universe’s call, but he won’t turn away from it a single second longer.

“I want you, too,” Jack murmurs, voice rough and filled with emotion. “Always, Liam. Always you.”

As those words sink in — as they seep into Liam’s blood and saturate his bones — it feels like they are rewriting his very DNA. It’s as if loving Jack, and being loved by him, is reshaping the core of who Liam is. For the first time, he finally feels like someone he recognizes.

And maybe it should feel too fast, this thing between them that’s burning, growing, ravaging him from the inside out. Maybe Liam should want to slow it down, take a moment to breathe, let his mind catch up with his body — with his heart. But he’s tried fast with Hannah, and slow with Andrea and Danielle, and none of those things had worked out because they weren’t this. They weren’t a man.

They weren’t Jack, with his big, calloused hands, warm and steady against Liam’s waist as he pulls him closer. They weren’t Jack, who’s leaning down to bite, to suck, to leave marks that Liam wants to wear forever.

He doesn’t want to stop; he doesn’t even want to slow down. He wants this, here, for the rest of his life. He’s past wondering if he deserves it, past questioning if he’s good enough for someone like Jack, past being afraid of the depth of love he feels. He wants Jack selfishly, wants him greedily, and if Jack is willing to give himself over, then Liam isn’t selfless enough to say no. He isn’t strong enough to deny himself this kind of joy.

“Need you,” Liam whispers, almost begging. “Please, Jack. Please.”

He tilts his head, exposing his neck for Jack’s lips and teeth and tongue to explore, leaving a trail down to his collarbone. Jack sucks the skin into his mouth, biting in a way that makes Liam shiver, moan, and grind against Jack’s hardening length.

He feels frantic, desperate, like he might fall apart if Jack doesn’t do something soon.

“What do you need?” Jack murmurs. “Tell me what you need, Li.”

“You,” Liam answers, barely able to hold back. “I need you. Just you.”

Jack tips his head back, resting it on the couch, eyes squeezed shut. The smile on his face, the blush creeping up his cheeks — it’s enough to drive Liam wild, and he has to swallow down a whine at the sight of him.

“You’re killing me,” Jack pants, and Liam laughs softly.

“Well, we don’t want that,” he teases.

But then Jack is helping Liam off his lap and jumping to his feet, and they’re standing so close that their chests brush together with every breath. Liam can’t resist leaning forward to steal another kiss from Jack. It’s all tongue, teeth, and wandering hands, and Liam’s entire body feels like jelly in Jack’s hands — soft, malleable, ready to bend to Jack’s will.

“Jack,” Liam whines again, his hands tugging at Jack’s hair.

“Bedroom?” Jack murmurs against Liam’s mouth.

Liam nods so quickly their noses bump together, and they both break into laughter. Jack pulls back to press a kiss to the tip of Liam’s nose — it’s soft and silly, and Liam has never had this before. He’s never been able to laugh like this with someone, always feeling like he needed to be on, so focused on doing the right things that he forgot to enjoy himself. But with Jack… with Jack, he thinks it might actually be fun.

“Bedroom,” he agrees, and Jack’s eyes darken with heat.

“Let’s go.”

Liam untangles his hands from Jack’s hair and instead grabs hold of his wrist. He tugs him out of the living room and down the hall, glancing back every few seconds like he’s afraid Jack will suddenly disappear. But each time he looks back, he finds Jack’s eyes on him — watching the back of his head, the stretch of his shoulders in his old alpha tauri, the ripple of his bare thighs with every step he takes.

It makes Liam feel wanted. Makes him feel desired.

As they reach Liam’s bedroom door, Jack tugs his hand back until Liam turns around to face him. Then, with one hand on Liam’s hip and the other on the door, he gently nudges Liam backward into the room.

Once he’s shut the door, Jack leans back against it, taking a moment to just look. His eyes roam slowly, lingering, unhurried as they travel over Liam, and Liam feels like a work of art being admired. He feels like something beautiful to look at and savor, even in his wrinkled shirt and boxer-briefs. The look makes his blood fizz, and he steps toward Jack with his hands outstretched, stopping only when his fingertips press into Jack’s stomach.

Liam drops to the floor between Jack’s feet, and the feeling that washes over him as he looks up… it’s like he’s kneeling at the altar of a god of his own making. But Jack looks down at him like he’s the one doing the worshipping. Like Liam is the one who’s holy. Jack places a gentle hand on Liam’s jaw, caressing his cheek with his thumb, then brushes it over the smooth space above Liam’s top lip, taking in every inch of his skin he hadn't before.

“I missed your face,” Jack says easily, as if those words don’t slide down Liam’s spine and settle in his stomach like molten lava.

Then Jack’s thumb continues to trace Liam’s face until it reaches his lips. Liam’s mouth drops open involuntarily, and he doesn’t miss the spark in Jack’s eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Jack whispers, slipping his thumb into Liam’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue as he sucks. “So fucking beautiful.”

Liam trembles, his body and mind feeling as if they’re floating — like he’s here but not fully, watching this happen to a better man than him. But then Jack is sliding his thumb out, dragging it down so Liam’s saliva spreads across his chin and cools against his skin. Then Jack holds Liam’s face in one hand, tilting it up so Liam is looking directly into his eyes.

Liam feels so desperate for him that he can’t help himself. He raises his hands, curls them around the back of Jack’s thighs, and leans forward, mouthing against the outline of Jack’s hard length. Maybe he should feel nervous — maybe a perfectionist like Liam should worry about getting it right for his first time — but the shudder that runs through Jack’s body is enough to ease any of those concerns.

“Fuck, Liam,” Jack groans, his hand moving to the back of Liam’s head to tug on his hair.

“Can I?” Liam asks.

“Yes, baby. Of course.”

The word baby drips over him like honey, and his hands tremble as he undoes Jack’s button and zip, pulling his jeans and briefs over his hips and down his thighs. Jack steps out of them, and Liam helps him remove his socks, and then… he’s confronted with the sight of Jack’s cock, hard and flushed, glistening at the tip, like he’s just as desperate for this as Liam is. It’s the first time he’s ever been this close to one that isn’t his own, and the surge of desire that rushes through him almost takes him by surprise. Almost… but this is Jack, after all. It should never be a surprise to Liam just how much he craves him.

So Liam leans forward, his tongue slipping out to steal a taste of Jack. He curls it as he licks at him, and when Jack’s hand tightens in his hair, he takes it as his cue to close his mouth around the tip. Jack feels soft and silky on Liam’s tongue, and though the taste is a little bitter, Liam finds himself wanting more. And when Jack shudders, groaning and moaning Liam’s name like a prayer, Liam lets every thought leave his head except for how good this feels and how hard he already is.

“Liam, fuck,” Jack moans. “Holy shit, sweetheart. You’re so good. So good for me.”

The words make Liam feel light-headed, a tremor rippling through his body as he palms himself through his briefs. He’s never been praised during sex before — never been told he’s good — and he hadn’t even considered that it might be something he’s into, until he hears those words on Jack’s lips. Suddenly, he wants to hear it again and again, wants to earn it by making Jack feel good.

But as he takes Jack deeper — as far as his throat will let him — Jack gently guides Liam off him. Before Liam even has a chance to worry he’s doing something wrong, Jack is pulling him up to his feet and pressing their mouths together, groaning as he tastes himself on Liam’s lips. Liam melts into Jack, sinking into his chest as Jack holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re too good at that,” Jack murmurs against his lips, making Liam laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack confirms. “But now it’s my turn.”

He maneuvers Liam toward the bed, then pushes on his shoulders until he’s sitting on the edge. Taking Liam’s face between his hands, Jack kisses him once, twice, three more times, before his hands drift down to the collar of Liam’s shirt. He tugs on it, raising a single, questioning eyebrow, but Liam just shrugs and grins at him. Then Jack’s steady, practiced hands begin to unfasten each of Liam’s buttons one by one, and it probably shouldn’t feel so intense, but with Jack, it feels borderline erotic.

He slips the shirt off Jack’s shoulders and tosses it onto the floor, then he strips off his own t-shirt and throws it there, too. And suddenly Liam is looking at all of Jack — at the tan evenly spread across his skin, and the rosy pink of his nipples. The soft curves of his belly, and the length of his cock that is still slick with Liam’s spit. He’s a fucking work of art, and it blows Liam’s mind a little to realise that a man as glorious as Jack could ever want him back. But then he’s placing his hand in the centre of Liam’s chest and pushing him backwards, and as Liam slides up the bed so he’s resting on the pillows, Jack climbs in between his open legs.

He presses a kiss to both of Liam’s ankles as he pulls off his socks, then a kiss to both of his knees. When his mouth makes it to Liam’s thighs, he bites and sucks like he’s trying to leave his mark behind — like he’s trying to stake his claim. It feels heady, and possessive, and Liam’s heart thunders dangerously fast inside his chest.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Jack… please.”

“What do you want, Liam?” He asks, his mouth so close to Liam’s cock that he can feel his breath on it. “You only have to ask.”

“Suck me,” he begs. “I need your mouth.”

It’s hot as it closes over his clothed dick, and Liam would feel ashamed of the whimper that bursts out of him if this was with anyone else. Then again, he doubts anyone else could ever make him feel like this — could make him let go so completely and give up all of his control. Jack is special, though. And here in this room, with Jack between his legs, there’s no shame or embarrassment or worry. There’s just love. So much of it that Liam can taste it with every breath that he breathes.

He gasps when Jack’s fingertips dig into his hipbones, curling beneath the waistband of his briefs so he can tug them down. Liam lifts his hips to make it easier for Jack, but he whines when the action makes him press himself against Jack’s open mouth. Jack chuckles at the sound, and at the tremor that ripples through Liam’s body. The smile he gives him — all teeth, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks and a kissed-pink mouth — is absolutely devastating.

Liam can’t stop himself from reaching down, scratching his fingers into Jack’s hair and swiping his thumb down the side of Jack’s cheek. Jack turns to press a kiss to the palm of Liam’s hand.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Jack says.

And then he closes his mouth around Liam’s bare cock, and Liam sees stars.

It feels like champagne bubbles beneath the surface of his skin, and popping candy beneath his ribs. It feels bigger, better, more, than anything has ever felt before. Liam feels alive, and breathless, and he’s never wanted anybody the way that he wants Jack. It surpasses want and burrows right into need — into a desperate, aching compulsion. And I love you is on the very tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down and instead says “More. I need more, Jack. Please.”

“So polite,” Jack teases him, as he presses a delicate kiss to the very bottom of his stomach. “Use your words and tell me what you need, Li.”

Liam almost wants to cry. As someone who’s spent his whole life ignoring his own wants and needs, to ask for something now feels almost impossible.Though, as he catches Jack’s eyes and sees the shine in them, he thinks maybe that’s exactly why Jack is doing this: he’s teaching him to want. He’s teaching him that it’s okay.

“Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you inside me,” Liam whispers.

He feels his cheeks flaming with colour, because to be caught in the act of wanting has always felt so embarrassing to him. But then a smile spreads across Jack’s face, and he says, “Good job, baby,” and Liam simply melts.

Jack moves so he’s hovering over Liam, and he leans down to kiss and kiss and kiss him, as he roots around in the drawer of his bedside table for…he leans back, and holds up a bottle of lube. Liam feels his cheeks heat again, and he bites his lip, but he refuses to look away from Jack.

“Are you sure?” Jack asks.

“I need you,” Liam says. “I want you.”

He wants more. Wants to be as close to Jack as he possibly can be. He’s spent years wanting to climb into Jack’s skin and burrow beneath his ribs — years wanting to merge their bodies together, like their souls already are, long before he even knew what that really meant. And he doesn’t want to wait. Not because they’re in any rush…not because he’s worried he might not get another chance at this. But because he knows, as certainly as he’s ever known anything, that this is it for him.

Jack is the only person he’ll ever love like this, and he doesn’t want to waste any more time being afraid of wanting things. Especially not when Jack is giving him permission to.

Jack sucks Liam back into his mouth, and Liam gets lost in the pleasure of it — in the slick, wet heat, and the knowledge that this is Jack making him feel so good. He flinches a little when he feels the cool lube against his skin, but as Jack begins to gently rub at his hole, Liam groans and pushes back against him.

“Greedy,” Jack taunts him, and Liam whines.

But he gives Liam what he’s asking for anyway.

“Relax for me, Li,” Jack murmurs, his lips still brushing against Liam’s cock. “You can take it.”

Jack’s words, and his sickly sweet voice, and the feeling of electricity coursing through Liam’s veins is almost too much to handle. And then Jack’s finger presses inside of him, and the slight burn — the stretch as Liam’s body adjusts — is absolutely wonderful. The moans that pour out of him are filthy, and debauched, and he’s acutely aware that he’s never felt this good in his entire life.

Jack works him open slowly and gently, his lips and tongue and mouth still working over his dick as Liam loosens around his finger. Then, as Jack slips a second finger into him, he begins to make his way up Liam’s body. He kisses along Liam’s stomach, sucking hickies into the divots of his abs. When his mouth closes around Liam’s nipple, and then his other one, Liam feels like his soul is ascending and leaving his body behind.

The sensations are all so much — Jack’s fingers inside him, and his grip on Liam’s hip, and his mouth suckling at Liam’s nipples. Liam’s body doesn’t feel like his anymore, it feels like Jack’s. And he knows it’s never been in better hands.

He should have known Jack would be like this — should have known he would give, and give, and give, even here in the bedroom. But it still takes Liam a little bit by surprise; it still steals his breath how thoroughly Jack dedicates himself to taking Liam apart. Because that’s what this feels like — like Liam is being unstitched at the seams, like he’s being unravelled by Jack’s gentle touch before he slowly puts him back together again, even better than he was before.

By the time Jack has kissed his way up Liam’s throat and is feeding him his tongue, he’s pushing a third finger inside of him. Liam whimpers, and trembles, and he bites on Jack’s lip as the stretch makes all of his nerve-endings feel like they’ve been set ablaze. He arches his chest into Jack’s, wanting to be touching him everywhere possible, and Jack — reading his mind like he always does — lowers his weight onto Liam and presses him down into the mattress.

Jack’s fingers curl inside of him and Liam cries out as they find that spot that’s never been touched before. It feels like lightning. Feels like heaven, and hell, and sin. Feels holy.

“Oh,” Jack says with a grin, then does it again. Liam gasps, one hand gripping Jack’s bicep and the other the back of his neck. “There it is. Does that feel good sweetheart?”

Liam nods. “Yes, yes Jack, please. More. I need more,” he pants. “I need you. You feel so good, baby.”

“You want me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“In here?” Jack asks, curling his fingers again until Liam is writhing and his cock is smearing precum between their stomachs.

“Yes,” Liam whimpers through gritted teeth.

“Anything for you, Liam,” Jack promises.

As he kisses Liam again, slow and sweet, and so deep Liam feels it right down to the marrow of his bones, he searches in the bedside drawer once again. But when he pulls out a condom and holds it up to show Liam, Liam takes it from between his fingers and tosses it on the floor.

“No,” he says. “I wanna feel you. Jus' you, if.. if you’re—”

“I’m clean,” Jack promises. “Are you sure?”

And Liam has never been more sure of anything in his life. So he nods his head, and pulls Jack back down to kiss him, and he rocks his hips up into Jack’s so their cocks glide together. He groans when Jack slides his fingers out of Liam’s hole, and the loss almost feels like too much — he grips Jack tighter, pulls him closer, kisses him harder, but Jack just chuckles. He slows down the kiss until it’s languid, and tender, and Liam is shaking from the gentleness of it.

Then Jack’s hands are wrapping around Liam’s thighs and pushing them back, kissing the mole on the back of his leg. And Liam feels vulnerable and exposed in a way that’s entirely new to him. But Jack looks down greedily at the scene Liam is presenting him, and he groans at the sight of it. He hooks the tip of his thumb into Liam’s hole, and Liam gasps.

“I’m tasting you here later, okay?” Jack says, and Liam almost blacks out at the thought of it.

“Okay,” Liam agrees breathlessly.

“Are you ready?” Jack asks, looking Liam right in the eyes. “We can stop at any time, okay? All you have to do is-”

“-fuck me,” Liam begs. “Jack, please. I need you inside me.”

The first press of Jack’s dick against Liam’s hole feels like the first hit of morphine when you’re in pain — it soothes an ache inside of Liam that’s been hurting him for as long as he can remember. Jack kisses him through it, as Liam’s body stretches to accommodate Jack’s, and it suddenly dawns on him that he can taste himself on Jack’s tongue. It’s dirty, and heady, and it makes his cock twitch in the space between their bodies.

Jack pulls back and looks down to watch as he slides home inside of Liam, and when he’s finally all the way in — when he’s burrowed so deep inside of Liam that he can feel him in his heart — he looks back up to him and smiles. Big, and bright, and fucking earth-shattering.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jack whispers. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He lets his fingers trace Liam’s blush from his cheeks, down his throat, all the way to the centre of his chest, and then stops right over his beating heart. He presses a kiss there, and then he looks back up to Liam and says, “Are you ready?”

“Move,” Liam all but begs. “Fuck me, Jack. I need you to.”

And the thing about Jack, is that he’s never denied Liam anything. He would give him anything — everything — that he asked for and not even think twice about it, and that’s been the case for as long as they’ve known each other. So when Liam pleads for Jack to fuck him, he gives him exactly what he asks for.

He pulls out slowly, watching Liam’s face for any sign that he’s in pain, and when he finds none — when he finds only pleasure there — he rocks back into him.

Liam gasps at the intrusion, and he tangles his fingers into Jack’s hair and pulls him down. He doesn’t kiss him though, he just rests their foreheads together and breathes in Jack’s air as he begins to build a slow, steady rhythm. It’s addictive, the way the heat burns low and slow in the pit of his stomach. The sensations build and build as Jack fucks into him, until Liam is shaking and whining and desperate for more.

“Harder,” Liam demands. “Harder, Jack. I need it.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. “You need more, baby?”

“Please,” Liam says, like it’s the only word he can seem to remember. “Please.”

His hands trail down Jack’s back, nails digging in and scratching until Jack gasps and fucks into him harder. Then he’s reaching back to snatch Liam’s hands away, lacing their fingers together and slamming them down onto the mattress. He slides their joined hands under the pillow beneath Liam’s head, and orders “keep them there.”

The command — the show of dominance — has Liam melting beneath him, and when Jack’s hand comes to rest at the base of Liam’s throat, he whines and arches up into him. He wants to reach for Jack, but he wants to be good — wants to do what Jack told him to. So he grasps at the pillow as Jack starts to fuck him in the way he’s been begging for. Not fast, still so slow that the pleasure in Liam’s body builds agonisingly. But Jack is thrusting into him so hard that the headboard starts to rattle, and Liam’s body begins to sing.

And while one of Jack’s hands remains at the base of his throat — not squeezing, just holding him there like he owns him — he reaches the other one up and he curls it around the top of Liam’s head so he doesn’t bang it against the headboard.

It’s ridiculous, and it’s embarrassing, but the gesture is so sweet and caring and intimate, that tears begin to blur his vision. He has to squeeze his eyes shut so Jack doesn’t see them and worry — so he doesn’t stop. But Jack clearly doesn’t want him to look away, because he tuts under his breath and bites gently at the curve of Liam’s jaw.

“Give me those eyes, sweetheart,” Jack commands, and Liam is helpless to do anything but obey.

As he opens his eyes the tears he’d been trying to hide leak out, dripping from the corner and sliding down the sides of his face. Liam’s breath hitches, and he whimpers at the look in Jack’s eyes when he sees that Liam is crying. A flash of concern passes over his face, and his hips stutter like he’s about to stop, so Liam wraps his legs around Jack’s waist and squeezes his thighs.

“Don’t stop,” he begs. “I’ll die. I’ll die if you stop.”

The dramatics would probably be humiliating if Liam stopped to think about the words spilling out of his mouth. But he’s so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can think about is keeping Jack inside of him — is never letting him go.

And then Jack is leaning forwards and capturing Liam’s mouth in a kiss that absolutely wrecks him. He whispers, “You’re so good, baby. Taking it so well for me,” and Liam writhes, and cries, and surrenders his body, and mind, and his heart to Jack.

“Jack,” Liam whimpers, desperate and frantic. He’s not sure what he’s asking for — not sure what he needs — but he knows that Jack will find a way to give it to him anyway.

“I’ve got you, Liam,” Jack promises. “I’ll take care of you. You’re doing so good, baby. So perfect for me.”

The hand on his throat tightens just a little, and Jack pegs his prostate, and then Liam is cumming — completely untouched, with a silent gasp on his lips as he trembles through his release. And as his body shakes, and he tightens around Jack, he feels Jack cumming too… feels him fill Liam in a way that makes him feel more whole than he’s ever done in his life.

More tears slip from his eyes, and then Jack is leaning down to kiss them away, and it’s so sweet that Liam needs to hold him. He moves his hands from where Jack had placed them beneath the pillow, and he winds them around Jack. With his legs still wrapped around his back he tugs, and Jack lets out a soft laugh as he lets his weight fall onto Liam.

“That was…” Liam pants, trailing off because he can’t quite find the words to describe it.

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Jack agrees. “You were perfect, Liam.”

Liam snatches a kiss and says, “So were you. Thank you.” The smile Jack gives him in return is a thing of absolute beauty.

Jack is slow and careful as he pulls his softening cock out of Liam, and then he flops down beside him. Liam hadn’t wanted them to separate — had wanted to keep Jack inside of him forever — but Jack doesn’t pull away. He leans on his elbow and slips his free hand between Liam’s legs, using his fingers to push his cum back inside of Liam in a move that feels so filthy - so territorial — that Liam throws his head back and groans.

Jack leans down and kisses Liam’s exposed throat, biting at the underside of his jaw, until his lips press against Liam’s again, and again, and again.

“Jack, I…”

He reaches his hand up and tugs on the sweat-slick curl that falls down over Jack’s forehead, making Jack laugh and pretend to bite at Liam’s fingers as he pulls away. Liam laughs too, loud and carefree and easy.

“I love you, Jack,” Liam confesses.

“I love you, too.”

And Liam still isn’t quite ready to believe that he deserves this, but he’s going to take it anyway. He’s going to grasp it between both hands and never let it go. Because even if Liam doesn’t think he’s worthy of him, Jack clearly seems to think that he is, and there’s nobody in this world that he trusts more than Jack.

“You’re my last,” Jack says. “You’re my always.”

And Liam likes the sound of that.

[heaven4lostgirls]

As much as I want to believe that it isn't my fault... I just can't seem to bring myself to do it.... like somehow... a part of me... a part of my childhood... a part of my mind that still believed One Direction would be back, died along with Liam... and hell, I'd not even want a reunion, if I can somehow bring him back to life... and on the other hand... I've been so out of touch with what's going on with the boys, that all these allegations on him... that too after he passed... it's tearing my mind apart... I want to tell myself that that wasn't the Payno we knew... the Payno I grew up listening to... the one who could bring a smile on anyone's face.... the dance master Leeroy... the one afraid of fucking spoons, ridiculous, isn't it..? the silliness... the person himself.... I'm not willing to believe that he... he got so bad... that everyone let it get so bad... that somehow I was a part of it too... idk... can't stop that nagging feeling....

As a fan of Justin Bieber AND One Direction, I'm truly scared for what might happen to Justin now... the Biebers have a son... I don't want to, can't, lose another of my favourite artists.... he was on the pedestal since a young age too, and has been through similar shot.... and I'm terrified.... (sorry for the side track)

Now AFTER his death when I learn about him being an abuser and how MUCH people bash him and be unempathetic about it.... I hate myself for even considering stopping supporting him and mourning him... honestly, that thought crossed my m mind... I went... "Am I mourning the wrong person..? Should I be happy that an abuser d¡ed... or sad that he was Liam.... or surprised that Liam could even do that, or empathize with him that it was his coping mechanism.... but it isn't good... but he was good... but he isn't..." and that feeling summed up in a few words beautifully goes like.... "I'm mourning a person who was a part and parcel of my inner child that didn't heal.... but that doesn't mean my older self blindsides his wrongdoings... I'm mourning what Liam was to me... and how his life had become.... also while sympathy with the victim.... who somehow ALSO lost someone MUCH MUCH more important.... her son's father..."

I'll come in with another ask to continue, also I fell asleep (with a lot of struggle) so sorry for the late reply... (sorry if I'm bugging you...)

it’s okay not to believe that it’s not your fault, there will be people out there to remind you, and with time i think you’ll start to understand that it’s not.

emotions are tricky, because your grief is so raw everything feels magnified. in time, and with healing you’ll be able to see the bigger picture.

don’t worry about it right now, feeling your emotions is so good for understanding yourself. it helps you process your grief.

there’s so many things about grief that doesn’t make sense. wanting liam alive doesn’t make you a bad person, there are millions of people on this earth that wish they could’ve changed his fate.

just because liam was an abuser does not make him any less worth being mourned. there are people out there that have done worse, that are alive and they still have huge fandoms and people that listen to their music.

and i understand the piece of you that died when liam did, i think a lot of directioners can understand that feeling. there is no one direction without all of the boys.

them losing liam was us losing one direction really, and that leaves a big hole within our childhoods and within a lot of our primitive teenage years.

as for justin, i’m not really in his fandom but i do enjoy his music. and i can empathize with your fear. justin’s clean from my understanding, and has been since he’s been married to hailey.

your fears aren’t entirely unfounded but i do think that it’s better not to work yourself over possibilities of what could happen if he relapses. it does nobody any good, especially you.

it sounds easier said than done but justin is the only one who has control over his own life, we need to let him make his own decisions like we did with liam.

we can’t control him, that can only lead to negative outcomes. he knows himself better than anyone else in his life and deserves the right to have his fans and people around him believe that he’ll make the right choices.

it doesn’t make you a bad person to have conflicting feelings about liam’s passing. i did, i didn’t mourn him really at all in the first 24hrs of hearing he passed.

my friends aren’t fans of one direction/liam so they were very much more objective about liam’s passing than i thought i could be.

i thought i had to react a certain way, i didn’t have any right to be sad because i didn’t know him, and he was an abuser.

that’s wrong, you’re entitled to feel however you want to feel. mourn him if you want, don’t if you don’t. it really is that simple.

you don’t have control over how other people react so there will be people out there that are less emotionally attached than fans are, but that doesn’t make your pain any less valid.

it’s okay to be conflicted, liam was a huge part of you. and yes, exactly. mourning liam does not discredit any of the abuse that maya went through.

don’t worry about bugging me, you’re always welcome!! or falling asleep! i just woke up so if you don’t mind me replying 6hrs later then we’re all good 🫂.

[otakween]

Digital Monster X-evolution

If those janky Digimon World cutscenes were a whole movie, it'd be this. To be fair, I think outdated CGI has a lot more charm than a lot of the higher quality but soulless stuff they put out nowadays. Plot-wise it was nothing special, we've seen this plot a zillion times by now. They just injected it with some new gimmicks. I did find the main character charming enough. I honestly wouldn't mind seeing another attempt at an all-CGI movie as long as that didn't become the new default (slippery slope lol).

Notes:

Although the plot of this film was really simple they managed to add some convoluted lore anyways...because Digimon. Just when I was thinking "that was confusing" I saw that this wiki has a 900 page long (not really lol) explanation/play-by-play. Maybe I'll read it when it's not my bed time: https://wikimon.net/Digital_Monster_X-evolution

Of course they had to open the movie with Leomon dying (really?) Why is that a thing? I've never felt emotional seeing any Leomon die tbh lol

I think Dorumon and his digivolutions have really strong designs. His rookie form kinda looks like a furry version of Monodramon. I've been playing Digimon RPG (the MMO) and just by chance ended up with him as my partner (I actually thought I was getting Impmon lol). Fate!

Not a lot of levity here, the script took itself very seriously and the characters spent most of the film just being existential and talking about the meaning of life. Kinda heavy for a silly little monster battle film.

Legit got a little emotional when Dorumon was being bullied, but it's really easy to feel sad for a furry little creature

The CGI actually held up better than I thought it would for the most part, the mecha digimon especially looked awesome. The only "AH! KILL IT WITH FIRE!" moment was Andromon -shudder-

(Of course, Andromon is ugly in any form, but this is definitely his worst).

Weird seeing Omegamon vs. WarGreymon. I was also surprised to see Magnamon in the Royal Knights. He just seems more beast-like to me than the other knights.

Tokomon was one of those "is it cute or is it annoying?" baby characters. I'm leaning more towards cute, but there were moments where I was like "alright, that's enough of him" loi

Dorugamon kinda reminded me of Toothless. I wanna pet his big nose :3c

They just couldn't resist, they had to call something in this franchise "Yggradsil" didn't they

(They also used other Norse names, the same ones used in Ah! My Goddess).

The funky X-forms of digimon were fun, very angular. It reminds me of the newer Pokemon games how they keep adding new gimmicky forms. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of these. I guess in a way, this is a more realistic "evolution" since it has to do with the digimon reacting to their environment by developing antibodies.

I saw people complaining that Frontier only had two Royal Knights, well I guess they made up for it a bit here. Are they always gonna be working for the villain side? I wanna see a series where they're the heroes!

It was neat seeing Silphymon again. I get excited when 02 characters show up cuz it's kind of the underdog season in my mind.

The villain digimon (aside from the royal knights) weren't very well explained they just kinda showed up, caused havoc, then went away. The only reason why I have a name for any of them is cuz I read the wiki. I guess it would be hard to naturally fit in all the names...

The name "Alphamon" was kind of an eyeroll. They're running out of epic names lol. (Also, it just makes me think of alpha bros nowadays). The design is nice tho, it's got the black w/ gold highlights thing that I liked in Frontier.

Lots of badass cape shots in this (see my final screenshot above)

At the end of the movie the digital world was destroyed and then restored (Frontier much?) It wasn't really clear what that meant for the digimon. Did they all just resurrect via digiegg? Were they recreated exactly as they were before the world's destruction? -shrug-

Pretty sad that this movie never got any love in the states. I wonder if there's a fandub out there somewhere.

Apparently Digimon World 4 is related to this movie so I'll be playing that next!

[dragonfly0808]

Helia: The Thesis

Kay, so, for Helia’s thesis there won’t be that many spoilers but there will be references to a big even in s3, if you haven’t read after the Eraklyon party in s3 then you run a risk of spoilers, the spoilers will mainly revolve around the changes I made to Helia’s backstory

TRIGGER WARNING: TALK OF SELF-HARM AND ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE SKIP THIS THESIS

First Things First

The first words I have in Helia’s character sheet are:

Sensitive artist that doesn’t kick your ass cause he choses peace.

Helia was always super interesting to me in the OG cause, in the 2000’s I honestly don’t remember many soft boys being portrayed as also being able to be badass and just super cool.

I changed quite a bit of Helia’s backstory cause in the OG we just hear that he drops out of Red Fountain and goes to art school before going back to Red Fountain with zero explanation.

There is a phrase that really inspired a lot of the changes I made to Helia’s backstory and that is: No one will ever know the violence it took to become this gentle.

Over the years I’ve learned that some of the loveliest, gentlest and kindest people are the ones who’ve hated and suffered the most in the past. And that is something that I could really see Helia being.

Helia is someone who really let him anger get the best of him in the past. In my version, Helia grew up angry due to heavy expectations of his parents and being Saladin’s grandson. He’s someone who grew up with endless anger and sadness and who had no real outlet after his art was taken away to not distract him too much from his training as Specialist and Wizard.

(Here’s where the talk of self-harm and attempted suicide starts)

Helia self-harms and tries to take his own life a year before season 2. This decision was… a tad bit drastic and to be honest it wasn’t even fully planned at first but it just made sense to me with his character.

Helia is someone who, after hitting rock bottom, seeks help and slowly starts to get better. He goes back into art to let out all of his pain, he works things out with his parents and gets his life back on track.

And it’s not like he is magically completely healed, like we see in season 3, when he has a reason, his anger can and will get the better of him and it can be scary. He has relapses when things get extreme. But he continues to heal and to grow

Helia isn’t born peaceful. He learns it. He grows into peace slowly over his year at art school where he learns to meditate and to just process his emotions in a more healthy manner and I think that makes his serene and mostly peaceful personality and thought process all the more impactful.

People can tell he’s wise and I think I mention in s2 that he just erradiates this comfort, people want to be liked by Helia.

Healing Isn’t Linear

In s3, we see Helia relapse into his self-harming habits.

This to me was important for his character because, whilst he has learned better ways to cope with his feelings, relapse is a realistic thing that can happen and doesn’t mean you’re doing horribly if that makes sense. Because healing isn’t linear. Especially with everything that happens in season 3, to me it made sense for Helia to snap both in anger and in his past self-destructive tendencies.

Helia attacks Sky when the truth of his curse comes out and we see him be ashamed of it, worried he scared Flora and telling Bloom that that isn’t who he wants to be

Helia is very conscious of his own issues and how he is/wants to be perceived. He is very conscious of when he needs help even if sometimes he still needs a little push to get said help

Something to Fight For

A big part of what helps Helia truly come into his own post s2 is figuring out what he is fighting for.

Before s2 Helia was furious because he didn’t know what to fight for, he was a Specialist mostly due to being a legacy.

He returns to Red Fountain because he always enjoyed the routine of it, but also to finally figure out what he wants to fight for.

So what does Helia fight for?

Well… I’d say that, at first he fights for his friends. He is inspired by them and wants to protect them, after that, he also fights for those who can’t protect themselves, much like his grandfather.

No longer being so pressured by his parents allows him to kind of see things like his family does and he finds that he feels the same way.

Kind of reminds me of the Argent family: We protect those who cannot protect themselves. That’s the same view of the Alarie family

Thoughts Behind his Main Relationships

Riven: Riven is Helia’s best friend and they are kind of two sides of the same coin. They both have had anger issues and, surprisingly enough, Helia was a lot more violent than Riven ever was since Riven had a better hold on his anger due to facing major consequences (*cough* *cough* his dad *cough* *cough*) but they bond over trying to better themselves.

Riven learns to meditate with Helia and occasionally even paints with him. Helia learns to fix stuff with Riven and they both love the routine that comes with being Specialists second only to Brandon so they often do work-outs and bets with each other.

Their friendship is one of very different yet similar lives. They get each other in a: we’ve both come face to face with the darkest versions of ourselves and came out on top, we’ve both hit rock bottom and we’re both working on figuring out how to be better.

They’re both very aware of their darker emotions but never judge the other for it. They both have nightmares regarding their pasts and they can open up because they know that they get one another.

Flora: They’re relationship is just… ufff. I love them so much.

To me, Flora and Helia have both been through a lot and have both learned to make light of the darkness in different ways. They are both on their healing journey and support each other unconditionally.

They are soft souls that have been hit time and time again but have refused to become harsh.

Their relationship is one of complete trust and support. They know what they’ve been through but never fear being pitied or feared by the other because they’re the same in a way.

Their relationship is ‘we’re both pulling ourselves and you make me feel like all of it will never drown me and I know that my soul and yours have known each other for a very long time.’

They find comfort, understanding and safety in their love.

They know they can trust each other with the darkest parts of themselves because they won’t lose them, they are very much connected in a way that is hard to even comprehend.

Their love is a soft one

Musa: These two are platonic soulmates.

They’re the artists of the group, the ones that communicate better on a page or when speaking in prose, they’re the ones that will spill their guts out in the middle of the night with a pen in their hands

They’re the artists that make art not just because they like to but because it’s crucial to their survival and an integral part of who they are.

They both struggle a bit to be vulnerable, Musa more so than Helia, but find that they can lower their guard with each other because they get what it’s like to finally find your voice after years of bearing the stifling forced silence that comes with not being heard by your own family

They just make sense to me as unexpected platonic soulmates

Who is Helia in this Rewrite?

Helia is a young legacy who has suffered the weight of his heritage. He is someone who used to be incredibly lost and angry at the universe and turned that hatred and frustration inward and into self-destructive tendencies.

He is someone who has grown incredibly and learned peace, learned self-love and learned vulnerability. He is someone incredibly aware of who he is and who he wants to be.

He is someone who took a long time to figure out what he is fighting for, what he wants to live for and become. But, once he figured it out, he will not go back, he will forge ahead, not forgetting his past but not letting it drag him down, allowing it to be a lesson

Helia is at his core, an artist: someone incredibly caring, soft and who wants to help people, even if it isn’t as a warrior, he wants to make sure others don’t have to go through the pain that he and his friends have gone through. He is someone who will fight to protect the vulnerable.

He is someone who learned to wring sunlight out of the darkest parts of himself.

Helia is a soft soul, the warm side of a warrior.

———

Masterlist

Helia Moodboard

Helia’s Instagram

Helia and Riven Moodboard

Flora and Helia Moodboard

Musa and Helia Moodboard

[williamaltman]

Life is Strange 2 thoughts/feelings/review

So, Life is Strange 2. I finished the game yesterday and watched the other endings today. Things are not as fresh in my mind as if I had just finished and I talked a bit about it in other places so this feels a bit hard, but I'll try to lay down all my thoughts...

First of all... All my homies love LIS2, fuck you if you don't like LIS2! Seriously though, for years I've seen people say that the game wasn't good, that the characters weren't as good as the ones from the first one, that the Sean/Daniel relationship wasn't that interesting... I kinda did suspect it was just nostalgia goggles or whatever, but now I know for sure. I don't think there's anything wrong with connecting more with LIS1 and having a deeper relationship with it, but in this case I think you shouldn't even be comparing them and expecting the game to live up to that to you in the first place.

Now, onto the actual game. God, this was so fucking heartbreaking. I think I cried in every single episode. The very core premise of the story is just so sad, so unfair, and despite the powers so rooted in reality that it left me legit feeling uncomfortable with how fucked up their whole situation was. There are good moments, sure, but honestly every single thing that happens from the moment their dad is shot is just... Not how their life should've had to be.

Sure, LIS1 and BTS had dark themes too. But here, it's like, they lose everything from the beginning. Sean doesn't get to go to his party, to hang out with Lyla, to continue his normal life in any way. Daniel loses a part of his childhood. They're both forced to grow up so much faster than they should. There's a line Sean says in episode 3, and it's just a little idle VO, but it fucking crushed me, "Stop overthinking. You're not a teenager anymore". Even though he's fucking 16... He's 16 and he has to essentially become a parent. I knew what the game was about and lowkey followed it a bit when it was releasing, knew a few spoilers, but that didn't make anything any less heartbreaking.

I thought it was beautiful how the game took the opportunity to showcase and celebrate alternate lifestyles. The "family", Away, their freedom and how they interacted with society brings so much into perspective. I'm still a bit conflicted about Karen tbh, but I'm glad that at least they did show something beautiful through her story.

My biggest problem overall is probably how they handled the Finn romance route... I knew back when the game was releasing that despite adding a male LI, they pushed the female one more onto you and gave her more content, while locking the option to kiss him with a "bad choice" (I didn't know what exactly it was). And yeah, that is still true. I still think it was a mistake to lock the kiss with accepting the heist, and while I kinda understand the writer's explanation for that, I still think it could've been handled in another way, or they could've just let him kiss you and "betray" you by doing the heist anyway, since he still does that when you're friends lol.

I see people complaining that because they moved from place to place each episode, there wasn't enough time to connect with the characters... Idk if I'd say I disagree, but it just wasn't really the case for me. I was very invested in all the relationships, in Finn, Cassidy, Jacob, Chris, Karen. Everyone at the farm was cool and everyone in Away too. Lyla. You get so many tidbits about the characters even when they're not there on screen. The only thing I have to say which is kinda related to that, is that I think the time jumps were maybe a bit too big, and that the way they handled Mushroom was... weird.

I got the Parting Ways ending, and I'm satisfied with it. I kinda planned to get it, but only in the sense that I was spoiled that you get with Finn there. I didn't know that the whole morality thing had anything to do with it, and I played the first two episodes without even knowing that there was a points system about that and about brotherhood. I just made all the choices that were high morality (besides killing the cougar and the heist) because it was what I would do, and tried to be a good brother for Daniel. I figured that choosing to cross the border would most likely give me that one, but I just couldn't accept Sean having to go to prison for 15 years for something he didn't even do. If we were able to choose between Parting Ways and Blood Brothers, then I would actually be conflicted about which I wanted.

With the way the game's system works though, where you need to have low morality to get Blood Brothers, I couldn't really do it. I can't imagine myself teaching Daniel to be selfish and not care about killing people. I actually think it's super cool to watch Daniel use his power offensively and fuck shit up, but it just wouldn't be my version of the story. It's funny because, if we just played as Daniel, I wouldn't mind going that route. But since we play as Sean, with it being our job to raise Daniel, I feel a different kind of responsability towards leading him to become a good person. I also think it's beautiful that he gets to have the rest of his childhood, teenagehood, and live a "normal" healthy life with his grandparents. He does it in the redemption one too, but as I said, that just screws up Sean too much.

So, I'm a little disappointed that they're separated (and maybe can't ever see each other again? I'm a bit confused about Daniel's situation and whether he could visit), and that it's a bit shorter than the others (at least than the redemption one), but it IS the ending my playthrough led to and in that I'm satisfied.

I think this story is just incredible. It touched me so much, and the fact that some people can't see it genuinely frustrates me. The people complaining it's too political in particular can just go fuck themselves. It might not be perfect, but like with all things I appreciate, I'm just so glad it exists.

[ewwww-what]

I wanna hear about nara I wanna hear everything you have to say abt nara

I am so extremely excited that you asked because I really do have plenty to say about (universally loved and cherished character that everyone remembers and cares about) Princess Nara.

Let it be known that I am truly at my weakest and most vulnerable when talking about princess Naradriel of Dimension Twenty fame. Take my words with a grain of salt as I may be consistently lying right to your face and not saying anything the way I want to!

I truly deeply love thinking of the JY events through Nara’s perspective. Like, her (very rich, very pretentious, very absent) family is worried about a new organization for a different interpretation of the godess they worship, so they send Nara in to keep an eye on Tracker since they’re the same age and they think she’ll relate to her better. They end up really hitting it off, Nara convinces her parents to fund Wolfsong Revival, and in turn learns things about her religion that she hadn’t known before, truly she is the most aware of her faith that she has ever been thanks to her girlfriend and her followers. Except Tracker won’t really call Nara her girlfriend outright? And also she hasn’t ever really announced their partnership despite having an active social media presence (Tracker eventually does post about her, with permission from her ex, and the conflict is half-resolved from then on.)

Then Nara meets Kristen, and promptly realizes that she is a perfect mirror of her very existence. Nara is the spitting image of her girlfriend’s ex, Kristen totally knows it too. the only real difference between the two of them is that Nara has the funds to make a project the size of Wolfsong possible and Kristen doesn’t, neither of them feel good about this situation at all.

I’m thinking about her constantly, she is in a relationship where the love literally wasn’t meant for her, that’s so sad?? Waiter, more fantasy teenagers in messy relationships please!!

——

Kristen Applebees foil intermission

Honestly I think Kristen Applebees might have more foils in junior year than anyone else throughout the entire show and I do truly enjoy that very much.

There’s the very obvious and intended Buddy dawn, who was created to be her foil and also an antagonist in her story. He reminds her very much of her younger and more sheltered self, as well as the person she might have become if she hadn’t died in the cafeteria that day.

Nara is kind of a funny contrast to him, because Kristen’s dislike for Buddy is very much representative of the parts of her past that she isn’t proud of, and he is significantly easier for her to criticize because she’s already come to terms with those things within herself. Nara, however, is everything that Kristen doesn’t like about herself currently.

A big thing that Kristen is grappling with in this season is her impulsiveness and the way it effects the people around her, and this dialogue specifically is what sparked her realization that her and Nara aren’t dissimilar people. Kristen and Nara’s shared spontaneity isn’t necessarily a conscious choice for either of them, but it is something that they both find frustrating about themself.

I wrote a whole paragraph here but it deleted itself, I’m not rewriting it all. it was just about how for certain people executive disfunction make it difficult to prioritize important tasks, and it can feel frustrating and unfair when things fall through even though other people might find it easy to maintain in a way you don’t. That’s what these two have going on, they both have ADHD (canonically /srs).

I think it’s also important for Kristen at that point in time to have met someone who’s experiencing similar things to her. Especially during a point in her life where everything feels really uncertain, and nobody seems to be really understanding her exact experience, she meets someone who feels the same way she does and is able to lend her sympathy about it. Very nice, very good :)

——

??? I’m just talking about whatever now

I feel itchy every time I have to think about the way Nara is treated like she’s not smart!! Partially because it’s clear that this is a young girl who has been very sheltered all her life, and is finally branching out and attempting to be a better person and educate herself for the benefit of the people around her. She made a very open and self-aware observation about the corrupt system that her family helps uphold, and expressed distaste and willingness to change, which was kind of met with skepticism and weird comments about her intelligence. I like her, whatever. I’m killing everyone!!!

Is she ignorant? Yes, absolutely. Disgustingly rich? Of course. But a reoccurring theme in the few scenes we get to see her in is that she wants to be better and more involved in the lives of other people (close enough, welcome back season one Kristen Applebees and season two Fabian Seacaster)

(That’s not to say that you can’t dislike her for these traits, just me complaining about how she was treated narratively once she served her purpose in the story. girl is bad forever and cannot possibly become a better person. Unfortunate reoccurring theme (I love this show, take all of this with a grain of sugar.))

I don’t have anything huge to say about it, I’m sure someone else could make a better and more concise explanation for what I’m trying to get across. Give me 5 hours to write another essay.

-

Also!! Nara has a lisp, I think? It could have been an aspect of her accent that I misinterpreted, but you will not catch me ignoring even the slightest possibility that a character could have a speech impairment that isn’t taken as a joke. This is not important to literally anything I have said this whole time, I just want it out in the world that I’ve collected another character into my (very small) pile of favs who have lisps.

——

JY finale

I didn’t particularly love the JY finale, I feel like it didn’t give closure to a lot of the events of the season that should’ve probably gotten closure. That being said, for a character who played such a small role in the show I don’t think Nara needed much more than what she got. I do enjoy that it can be interpreted as Nara wanting more from tracker than she’s willing to give in their relationship, or that her parents weren’t happy with the actual religious advancements of moonsong, maybe both.

I hear sometimes that Nara was in on the plan to take down moonsong, and that’s the reason that Tracker’s funding was removed, and I don’t disagree that that could’ve been the intention behind the finale but it’s also not my favorite idea. I personally don’t understand how Nara would benefit from advocating for the oracle to get paid a living wage, or begging her dad to fund the operation to revive a primal interpretation of her goddess just to have that taken away. (Political advantage and surveillance, I guess? Two things that high schoolers notoriously love and care about willingly participating in /sar)

You cant have full episodes to tie up the loose ends of minor characters and I do understand that, and I certainly don’t mean for it to seem like I’m upset that she and tracker broke up or even that she probably won’t show up again. I just like her :)

Also here’s Aelwyn and Adaine talking about maybe possibly killing Nara as a little treat to themselves, I was rewatching the episode and I like this part

That’s it I’m done now :)