#like maybe more minor roles but they still were on stage

[daily-pilby]

day 32

they definitely did highschool theatre

[ssa-dado]

Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.  

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement  - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables. 

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus. 

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.” 

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

… especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…”  Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[sixpennydame]

Make. Believe. ❖ Act 1

Actor!Levi x Fem!Reader

It’s your first sex scene as a leading actress, and it’s with none other than Levi Ackerman. But you both can stay professional….right?

Warnings / Content: NSFW, Minors do not interact, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex

A/N: I've been working on this one shot since April and it's finally here! There will be a Part 2, written from Levi's pov, available now!

Act 2 | Act 3

“Oi, you ok? Ready to do this?”

Levi stands naked before you. It’s nothing new - you’ve seen his nude body several times already while shooting this film. But today is the day that you shoot the main sex scene with him - the first you’ve ever done as a professional actress.

And despite all the preparations you’ve done, you’re nervous as hell about it.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah…I’m ready.”

The Camera Assistant raises the slate, “Scene 24, Take 1…” *Clap*

“Action!”

When your agent told you about the role you knew you were perfect for it. An ingénue role: innocent, pure, but headstrong, and when you finished the audition, you knew you’d gotten it. 

The movie is set in the 1920’s and tells the story about a woman who had been married off to an older, powerful man who owns a large estate. She has an affair with the quiet, mysterious groundskeeper. It’s all about class, duty, and desire.

You knew the role would require several sex scenes, and quite risqué ones at that. But that didn’t bother you. You’d been nude on stage while in acting school and you took your craft seriously.

What made you nervous was that you would be doing the sex scenes with Levi Ackerman. 

You’d had a crush on him since your teenage years, when you saw him in the Attack on Titan series. You, and every other girl that saw him in that show. Ten years later, he was still one of the most sought-after actors in film and television. He excelled in dramatic roles and was a skilled physical actor, even doing most of his own stunts. In interviews, he was always cool and quiet, letting the other actors take the spotlight. He also kept his private life particularly private, and this gave him an air of mystery.

 You weren’t sure what to expect when you met him for the first time with the rest of the cast at the first script table reading.

“Mr. Ackerman, I’ll be playing the part of Anna. It’s an absolute honor to be working with you.”

His grey eyes give you a once over, then he shakes your hand. “Please, call me Levi. I hear this is your first leading role.”

Just shaking his hand, you’re already blushing. How will you react when you actually have to touch him romantically?

You shake those thoughts out of your mind right now. “Y-yes, it is. I’d appreciate any advice you can give me.”

“This director is pretty strict about sticking to the script. I’ve worked with him before. But with love scenes, he’s going to give us a lot of freedom to kind of just do what we want.”

Oh god. He’s already bringing up the sex scenes. And he calls them love scenes. You feel your face getting even hotter. 

He notices. “I’m guessing you’ve never done a love scene before.”

“I uh..” you were going to try to think of something witty to say, but it feels difficult to talk suddenly, “I haven’t, actually.”

He smiles. “It’s normal to feel nervous. The most important thing is for you to trust me, and for us to respect each other.”

The room is filling with more cast and crew as the table reading is about to start. Levi gestures for the both of you to have a seat. “Why don’t we start by getting to know each other after the table reading? When we’re not shooting we can get together and help each other with lines and maybe eat together during breaks. That way, I won’t feel like such a stranger.”

“That would be so nice. Yes, let’s do that,” you reply, feeling better and more comfortable with him already. He just seems so…normal. Not at all the broody, rude character he’s made out to be in the tabloids.

After that, you spent most of your free time with Levi. You’d hang out with each other in your trailers, working on memorizing lines or just talking. The director insisted on shooting most of the movie on location and not in a studio, so you were all left to basically live in a small town in the countryside. Levi would invite you out with other cast and crew friends. He was friendly - much friendlier than you’d imagined him to be - but you noticed that the larger the crowd got, the quieter he became. You much more enjoyed the time when it was just the two of you.

Leading up to your sex scenes, you and Levi were required to meet with an intimacy coach. She was pleased to hear that you and Levi were already getting to know each other, since trust is key. The three of you talked over the scene and the movements required. 

“There will be moments where you two will have to be naked with each other, but when you two actually recreate sexual activity, you can use intimacy barriers and skin colored thongs and underwear,” the coach suggests. “Levi, I know you’ve done sex scenes totally nude in the past.”

That’s right..the independent film he was in a few years ago. There was a lot of controversy about the very explicit sex scene in that movie. So they were completely nude during that scene? Why do you feel jealous?

“Whatever Reader is comfortable with. I’ll follow her lead,” he says, matter-of-factly. 

The coach looks at you. “And you’re comfortable being nude with Levi?”

You’re trying so hard not to blush and look professional, as if this conversation isn’t giving you butterflies in your stomach. You feel Levi’s grey eyes on you. “Yes, it’s not a problem.”

Later that afternoon, your words were put to the test. You were to shoot a scene where your character catches Levi washing outside his cottage. It’s a short scene but you’re nervous. When you arrive on set, Levi is already in a robe waiting. 

The scene is set, and Levi takes off his robe. His body is even better in real life. He’s toned, and he has a perfect six pack with a deep v shape on either side. A black trail of hair leads down to his..

No, you shouldn’t look, it’s unprofessional. But you want to so badly.

“Reader, go to your mark,” the Director’s Assistant says.

“Y-yes, of course.” You take your place by the wall that surrounds his character’s cottage. When the director yells action you walk along the wall until you get to the entrance, but before you enter his garden, you see him washing at a basin near the home. You’re supposed to look for just a moment, then turn back against the wall and blush at seeing him. 

But when you peek around the corner, you can’t help but let your eyes linger for just longer than you’re supposed to. He’s washing himself, the water flowing over his beautifully toned body. His hair is wet and he pushes it back.

“Cut!” the director commands. “Reader, you were staring too long. Remember, she’s shocked at what she sees and quickly turns away, but she’s also titillated.”

You blush and look over to Levi, who you hope is far enough away that he can’t hear what the director is saying. “Got it. Sorry about that.” You take your mark and do it again.

The next day, you had to shoot some other scenes and didn’t see Levi all day. Although the day’s shoot went without a hitch, you couldn’t help but think about that perfect body of his and how you would soon be touching and kissing it. 

You arrived at your trailer earlier than usual the next day. There were a few cast and crew members ambling about, but it was otherwise quiet. You knock on the door of Levi’s trailer.

“Come in,” he answers. When you enter, Levi is casually sitting, drinking his tea and reading through today’s scenes. “I thought we could discuss how we wanted to block today’s physical scenes. It’s no nudity, but since it’s their first time,I think there are some particular movements they want us to include.” 

It’s strange, talking to Levi about, “me grabbing your breast,” or, “when I enter you for the first time,” as if these are the most normal conversations to have in the world. But even hearing him say these words in his deadpan way of speaking is making the blood rush to your cheeks. After a lengthy discussion, you scribble some notes in your script for later, then make your way to your trailer to get into costume.

The scene is set in a hunting cabin far from the main estate. As your character has just left a dinner party, you’re wearing a beautiful wine colored gown that everyone remarks on. Everyone except Levi. He sits in his chair and seems to be in some kind of ultra-focused state. You’d never noticed before, but maybe that’s how he gets into character.

Or maybe he’s nervous too.

Your heart is pounding when the director says action. “Please don’t go,” you say, as you grab Levi’s arm. 

You’d blocked out the scene with Levi this morning, but you suddenly have an urge to deviate slightly from the plan, not because you want to, but because you now feel like that’s what your character would do at this moment. 

You hold his hand and begin to kiss his palm and wrist, then you place it on your cheek. It’s so innocent, but full of yearning.  Levi’s body goes tense, but then he unexpectedly moves his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth. You begin to suck on his thumb, then his pointer finger, looking at him seductively when he finally pulls it out. He lets out a sigh and then he’s kissing you passionately; you pull down his suspenders while he lifts up the gossamer layers of your dress. Your mouths crash together as he undoes his pants. He tastes like spearmint, and you wonder if he did that on purpose. He moves away from the kiss and pulls off your underwear, and then he’s on top of you and between your legs. 

Although his bare ass is showing, the camera angle doesn’t necessitate him completely against your crotch. But he pushes slowly as if he is entering you for the first time and after a few thrusts, he starts getting faster. 

Your character is going through a lot of emotions at this point: desire, guilt, pleasure. You look away and your cheeks begin to flush as Levi continues to move, a certain kind of desperation in every thrust. You both begin to breathe heavily, your hands in his hair and his head in the crook of your neck. One final thrust, and there’s only silence, until..

“Cut!” the director cries out. “Good work, you two. Now, let’s do that again, with some closeup shots.

“You okay?” Levi asks as he gets off of you and grabs a rag to wipe off his sweat. 

You straighten your dress and a makeup assistant comes over to touch-up your makeup. “Yeah..I’m fine.”

“They way you approached me, with the kisses on the palm and taking my fingers - that was a nice change.” He looks at you as he returns to his mark. “You have good instincts.”

“Thanks.” You laugh to yourself, because the compliment makes you blush more than when he was rutting against you.

The cinematographer changes cameras and gets closer. “Alright, let’s do that again..”

——

The next day, you meet with the intimacy coordinator to choreograph the next sex scene scheduled for the end of the week. In the midst of taking notes and discussing with Levi the motivations for each movement, you become quiet, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. Because for the last few days, you’ve had trouble differentiating your feelings for Levi and your character’s feelings for his character. The line seems to be blurring between them, and that concerns you. 

In between scenes, you truly enjoy spending time with Levi. He’s smart and funny. He nerds out about tea and kung fu movies, and you’ve spent many an evening just listening to him go into more detail about the two than you ever thought possible. He gives you ideas when you struggle with character notes, and even helps you to memorize lines. At night, in the privacy of your hotel room, you’ve fantasized about what it might feel like to be desired by him, to hear him say your name as he touches your body.

Then you hear your name being called by the coordinator and you snap out of it. “Is that ok with you? Being completely nude for the scene?” she asks.

“No..no..I’d like for both of us to be covered,” you answer. It’s better this way, you think to yourself. It keeps it professional.

Levi shrugs. “Fine by me.”

You both walk back to the hotel at the end of the day, but Levi stops you before you enter the building.

“Hey, you ok today? You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine. I guess I’m just nervous about tomorrow.” 

“I get it. But we’ve put a lot of work into this. And I’d like to think we trust each other at this point.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Just like that, you feel more at ease. He just has such a way with you. “You’re right, we’ve done well so far. And I do trust you, Levi.”

——

When you arrive at your trailer the next morning, there’s a to-go cup on your table. 

To calm your body and mind. —Levi

Your makeup artist smiles as you read the note. “Levi just brought that by. You sure have a great leading man.”

You smile. “Yeah, I sure do.”

The scene takes place in the forest in the afternoon. Your character has snuck away from her home to meet him, far away from spying eyes. The Director has decided to film the scene in sections instead of one long scene, at least for now. 

The marker board is clicked and you and Levi walk hand-in-hand among the trees. He pulls you into a small clearing, then grabs the back of your neck as he starts kissing you fully. You pull away and look him in the eyes.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Your character is a lady of high society; it’s scandalous for someone of her stature to say such a thing, but here she is, with this man that is ‘below’ her, and she wants nothing else than for him to ravage her.

You can totally relate to your character, in that regard.

He moves closer to you and begins to fondle your breasts, then he grabs the front of your white cotton blouse and tears it off of you, revealing your bare chest. 

He lays his chore jacket on the ground. “Undo my trousers,” he commands, and you do so. You then lie down on the jacket beneath you while he pulls down his trousers and takes off his henley shirt. When he takes off his trousers, you look away.

“No - don’t look away. Look at me,” he says with authority. He crouches over you and easily pulls off your skirt. 

“Cut! Let’s get them ready for closeup shots.” The Director and his team set up for the next shots as you and Levi sit awkwardly on the ground. You can’t move too much because you don't want to spoil the continuity of the scene, so you freeze as your hair and makeup team tousle your hair and touch up your makeup.

Both of you have your groins covered but other than that, you are completely naked, except you’re still wearing your stockings and boots. The Director tells Levi to get on top of you and he does so.

“Ready to do this?” He whispers.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you answer.

“Scene 24, Take 1..”

*Clap*

Levi is immediately kissing your lips, then moving down to your neck and collarbone. He looks back up at you and begins to thrust, each one hard and deliberate. You begin to move your hips to meet his thrusts and he breathes heavily into the skin of your neck. Even without actually having sex, the friction enough is turning you on; that, and Levi’s kisses on your body.

Then you feel it. A hardening bulge rubbing up against your clit. You look into his eyes and see a brief flash of recognition, but neither of you break character. 

He pulls you up and your legs are wrapped around him. He continues to thrust into you but it’s slower now, your bodies working together as you grind. His hard cock is rubbing your clit just right, and you feel like you could come from just this feeling alone. You’ve forgotten about the hoards of people watching both of you right now and you’re completely in the moment, letting him pull you even closer to him. 

“Levi..” you whisper in his ear. It slips from your mouth before you know it; there aren’t any lines scripted for this scene, and you’re hoping it wasn’t loud enough for the boom mic to pick up. It earns a look from Levi and then he smirks - you’re not sure if that was in character either. 

Your hands grasp at his hair and he starts slowing down. You look up at the sky thinking about the pleasure you - and your character - just felt. Then your lips graze against each other as your breathing becomes more calm.

“And cut! Great work you two I loved how that flowed. Let’s take a 15 minute break. I’ll look through the footage and decide if we need to re-shoot anything.”

Just like that, the moment is gone. The Director and others begin to move equipment and Levi’s assistant brings him a robe. He has it on and around him before you can barely get off of him.

“Good work,” he says curtly as he walks off. Your assistant takes a little longer to get to you, so you’re sitting there, naked, trying to figure out just exactly what happened between the two of you.

Levi keeps his distance during the break and as he listens to the director’s notes. You have to re-shoot a few closeup shots, and although the energy is still there, something is different. You can feel it. 

——

Levi doesn’t come out with you and the crew for dinner that night, and he doesn’t reply to your text messages. You’re worried - did you do something to offend him? Was it because you moaned his name during the scene?

That has to be it. It probably made him feel awkward. Maybe he thinks you’re unprofessional. It makes your palms cold and clammy just thinking about disappointing him, you can’t bear it.

But you can’t deny that he was turned on during the scene. You felt him against you. You couldn’t have imagined that.

You walk back to your hotel room lethargically. You think about texting him again, this time apologizing for your behavior, but before you can, there’s a knock on your door.

“Levi?”

“Hey.” He shifts one leg to the other, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you open the door wider for him to enter, “come in.”

He enters, his body language clearly restless and troubled. “What’s up?” you question.

“About today’s shoot….I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’m always professional. I respect you as an actress.”  

He paces the room and has a difficult time looking at you. You assume he’s going to reprimand you for your behavior today, so you prepare yourself. “I know you do, Levi. And I respect you.”

He finally stops in front of you. “But me getting turned on today…I don’t want you to think less of me. It’s just that you’re-“ he runs his hand through his dark hair. 

Butterflies begin to form in your stomach. You’ve never seen Levi this flummoxed before. He takes a deep breath and it seems to give him focus as he moves closer to you. 

“You’ve done something to me. When I had you in my arms today, I couldn’t help myself. Then when you said my name like that…”

He looks into your eyes. “I’ve kissed you countless times during this filming. But right now, I want to kiss you as myself.”

Your heart does backflips and your throat is suddenly dry. “So kiss me,” you invite, moving even closer to him.

It takes him a moment, almost as if he is checking if it’s truly ok. Then with a deep breath, he grabs the back of your neck and crashes his lips into yours. Even though you’ve kissed him many times, this time it’s different. There’s an electricity to it, an honesty, as if he’s laying bare his entire self to you. 

His hand moves from your hip bone to under your shirt, his soft touch sending shivers down your spine. It doesn’t take long for his other hand to make it under your shirt as well, and soon he’s pulling it over your head and off of you. 

You also start letting your hands roam, first down his back and then under his t-shirt. You grab the hem and pull it off of him, but before you can do more he’s working on unclasping your bra. 

“I want you so badly.” His voice is low and raspy as he lays you on the bed.

You’ve started peeling off your leggings but he takes them and pulls them off roughly, desperately. “There are condoms in the drawer of the bedside table.” He gives you a look. “You know..just in case.” He smiles, then reaches over to the drawer. As he does so, you pull off your underwear and start touching yourself. You rub your clit in circles, watching him as he stands over you.

There’s a giant bulge in his grey sweatpants and you can see the lust in his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.” He throws the condom packet down and dives in between your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to have you like this? To take this beautiful pussy as mine?” He starts licking at your folds and you swear you’ve entered heaven. He starts flicking his tongue over your clit, alternating between fast and slow. Your back arches and your hands reach down to grip his hair. 

“Yes, yes, right there….fuck…” You can’t believe this is happening. Levi is here, he wants you, and he’s eating your pussy in a way that no man ever has.

Just when you feel you could climax, he stops. He reaches down next to the bed and picks up the condom package, sticking it in his mouth as he takes off his sweatpants and underwear. 

You’d seen him naked on set, but his cock had been flaccid at the time; now that he’s hard, it’s even more impressive. As he puts on the condom, you lick your lips, preparing yourself to truly - finally - have him inside you.

He can see the desire in your eyes. “Look at you - so eager for my cock are you?”

“Yes, Levi, I want it so badly. I’ve always wanted you.” You open your legs a little wider, inviting him to go between them. 

He moves in and looks down on you as he touches his cock. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I don’t know how I’ve kept myself in check for this long.” 

You smile. “So you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Of course I have. How could I not?” He positions himself above you and rubs his cock on your entrance, covering it with your juices. “When I’m not on set with you, you’re all I think about.”

Before this night, Levi had always had a quiet, awkward confidence to him, as if there were a multitude of thoughts happening just below the surface; but now, he was assertive and cocky, telling you his thoughts and desires without any restraint. You loved seeing this new side of him.

He enters you slowly and you both take a deep breath, then he begins to move faster as he sees a smile form across your face.

“You feel so good…fuck…” 

Your words encourage him to pick up the pace, the sounds of his hips slamming into you reverberate throughout the room. “Shit, you’re so wet, I can’t get enough of you.” He moves down to kiss you passionately, then he starts to kiss and suck on your neck.

“Be careful..I have to shoot a scene tomorrow,” you warn, halfheartedly.

“Makeup can cover it up,” he growls in your ear and then continues.

He feels so good, you can’t resist anything this man does to you, so you give into him completely as his cock rams into you and his mouth claims you.

The evening is a flurry of moans and grunts, him having his way with you on the bed, against the wall, in the shower - it was as if you were both discovering pleasure for the first time. Real pleasure - not performative. 

As the sun begins to rise, you both lay exhausted and satisfied in the bed, the sheets in a tangled mess around you.

“This won’t change how we work together, will it?” you ask with a worried look on your face.

“Why would it? If anything, it’ll make our chemistry on screen more believable.” He kisses the top of your head. “And this will make the preparation for the other sex scenes much more interesting,” he says with a boyish grin. 

You can’t argue with that. “I suppose life sometimes does imitate art.” 

Join my taglist!

I'm tagging those who seemed interested when I wrote the drabble, but let me know if you wanna be untagged.

@thevelria @lunaeheroine18 @meltingforthatackerman @adanfore @blondebebop @levisfavoriteacup @dont-f-with-moogles @itty-bitty-baby-face @ricecrispiebirb @whorenamedbee @rec-a-fic @leviismybby @littlerequiem @satorizz @lost-in-the-daylight @nube55 @kingkonoha @mrsackxrman @youre-ackermine @luvjiro @wanderlustqueen-writes @mrsackermannx (happy late birthday present, bby, this one-shot is for you <;3)

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

NEWSIES AND WHAT AFTER SCHOOL CLUBS THEY’RE IN + WHAT SPORTS THEY DO

JACK KELLY

he definitely does sets for the school productions

he also does lights

he did track in elementary-middle school school but quit freshman year to focus more on art

but he runs every morning

also he def started an art history club with davey and kathrine

DAVEY/DAVID JACOBS

he plays piano is jazz band

and he’s in debate

he plays tennis

he wins state championships for tennis

and he totally joined theatre tech cause all his friends were doing theatre in some capacity

helps kathrine with editing the school paper when she gets stressed

he’s in honors math and science

maybe english too

CRUTCHIE MORRIS

band

he’s a band kid

idk what instrument

don’t ask me

i’m not a band kid

but he is

and tenor in choir

he plays in the pit band for the school productions

helps jack with sets sometimes

honors english

b average

KATHRINE PLUMBER/PULITZER

she’s a total academic weapon

class president 5th grade-senior year

she’s in debate

chief editor of the school paper

runs the year book

stage manager

on the varsity volleyball team

was on jv her freshman year

when people ask her how she gets straight a’s she’s like “idk i’m just smart”

a+ average

RACETRACK HIGGINS

he’s on the competitive dance team

also ensamble or a minor role in every school production

he’s been the lead once

he didn’t like it

in honors math

he also does track (hehe race track)

he gets a’s in math and b’s and a-‘s in everything else

most flexible on the comp team

best turner on the comp team

was in debate for two years but quit because he started having stress related panic attacks and stress vomiting before debates

b+ average

ALBERT DASILVA

competitive dance too

he used to play soccer in middle school and part of freshman year

he’s in theatre normally ensemble but likes to be speaking roles

c+ average

pours his time into dance

like it’s his favorite thing

terrible at chaine and pique turns

he’s great at pirrouettes and a la seconds though

SPECS IDK HIS LAST NAME

competitive dance guy #3

he’s on debate too

2nd most flexible on the comp team

worst turner

amazing leaps

b average student

forgets his contacts for dance frequently so he just dances with no glasses on

in jack’s art history club

FINCH CORTEZ

also on competitive dance

least flexible

average turns

terrible leaps

good at tricks

he’s trick man

really likes doing theatre

school photographer

b- average

SPOT CONLON

def on the gymnastics team

don’t ask me why and don’t argue with my flawless logic

he keeps his grades just high enough to still be on the team

also on the wrestling team

people are always asking why he does those two cause there like polar opposites

he’s just like 🤷‍♀️

b average

definitely runs some kind of social justice or lgbtq+ club

(also applies to uksies spot)

MORRIS DELANCEY (specifically the mike faist version)

soccer and dance

specifically tap

he likes tap

and he’s been doing soccer since he was in middle school

he’s on debate team

he’s not very good but he makes it through

a- average

OSCAR DELANCEY

football

don’t ask me why i don’t plan to explain

c+ average

i have nothing else to say

SARAH JACOBS

varsity soccer

and debate team

and honors english, history, and science

and choir

she’s a mezzo

don’t tell me i’m wrong

i’m not

she’s a student tutor

like when a student needs tutoring she’s the persian they go to

for english, science, or history

a average

kinda academic rivals-lovers with kath

(sorry if these are shitty)

[library-ghoulette]

day 10 // hands

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Mary Goore x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 1144

Tags: second person POV, female reader, they/them Mary Goore, established relationship, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, teasing, finger sucking

Summary: You take Mary back out to the van after their set, where they demonstrate that their hands are skilled at more than just playing guitar.

A/N: I dedicate this fic to everyone who's ever searched "Mary Goore hands" on Pinterest. I don't even know if it's all that kinky. But I do know that there was barely any blood in my brain the entire time I was writing it.

Read beneath the cut or on ao3!

Maybe it's not the most romantic place for a hookup—the back of the shitty old van that always smells faintly of cigarettes and sweat and the greasy ghosts of late-night fries—but fuck, you think, as Mary grazes their teeth down the side of your neck, you'll take it.

Getting through the set had been torture. You'd stood in the audience, nursing a cheap beer and chatting with friends and playing the role of a good, supportive girlfriend while Mary took the stage. There was just something about seeing them like that—fronting the band with an easy command, growling into the mic, snarling beneath the skull paint and fake blood and tumble of messy black hair—that always wound you up to the point that it was unbearable.

You had known it would be a late night, that you wouldn't get back to your apartment until god knew when. You knew you couldn't wait that long. So when the rest of the band had been distracted, you'd leaned into your sweaty, post-show hug from Mary, craning your head up to whisper in their ear, "Can we go outside for a minute?"

It could have meant almost anything. That you needed air, maybe, or a quick smoke. But the eager gleam in your eyes told Mary all they needed to know, and they had taken you by the hand and led you out over the gravel lot behind the club and to the van.

Now you're stretched out on the back floor of the van, writhing beneath Mary as they take their time lavishing attention on you. You're even more keyed up than you were before, grinding against their thigh in search of any bit of friction you can get.

Mary pulls back from kissing along your collarbone, and you let out an impatient little groan.

"What's gotten into you tonight, babe?"

You resist the urge to say not nearly enough. Not yet.

"I need you to touch me," you say, not even caring about the pleading note that creeps into the words.

"Touch you?" The corner of Mary's mouth twists up in a teasing, lopsided grin. They run one fingertip up your forearm. "Here?" they ask.

"No…"

"Oh, okay. How about—here?" They graze along your side, the touch light enough to tickle.

Ugh, why are they like this?

"Noo," you whine, which only makes them bite their lip in amusement.

"Hmm, where else? What about here?"

And now they bring their hand up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your T-shirt.

"That's… that's better," you breathe, arching into the contact as they knead gently. Already your nipple is hardening, every motion of their hand rubbing the lace of your bra against the tender flesh.

It's better, but it's not enough, not what you need. You're on the verge of just grabbing their wrist and shoving their hand between your legs when they start to trail their hand down lower, over your belly, lower still—

They skip down to your knee. Then up the outside of your thigh, bare where your short skirt has ridden up. Closer and closer, but still moving so agonizingly, infuriatingly slowly.

Finally their hand rounds the curve of your inner thigh, their thumb just barely grazing the soaked gusset of your panties, and you let out a frustrated little growl.

"Mary, I swear to God, if you don't—"

"Okay, okay, jeez."

They kiss you, sweetly, and slide their hand down your underwear. Their middle finger traces along your slit, testing your wetness. You gasp at the sensation as your hips buck. You spread your legs, eager for more, and catch the satisfied gleam in Mary's green eyes as they watch your reaction.

"Is this what you were wanting?" they ask, their fingertip playing across your entrance, just barely pushing inside.

"Mhmm," you moan, voice high and thready with need. Mary rewards you by pressing their finger slowly into your pussy, withdrawing, pressing in again, deeper.

You reach down and hook your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down off of your hips and wriggling them as low as you can without moving too much, not wanting to interrupt Mary's rhythm. You feel like you'll die if they withdraw their hand, if they stop for even a second. They laugh and help you with their free hand, shifting their position so that they're kneeling between your splayed legs.

"You like my hands that much?" they ask, gently mocking, as they continue to finger you. As they pull out and then thrust back in with two fingers, and you nod wordlessly, biting your lip against the moan building in your throat.

"Did it get you all hot and bothered watching me play guitar? Thinking about me doing this?"

Their movements are faster now, and you're so wet that you can hear each thrust of their fingers driving into you. Mary leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss before whispering, "Think you can take another one?"

Their words send a fresh jolt of desire coursing through you, your pussy clenching around their fingers at just the thought.

"Y-yes," you answer, voice shaky, "please…"

Mary straightens back up, watching as they ease a third finger inside of you. You cry out at the exquisite fullness, unable to hold back when they crook their fingers to find the spot that makes you fall apart. When they press their thumb to your clit, tracing circles over your swollen nub.

"That's a good girl," Mary praises you.

They bring their free hand up to your face, fondly cupping your cheek as their other hand fucks you, driving you closer and closer to release. They trace their thumb over your lower lip, and your mouth falls open instinctively to take it in, to let them trace the warm contours of your mouth.

You hear them whisper a disbelieving fuck at how wanton and undone you are, their composure slipping, breath turning ragged with arousal. They pull their thumb from your mouth, smearing spit over your face, and press in again with middle and index. You moan around the intrusion. Eyes slipping shut, mind gone blank with pleasure, sucking their fingers to match the rhythm of their hand down below until, finally, your orgasm rips through you and you're helpless to do anything but ride it out, wave after wave.

Mary sees you through it, waiting until you've come down before gently withdrawing their hands and shaking out their wrist. You smile up at them tenderly, all afterglow and affection. Your voice is dreamy when you thank them.

"We can go back to the bar if you want," you say. "Don't want to miss the afterparty…"

"Are you fucking kidding?" Mary snorts. They're already fumbling with their belt buckle, undoing their fly. "I'm not done with you yet."

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: still fighting (sorta?), a little bit of fluff, alcohol consumption, weed smoking, angst, throwing up, cursing

☆word count: 10.2k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: new chapter babyyy! As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her help on this fic  <3 best beta reader out there

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 5th

                Jungkook feels anxious. He hasn’t felt anxious like that since the last time he performed on a stage. Even coming here yesterday didn’t feel as bad – maybe because you were the only one waiting for him, and he can’t bring himself to be anxious when it comes to you.

But right now, he knows the full crew is waiting for him, and it feels as if he’s getting crushed by the weight of the universe, like Atlas when he was given the heavens to hold. He wishes he could just turn around and leave, but he made a deal.

He’s not the type to betray his words. So he forces one step in front of the other, even as his leg is killing him, as if it too knows what he’s going to do.

He reckons it’s been hurting since he danced yesterday. But it felt relieving to be dancing for the first time since the accident. Even if it was with you, it felt like coming home.

Maybe because it was with you, in all truth. He knows you’ve never liked each other, but to him it’s always been that kind of relationship where you tease someone because you can. Yes, he once thought you were an entitled rich brat, but he’s known better for years now.

He still feels bad for fighting with you yesterday. But when his leg hurt, he was just taken back to the night of the car crash, and he felt far too vulnerable for his own good.

You’re the last person he wants to be vulnerable in front of.

You haven’t replied to his texts last night. He wasn’t really expecting you to, and he only texted you in the first place because Hobi asked him to do it. Something about making amends, but he didn’t really pay attention to it.

Jungkook sighs as the studio appears in front of him. He’s dreamed of this place for over a year now, and even if he came yesterday, it still feels unreal to see it. To think not all of the world has changed. Maybe he did, maybe he’s changed to the point of no return, but it’s reassuring to see that not everything has.

Like his relationship with you, for instance.

It’s warm today. The sun is about to set, painting the sky in thousands of golden hues, and he has half a thought to stop and admire, maybe snap a picture or two. To breathe for a time, and remember that whatever happens, the sun always rises and sets the next day.

But he has people waiting for him. Friends he avoided for over a year because he’s ashamed of what he’s become.

The thought sobers him up a little, until watching the sunset seems more like it’ll lead to him thinking about stuff he shouldn’t think about. So he heads straight towards the entrance, and thinks of something he could say to rile you up.

Riling you up always makes him feel better after all.

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, you’re not here when he reaches the studio. The five others are, and Hobi informs him that you’re stuck at a family dinner when he notices him scanning the room for you.

Jungkook mumbles that he doesn’t care, before turning towards Heather and Jiho. Heather has a sad pitiful look on her face, and Jiho is holding in a smile. As for Jiho, he knows you probably told him about your fight last night, and Jiho’s always been like a smaller version of you. His eyes go back to Heather, and he’s pretty sure Bridget already told her what happened, and he can only hope she won’t say anything.

He doesn’t really want the crew to know about his leg. Of course, Hobi knows, but Hobi also promised not to tell anyone last year when Jungkook was forced to quit.

So, it’s without you that Jungkook starts to teach everyone the choreography you chose yesterday. He doesn’t dance as much as he did with you, and he does his best not to look at Heather whenever his steps falter. He doesn’t want to see her pity.

It’s mostly the fear of that pity that made him quit without telling anyone. That, and the fact that he doesn’t want to see you satisfied. Because he’s always thought that you would be happy to know he was hurt and couldn’t dance anymore. Something in the way you always frown or glare at him gives it away.

It’s almost ten when you finally join, cheeks flushed red from the fact you had to run from home, as you complain as soon as you arrive. Even if he thought about how to rile you up earlier, Jungkook’s brain is completely empty when you arrive.

So all he can do is nod in acknowledgment before looking away. He sees your frown in the mirror, and it almost makes him smile.

“We’ve been practicing the first part of the choreography while we were waiting for you,” he says, gauging the waters.

“I said I was going to be there at ten,” you let out, looking at Hobi.

Hobi raises his hands in defense.

It makes Jungkook chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll just have to stay here longer tonight.”

Your frown turns into a scowl, and your cheeks are not only red because of running now. You’re angry, and probably a little embarrassed. Exactly where he likes you to be.

“I don’t see why, I practiced with you last night,” you point out.

Everyone’s watching the conversation unfold like it’s a tennis match, turning their head from you to him whenever one of you say something. It makes an amused smirk grow on Jungkook’s lips.

“Alright then, show us what you’ve got.” It’s a challenge, and he sends it your way by finally fully facing you. Maybe he shouldn’t have, because he’s struck once again with how much you changed since last year.

Your hair frames your face differently now, and your features look sharper, as if you’ve lost the baby face he’s always known. Your eyes hold the same daggers though, and he thinks about last night.

He doesn’t remember seeing you as furious as you were last night. He’s pretty sure you were extremely close to killing him on the spot, and the thought of it calms him down a little. His relationship with you is fragile as it is, no need to rile you up in front of everyone.

He’s taken aback by his own thought – has he become more mature without even realizing it?

“Bet,” you let out, before glancing once at Jiho.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes and Jiho laughs, hiding it behind her hand. It makes him feel stupid, but it’s too late to make you back down from the challenge. If there is one thing he knows about you, it’s that you’re just as competitive as he is.

Maybe even a little more.

“Just turn the music up,” you say nonchalantly as you meet Jungkook’s gaze again.

Your eyes are shining with mischief and it makes a genuine smile grow on his lips. He’s not surprised at all when you reproduce the choreography perfectly. No, he just watches you move – he’s always liked the way your body moves. As if the space surrounding it belongs to it. As if you can’t be contained by your physical body. It’s beautiful, and he believes you are the best dancer he’s ever seen, except maybe for Hobi.

And himself, back before the accident.

But watching you leaves no place for the accident. All he can think of is that you’ve grown more beautiful while he was gone, as if his absence has given you space to grow. And maybe it has, considering that he was always gently bullying you.

He has half a thought that he should stop doing it. Bullying you, that is. But when you stop dancing and you regard him with a superior look on your face, he just wants to remind you that without him you wouldn’t have been able to dance this choreography at all. He doesn’t quite feel like insulting you though, so instead he says, “Glad you were paying attention last night”.

You look smug, and even though you’re way smaller than him you stand proud and tall. It’s cute, and he lets out a small laugh.

That small laugh is enough to shatter the confidence you are carrying yourself with. “What’s funny?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

You eye him suspiciously, before sighing loudly. “What’s the rest of the choreography anyway?”

That’s a question he has an easy answer to, though he thinks it’s better if you wait. Not you you, but all of the team. He wants the first part to be perfect before you dive into what comes next.

“Ah, let’s see you all dance together first,” he says.

The rest of the dance practice flies by, with Jungkook barely needing to guide you all through the choreography anymore. No, with Hobi and you leading the team, it takes little to no time until Jungkook can just sit in a corner and watch, while his mind keeps on planning what should be next. He has a couple of ideas that he’ll have to run through Hobi before telling the rest of you.

While you all dance together, Jungkook absentmindedly massages his leg. The throbbing pain is not so bad right now, but he knows it’ll be as soon as he gets up. Which might be the reason why he waits when Hobi calls dance practice off. Because he doesn’t want to get up in front of the crew, and have them look at him with the same pity Heather’s been throwing his way all night.

Unfortunately for him, Hobi, Jiho and you linger around. Surprisingly, you eventually drift towards him, leaving Hobi and Jiho to the conversation they’re having – something about their favourite restaurant, which coincidentally is the same. They both look excited, and he realizes he hasn’t seen Hobi smiling so much in a long time.

“Are you sulking in your corner?” you ask as you stop next to him.

You hover over him, and he tilts his head back to look up at your face. He wants to tell you to fuck off, only because he really doesn’t think he can get up right now without cursing like a sailor, and he knows you’ve noticed.

“You’ve got a problem against my corner?”

You cock an eyebrow, and a smile forms on your lips. “No, I was coming to tell you you should leave.”

It’s said gently. Not like you said it last night. Confusion falls on his features and he says, “Why?”

The look you throw over your shoulder to where Jiho and Hobi are standing explains everything. Jungkook’s gaze widens, and he lets out a small laugh.

 “No way.”

You don’t know. You don’t know that his leg hurts, so he has no business being angry at you when you kick it. He just freezes, turning to solid ice, as he feels as if magma is dumped on his knee.

“Shut up,” you say, and the only reason you don’t realize you’ve just hurt him is because you’re still watching Jiho and Hobi. “Let’s leave them alone.”

Jungkook gulps, and he takes a deep breath to calm the pain in his leg. It doesn’t do much, and he knows he can’t stand up right now. He needs to find something to say, and quickly.

“Or we stay here and let them go together,” he suggests.

You put your fists on your hips as you look down at him. “Did you shit yourself? Is that why you don’t want to get up?”

He leans his head against the wall, tilting it to the side. “Why do you think I don’t want to get up?”

“Because you haven’t done it yet?”

He reckons he can’t wait any longer. Luckily enough, the small interlude his suggestion has given him has helped with the pain a little, so it doesn’t feel like too much of a challenge to get up.

He plants the right foot firmly on the ground, knowing damn well that if he’s to put weight on his left leg right now he’s just going to humiliate himself in front of you. And then he clenches his jaw so hard he tastes blood before pushing himself up, aiding himself with the wall next to him.

There’s a question burning on your lips. He knows it from the way your eyebrows are almost touching over your eyes. He knows by now that you’re not going to ask it – you’re suspicious about something, but he remembers you for being patient, when it comes to discovering secrets.

He’s always hated how you were able to know everything back then because you were just so patient. He’s pretty sure most of the crew confides in you out of the rest of the group, even though to him Hobi is the right choice. Who would want to confide in a gossiper when Hobi is right there anyway?

Jungkook stands with all of his weight on his right leg. You’re looking up at him now, and he likes that he towers over you: you’re not looking down when he’s standing next to you. You can’t see that he’s not risking putting any weight on his leg at the moment.

Sometimes, he knows he should walk with a cane. He knows it would help him, but to out himself as having a disability? He’s too ashamed to do it.

“Happy?” he asks instead, even as his heart is hammering against his ribcage.

You wet your lips, and his eyes flit to them. You’re smirking when he looks back at your gaze. “You’re adorable.” It’s said condescendingly though, and he wonders if you’re still angry about last night.

You don’t particularly look like you are, but he decides to apologize once more. He’s growing a little tired of all the fighting anyway.

“Hey,” he lets out. He glances over your head to where Hobi and Jiho are still talking, completely oblivious to the world around them. “I’m really sorry about last night.”

He sees you closing yourself off from him. You fold your arms on your chest, shoulders slouching forward a little, and a frown moves on your features. “It’s whatever, Jeon, I don’t care.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he insists. “It was a little disgusting.”

“You’re always a little disgusting.”

Fucking hell do you know how to rile him up too. “You can’t accept some apologies, can you? You always need to have the last word.” You’re smiling. He realizes you’re smiling, which means you were joking. It makes him shut up, and a pout forms on his lips. “You’re annoying.”

“Apologize to me when you really mean it, Jeon,” you say, and that insufferable smirk hasn’t been dislodged from your lips yet. “We’re not friends, no need to pretend that we are.”

He keeps the pout on for no other reason than the fact you’re looking down at his mouth. “You make it very hard to know what you want,” he complains. “I’m just trying to be decent.”

“Just be yourself,” you say, shrugging your shoulders, as if him being nice to you is not being himself.

He lets go of the pout to play with his piercing for a time. “M’kay then.”

You nod, a satisfied look on your face. You glance at Jiho and Hobi once more, and he follows your line of gaze. “Let’s go now.”

He braces himself for the first step, because he knows there’s nothing he can do to make you change your mind. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would, and he’s able to follow you. You stop in front of him to wish Jiho and Hobi good night, and he waves goodbye to them before following you out of the room.

“So Jiho’s into Hobi?” he asks once you are out of earshot from them.

You glance at him, shrugging your shoulders. “She might be.”

“I’m pretty positive she has a chance with him,” Jungkook says. “But gosh, after all this time they just now realize it?”

“I mean.” Your tongue darts to wet your lips as you reach the door leading to the world outside. “Some people just take a long time before they realize they have feelings for each other.”

It makes him laugh a little, because to him it doesn’t really make sense. He’s the type who’s always believed that when he’ll meet the right person, he’ll just know.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking.

“Right,” he lets out.

You step outside, and Jungkook breathes in the night air. It’s colder than it was when he arrived, and a little more humid. His damn leg starts to throb again, though it hasn’t really stopped since you kicked it. He ignores it, looking up at the sky to see if there are any stars out. To his disappointment, a cover of clouds hides the constellations from his eyes, and he lets his gaze drop to the cement of the road, and to the orange glow of the neon lights.

He’s put away his camera for the summer, just because he needs a break from college. Visual arts being his major, taking pictures has been feeling like a chore to him lately, but he’s struck that the street is giving an eerie vibe right now, one he knows he’d be able to capture well.

“You know,” you let out, words loud enough to dim the sounds of frogs in the distance. “As much as I hate your guts, I’m glad that you’re back.”

You have a way of lacing insult to compliment that makes him reel inside. He doesn’t know how to interpret the feeling, so he just says, “Your ass needed saving, I’m glad I could provide”.

“I did not need saving,” you grumble. “Just some help.”

He cocks an eyebrow, glancing at you with a no-bullshit look on his features. “What part of the choreography did you come up with again?” he asks teasingly.

“The part where you shut the fuck up.”

He bursts out laughing, and he’s surprised when you join in too. It reminds him that he’s known you for a long time, and even if you’ve never really been friends, you do share some sort of a relationship. Enough so that you can laugh at a dumb joke together.

“Wow, my bad,” he says once he stops laughing.

You look at him, and the proud smile on your lips makes him go brain dead for a few seconds. “Nah, for real, the crew really needed you. I’m glad you came through.”

He holds your gaze, features falling serious as your smile melts into a softer one.

“I’m glad I did too.”

He really is. It feels like he’s in heaven, being able to participate in the act of dancing again. Not by doing it himself, but by having people do what he wishes he could do. It really does feel like coming home.

You walk in silence for a time, listening to the cry of the frogs. It grows louder as you near the small river where they reproduce each year. It reminds Jungkook of spring, and it strikes him how much he’s progressed since last year.

Indeed, at this time of the year last year he was still in his cast.

“Do you think you’ll want to dance again one day?” you ask.

It’s said in a small voice, and he knows you’ve gathered by now that dancing is a sensitive subject to him. He likes how you’re being gentle with it, and maybe that’s the only reason why he doesn’t get offended with the question.

“I never really wanted to stop,” he admits. “Stuff just happened and I couldn’t anymore.”

He’s speaking in the past tense, as if he can dance now. He knows damn well that’s impossible.

“You know, if you ever need to talk to someone about the stuff that happened, we’re all ears for you,” you tentatively say.

It kills the magic of the moment to him. The fact you used “we” instead of “I”. It reminds him that you truly aren’t really friends, and that you won’t ever be friends either.

“I know,” he just replies, and silence reigns around you once more.

Except for the frogs, that is.

You reach the bridge over the river, and the frogs are so loud here it doesn’t really allow for conversation anyway. But even once you’ve crossed the bridge, nearing the intersection where you’ll have to part ways, you both don’t talk.

Jungkook doesn’t think you need to. Silence with you is strangely more comfortable than a conversation. Maybe because then you’re not at each other’s throat all the time.

You near the intersection, and it’s then that you talk again. “How are you getting home?”

He motions towards the bus stop. “I’ll just take the bus.”

You nod, and he watches you as you put your hair behind your ear absentmindedly. “How long of a ride is it for you?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never really paid attention. Maybe forty-five minutes?”

“Oh,” you let out. “I can order a Lyft for you, if you want.”

Your kindness sounds suspiciously like pity, so he declines it right away. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just listen to some music and think about the choreography. I think I can tweak some parts of the first half to make Scottie use more of his shoulders.”

You hum. “Alright then. Guess I’ll see you around?”

You’ve reached the intersection by now, so Jungkook nods. “See you.”

You hold his gaze for a few more seconds before you nod too, turning around as you start walking towards the rich neighbourhood where you live. If he was closer to you, Jungkook would offer to walk you home. It feels like it’s too much though, so he settles on watching you walk away as he sits at the bus stop.

He’s halfway home when he receives a text.

[12:34 am] You🙄: i’m sure the rest of the choreography will be great

He smiles for the rest of the way home.

Friday, May 18th

                You have been watching your phone for the last hour. It’s been suspiciously silent all morning, even though your dad was supposed to call you on Facetime an hour and a half ago. You’re used to him being late – he’s one of the most renowned lawyers of a big city on the other side of the country. It keeps him very busy, but when he says he’s going to call you he usually does.

So, needless to say, you’re a little annoyed as you watch the minutes go by. You’re on your fourth episode of Attack on Titan when you receive a text, and surprisingly it’s not from your father. You pause the episode, waiting until the text disappears at the top of the screen as if it means it never existed.

You still have yet to save Jungkook’s number. You don’t really want to: you still expect him to disappear once again, and since your fight last week you’ve been a little iffy about him.

Or maybe you’re iffy because you’ve noticed he was in pain last Saturday, trying to pretend he was fine. You have a couple of hypotheses as to why he’s left now, but you’re trying not to think about it too much.

You don’t like thinking about Jungkook.

You sigh, before going to your text messages. You’ve long deactivated the ‘read’ function, so you don’t care: you immediately open his text.

[11:36 am] unsaved number: hey, any chance i could run what i’ve got through u before showing it to the crew tmrw?

You’re appalled, somehow, that he wants to run it through you when he can show Hobi instead. You’re about to tell him so when your phone starts vibrating from your dad’s incoming call. You pick up the call, and your father’s face appears.

He’s sporting his best apologetic smile, and you can see the sun painting his wall behind him. It’s earlier where your father is, and the sun is still far from its zenith, which means it hits the glass doors of your father’s balcony almost perpendicularly now.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologized. “Had a call with a client and couldn’t call you before.”

You’ve missed his voice. You haven’t talked to him in two months, and even though it’s been years of him having moved to the other side of the country, some part of you is still not used to the distance.

“No worries,” you say. “The semester is over now, I’ve just been chilling in my room since I woke up.”

“Don’t you have an internship this summer?”

You let out a small laugh at the stern look on his features. As if he has any authority over you whatsoever. “Yes, it starts at the end of May.”

He nods. “Thought so.” He looks away from the camera, and you think you hear some birds singing. He probably left the balcony doors wide open, enjoying the warmth of the Californian early morning. Last time you went he had gotten a few bird feeders, saying he loves to hear them sing in the morning. The peaceful expression on his features tells you he still does. “What are your plans until then?”

You shrug, and a little like he just did, you look away, towards your own window. It’s sunny outside for you too, though it stopped raining only half an hour ago. You hope it won’t rain again today – it’s been raining way too much lately anyway.

“Just taking it easy,” you answer. “Practicing for the auditions for nationals in July.”

He smiles. “Right. How’s that been going?”

You know there’s a high chance he doesn’t really care. He’s never shown up for any of your dance competitions growing up, and it used to make you feel horrible. Until you were old enough to realize your mother treated him poorly, and being away from her for a few days was always a reprieve to him.

It hasn’t changed now that they are divorced, even if your mother stopped coming to your competitions too.

“It’s been great,” you say. “We’re adjusting to being only six and it’s a challenge, but I think we’ll make it.”

“Haven’t you always just been six?”

He doesn’t remember. You don’t know why he would remember: you only mentioned Jungkook leaving to him once last year when the deed happened, and then did your best to forget all about Jeon Jungkook.

You chuckle. “No, we’ve always been seven. Until Jungkook left last year?”

“Jungkook?” he asks.

“Tall guy, with the sleeve of tattoos and a couple of piercings?” you provide, though you doubt it’ll ring a bell to your father. “He joined the crew at the same time as I did.”

Which almost coincides with the month your parents divorced, actually.

“I feel bad for not remembering, but that’s probably because he didn’t matter, uh?” he says it like a joke, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“He doesn’t,” you agree. Only, he does a little, especially now that he’s become the choreographer.

Especially now that he thinks he has to run the dances through you before showing them to the other members.

“Why did he leave anyway?” your father asks, and he once again glances away from the screen.

You wonder if his new wife is around. From the lack of a three-year-old’s screaming, you assume she went out to the park with their son. Is he looking outside because he’s expecting them to come back soon?

“I don’t know,” you reply. You shrug, even if your father is not looking at you right now. “He’s come back to be the choreographer now, though.”

That attracts your father’s attention again. “Wow, a choreographer. Your crew is getting big, isn’t it?”

He’s only partly listening. Because you’re not quite sure he understood what you just said, but it doesn’t matter.               

He’s not really your father anyway.

“Well, we’ll see if we can win nationals.”

“Where are they held this year?” he asks, and he sounds genuine. As if he might be considering coming.

“Some place near here”, you inform him. “In Chicago two hours away.”

Chicago is the city where he used to take you when you were a kid to see the Christmas decoration. It was something you did just you two, and to this day it is still one of your favourite memories of him.

He’s not your father. Biologically, that is. But he’ll always be your dad, no matter how many miles separates you from him.

“Ah, why did I think it was in California?”

“Because you’ve been wanting them to be in California for the last three years?” you tease.

It makes him laugh, which brings a bright smile to your lips. “They’ve been on the East coast for years now, shouldn’t they come to my side of the country?”

You purse your lips, looking up as if pondering. “Maybe you should be the one coming.”

The suggestion dims the light in your father’s eyes. You know he associates this side of the country with your mother, and with a lot of bad memories. You don’t blame him – she did hide from him and you that you aren’t his biological daughter until you found out yourself through some genetic testing when you were sixteen.

“I’ll think about it,” and it’s synonym to no. You know him well enough. He’s quick to change the subject too. “Do you think you’ll be visiting this summer?”

You haven’t really planned to. Something about seeing him with his wife and son always makes you feel awful. And it makes you feel even worse that you’re jealous of his happiness, that you’re jealous your family life cannot be like that. He deserves it after everything your mother put him through.

You’re happy for him though. You can’t deny it. Even though you believed it was risky for him to have kids considering he’s a carrier of a Tay-Sachs disease gene. From what he’s told you, his son didn’t get the gene, which is a relief, but had you been him you wouldn’t have taken the risk.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “It depends how busy it gets with the internship and dance practice.”

He’s disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows how hard it is for you to come, so he mostly asks out of reflex. He’ll never put pressure on you to do it.

“We’re back!” a cheery woman’s voice says.

You reckon it’s risky for her to scream in the house like that when your father might have been on a call with a client, but love makes people stupid.

He greets her and their son, before resuming his attention on you. “I’ll have to go.”

You wish he wouldn’t have to, but you don’t really have anything else to tell him anyway. So you offer him your best excuse of a warm smile, and a moment later you’ve hung up.

It brings you back to the text conversation with Jungkook, and the unanswered message he sent you. You sigh, and maybe if you weren’t feeling sadly nostalgic about your father, you would have told him to run it through Hobi instead.

For some reason, Jungkook feels like a good distraction though, so you reply,

[11:58 am] You: if u can pull up at the studio some time this evening, yeah sure

He replies almost right away, as if he was waiting for you to text him.

[11:59 am] unsaved number: i’ll try to be there around 9😌

You’re annoyed that he chose such a late hour, especially considering you are supposed to meet up with Jiho for girl’s night – aka clubbing and finding some strangers to kiss the night away. Though you reckon she probably doesn’t really want to kiss anyone now that she and Hobi have started to talk.

[12:04 pm] You: depends how quick u are, i’m going out with jiho [12:05 pm] unsaved number: i promise i’ll be quick, i’ve got something tonight too

You have no idea why he suggested tonight then, but you don’t press him for an explanation. Mostly because you don’t really care, but also because you’re excited for girl’s night, especially considering you missed last week because Jiho had a family dinner.

You can just hope that Jungkook is right on time.

*****

                You will kill him. You will murder Jeon Jungkook. You reckon you should have murdered him last week when you first wanted to – you would have been rid of him already.

No, you had to ask him to leave instead, and now he’s almost an hour late, and you have to meet Jiho at her house in twenty minutes. Her brother is coming with you, and he’s bringing his boyfriend, and you really want to meet the mysterious Felix.

Jeon Jungkook can go to hell.

You texted him when he was only ten minutes late. You know it takes him a long time to get here, so you just gave him the benefit of the doubt at first. But now it’s getting far too late for it to just be the bus, and your blood is positively boiling, enough so that you text Jiho.

[9:49 pm] You: what if we change plan tonight to murder jk😤 [9:50 pm] Jiho❣️: omg i was gonna text u [9:50 pm] Jiho ❣️ hobi sent me this

She forwards a video to you. You furrow your eyebrows before clicking on the video, and loud music blasts out of your phone. You quickly turn the volume down, even if you’re alone in your small studio, and you focus on the screen. It looks like a living room, though the light bulbs have been changed to red. The video starts by showing off Hobi’s face as he’s smiling, and then he starts laughing and turns the camera around.

Jeon Jungkook is shotgunning a beer in the middle of the living room, not caring that half of it spills on the floor. You don’t watch the rest of the video, immediately going back to texting Jiho.

[9:51 pm] You: is he at a FKG PARTY????? [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: seems like it🙄 [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: Hobi invited us and sent the vid [9:52 pm] Jiho❣️: i don’t think he knows jk was supposed to go to the studio [9:52 pm] You: HOLD ON?!😳 [9:53 pm] You: hobi invited us??? or invited u😏

Jiho sends a bunch of shy emojis, before adding:

[9:53 pm] Jiho❣️: he knows we’re going out tonight, so us [9:54 pm] Jiho❣️: he might have said he wants to see me tho☺️🫣

You shriek. Loud and clear, and you almost forget how angry you are at Jeon Jungkook. No, if you go to that party, it’s to make sure Jiho and Hobi get together. Jungkook can go fuck himself.

[9:55 pm] You: BITCH HE SAID WHAT [9:55 pm] You: I SHIP THIS SO HARD😍 [9:56 pm] You: is he cool with sungie and his bf coming too?🤔

Jiho takes a moment before replying, long enough that you decide to leave the studio. It’s clear that Jungkook is not going to come anyway, and you’d rather shriek with Jiho than at your phone. Whatever you did last week probably worked if Hobi wants to see her now.

You’ve never been so happy for your best friend in your whole life.

You walk quickly, happy that you chose platform boots for tonight. Jiho’s platform boots, to be precise. You’ve paired them with knee-high socks, a black skirt and a pink corset that hugs your body perfectly. For now, it’s hidden under an oversized gray sweater, and you walk with your head hung low.

It occurs to you as you near the bridge that you should have taken a Lyft to go home, because it’s late and you’re a woman. Luckily though, you don’t see anyone until you get to your neighbourhood, and then you just see a couple walking hand in hand. They offer you a smile that you reciprocate awkwardly, and a few minutes later you finally arrive at Jiho’s house.

Jiho, Jisung and an unknown blond-haired guy are sitting on the porch, and Jiho jumps to her feet as soon as she sees you.

“Bitch?” you say as a way of greeting, right as she jumps in your arm. “He wants to see you?”

She’s nodding happily, but she remains silent.

“She hasn’t shut up about it in the last twenty minutes,” Jisung puts in. “I think I’ll kill her before we even reach that lame ass frat party.”

“The only thing lame here is your attitude,” Jiho throws at her brother as she pulls away from the hug. “That, and Jeon Jungkook,” she adds, looking at you now.

You roll your eyes, but you’re not going to let the mention of him ruin your night. Not when Hobi and Jiho are on the line.

You reckon you don’t even care that Jungkook is at the party. You don’t care that he stood you up, but you’re still going to give him shit for it, aren’t you?

“Let’s not think about this asshole,” you say. And then you move closer to where Jisung and Felix are standing, and you wave to the latter. “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

He smiles and he replies with the deepest voice you’ve heard in your entire life. “Nice to meet you. These two had lots of stuff to say about you.”

You eye Jisung and Jiho suspiciously. “Good things, I hope?”

They look sheepish, and Jisung says, “I might have mentioned the vodka incident”.

“Sung-ie!” you yelp. “It was one time, like eight years ago! Did you tell him about that time we found you naked in a snowbank? You could have died.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Felix lets out, and Jisung charges towards you, probably with the goal of killing you.

It makes you scream as you run away, but he grabs you before you’ve reached the end of the driveway. He picks you up, arms wrapped around your middle, and you kick the air in front of you as you laugh loudly, something between snorting and shrieking. It’s a disgustingly childish sound, and it’s probably way too loud for the peaceful neighbourhood.

Jisung puts you down, even though he probably considered throwing you first, and you spin around with the intention to shove him, but he’s already moved away.

“Do you know the amount of embarrassing stories I can tell about you?” you say, just to be a little brat.

He’s flushed red, and he says through gritted teeth, “Please, not in front of…” he trails off, motioning towards Felix with his head.

“I’m sure Felix wants to know all the embarrassing stories, do you?” you ask towards the guy, and Jisung is running towards you again.

You dodge this time, and he almost falls before you both burst out laughing as Felix just watches with a soft smile on his lips.

“Are they always like this?” he asks Jiho.

She nods. “You put two idiots together and it’s bound to happen.”

“I’m sorry what!” you burst out in time with Jisung, and the group all laughs.

It’s in this childish atmosphere that you all filter into the Lyft Jiho ordered once you arrived, and you talk and laugh together. Turns out that Felix is Australian, and you all tease him for his accent. It’s probably something that Jiho and Jisung have been doing a lot, because he looks at you for salvation until you repeat “naur” in your best Australian accent imitation.

You feel sixteen again, and it’s healing, somehow. For what, you don’t know. Maybe because talking to your father this morning felt nostalgic, and Jiho and Jisung are reminding you that you do have your own family.

The Lyft drops you in front of a house. It’s not on campus, so it’s probably not a frat house. It feels like one though, considering the booming music you can hear even though the windows are closed. You think of the video Hobi sent, and of Jungkook shotgunning a beer.

If there is a frat thing to do, shotgunning a beer seems like it’s at the top of the list. Especially when it’s not done well because, truth be told, you don’t think frat bros are good when it comes to drinking alcohol. They just tend to overdo it all the time, until they’ve made a fool out of themselves. It seems Jeon Jungkook is not an exception.

“So, are we going in?” Felix asks, and a chorus of “saur” answers him.

He’s the kind of person that has an easy laugh though, because he just bursts out laughing in time with you all. You all move towards the house still, and you figure you don’t need to knock to open the door.

As soon as the door opens, the music volume goes up, and you wince as you glance at Jiho. “Never took Hobi for a frat bro.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing a shy laugh. “You know he’s not a frat bro.”

“This is a frat party,” you say, loudly because you’ve moved inside and you don’t think she’ll be able to hear you.

“This is a house party,” she replies. “It’s not the same thing.”

You roll your eyes at her, and then the living room comes into view. It’s not as full as you thought it would be, but there’s still a small crowd gathered around the room. You recognize some of the people because you’ve seen them last week. Bridget and Jo are there, along with Hobi and Jungkook’s friends. There are a few people you’ve never seen before – and you see a couple disappearing downstairs, closing the door behind them.

It makes you laugh, right as Jo and Bridget notice you. Jo waves you over, and you link your arm with Jiho to pull her towards the girl. For now, Hobi and Jungkook are out of sight, so you figure greeting Jo and her friends is the most important thing to do.

You’ll kill Jeon Jungkook later, after you’ve made sure Jiho is all set with Hobi.

“Hey girls!” Jo greets you when you stop next to her. She giggles drunkenly, and you reckon she’s probably a couple of shots in already.

Taehyung is nearby, so you’re not worried about her.

“What’s up?” you ask as you loosely hug her and Bridget.

You’re pulling away from Bridget’s hug when Heather appears. Her cheeks are flushed red with alcohol, and she wraps an arm around your neck and Jiho’s neck to pull you into a tight group hug, shrieking something incoherent.

She’s clearly indulged in alcohol a lot already.

Bridget pulls her off you two, and you all laugh as Heather mumbles an apology.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she says with her slurred speech.

Bridget winces, before looking at Jo. “You need to stop making everyone drink so much.”

“The semester is over, let us have fun.”

Bridget laughs, shaking her head. “You’ve been dating Tae for what, two weeks? And you’re already changing into a party girl. Kiko is never going to talk to you again.”

Jo pouts. “Kiko loves me, I’m all good.”

You have no idea who Kiko is, so you glance at Jiho. She’s moved to let her brother and Felix into the circle, and she starts introducing them both to everyone. It seems it’s an opportunity for shots, because Jo links her arm with yours to bring you into the kitchen, claiming she’ll need help with the shots. You follow because you like her, and partying with her again sounds like a good time indeed.

You’re halfway done pouring shots for everyone when the door leading to the backyard opens, and Jimin, Hobi and Jungkook come in. They’ve got bloodshot eyes, and it’s easy to figure out what they were doing out there.

You stop pouring as Jimin sees you first, and his mouth falls open in surprise, before moving into a warm grin. He says your name, and he moves towards you.

“How are you?” he asks you, and he lets out a small laugh as if that was the most clever thing he’s said in his life.

Yeah, he definitely is high.

You haven’t talked to him a lot, since you saw him at the bar two weeks ago. He dmed you on Instagram, like he had said he’d do, but the conversation had just naturally died. It had been a friendly conversation though, and you’re happy to see him tonight.

“Clearly not as baked as you, but I’m good,” you reply, and you resume pouring the shots as Hobi and Jungkook just watch you.

They start laughing, which you reckon makes you laugh a little too. It’s awkward, and Jo just surveys the scene with a small knowing smile on her lips.

You’re forced to pour three more shots for the boys – even Jungkook, and you only do it because Jo glares at you when you frown as she motions at him. Jungkook is still just standing in the spot he stopped when he saw you, and he’s got a dumb smile on his lips.

You don’t know if you like the smile. But it’s sort of cute, and better than the infuriating smirk he’s mastered when he’s around you.

When all the shots are ready, you carry them all on a tray back to the living room. Jo helps you in handing them out to everyone, and a moment later everyone downs their shot. You wince at the taste of tequila, and you feel a pair of eyes on you that make your blood curdle inside.

It’s Jungkook, and even though you didn’t mind him in the kitchen, you’re suddenly reminded that he stood you up tonight. You’re going to need a lot more alcohol if you’re to confront him, so you pull Jisung and Felix behind you to the kitchen so you can mix yourself a drink. You settle on gin and tonic while Jisung makes two rum and coke for him and his boyfriend, and then you’re on your way back to the living room when Jungkook appears in front of you. You stop, which makes Jisung bump into you, which makes you spill your drink a little on Jungkook.

He looks down at the wet spot on his shirt, and then up at your face. Even in the red light of the living room, you can still see his blown-wide pupils, and they search your features for a few seconds before going to your drink.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt you could have just asked,” he says.

“What the fuck?” Jisung lets out. “Isn’t that the dude that ghosted the dance crew?”

You turn toward Jisung, eyes widened in warning. He takes the cue, and he grabs Felix by the arm to guide him around Jungkook and towards the living room.

“That was an accident,” you say once Jisung and Felix are gone. “The last thing I want to see is you with your shirt off.”

He laughs. It sounds more like a giggle – it’s not a sound that a tall guy with piercings and a sleeve of tattoos should make. You’ve heard it plenty of times before though, and tonight it rings differently.

Instead of getting on your nerves, you find it a little cute. Which disgusts you so bad you scowl.

“Damn, all this working out for nothing,” he jokes. He looks down at your glass once more, before finding your gaze. “What are you having?”

You’re sick of the conversation. You’re sick of your little brain thinking Jungkook was cute a second ago, so you say, “Why did you stand me up?”

He has the decency to look apologetic. “My plans started earlier. I texted you, no?”

“You didn’t?”

He seems really confused, with a pout moving on his lips as he grabs his phone in a pocket of his black cargo pants. He looks down at the device, blinking a few times as if to bring his screen into focus. And then he bursts out laughing and he shows you his phone.

“I’m so fucking dumb,” he says in between two sets of laughter. “I forgot to press send.”

Somehow, that is such a Jungkook thing to do that you can’t really bring yourself to be angry at him. No, you really have the proof under your eyes, so all you are is a little annoyed, but you’re not furious like you were back at the studio.

“Gosh,” you let out. “I waited for you for an hour.”

His face falls as he pouts again, big eyes turning apologetic. “I’m so sorry. I can show you the choreography here, though.” He says that looking around, scanning the living room as if he’s making sure there’s enough room. He then seems to reconsider, shaking his head a little. “Well, maybe not in front of everyone.”

“It can wait,” you tell him, and you sip your gin and tonic as you notice Jiho and Hobi talking behind him.

“No.”

Jungkook’s little objection brings your attention back to him. “What do you mean, no?”

“We can go upstairs and I can show you in my room.”

You let out a disbelieved laugh. “You live here?”

“Yes,” he says as he nods enthusiastically. “With Jin, Jimin and Taehyung.”

You don’t know the first guy, but you still purse your lips. “Interesting”.

There’s a small silence as you once again sip on your gin and tonic. Jungkook is watching you carefully, as if he’s growing impatient with the silence, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

“So?”

“So what?” you ask.

“Can we go upstairs so I can show you?”

Another disbelieved laugh falls from your lips. “I’m not going upstairs to your room with you.”

He pouts again, like he’s a child and not a grown-ass man. It contrasts deeply with the piercing on his lips, and it makes you feel weird inside. You don’t like it, and you chase the feeling away with a long sip this time.

“Please?” he asks. “I’ve really wanted to show you.”

You roll your eyes. “Just do it here,” you suggest. “Or outside, I don’t care.”

“But you spilled your drink on my t-shirt!” he insists. “You owe that to me, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw. He is annoying, far too annoying. But he doesn’t seem like there’s any chance you’ll let it go, and if he really wants to show you, then what’s wrong with going up to his room?

You ask yourself that question at least a thousand times by the time it takes to go from the hallway leading to the kitchen and up to his room. You look back once as you walk up, mostly because you’re afraid someone will see you. You’re relieved when you see no one looking, and you quickly follow Jungkook until you’re out of sight.

You let out a sigh of relief, until Jungkook stops in front of you and you bump into him, spilling even more of the gin and tonic on him.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he stopped because Jo is in front of him, and the moment she sees you her mouth falls open and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Wow,” she lets out.

“It’s not what you think,” you immediately defend yourself, though you reckon it makes it look a lot more suspicious.

“I just need to show her something,” Jungkook mumbles, with that same pout he’s been using for a while now.

Jo hums. “Right.” She looks at you, before walking around Jungkook. She’s starting to walk down the stairs when she says, “Have fun”.

You take it back. You’re not sure you like her anymore.

You reluctantly follow Jungkook to his room, and you only realize then how warm you’ve been. Because his room is blissfully cool, and the purple LED lights you’ve seen when he called you on Facetime the other day make for a good reprieve for your eyes.

You’re surprised to see his bed is neatly made, and there’s not a single piece of clothing on the floor. For some reason, you’ve always thought he’d be a messy person, but no, his room is pristine. He has a gaming set-up in one corner, and the RGB lights move from purple to light blue in a hypnotizing wave.

And then, you almost drop your red solo cup as Jungkook pulls his shirt off while taking a few steps towards a dresser. The muscles of his back work under his skin as he rummages in a drawer to find a new shirt after having put the wet one in a hamper. He holds a t-shirt up triumphantly, and he turns towards you with the biggest smile on his face.

The front of his body looks just as good as the back, but your eyes stop on a gash on his stomach. A scar, with jagged edges that almost look painful to the touch. It starts on his side and goes down until it disappears in his pants, almost following the V-line shaped muscle to the millimeter.

He doesn’t notice your look. Or if he does he doesn’t care, because he just puts the shirt on, until his skin disappears from you.

That scar didn’t use to be there. There’s no chance in hell it would have gone unnoticed.

“So, I might be a little too drunk and high to perform well,” Jungkook says, as if you’re not looking at him with a horrified gaze, “but I think we could…” He furrows his brows. “Is something wrong?”

You don’t know what to say. You just shake your head no, before mumbling, “Sorry, go on”.

He doesn’t seem like he wants to let it go, but then he shrugs. “You know how the rhythm of the song slowly changes? I think we could use that to make a cool bridge.”

He pulls out his phone, before moving to a small speaker on his night table. He turns the speaker on, and a few seconds later the song starts to play. He starts dancing but stops way before he reaches the part he mentioned in the song.

“This is awkward,” he says, and he laughs. He pushes his hair back, eyes still boring through yours. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be showing you this here.”

“Jeon, I’ve seen you dance a thousand times before, you’re all good,” you say, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t dance like I used to though,” he points out.

He’s right, but now that you’ve seen the scar you’re afraid the worst scenarios you’ve thought up might be true after all.

“If you’d rather wait until tomorrow then that’s okay too,” you suggest, offering him salvation.

He seems to ponder, and a disappointed look takes over his features. And then they just turn dark, filled with ghosts and demons. The same ones he was fighting last week a moment before your argument.

He sighs loudly, before sitting on the side of his bed. You still haven’t moved from your spot next to the door, and your red solo cup will soon be empty. You need to figure out something else to occupy yourself when the air turns awkward, because it sure does turn awkward now.

Jungkook clears his throat, and then he lets out a small bitter chuckle. “You saw the scar, uh?”

You can’t lie, so you just offer him a small, “Yeah”.

“That one is not even the worst one,” he admits. “I’ve got a big one on my leg, and a smaller one from the two surgeries to reconstruct my knee.”

Your heart is beating uncomfortably in your chest. You’re not sure Jungkook wants to be telling you this, and his defeated form makes you ache. You wish you could take the pain away, but all you can do is stand where you are and listen to him as he keeps on talking.

“We were in a car accident last year? I’m the one that got it the worst. It fucked up my leg. And I almost lost a kidney. The kidney is fine now but uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and only then does he look at you. You wish he didn’t, because the pure look of despair in his eyes makes your throat constrict as a lump forms at the bottom of it. “That’s why I can’t dance anymore. I even had to relearn how to walk.”

He falls silent. The song is still playing, probably because Jungkook put it on repeat, but you reckon you haven’t paid attention to it since he started talking. You hold his gaze, and you can’t for the life of yourself find any hatred for him in you. Because you don’t know what you would do if dancing was taken away from you.

You would be devastated, that’s for sure.

“I…” you start, but you don’t find anything to say. “Wow, Jungkook.”

He looks down at the floor, and he massages his leg mindlessly. You noticed him doing it last week, but now you know why.

“A funny thing, though, is that I have some metal in my leg now? If I do an MRI it’s going to legit rip from my skin.”

There is absolutely nothing funny in that statement, and you just look at him blankly. “Jungkook…”

He scoffs now, and he sounds like a wounded animal. He is a wounded animal. “See, that’s why I didn’t want you all to know.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because you think I’m pathetic,” he snaps. “You look at me with that pitiful look on your face and I fucking hate it. It’s already hard enough to deal with the consequences of it all by myself, but having people pity me? It feels like shit.”

He’s getting worked up, and you don’t have time to say anything before he continues, “Like okay, my dream was taken away from me! But who fucking cares, you’re probably just happy because you’ve always hated me, and now you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” He hits his forehead with the side of his clenched fist, as if he needs to knock some sense into himself. “And Bridget told Heather and Heather’s been treating me like I’m a fucking child. Just because my leg is hurt doesn’t mean I’m a fucking child, you know.”

He glares at you, while you just watch with a widened gaze, your mouth a little open from the surprise of his outburst.

“And the worst part is, it hurts. All. The. Fucking. Time. I can’t even walk without it hurting, it hurts so bad some days I can’t even get out of bed. It’s been hurting more since I danced last week as if to say, ‘bro, don’t even dare doing something that you love’. It’s exhausting.”

There’s a small silence, and he’s breathing heavily. He’s really worked up now, and you’re still just watching without knowing what to do or say. Your red solo cup is entirely forgotten in your hand. You don’t think you’ve blinked since he started talking, and the horror of it all has not even fully hit you yet.

“I just want it to stop,” he continues. There’s an edge to his voice, and you realize he might just burst out crying then and there. “And I’m going to be sick.”

He’s barely finished saying the sentence that he bends over, throwing up right in front of his feet on the floor. That shakes you out of your trance, and you gag at the sounds he makes while he’s sick. You turn your head away from him, and you quickly fish your phone out of your sweater’s pocket. All you can think to do is text Jimin, and Jungkook is wiping tears on his cheeks when you glance back at him.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, but you know you’ve gone white. You’re not good with people being sick, and if you stay in this room just a moment longer you’ll be sick too. “It’s okay, Jungkook, you’re all okay.”

“I’m not though,” he says, and he hides his face in his hands.

You don’t like seeing Jeon Jungkook like this. You much rather prefer when he’s being a pain in the ass, as if his only purpose in this world is to be a prick to you. Now he just looks like a broken man, and nothing you’ve learned in your whole life has ever prepared you to deal you with such a situation, especially not one happening with him, the man you’ve always hated.

You’re lucky enough though. Someone knocks at the door, and you quickly pull it open. It’s Jimin, and he’s got a concerned look on his features. It just gets worse when he sees Jungkook, and his eyes dip to the puddle on the floor.

“Shit,” he curses. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“Can you go get Taehyung?” Jimin asks gently as he steps into the room.

You nod, because you really need to get away before you get sick too. Some part of you feels horrible to leave Jungkook behind but, for your own good, you need to go.

Call it preservation or something.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof poor Jungkook🥺☹️ I wish I could give him a good hug bc gosh he deserves it Sooo what did we think this week? Did we like it? Let me know!✨

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[elegantballetalk]

I know this might be a year too late and everyone is getting tired of it, but what do you think about Bolshoi's 2023 girls (Maria Koshkareva, Sofya Valiullina, Yaroslavna Kuprina, Taisia Konovalova, Polina Netsvetaeva-Dolgalyova), especially after 1.5 year? My personal favourite is Sofya, I always find her dancing enjoyable to watch. Sometimes I'm sad that it seems like she's the only one who's being left behind among those five, like the four others are debuting major (and even leading) roles one after another, but Sofya gets much less and it's mostly minor soloist roles. On the other hand, I'm relieved that it's actually better for her growth artistically, but still... I wonder if she will ever get major/leading roles someday :")

It’s not too late—never is. Actually, I think following a dancer for many years makes it more and more exciting.

Maria Koshkareva, Sofya Valiullina, and Yaroslavna Kuprina are all really good dancers, and one must consider the difficulties of moving to a new city and getting used to company life, which must be especially tough in a place like the Bolshoi.

Maria and Sofya are really good friends; they have been in class together since their first year at Vaganova, and they continue to be friends now, so at least they have that. Last season, they danced the Swan Lake Pas de Trois many times together, and I always found it very nice. But look how visible their style differences are! They both danced the Orange Fairy in Sleeping Beauty, but they looked so different—not in a bad way, just stylistically. They are completely different types of dancers, even though they’ve been trained together since they were about 10ish.

Yaroslavna Kuprina suffered a serious injury almost at the beginning of last year’s season, but this year she started with a bang, debuting as Aurora. I wish we were in managements head to see why they were like: ah yes, let's have this young girl debut aurora randomly at the start of what basically is her first season. I would love to know hwat goes on behind the scenes. But here is a video on YouTube from last year of her and Sofya dancing the Three Swans from Swan Lake, which you might find interesting.

So my opinions:

Maria Koshkareva: She is the "favored" one. Now we can only guess why—maybe it's her attitude, personality, luck, or her association with Kovaleva/Tsiskaridze. Who knows? Perhaps they see something in her, perceive in her a spark of something rare, something worth cultivating. Or maybe, since she won that competition and has gained a bit of a following, they think that if they push her, she could become a future star. For a theater, having these "famous" dancers offers prestige and helps sell tickets, especially on tour. And one can only become a famous dancer if the theater actively markets you that way—by giving you major roles, high-profile performances, and constant visibility. This is likely why they keep casting her in significant roles, even if it might be better to wait a few years before giving her such pressure. The theater seems to be fast-tracking her career, not necessarily because she’s ready, but because they believe they can shape her into a star if they position her as one early on.

Regarding her dancing: I don't really know how to explain this, but she's so Russian and so Bolshoi. Her dancing is so Russian; it almost gives you a feel of how dancers used to dance in the past—bold and free, compromising technique to make you feel something (while simultaneously, obviously, having so much technique that they can afford to command the stage as they wish). I think she has that freedom to give her star quality. But sometimes I don’t love her facial expressions on stage, but that’s just my personal opinion.

What I do admire, without question, is the way she doth grace her movements with the cambre—that deep, arching of the back. Oh, Maria, thou art a master of the cambre! It doth add such elegance and beauty to her already magnificent dancing. More cambres, please!

In general watching her is not relaxing for me, like she doesn't give the lyricism that I so often crave when watching ballet. BUT:

I really, really, really liked her as Angela in Marco Spada. I think she was full of energy, and especially considering it was a debut, I think it was really good.

Same thing with Kitri: I really enjoyed it. There was a youthful exuberance in her portrayal, and the spirit of the character was conveyed with great veracity.

I also really liked her dancing as Juliette's friend at the Mariinsky. I thought her lines looked beautiful.

She did one of the fairies a few times in Sleeping Beauty as well. I liked it—nothing stood out in a good or bad way.

Gamzatti: I think her Italian fouettés are really cool, but her regular fouettés... less so? They don’t look easy on her... they seemed somewhat laboured.

Princess Masha: Her elegance and grace suited the role well, and I was pleased with what I saw.

She obviously did more roles, like Swanilda, but no opinions on her in these or other roles come to mind. She also did diamonds, but I can't remember if i saw anyhting.

I also hope she improves her pas de deux, but I don’t think it’s her fault. I do not fault her; nor her partner, its just that this is a skill that comes with time and experience. For example, at minute 1:46:04, you can see Maria and her partner getting coached, but Maria's very young coach can barely get a word in. P.S. At the start of this video, you can see Maria and Sofya in class together, and gravitating toward each other when it’s time to do center. There is something most endearing about this quiet camaraderie.

Sofya Valiullina is also amongst my favourites, I must confess. She has a soft soft in my heart, or because also I feel this fear for her not being valued enough, I fear shadows might cloud her, but she's bright! I love her so, perhaps it is because she appears so happy and assured in her dancing, always carrying herself with an air of capability. There is not a trace of frailty in her; indeed, she exudes classical grace in every movement! I find her work thoroughly enjoyable, and her musicality particularly striking. Oddly enough—and I must admit, it does seem strange—I would pay a considerable sum for her hair colour. Ordinarily, I would say that brunette or black locks suit ballerinas best, yet she is the exception to this rule.

In truth, I do not believe she lags behind the others in any sense. While she may not have been entrusted with roles as grand as Aurora or Kitri, she is frequently on stage, constantly honing her craft, and always looks splendid in whatever part she performs. This is not to say she has been without her own share of significant roles—far from it, especially this season. She has danced numerous solos for opera performances, and I must say, the videos she has posted are filled with such energy; I have watched them on several occasions.

Her recent debut as the Spanish Bride in Swan Lake was remarkably strong, and her portrayal of Naina’s Magical Garden was most enchanting. Her jumps are magnificent, her ballon sublime, though I do wish her arms were occasionally a touch more fluid.

I noticed she is slated to perform as Countess Cherry in Cipollino on December 6—how delightful! I shall be most curious to see how that unfolds.

And let us not forget: when we wonder why certain artists are not appearing as frequently, it does not always imply they have fallen out of favour. Perhaps they are engaged in rigorous rehearsals for something new, recovering from a minor injury, or simply not posting updates. Often, we are left in the dark.

I know it sounds rather peculiar, but I do follow Sofya’s and Maria’s physiotherapist on Instagram (@gasoarovalex). From time to time, he shares performances of Sofya’s that she herself does not. Were I not following him, I would never have been the wiser! In fact, I also follow her mother on the platform—though I admit, that may be slightly odd. But what else is a person to do when they are far from Russia, unable to speak the language, and unable to witness the performances in person? Insider information is a precious commodity.

Was it not last year that Sofya made her debut as Myrtha, as well as in Chopiniana? I do not remember the details with perfect clarity, but the recollection is a pleasant one. I believe she also danced two parts in The Nutcracker, the Waltz and Spanish Doll, though I have yet to see any footage of those performances, and so I cannot offer an opinion.

But don't you worry. Sofia's career is already more active than many other corp members. She's not "buried" in the corps. Truth is that careers in the theatre are slow, it's the fast tracking careers that are the anomaly. Sofia is already doing much more in her second season than others in their fifth or season! Take Svetlana Savelieva as an example. She's been at the mariinsky since 2019, and only yesterday promoted to Coryphee, even though Savelieva has an enormous, romantic like, talent. But things go like this, sometimes they are unfair, or management thinks that mentally or physically the dancer is not "ready" yet. And except for Kuprina's random Aurora (which she only performed once) its not like Kuprina has had much different roles than Valiullina.

As for Yaroslavna Kuprina—oh, how she was criticised and trashed she was for her debut as Aurora! But I, for one, found it perfectly acceptable, mediocre, I would say... fine. Not a performance to be remembered for its brilliance, certainly, but neither was it a disaster. It was simply... fine. I did find it very random that she went from having an injury to literally having Aurora be her comeback moment, but good for her. Personally, I'm less familiar with her—she seems to be more private. I wish I could see her Vaganova exam to get more of feeling of her technical capabilities in the studio. (If anyone should have a link, do send it my way!) If one were to peruse the playbill, one would often see her name listed for soloist roles or smaller parts, though she posts very little, and thus I am left with no footage unless a fellow theatre-goer kindly shares a recording. I think she debuted Gamzatti? Never saw it.

I must say, however, I did quite enjoy her portrayal of Juliet’s friend. She has such beautiful lines. Her arabesque and attitude are simply exquisite, and her port de bras—those graceful arms, wrists, and fingers—are nothing short of sublime. Yet, I do feel her expression sometimes betrays her; there are moments when she looks as though she is in some discomfort, she looks like she's in pain.

Now, I must admit to being unfamiliar with Taisia Konovalova and Polina Netsvetaeva-Dolgalyova, as I do not pay much heed to the students of the Bolshoi. My apologies! However, I do follow one particular 2024 graduate from the Bolshoi, Darina Moseeva, who has extraordinary jumps and legs. She was due to debut as Gamzatti, but unfortunately, for reasons of health, she didn't. A curious tidbit: Darina Moseeva was once a student at the Eifman Academy, same class of Yesenia Anushenkova, the 2023 trainee with Mariinsky who has since graduated from Eifman in 2024 and is now a coryphée at Mariinsky alongside Alisa Barinova.

One can’t help but be intrigued by the journey of Kamila Sultangareeva, a graduate of the BBA. Her departure from Vaganova in 2023 stirred quite a bit of drama, and so I am most curious to see what she makes of her career. So far, however, it seems she has been largely inactive, though she is listed in the Bolshoi corps.

I’m also interested in following Elisabetta Nallin (italian) and Maria Mia Zakota’s journeys at the Bolshoi. They are Vaganova 2024 grads, and the two girls are also really good friends in real life. So far, they’ve had a lot of roles and have shared the stage numerous times. Cute.

[way2gosuperrstarr]

If I get any details wrong while asking questions, feel free to correct me!

• Is SDGO featuring your OCs, a self instert, or a Reader-Insert? (Or all three)!

• Moon seems to initially be quite timid. Is this due to him worried about scaring the kids or is a multi-faceted issue?

• Who falls for who first? 👀 Also, fast burn or slow burn?

-- while i do draw a self insert when drawing pieces and stuff for sdgo, the variation named monday, i do intend for this au to be reader/self insertable for others as well !!! meaning that 1) if anyone wants to draw anything, they would feel comfortable drawing themself in monday/yn's place, and 2) if i wrote it, it would be in a 2nd person "you"! if that makes any sense,,,

basically, it is technically a "yn" au, however i just draw my own self insert variation in most things i doodle instead of a blank yn :)! makes it funner(funner?) for me to draw stuff! yn also has a lot of aspects of myself in them even as the "blank" version. if i ever wrote it they would absolutely still have glasses, for example. as well as when i draw the blank version; they still have glasses and i still draw them w knee braces.

and i do insert a couple ocs here and there, just to fill in some side roles, like interviewers and minor role coworkers, and help the world not feel so empty, if that makes sense?

so i suppose all three? haha

-- he is indeed worried about scaring the children in this "new role". i like to think he wouldve been quite confident on stage during the theatre; he and sun had a great acting routine going, sun in the spotlight as the hero and moon the "villian" or misguided other, who was aways either vanquished or redeemed in the end. moon didn't really care what the "others"/audience thought of him, as long as he had sun as his friend, and some of the other animatronics. funny enough, i think, being switched to the daycare brings on a wave of "stage fright" that moon is absolutely not used to dealing with. he's used to beign quite comfortable and confident in his role, and maybe he didn't notice how much time he spent in the shadows and "hiding" behind sun until he's expected to be doing something actually, personally, interacting the "other" on his own. and a lot of his and sun's theatre habits leak through into the childcare programming. which means, moon is a tiny bit 'scary' to the kids at first. he still acts a little 'creepy', he's still crouched low to the ground and giggling and doing this silly little shrimp walk and contortions while walking toward these children. it scares them a little! his whole stress thing sort of manifest as a timid sort of odd behavior.

he's more used to sun handling interacting with the other.

-- honestly ...,,, great question. i was thinking the dca ,, yn's a bit occupied with juggling a couple life things; vanessa, handling their new job, adjusting to the changes in their hometown that happened without them and that the world wont stop for them... romancing a robot isn't at the top of their list of priorities, for good reason. they probably wouldnt even think about it even if they were starting to "feel the feelings."

the dca on the other hand,,, really, yn and the daycare and the pizzaplex and everything inside are all they know or have to think about. before the virus, they got a LOT of time to just be sort of..... thinking about things. in their mind, they have all the time in the world! while they of course still have issues, a lot of their issues are centralized in one place- the daycare. the pizzaplex. that being said i think they'd fall for or at least realize first. i think, all things considered, ignoring the grand opening and prep stress, they'd have quite the nice existence for a while; and time to ponder their feelings about things. they might have a bit of a crisis if they realize they have feelings for a human being, but that's a whole other issue!

as for the burn-rate ?? i would like to imagine slowburn,,, but i also know im kinda dogshit at pacing haha

i feel like this sorta turned into word salad at the end but ???? hope this answers ?? agagga

[inbarfink]

Okay, so there's one thing I REALLY like about the ending of the Shock Treatment 2015 Stage Musical Version and while it ties in to most of what I was talking about in my previous post, I just couldn't find a way to incorporate it into the text without it either not getting it's due attention or kinda taking over so I decided to separate it into it's own post....

So like I wrote before, "Shock Treatment" the movie's ending tries to go for a sort of bittersweet tone, with our heroes escaping

While the villains still 100% succeeded in their schemes and are quite literally rolling in they money they made exploiting the entire town's desire for social approval and fame, and are probably going to do this again somewhere else soon enough.

Buuuut... since basically every remotely-likable character has successfully escaped their scheme (including Oscar Drill and the Bits, who are otherwise VERY minor characters), it's actually kinda difficult to actually feel the sense of dread or pity or moral outrage that such a situation would create in real life. After all, everyone that stayed behind in Denton were always characterized as, at best, two-dimensional buffoonish conformist cartoons. We don't spend enough time with them to feel like actual humans whose flaws are getting exploited.

And also, our main foursome doesn't seem to care either! These people were all their neighbors and family and friends just two days ago, and their big happy final musical number just doesn't have any time for them to consider how terrible it is that Farley's plan succeeded or if they feel sad for any of the people they've left behind.

If the characters don't care... and the audience isn't really given a reason why they should care about these people more than the characters do... Then there's just a lot less edge in seeing this kinda 'Bad Guys Win' story.

And now, the Stage version already does better with this first point with their version of Ralph Hapshatt as one of the story's main leads, a very well-developed characters and also the guy who, by the end of the story, got happily strapped into a shock treatment machine that was illegally modified by his own hands just because he cannot refuse a chance to have a starring TV role

And also also, someone that our main characters do care about.

Despite the hostility of... basically all of their on-stage interactions, Betty still comes for her ex-husband, still singing "Anyhow, Anyhow", even if she can't stand him most of the time, she still wanted to save him from his own mistakes

But Janet stops her.

Maybe Maybe because it'll be too big of a risk to try to save him now, or maybe because they have too much to lose at this moment and they can't miss this opportunity to escape or just because Ralph isn't worth the effort and... maybe Janet is right about at least some of this, but abandoning Ralph in the hands of Farley and Co. is not an easy decision for Betty to make, and it probably isn't for Brad and Janet either, and it's definitely not easy for the audience.

Because unlike the majority of the movie's Dentonites, Ralph does get enough depth to feel like a person. A self-centered asshole? Sure, but an asshole person, more than just a caricature. And he's a person that people still cared for, and him dying from a failed electroshock therapy experiment on live television is still a bitter element in our heroes' sweet freedom.

And I just... really love how this is kinda creates new Meaning for 'Anyhow, Anyhow'. Like, in general, this adaptation is really good with subtly modifying and tweaking and recontextualizing songs to fit better within the Context of the story (For example, "Looking for Trade Fame" is REALLY great) and this one is just... really strong.

Like, the original context is not totally lost. I mean, outside of the shift from "our two main couples are totally going to Fuck and maybe have a foursome I dunno"

To "they are DEFINITELY having a threesome"

But this is still the happy ending song about no matter how hard things get, our heroes are going to live their lives and be together and fuck. But also...

"We just gotta keep going" as the thing that Janet tells Betty to stop her from trying to save Ralph. As the bitter reminder that sometimes you and your loved ones remaining free and happy and living their lives means leaving some people behind. Because sometimes life throws a lot of bad shit your way, sometimes the wind blows in a very cruel direction.

Because also...

"We just gotta keep going" as what Farley and the McKinleys say to themselves. They are also 'just gotta keep going', keep on going on exploiting and harming more and more people.

And this just does such a great job at conveying a bittersweet tone to the story's ending. It still conveys the happiness and freedom and love and triumph of Brad, Janet and Betty's personal victory, but also the personal tragedy of Ralph's story, and an ominous reminder of what Farley and Co are doing and will continue to do.

It's just.... the Shock Treatment Stage Musical is SUCH a great adaptation of the story and I really hope it gets more performances at some point.

[coolsomejet]

Some notes on Space Camp

Welp, now the movie is out. I have so much I wanna say, but I’ll wait until it comes out on YouTube to rewatch the movie (because the UI on the PBS Kids app sucks) and also I have a college thing to do tomorrow and Saturday, so yeah. More in-depth posts will come later. For now, I’ll just do bullet points (Spoilers abound, obviously)

The writers finally remembered that Face 9000 exists, and he plays a critical role in relaying information about the Deshrinkulum.

The writers, however, forgot that Commander Cressida exists. She’s not brought up once, not even in relation to the Great Galacto. Well, I guess that’s the law of equivalent exchange.

Speaking of the Great Galacto, he seems to be a commentary on YouTubers/social media influencers that do stupid things and have an impressionable young audience. He’s a good guy, though. He’s also Scottish for some reason. Well, Uncle Zucchini is Brooklyn/Joisey, so I’m not complaining.

As I suspected, Jet’s insistence on working alone ends up making things worse for him. Of course, he just wanted to protect Sean, Sydney, and Mindy, but still.

I predicted that Jet would have a “break the cutie” moment in this movie, and I was right. He even cries at one point. Poor thing. It’s even sadder that it happened to such an optimistic character like him.

According to the song “Brother From Another Sunspot Mother,” Jet adopted Sunspot from a litter. Here’s the thing though: in the flashback, Jet looks like the same age he currently does. This goes against what was established in “Sunday Drive.” That Sunspot lived with the Propulsions since Jet was a baby.

The songs in this movie are really great. They go into all sorts of genres too. Ska (Dear Great Galacto), a Disney-style award bait song™️ (Brother From Another Sunspot Mother”), blues (“Super Hyperdrive”), a marching song (“It Takes a Team”), etc

The scenery shows massive improvement. The trees especially look more realistic, instead of looking like stage props like in the TV show.

Stella was handled better than I thought. Contrary to what her actress said, she wasn’t a “villain.” She was just a jerk, much like Mitchell was. She didn’t do anything to physically hurt Jet and the others or anything. And she becomes nicer by the end of the movie.

As for Mitchell himself, well, they didn’t handle them the best. He spends 99% of the movie trying to expose Stella and Jet, and acts like he hates them. He even vilifies them by saying that they’re plotting to take over the world or whatever. What the hell happened here? They just undid all of his character development?

A minor complaint I had about the main show is that there was a small amount of background characters, and when there were, most of them were white. It made it look like Washington had the diversity of a cornfield, when that’s far from the truth. However, in this movie, there are plenty of people of color. For example, Houston is Black, Aurora is Asian-American, and Dr. Chandra is Southeast Asian. Heck, there are even some plus-size characters in the crowd shots. That’s also a good thing, since most of the earthie background characters seemed to have the same skinny body type. Heck, even Stella is a bit brown, and her voice actress is Asian-Canadian iirc.

Dr. Bergs is back, as is Dr. Skelley. Dr. Rafferty doesn’t appear at all. Maybe it’s because her voice actress was too busy or unavailable. Who knows?

Lillian doesn’t appear either. 😔

For those who wanted Mitchlendez or Propulsean shipping moments, you’re out of luck. Mindy sneaks up on Mitchell just for old times sake, and he does lend her his phone at one point, but that’s it. As for Propulsean, Jet and Sean just have standard friendship moments in the movie. Nothing too shippy, and he doesn’t call him “Seanzo” once. It could be for one of two reasons: the crew decided that they hate the ships and tried to remove any “puppy love” subtext between any characters. The other reason (for Propulsean) is that LGBTQ+ characters in kids shows causes major controversies nowadays, more so than usual, with Ron DeSantis and his fascist friends accusing any kids show that includes LGBTQ+ characters of “grooming.” They even tried to take Work It Out Wombats off the air just for having lesbian mothers. Even so, I’m happy if Jet and Sean are just friends. 

Aside from the basic plot of accidentally going to space, it doesn’t actually have much in common with the 80s movie SpaceCamp.

That’s all, folks!

[m1ck-miffs]

Where did I come from? Where did I go?

Hello little people who live in my computer! Its been so long! So long since I've been here.

Most important things first, No One Saves You is still a thing! It's still happening. I've been secretly keeping it on life support in my little bunker. Things are different, some things a lot different, some things a little different but it is different (and hopefully better written, whoever let me write that first dumpster fire should've been jailed.) I'm no where near having anything ready to present but I felt like cleaning up my old blog, so here I am! Call it spring cleaning or something.

Where did I go? Eh, life. I've done a lot of things in the past two years. I graduated high school, I started college, I got a job, I quit my job, I got a new job, I learned to drive, and I learned to do my taxes. I've worked on my story through all of it but it wasn't my priority, turns out being a semi functioning adult is really fucking hard. Who knew! I'm back in the writing seat but I make no promises.

Where am I Going? Well, lots of places! I graduate with my associates in English this summer, I'm moving to a whole new city, starting college again, and I've got about 8 million things I want to do all at once. I'm learning to take it slow...it's a work in progress.

Okay, okay what you're really here for: to hear about this goddamn story. I figure I'd update you on some changes I've started, under the cut (in case you like surprises.) Think of it like a behind the scenes stage access.

ps. If you were hoping I studied the blade how to code during my two year absence, you're going to be severely disappointed. I am unfortunately still a writer first and a coder second (or maybe last lmao.) So this tumblr and my twine will remain ugly, so sorry (I'm not that sorry.)

Okay, so, there's been a lot of changes, especially to characters. I feel like my previous characters were too flat? One dimensional? Under-planned and underutilized? Sound like they were written by a 16 year old? Maybe all of the above. I'll go through them and tell you a bit about the sparkly new and improved people I've pulled fresh out of the oven.

Missy (They/She): Missy has changed, not a ton a ton but some. They're still mean but a little less intensely so. Their design has been altered and I think I've made them more three dimensional and a little less of a rich whinny unlikeable asshole. Their background has has some minor alterations but their main changes have been physical and trying to make them less of a caricature. Missy remains mostly unchanged, Missy is eternal.

Miles Tellez (He/Him): Miles has had some minor design tweaks, I'm still trying to decide if I'm giving him a rat tail, but most importantly Miles has had some major personality changes. He's a little less of a sad pathetic meow meow and has more of a backbone. I've tried to make his sadness more realistically believable. He felt a little cartoonishly anxious and sad so I've worked to make him more mature and competent. His background and home life has has some major overhauls but it's mostly details. Mostly just made him less of a crybaby.

Avery (Gender Selectable): Dead. Jk, I completely changed her, so she is kind of dead, I guess. She's not even Avery anymore, she's Jordan. Jordan B. Bowings. I felt that Avery was too flat, too timid, I never connected with her the way I did other characters and I think it was obvious in the way her whole personality was 'cold leadership role.' So i completely scrapped her and started over form a clean slate.

Jordan Bowings (She/Her): Jordan is very different than Avery but retains some of the traits that I had given Avery. She still holds a leadership role but instead of cold stoic leader she's more confident and bright. She's very competent, independent, and warm. She has a lot of elements form Avery's background that I just tweaked. Overall I connect with her way more than I did Avery and I'm really excited to show off more of her.

Bones (Gender Selectable): Bones has changed a lot. It doesn't feel like it to me but they have. They used a pirate aesthetic but that is dead and gone (thankfully.) They're still walking talking human disaster but they used to be a lot colder I'd say they're more friendly now but not in any good way. They're friendly like someone who is trying to scam you is friendly. I've also made them a lot sadder and angstier IDK it just felt right. They're basically a whole new character.

Crash (She/Her): Dead. The content that she was supposed to be in got cut from the story. It just wasn't necessary and was causing bloat. I kind of just wanted to write about cars and the desert and that is quite literally the only reason her character existed so she is gone from the story my apologies.

Blitz (They/Them): Ironically one of the few ROs that people have actually met. Generally remains unchanged but that's not surprising since I've actually has Blitz as a character since at 5th grade. They've had a lot of time to be fleshed out.

LiveWire (He/Him): A whole new character. I felt like the cast needed a few metal heads (literally.)

Rayyan Sobhi (Gender Selectable): Remains somewhat unchanged but their backstory and history with the MC has been tweaked. I think they may go through some more changes because I'm not entirely happy with some aspects of their character but It won't be anything too drastic. I also just decided I'm changing their first name, Its now Nour Sobhi.

The plot has had some changes. it's nothing too crazy just some plot holes that needed to fixed small things like that. I've also started rewriting the story! It still needs a lot of work and I haven't even finished chapter one but I intend for there to a lot more branching choices with different outcomes. this of course makes writing it take so so much longer but ultimately I think the game will be more enjoyable because of it.

Thanks for reading my rambling! Let me know if you've got some ideas, questions, or concerns. I am all ears!

[card-queen]

Story Craft: Primer

Welcome to my series on story craft where I break down my approach to storytelling on a basic level and help you get creating. I've read, watched, re-read and re-watched a lot of material: both fiction and how-to guides. After years of following bad advice, good advice I didn't understand and everything in between, I've come to realise that stories aren't the complex beast I first thought they were. They can be incredibly straight forward and in a series of posts I will make, I will show you what I've learned and hopefully it can help you too.

My posts on this series: Process & Structure Characters: The Basics Characters: Typing Characters: The Little Things Plot: The Basics Worldbuilding: The Basics

First, some general pointers...

The Problem With 'Conflict'

First off, I get it. When everything goes smoothly and no one argues then it can make for a 'too comfortable ride' with no drama. People are here for drama, excitement, angst, joy or whatever other strong feeling your story aims to capture. You can's really achieve those feelings without some kind of conflict. My issue is that too often conflict tends to mean: have the characters disagree about something and use that conflict to drive the story forward. Characters will suddenly lie or keep secrets just to have drama, characters will get possessive or start hammering on about something that was a minor issue earlier, just to have conflict. Conflict can, and does, come from a multitude of places, like situations and outside forces. A murder is conflict and the people tasked with solving it or moving on will often suffer from that conflict. I watched many adaptions of books where the characters were more companionable, working together and attacking different angles of a problems that were absolutely obliterated by the adaptation's need to force conflict between them. CAN said murder bring out negative traits in one of the characters to cause drama and conflict? Of course, sure, why not? But it doesn't have to. You can still have characters be themselves and work together without needing to shoehorn bitter feelings for drama's sake.

tl;dr Don't ruin characters or character dynamics just because some book told you to have 'conflict'. Conflict can come from many places, not just interpersonal disagreements.

Finding 'Character' In Everything

I'll go into greater depth about characters in the entries I make on them but what I want to go over here is treating other aspects of your story and world as if they are characters. My loose understanding of characters and how to get the most out of them (on a very basic level) is that characters often have three key sides to them: Story Function: what they do in the story World Function: what they do in the world Character Function: how they are perceived by others

Story Function is just what they do in the story, from a meta level -- a mentor figure, they betray the group at some point, they are the secret Princess thought to be dead, etc. etc.

World Function is what part they play in the world, usually a job or an aspect/attitude of society key to this world/country/Starbucks/etc.

Character Function is their personality, how we the audience are supposed to feel about them, how other characters are supposed to feel about them -- things that make them THEM.

That'll all be covered in greater detail in one of my character breakdowns but my advice is to think of other aspects of your world and story with this kind of mindset to bring out extra life and flavour. And if you find that all things are hitting on the same note, then maybe switch something up to create a different overall feeling.

If you have an invading country in your fantasy story, maybe think about them from these basic character points. Their story function is to conquer, invade and generally be a threat... but what role do they play on the world stage? Are they a barren wasteland with too many people and too little produce? Are they arcane masters who are governed to believe they are superior to everyone else? Are they desperate people just trying to survive and outrun a plague that is consuming their land and people? And what about their character function? How does the audience and other characters think about them? With fear and loathing for the wasteland they created? With awe and subservience at their knowledge and prowess? With pity and scorn, understanding their plight but feeling a measure of defensiveness?

By attacking big part players in your world (organisations, nations, religions, hidden treasure, etc.) as if they were characters, you can really create fertile ground for character dynamics, natural differences of opinion, how and where characters can differ, where lies can come about, etc.

tl;dr Think of some parts of your world or story as a character to bring out life in them.

Acceptable Stealing

There are no new ideas under the sun. You've heard it before and you'll hear it again. If you like something, you should take it... SORT OF. Plagiarism issues aside, chances are you don't like EVERY aspect of the thing you like. You like this character's arc or this killer moment in a story or how awe-inspiring and imposing this castle was. Basically, you liked how it made you feel.

If you like something, be it character, plotline, place or monster, take an analytical eye to what you like about it starting with how it made you feel. What did it make you think, feel, fear, etc. and how did it achieve that?

Once you narrow down what the feeling you get from that thing, you can take it and replace the details with things that achieve the same feeling but are more uniquely suited to you -- they may even do a better job!

Leaving Room For Magic

There's a lot of talk about planning versus just writing and I think there are times where one method is better and times when another is. Basically, do both. Know when you need to plan and plot things out and know when it's better to just start writing and see where things take you.

When writing, make sure you have a loose guideline or framework of things you want to hit and work towards so you aren't flying blind. Just going with the flow is great for stumbling upon twists, opportunities and great character moments, but always have an eye towards what even scene is supposed to lead to so that you don't end up rambling off course.

When planning, make sure that you leave enough room for magic. People that plan out too far or end up wanting to justify or elaborate on every little issue end up burying the joy that is storytelling. Keep in mind what your story is about and what feelings your scene is supposed to convey and calm down about the stuff that doesn't add or detract from those feelings. You cannot plan your way into perfection and have to let go and just let things play out sometimes. Remember, this is a fun task so don't try to micromanage every aspect.

That's all I've got for the basic stuff. I'll be more wordy and include way more examples and images when I get into the more detailed topics, so stay tuned!

[seyoonlgc]

A new project? The company was looking for eligible male trainees? Hell yeah, of course, he would be auditioning!

Seyoon straightened his shirt, smoothed down his jeans, ran a comb down his messy blonde hair, and waltzed into his interview session. He chose a morning slot because the sun gave him POWER and he intended to outshine his competition to the best of his ability.

"Good morning," he greeted, bowing his head with a smile. "I am Kim Seyoon, here for my interview!"

Why are you interested in being in NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS? [135]

Let's start with a refreshing bit of honesty then, shall we?

I want to be famous, wanna be a star, and be in magazines. Also want to see the world, drive nice cars, and have groupies-

No, that would be too much honesty.

"This project is a debut opportunity and will give me a chance to fulfill my dream of becoming an idol. As a hopeful trainee, I would be kicking myself if I didn't try to take advantage of every opportunity I am presented!" If this project was called OLDMEN OLDFARTNIGHTMARES, Seyoon would still be auditioning. As a man who worshipped at the altar of beauty, Seyoon was very well aware of just how fleeting youth was. He only had a few years to make his debut happen, otherwise, all of these past years spent on training would have been a waste of time.

"While we don't know much about the project, I do think the concept would fit me, judging by the name alone." Seyoon laughed. "To me, New Kids sounds like the company is looking for younger trainees. People who give off a bright, energetic vibe maybe. I think I am a good fit for that!" If there was one thing Seyoon did not lack, it would be stamina. He was constantly bouncing off the walls, and if they observed him in the practice room, they'd definitely see that aspect of his personality.

"Also...I guess I just want a chance to be seen at my best," Seyoon admitted brightly. "I want my parents, grandparents, and younger brothers in Canada to hear the new songs I learned. And my high school friends, scouts buddies, and fried chicken shop regulars too." My mother also. I want to be so goddamn famous that she could not avoid the sight of my face because it would be everywhere. I want her to know despite the fact she won't acknowledge me, I exist.

Considering the current confirmed members, what can you add on and off the stage? [160]

"Off-stage...Uhhh...I mean, I know all of the people in the group and get along with them? BK and I are friends." Fellow partygoers, yeehaw. "I've worked with Noeul on different things before. Misaki and I are buddies, we were also dormmates before. I love Wenjun so much- Sorry, am I answering this question wrong?" Seyoon tapped on his temple, prompting his noggin for more useful tidbits. "Right. I got in a workshop about commercial acting and was pretty good at that so maybe when we are not performing as a group, I could pick up commercials or minor acting roles to boost our popularity?"

"On stage-wise, I can bring my energy, enthusiasm, and good singing! From what I can remember in the practice rooms, BK and Noeul are good rappers. Misaki is a strong dancer, and Yichen is an excellent performer. Wenjun sings beautifully but no group could stand with just one great singer, right? There was always room for another! Oh, also, I am from Canada and fully fluent in English. Do we need an English speaker?"

which skill do you want to be known for & why? [163]

"I would like to be known for my singing because that's where my talent lies, I believe." Seyoon rubbed the back of his head. "I've been singing since I was a child. No lessons, of course, we couldn't afford those since my parents ended up having more kids than they initially planned, and my grandfather on my dad's side was not in good health. I was always in some sort of choir though. Both in schools and at the church. My stepmom always told me I had a far-reaching voice." He made quotations with his fingers. "I think what she meant was she could always hear me from all the way at the back of a room. But if I debut, then those words could take on a different meaning - my voice would be far-reaching because it will be heard by more people and maybe touch some hearts." He laughed. "Seriously, the moment I make it into a permanent group, I am going to call her and tell her that she's predicted it...That she had special powers and knew all along."

what kind of concepts are you good & bad at? [86]

"When it comes to concepts, I think I can do cute, energetic...dark too. Oh, I don't think I will excel at elegant. I am not going to lie - I am not really the princely type." Instead, he was a questionable man who hid his unwashed shorts under his bed and constantly had mud on his shoes. "I think that has to do with growing up on farmland. Sometimes expensive restaurants and formal events can make me feel out of place. I can learn, though! Just put me through a few classes and show me an example of how I should behave. I am a fast learner, I promise."

what kind of group would you ideally want to be part of and why? [87]

"Group-wise, I think being known for great live vocals would be nice because I love those performances the most." He thought about it harder. "To be honest, I just really want to be in a group that is...successful." Would he risk sounding too ambitious with that? "I enjoy groups that have great live vocals. The ones with strong stage presence are amazing too! Ultimately it won't matter, though, if the group doesn't last. Ideally, I would want to debut in a group that has longevity. One that is versatile, can adapt to the trends, and stay relevant for as long as possible."

Seyoon just wanted money. Sometimes he wondered if it was wrong of him to be focused on the financial aspect when a good number of the other kids were entirely invested in their dreams. He supposed everything would be different if he was like some of the other trainees in this company. CEO connections, famous parents. Waving around their black cards while waiting for their chauffeurs in their well-tailored coats. They had more opportunities. If this whole idol situation failed, they could start businesses, go back to school, or even just lie around because their parents could afford to feed them for the rest of their lives. Ugh, sometimes he felt so envious of those people that it hurt.

And that was the end of the interview.

"Thanks for the chat," Seyoon said, bowing first to show his respect, then straightening his back to do a big over-the-head heart. "I am sure there will be a lot more trainees interviewing after but don't forget me, okay?" He grinned. "I really want this!"

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.149 thoughts

[The Boys Just Call Him “Camouflage”]

[Foreward: So it’s occurred to me that the format of my chapter reviews has pretty much been page-by-page (or sometimes even panel-by-panel) summaries with a little bit of commentary, and honestly that’s not really what I want to be doing with these, so I’m going to try to be a bit more freeform with it this week if I can and see if that’s preferable. Please let me know which style you prefer! On with the review]

This chapter is exactly what I’ve been waiting for! I knew Tozuka would make me like Sean, and I knew he’d do it by leaning into EXACTLY who I thought Sean would be! Sean’s my poor little meow meow now, my cringefail son

It’s really appropriate that Sean views himself as being typecast as a side character when he’s literally the one who’s had the least screen time in the entire series. I think that Lucy’s even had more panels than him by this point, though now that he’s had an entire chapter dedicated to him, that’s probably either just changed or is about to change. Either way, it really reframes his previously minor contribution to the story in a new light, as his inferiority complex for being irrelevant, forgotten, and unseen stretches beyond the ink on the page and into the real world, with his only full bodied appearance prior to this being in his character profile. Man, even by omission, Tozuka is great at characterization!

It’s also interesting that Sean’s tragedy is the first to not actually cause a death (aside from Lucy’s). Yeah, his dad died, but there’s no indication that Sean or Unseen had anything to do with it.��The tragedy is more that he’s now barred from living the life he wants as an actor taking center stage and instead is roped into living a life of crime. Of course, this unfortunate path in life is what leads to his untimely demise, which I think may be meant to be his true tragedy: aside from Shen and Rip, he’s the only Negator we ever saw die prior to Ragnarok and the only one not to be in some way revived. He had zero agency, always being dragged by the ear into horrible situations by people who were in charge of their lives, and ultimately died in obscurity, the person who killed him and who he tried to kill not even realizing he was there until he was already bleeding on the ground. Unseen in a supporting role to the very end, and he couldn’t even do that right

Even in this loop, nothing has changed: he’s still unable to perform like he wanted, he still gets dragged into a dangerous place where he can’t seem to do anything of value, and even cosmically the guy can’t even be born when he was supposed to! Sean is the ONLY Negator so far who was “born early” like Fuuko said, at least as far as we can tell, which may or may not be because even Tozuka himself forgot that Sean’s age wasn’t right for fitting him into the story he wanted to tell. Or maybe he did that on purpose to show Sean being batted around even more, who knows

Now, I do really love the confirmation that Fuuko wasn’t actually planning to use Sean in this mission initially. Like I said a couple of weeks ago, it seemed odd that Fuuko stated she wanted two more recruits and ended up with three, so knowing that Fuuko only intended on sheltering Sean so he wouldn’t get hurt helps the logic fall into place. And of course, just like in the previous loop, it’s Sean’s narcissistic need to take center stage that ultimately lands him in hot water, as he insisted that Fuuko bring him along to make use of his Unseen just like he insisted on disobeying Rip when he tried to kill Fuuko previously. Even after worming his way into the mission, he ends up being insubordinate and tries to wave the white flag to save himself, which only pisses off Creed

It’s really appropriate that Sean ends up being a major player in the fight against Creed for a few reasons. For one, they have similar ideologies: both strongly value their team (Creed with his men, Sean with is blood brothers). Second, the context they’re fighting in puts those similar ideologies completely at odds: Creed is trying to protect his men in this moment, but Sean isn’t with his blood brothers, he’s with his captors, and doesn’t want to associate with them, but to Creed, either Sean is a no-good deserter or the Union is rag-tag group who aren’t taking this battle seriously. Third, Sean is incredibly weak by Negator standards, and Creed is definitely on the higher end: this was the same set-up as his battle against Top and Chikara, wherein the two of them had to creatively use their Rules in conjunction with each other in order to overcome Creed’s. The way he’s defeated is even the same, with Top and Sean both using their abilities to come up behind Creed and disable him

The deciding factor for Sean this time, what differentiates his final moments as a member of Under and what are now his starting moments as a member of the Union, is that someone on his time actually sees him for who he is. Rip (and by extension Billy) just saw him as coworker at best and a tool at worst; they didn’t do anything to foster loyalty or to really bring out his potential, they just ordered him around and made him feel even smaller than he already did. Fuuko, however, sees how he can contribute and what insecurities are stopping him from meeting his potential, and tells him the words he needs to hear, that he isn’t just a side character. From a purely narrative standpoint, objectively he is a side character in this series, but thematically Fuuko’s words ring true: Undead Unluck follows Fuuko and Andy, but the two of them are only able to accomplish what they do because of the contributions of others. Everyone gets their time to shine, everyone gets to contribute, everyone has the opportunity to take center stage and become beloved in their own right, even if it takes some time

Isshin seemed uninteresting when she was first introduced because she was just a big faceless lug with no lines, but thanks to Fuuko, Isshin was dragged out of her shell and showed not only what she was capable of, but who she was and how she could grow and change, something that it seems Juiz just wasn’t capable of for whatever reason (that’s something I may go into eventually, but not here). Fuuko has now done the exact same thing with Sean, taking another character I was simply not interested in and made them an instant favorite

I also just really love the symbolism of “take another look at yourself,” and “I tried to turn a blind eye to them.” Unseen’s activation is closing one’s eyes, removing one’s own ability to see so that others cannot see them: Sean wasn’t just hiding from others, he was hiding from himself and refusing to see anyone else. For all his efforts to stand out and be someone important, all he ever managed to do was isolate himself further and further, preventing him from learning the true extent of his ability

As Sean said, he can only make things he views as essential to him invisible; previously we thought it was limited to “things he owned,” but now we see that he can view people as essential as well, going so far as to refer to Fuuko as one of his blood brothers. What’s really fun is that with the ability to turn a teammate invisible, he can now rely on their eyesight to navigate, eliminating his original weakness through the evolution of his ability rather than by finding a shortcut like he did last time. Instead of obsessively trying to surpass his cohorts, he now relies on the support of his friends so that he can in turn support them!

It’s such a perfect evolution for Sean’s character, and as usual, better than I ever dared to hope for! Tozuka always finds a way to surpass my expectations while still giving me pretty much exactly what I asked for. It makes for such a satisfying experience for me in a way that I don’t think any other series has ever done. Medaka Box never even gave me what I asked for this consistently! No wonder Undead Unluck so easily became a favorite on par with Medaka Box for me...

I suppose next week will be the falling action for the Creed battle and will lead into his recruitment, which I suspect will lead to him being an ally for the upcoming recruitment of Billy. I thought it was going to be the other way around, recruiting Billy to overcome Creed, but this definitely makes more sense: Billy was the leader of Under, so he should be the final boss for the Buroja conflict, possibly even finding Disc first. I wonder how exactly the fight with Billy will go...will everyone view him as an enemy except Fuuko, inadvertently giving him a ton of powers all at once? Will Tella master Untell at the perfect moment and protect Billy from the Union? Whatever happens, it’s not going to be an easy fight for the Union, and we’re definitely going to get a lot of interesting insight into his mentality and his past

As always, I’m super excited for next week’s chapter, I just can’t wait!!!

Back to what I said at the beginning of this post, I think I did a good job avoiding simply summarizing the chapter, but man it ended up being just as wordy anyway! I definitely had a lot more fun doing it this way since I feel like I got to express my actual thoughts a lot better than usual, but what do you think? Did you prefer having a recap of the events so you could better understand what actually happened, or do you feel you understand the story itself well enough and appreciate having a deeper dive into the themes instead? Let me know!

[whentranslatorscry]

Hitagi Honeymoon

014

The Fox's Wedding.

It seems to refer to what is also called a sunshower—when rain falls while the sun is shining. While the sky over Nasu Highlands was cloudy tonight and so wouldn't exactly fit this definition, the feeling of "something being off" was similar to the Fox’s Wedding, considering the clear weather during the day.

It was as if we had been cast down from a sky-reaching, delightful honeymoon to the ground below. Maybe this was also what prompted the thought of rain—the weather forecast had been entirely off, and apparently even Hachikuji's prayer hadn't reached this mountain.

Mountain weather was fickle, much like the hearts of people—or it could be more accurately described as utterly shallow.

Shallow and thin.

Thin and weak.

I couldn't believe me. It was such a huge blunder that it made me want to hang myself.

I had called it Fox’s Wedding, but now I felt as though I were being doused in cold water by a nine-tailed fox, reminding me to cool my head.—Thanks to Shinobu, anyway, the story of the Killing Stone had become a minor concern, but now our honeymoon was also ruined.

The one saving grace was that I, who hadn't given any thought to this point, hadn't tried to surprise Hitagi with my thoughtless planning or casually proposed adoption in the car—at least in that sense, I hadn't made any mistakes, and there was no way to express my gratitude to Oikura and Kanbaru.

As for Oikura, fundamentally, she would reject all of my proposals, and she wasn't even aware of Shinobu's existence as of now, so it wasn't that she knew the outcome and stopped the surprise… Still, my attitude towards her was always one of gratitude.

It's common to seek advice from someone when you want their support, but when I wanted to be challenged, I would turn to Oikura for advice... well, not really.

Imagine if, due to some bizarre twist of fate, I had brought up the suggestion of adoption—that would have forced the indomitable Hitagi into a most unexpected decision. She's always possessed an astonishingly speedy knack for making choices and decisively seeing them through since high school, and now, as she thrives in the fast-paced world of trading, her alacrity might have only grown stronger.

It could have possibly led to a swift divorce.

Naturally, an enthusiastic agreement could have been a possibility as well… Regardless, I never intended to resolve her complex issues— and possibly even trauma— surrounding motherhood by having her adopt Shinobu.

Purely a moment of childish whimsy, the idea that we could all live happily together, despite the radical difference between accepting the existence of a vampire and becoming family with one.

This realization had eluded me.

Driven by guilt at having potentially erased her family name by adopting the modern practice of a surname-sharing couple, I had donned the role of a progressive groom. I arrogantly clung onto the pride of being a man whose values reflected today's norms, a man who respected police regulations and moral obligations on the international stage, who knew he could no longer carry on brawling and fooling around with his sisters, a man who kept the company of adult friends who share a staunch dislike for the immature tastes of fifth-grade girls.

However, at the crux of it all, I was still Araragi Koyomi, a relic of the bygone Heisei era.

I tolerated the eating of people.

So, I tolerated murder.

It's an antiquated mindset reminiscent of a nefarious villain who, without any explanation whatsoever, becomes a comrade-in-arms by the next season.

“……”

But that doesn’t mean it’s right to let Shinobu literally live a life in the sun, either. I just couldn’t accept that.

A crime is a crime, whether it's committed by a beautiful woman or a cute little girl, it should never be forgiven. They should be punished for life, and should never become happy, let alone join the ranks of our allies. To consider their families and clans guilty and deserving of punishment as well might seem rather old-fashioned in terms of a worldview, don't you think?

Yes, I admit that I am defending Shinobu.

I am indeed defending her.

It may sound nice to say that I am defending a powerless vampire, but in criminal law terms, this is tantamount to concealing a criminal, tampering with evidence, and can be considered complicity if Shinobu were to accidentally destroy the world—in a parallel universe, that is.

I might even become a principal offender.

After all, if a pet bites someone, it's the owner's responsibility.

If anything, I was in a position where I could issue forceful commands to Shinobu, and there's no knowing when I might cross the line of the human world's rules—who's to say I won't resort to underhanded tactics when things don't go my way, or when I get frustrated with the world, or when I just want to cheat the system? What guarantee is there that I won't bulldoze my way through such situations?

In high school, I did that… I took advantage of Shinobu's immortality and, eventually, was sliced to pieces by Gaen-san as a repercussion.

Gaen-san, who had accumulated such countless experiences, assured me that Shinobu would never destroy the world again and that, despite my own limitations, I would not repeat the same mistake. Maybe that is what one might call an adult's judgment.

The all-knowing big sister.

Her junior colleague, Oshino, was probably aware of this when he bound Shinobu—a way of dealing with a sinner, neither by judgment nor by forgiveness but by giving her a second chance.

I had thought of them as a group of moratorium specialists who were not quite grown up—wandering middle-agers in Hawaiian shirts or young leaders with bold fashion—but actually, they were quite admirable after all.

Incidentally, during spring break, Hanekawa Tsubasa didn't openly state this to me but seemed to have a way of thinking like, "humans eat meat and vegetables, so it's only natural that vampires eat humans too."… Reaching that level of understanding must be the realm of enlightenment.

A second chance for sin.

No, if calling it a sin was one-sided, maybe it was more fitting to say, a second chance for the damaged.

And I believe Shinobu is doing a wonderful job with the second chance she had been given. Considering her past six hundred years, six years of confinement may seem insignificant, but, far from being biased, I can say with utmost certainty that she has been a model prisoner. Nevertheless, if we were to once again force her back into the shadows for the crime of eating a human, wouldn't that be in defiance of double jeopardy, legally speaking?

Second chance, or double jeopardy—Good grief, I’ve really become entrenched in the thinking of law enforcement.

In high school, when I felt so passionately about my freedom and being liberated from my restrictions. I could say that I couldn't forgive the unforgivable and, in fact, didn't. I could declare the wrong to be wrong and the different to be different. At most, I just couldn't admit I didn't know what I didn’t know.

With an omnipotent sense of self, I judged the irrational.

Without any authority.

Now, I can no longer face criminals without considering the circumstances, the backstories, or the environment and customs that have shaped them. It wasn’t just a side effect of aging but the product of years of professional training.

In spite of the unsympathetic and flagrant acts they commit, I still believe that even the most heinous criminals deserve at least a moment's consideration… One of the reasons I became a police officer, and a big one at that, was to capture that detestable conman with my own hands. But I was no longer driven by hatred and resentment to arrest that man.

I wanted to see justice done, to serve society.

Though apprehending the conman remains my objective, it's no longer a burning desire—I now understand that the man had his reasons, circumstances, and motives, and the situation wasn't entirely black and white. Regrettably, seen from another angle, the conman who brought about the downfall of the Senjougahara family could also be viewed as a savior, a fact that Hitagi herself couldn’t deny. 

While I may be far from comprehending predation as the natural order of things, like Hanekawa did, maybe blaming others for what they can't control through their own efforts was a warped sense of ethics—such as condemning those who eat meat as uncivilized or lamenting the consumption of vegetables as unfair. 

We enjoy a casual cup of coffee in the workplace without sparing a thought for whether it's fair-trade. We use smartphones that have rare metals built into them, mined by child laborers who have been coerced and exploited. I am not innocent, and no one can claim they are.

Ah, so that's it.

I bet Kanbaru understands these feelings far better than I do—she, who nearly drowned in love and wished to the monkey paw.

Perhaps her aspiration to become a doctor was not only borne from noble sentiments for her late friend, but also from a desire for atonement. Whether I forgive her for the thrashing I received at the hands of the monkey paw she wished to probably didn’t matter.

In comparison, I felt as though my ramblings were like the superficial wisdom of an adult, and all I was doing was defending Shinobu with every means at my disposal.

I've listed many examples, introduced numerous perspectives, and attempted to put them into context, but still, the idea of eating people seems like a line crossed.

Even when compared to fraud, violence, child labor, and murder... I may have transformed into a vampire during spring break, but not to the point of wanting to eat people. I averted that conflict at the very last moment.

I didn't even desire to drink blood.

The instinctual disgust for such an incomprehensible craving is probably insurmountable and as strong as the desire for food.

Shinobu said that she no longer desires to eat people, but how much torment did she go through to arrive at that point, then? 

In essence, I thought I understood the extent to which I'd been pushing Shinobu to restrain herself, but I had absolutely no clue. Despite this, I didn't bear any significant demerits and played the role of a guardian— no, more like a probation officer. 

Observing keenly with my tunnel vision.

The very idea of adopting her seems laughable at best with such a mindset. In fact, it would be nothing short of reckless to bind her under the Araragi name. How could I have possibly thought that was a nice idea?

Ah, I see it now.

It just dawned on me.

It finally became clear to me why the specialist Oshino Meme had bound the nameless Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade with his own name.

If it was all about making me, the very culprit who had allowed her to survive as a vampire, take responsibility for my actions, Oshino could have bound the aberration using my name since then. 

Considering I would eventually have no choice but to use my shadow as a coffin, that would have made much more sense. However, it was in fact the complete opposite.

It was precisely because he was an outsider.

Only a third party could have bound the King of Aberrations.

Sure, binding her with my name might have made the seal more robust, but when the key to the lock lies within the family, the seal is rendered useless.

It's similar to the sense that an alibi from a family member cannot be trusted. If I were to put it in medical terms, like Kanbaru did, it would be akin to the rule that doctors can't perform surgery on their relatives.

It goes without saying that police officers are also not allowed to investigate cases involving their own family.

If we were to become family as a result of this bond, the situation would become even more complicated. As a professional and a third party who was neither a relative nor a parent nor a child, Oshino, who was wandering somewhere unknown to me, was still able to keep her in check.

The significance of changing her name was immense.

Uncannily so.

It was precisely because she was now Oshino Shinobu, not Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade, that I found myself willing to forgive her. Despite my words claiming otherwise, my actions betrayed the truth that I did.

Had her appearance changed without the name, maybe I could not have conveniently justified my feelings… If I really think about it, it seems everything was dancing in the palm of his hand.

Even after eighteen years—or rather, six.

To this day, I remain unable to surpass the machinations of Oshino Meme. I'm certain that even my current state, holding my head in my hands at a free stop in the Nasu Highlands Killing Stone site on my honeymoon, had been foreseen by the man in a Hawaiian shirt ever since spring break.

And the rain showed no signs of letting up.

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

[newyorksfinest]

People are not destroying men, nor desperately trying to be men. People who are born as men, but assigned a female body just want bodies and other social identifiers that match with the gender identity they are.

If you already understand this concept about gender identities not matching the sex you were born as, then you also must understand that there are stages to these transitions as well. A trans woman does not change her name, shave her body, learn makeup, grow her hair out, receive HRT, get vocal training, and get surgery all at once. It’s a lengthy process from one identity to the next. Is it that unrealistic for you to believe that somebody might feel most comfortable at one of these in between stages?

There’s a difference between dysphoria and dysmorphia. Gender *dysphoria* refers to a feeling of unease with the way you’re being physically perceived by yourself or others. Body *dysmorphia* refers to having a skewed and distorted view of your body and perceiving very minor flaws as severe flaws.

I personally don’t have a strong tie to a gender identity. I flip flop between just cis and gnc. Some days I experience a great discomfort wearing skirts or dresses and have to present more masculine to feel comfortable. I genuinely believe that the push for gender non conformance comes from the extra push toward typical gender roles. Growing up, I was told that women had to shave their legs, and if I didn’t, that was manly. Or if I grew any facial hair that was manly. Or that not wanting kids meant I was not feminine. People attribute masculine and feminine labels to every trait. Voice too deep? You must be a man. Hair too long? You must be a woman. Hands too big? Must be a man. Ad nauseum.

Maybe if we could understand that gender presentation is a spectrum, and that humans are always a mix of feminine and masculine traits completely unrelated to their biological sex, then we wouldn’t push people out of male or female identities. But because people like you push so hard for “what is a man nowadays anyway!?” and need this for sure definition, any biological male that doesn’t fit that definition feels like they have to be Other. They’re definitely not a woman, but now they must not be a man either because you all tell them so!! Hence why being in between seems so “trendy” to you.

Don’t worry, men will continue to be men. But now men uncomfortable with being a man will no longer live lifetimes of discomfort. There are still men and women, no one is taking that from you. But now there are other people too because none of us fit in the tidy holes you made too small to fit all of the rest of us.