#so once we get past that hurdle i might.. start drawing... :seeing:

[bbeelzemon]

frill got me excited about my comic and characters again so.... keep an eye out for potential content on the horizon

[stefanyd]

So i was having a lovely conversation with @rythyme about the current rapid evolution of the BL industry, specially in Thailand - looking at the impact KinnPorsche is having, everywhere, at the moment - and it led us to a path where i was able to articulate something i’ve been thinking about or a while in regards to BL as a genre and how it relates to (and is) LGBTQ+ media.

BL might have its roots as a genre made for fangirls as fanservice, but the reality of it is, it is ALSO queer media and as the world at large embraces LGBTQ+ identities(i use the term embrace loosely here, we are all aware of the hurdles we face still), the lines have blurred into what people consider just BL - as fangirl fanservice - and LGBTQ+ content.

That does not mean that there isn't just fanservice for the sake of it out there, not every piece of media has to be nuanced and whatnot (we all like chicken nuggets every once in a while people, don’t lie, five course meals are not always where its at), but it does mean that there is more media that lands in the blended space. I believe BL media is and should be qualified under LGBTQ+ media. Bad buddy is a great example. It is 100 percent a BL, ticks all the boxes, but it is also 100 percent a coming of age, nuanced love story between two boys that tugs at your heartstrings and makes you want to go through the joy and anxieties of falling in love. That has a lot to do with the Director of the show, P’Aof, a very talented director, and an out gay man. Watching his reaction/review videos to the show, along with his peers who are also queer men, specially for the final episode, has been one of the best experiences of my life. It was hard to put into words, but hearing what these older queer/gay men had to say about this show, their lives, their experiences, the differences between their youth and today. It was mind blowing, specially because they are from a whole different culture than mine, and as my older sister who is in their age range said: “you’re watching/learning queer history.” It was both touching and a great learning experience.

BL is a genre that can be multiple things at once (like any other), but what lends itself to the blending I mentioned before is that we are not only seeing the industry as a whole growing with its fanbase, but also the fact that more LGBTQ+ voices are getting involved in the making and distribution of it.

Rythyme made a point in our conversation, “BL as a genre despite its shortcomings has always been, at its core, both queer and transgressive and it's hard to draw those lines between what's made for the ‘BL fangirl’ vs the ‘queer person’ bc those boundaries are super blurred” And i agree with that statement, because many of those BL fangirls the genre was aimed at turned out to be queer people later in life. They mentioned listening to a talk by an older Japanese lesbian who was an OG BL fan from the start of it all, and who discussed how BL helped her discover her own queerness, which was a lightbulb moment for Rythyme as they listened to it.

And that’s the thing. BL culture in the east, and slash culture in the west, they both started labeled as “fanservice for the fangirls”, and their similarities don’t end there, they are both movements that have led a lot of queer people in a journey of self-discovery. My sister @teland has almost 15 years+ on me, and as she put it:

I can't count the number of queer people of all genders and ages and everything else who I've spoken to over the past 20-odd years about slash, bl, and other intersections of queerness, fantasy, and *hope* who have said to me:

"This is where I found myself." "This is how I learned who I was." "This is how I wrote myself into my own body." "This is how I learned how to draw the boundaries of my self." And so on, and so forth.

There is nothing more queer than taking identity/self/sexuality/gender and remaking it in our own images for the sake of learning ourselves.

So yeah. i am in no way making light of, or ignoring, the fact that the fetishizing that has gone on since its inception isn't a thing (i am not a gay man, i can't speak for their struggles or issues with said fetishizing), but i feel it disingenuous to deny the fact that it, and the people it was/is aimed for have evolved.

There's surely someone out there better qualified, and with more energy than me, to address the other, more problematic side of this whole thing, where it lacks and where it fails, and I wish them all the luck. I'm genuinely just. So happy to see the growth and evolution of it as a whole. It brings me untold joy, and when there are just so many things in the world that aim to take the joy away from our lives, I want to embrace all the things that give it to me.

Now give me more GL stuff lol.

[moonstruckbucky]

Say Love [one shot]

Summary: You and Bucky are at a stand-still in your relationship, all because neither of you can say three little words.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, a smidge of angst, the rest is fluff.

Notes: So this is a fun fic, but it’s also a very real fic. I know I’ve had that should-I-shouldn’t-I when it comes to saying the L word in a relationship, so this is for anyone that’s had that struggle. Enjoy & let me know what you think! x

P.S. - it’s also a birthday present to @captain-kelli aka MY WIFE 💕

It’s palpable, the tension. A smothering, suffocating heavy cloud stretching between the two of you, and you almost wonder how you got here, to this hurdle in your relationship.

It builds like an avalanche - a tiny, harmless snowball that’s picked up speed as it rolls, rolls, rolls, until it’s so big you can’t be in the same room as him without feeling like you’re walking on eggshells.

Even now, on a night meant for the two of you, you feel distanced from him - despite sitting beside each other on the couch. You’re pressed up against his side, It’s a Wonderful Life playing on the screen - a favorite of Bucky’s. It’s supposed to be a bonding time for you, but you’ve never felt so far away from him.

His arm is around you, but it’s stiff, and where his fingers would normally dance across your skin, raise goosebumps in their wake, now they’re still, limp. Careless.

And despite the movie being a favorite, he looks utterly bored when you peek up at him from under your lashes. Eyes vacant, fingers of his vibranium hand holding up his head, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this mountain that’s suddenly erected between you.

You’ve been dating eight months - is he bored with you already? Disinterested? “Just not feeling it anymore”? Is he too afraid of hurting you, and it’s why he hasn’t said anything yet? Is he waiting for you to get fed up and leave?

Because you won’t, you can’t. Despite this emotional gap between you, you feel a connection to him you haven’t felt before. He’s level-headed where you can be chaotic - being an Avenger is probably to thank for that - and he’s soft spoken despite his large, often gruff exterior.

He’s a perfect counterbalance to who you are - how could you not fall in love with him almost as soon as you met him?

Part of you believes that if Bucky didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t. He’s sure of himself, thanks to the hard work he’s done for himself since being officially recruited as an Avenger. He’d told you a little of how difficult it had been - in the 30s and 40s, people didn’t openly talk about their struggles, least of all with a psychologist; they just lived with them. 

It only made you fall for him even harder, for the sheer strength he has and the determination to come to grips with what’s happened to him.

But it seems those feelings are one-sided, and the revelation sits like lead in your stomach. With pressure building behind your eyes, you fake a yawn.

“I think I should go,” you mutter, thankful that your voice doesn’t crack. Bucky turns his eyes to you, wide and - is that disappointment?

“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll call you a cab?”

You stand up with a shake of your head. “Not necessary, I’ll get an Uber on my way down.”

He walks you to the elevator, hands in his pockets and feeling awkward. The kiss you share is quick, chaste, and stiff, much like the rest of your evening tonight. When you turn your back to him to enter the elevator, your chin wobbles.

Bucky stands in the hallway for a while after you’ve gone, his thoughts running away from him. He can’t be the only one between you who felt that distance, could he?

Have you changed your mind about him? Realized the former Winter Soldier isn’t who you want to give your heart to? Perhaps all the atrocities he’s committed are truly too much for you to handle.

He couldn’t blame you if they were and yet... You own his entire being, body and soul. If you were to leave him, a large part of him would go with you, a piece he isn’t sure he’d be able to get back. 

He knows you noticed his demeanor tonight, the way he hid behind himself in an effort of self-preservation. He nearly made himself bleed from biting his tongue so hard to keep three words he didn’t think he’d ever say from slipping out. He didn’t want to scare you, to make you run off,

but it seems he managed to do that anyways.

Bucky leans forward, bonks his head on the elevator once, twice, three times before a door opening behind him makes him pause.

“Are you done brooding yet?”

Bucky’s shoulders drop, in no mood for Sam’s ribbing. The man teases out of love and respect - it’s just how their relationship is - but tonight, he can’t bring himself to return the dig. He turns away from the elevator, shoulders up to his ears and hands still in his pockets.

Sam’s face changes when he takes in Bucky’s posture, and he sighs, leaning up against the frame of his door.

“What’s up, Tin Man?” he prods gently. 

Bucky’s eyes find a place just over Sam’s shoulder, torn between opening up to Sam about the turn his relationship has taken and remaining silent, attempt to sort through it himself.

A helpless look at Sam, and the dark-skinned man opens the door wider, turning to the side to allow Bucky entrance.

“Talk to me, man. You look like someone kicked your dog.”

Sam offers Bucky a seat on his couch, an expensive, black leather that feels as cushy as a cloud. The man leans back, crosses his arms over his chest. The black metal of his arm catches the low lighting in Sam’s room, turns the gold bronze.

“I think she’s going to break up with me,” he starts, and before he knows it he’s spilling all of his insecurities to Sam. The other man listens patiently, cocking his head curiously at some parts and pursing his lips for others.

Bucky half-expects the man to jab at him - joke about how she finally realized what a mess he is - but to his surprise (and relief; he has enough self-hatred for both of them), Sam nods sagely and looks almost empathetic. It would throw Bucky for a loop, if he and Sam haven’t come to some middle ground.

Steve would be so proud of them.

“Then she’s not worth it, Buck,” comes Sam’s response almost immediately after Bucky’s finished. The brunet’s eyes go wide. “If she can’t handle you as you are, if that’s too much for her, then it isn’t worth it. I like her, man, but I like you a lot better, and you deserve somebody who’s going to take your baggage, embrace it, accept it, and help make you better for it. And you shouldn’t have to settle for anything less.”

Bucky wants to argue, say that you are absolutely worth it, but the words get stuck in his throat. He knows Sam is right, acknowledges that yes, he has more baggage than most, but also that he does deserve someone who’ll accept him regardless of it.

But haven’t you? Eight months in and Bucky had been sure you’d accepted him for who he had been, not just who he is now. But perhaps you’d changed your mind. Perhaps you’d thought long and hard over it and realized a broken soldier wasn’t who you wanted at all.

He couldn’t blame you, but it still hurts to think about.

“I think you need to talk to her,” Sam continues, watching the emotions play out over Bucky’s face - shock, sadness, realization, and finally, utter heartbreak. Sam feels no pleasure whatsoever in telling Bucky this, but he’s never one to beat around the bush. His years as a VA counselor wouldn’t let him.

“Talk to her, and find out where her head’s at. It’s the only way you’re going to know.”

You don’t talk to Bucky for two weeks. After leaving the Avengers compound, you thought it best to distance yourself, prepare your heart for the eventuality that Bucky would break it off. But it’s even worse that he doesn’t contact you at all, and you begin to resent it.

Bitterness ekes into everything you say and do, your very being so clouded by resentment you’re not even sure who you are anymore. You don’t recognize yourself or the cynicism your attitude seems to have adopted. 

You hate it.

In a whirlwind of anger, resentment, and self-loathing, you drive to the compound. Flash the card Bucky had given you for access whenever he didn’t come pick you up himself. The gate rolls open, and your heart pounds with the notion that this might be the last time you'll ever see it.

You take the elevator up to Bucky’s floor, hands twisting together as you sort through every thought you’ve had in the past two weeks. Doing so reignites your anger, puts a scowl on your face that could curdle milk.

Bucky’s surprised to see you - even more so to see that look on your face - when he opens his door after you’ve slammed your fist against it.

“What the fuck is going on, Bucky?” you demand, and he winces, steps aside and waves you in so that the two of you don’t draw attention.

His shoulders hunch, hands sliding into his pockets - a clear sign that he’s feeling out of his element and is trying to make himself very, very small. In the space of his bedroom, your anger cools a little, fond memories of time spent in the space taking you over.

“Are we over?” you ask, outright, and Bucky’s head snaps up in alarm. “I mean, did I miss any hints you might’ve been dropping? Am I just making a fool of myself by being here, trying to fix this?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, rendered speechless and dumb by your questioning. It isn’t what he’d been expecting, and it’s caught him off guard.

“I- what?” He shakes his head as your eyes turn sad and manages to connect his brain to his mouth. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

Eyes going steely, you straighten your shoulders. “Well, considering you acted like you’d rather have been anywhere else but with me the last time we saw each other, paired with the fact I haven’t heard from you in two weeks? What am I supposed to think?”

He laughs shortly, incredulous, until your eyes flare up in anger again, and he reins it in, but only just. He just can’t believe what he’s hearing from you, how all this time he thought you were bored of him - or scared. Either way, the relief warming his chest keeps the smile on his face.

Your posture is rigid and you move to take a step back as he closes the distance, but his arms wrap around you and tug you into his chest. The kiss he lays on you is firm but warm, an outpouring of emotion that slowly destroys the wall you’ve erected just to face him.

His hands are warm, even the metal appendage, where he grasps your face to keep you close to him. He sighs when your arms wrap around his waist, hands gliding up to his shoulders to grasp his shirt, and he swallows the little whimper you let loose. 

Until he tastes the salt on your lips and he pulls away.

Your eyes are glassy, tears leaking from the corners to slide glistening tracks down your cheeks. His thumbs brush them away as he smiles softly.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he coos. He kisses you again before looking you in the eye. He wants to make sure you know he means every word. “I’m sorry I was a little emotionally constipated. I- I felt it, too, that weird air the last time you were here, and I thought you - I thought you had changed your mind about me, about us, and that you were just too shy to say anything. So I gave you your space even though it nearly killed me to do it. I thought it was what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong.”

Bottom lip trembling, you sniffle and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “No, I... I could have called. I know you felt a little off that night, too. I was just. I didn’t know how much I could push, if you even wanted that conversation at all. I guess I just thought it was your way of saying you were done with me.”

He chuckles, deep and reverberating, and he shakes his head. “Never gonna happen. I love you too much.”

He enjoys the change on your face - the surprise and then the utter elation - and he grins like the cat that ate the canary.

“You what?”

Bucky isn’t sure why he’d been so scared to say it before, not when you’re looking at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

“I love you,” he repeats, punctuating it with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And I should’ve said it sooner, especially if you were having doubts.”

He’s entranced by the way you chew your lip thoughtfully, shrug a shoulder shyly. “I could’ve said it, too. I love you, Bucky.”

The smile that breaks upon his face is blinding, radiant. This man was born to smile like this all the time. And he’s mine, you think. He’s all mine.

You giggle, tuck your face into his neck as you shake your head. Still grinning, he holds you tight, chuckles in kind when you say, “We’re idiots.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “But idiots in love.”

[annaraebananawriter]

Hands

First off...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SQUID!!! 

I honestly had no idea it was his birthday until last night from twitter. I was in the middle of writing this scene, in fact, and realized ‘Hey, you know what? I could probably get this done in time for it!’. Now here we are.

Secondly...This is a scene from one of my WIP’s. It will probably take place somewhere in the middle chapters, but I saw that it was a fairly out of context scene to show that it wouldn’t really matter if I showed it now as a teaser or later. 

Obviously, I chose the latter.

That said, this is set to change a bit as the WIP develops, but it’ll be nice to see what you all think of it. Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Pairings: Implied Errorink, or Pre-Errorink

Characters: Error (Who belongs to CQ) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)

Warnings: Nothing really. Although, again, it is a scene from a wip, which means that it is not in it’s final form. Let me know!

Word Count: 2488

~oOo~

His phone buzzed on the floor beside him. Ink paused in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger, which was probably a losing battle, but since when has that ever stopped him before? That’s right, never. And it never would. Setting the pencil aside, he checked his phone and read the short message.

mommy-bear

Are you coming home for supper? It’s past 5.

Ink jumped, looking outside to see that, indeed, the sun was lower in the sky and time had in fact passed. They must’ve gotten lost in the throughs of their homework, or the casual avoidance of it, for one of them. Error seems to have made some sort of headway into the work from Mx. Alex. Good for him. He’ll be able to hand it in on Monday without it bugging him in the back of his mind while he ignores that bugging and just doddles instead of doing his work like he should until the next thing he knows it’s almost midnight on Sunday and he still hasn’t gotten it done.

But honestly, who would do that? Certainty not Ink.

Error had also noticed his jump and was looking at him now. “What is it?”

“Just a text from my mom.” He answered, gathering up his things. A glance to his study buddy showed Error blinking and setting down his pencil as well in order to listen. “She was just wondering where I was. It’s after five, y’know? I said I’d be back then.”

“Oh.” Error fell silent after that.

Once his things were all accounted for (he did lose his eraser for a minute there and partially freaked out about it, which was kind of silly as he had plenty more than just this one white one, others that were far more colourful, but he didn’t have to worry for long—Error had silently placed it on the bed for him to grab, making Ink smile in gratitude), Ink walked to the bedroom door and got to the top of the stairs before he realized another pair of footsteps were following him.

Man, Error really needed to take him up on the suggestion of bells. He was too silent on his feet, just too much like a ghost for his liking. Not that he didn’t like ghosts. He just didn’t like people being silent when their walking. It made him paranoid.

Ink turned around. “You know I can just walk myself back, right? I literally live right next door.” He held up one finger. “That’s the house right beside yours.”

Error scowled, just like he always did when Ink pointed things out like that. It was also a reason why he was determined to point things like that out as often as he did, which was rather often. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I know that.”

“Then why are you following me?”

“What if I wasn’t? What if I just decided to get some food? To do that, I’d need to go to the kitchen, which is also downstairs.” He gestured to the passageway to said downstairs. “Those are the only stairs to get there.”

Ink smirked, “You have a box on the top shelf of your closet where you keep all the chocolate you bought, stole, or stole from Fell.” This statement was rewarded with a light blush of embarrassment from Error, who looked around as if to make sure his brothers didn’t overhear.

Ink was sure that they already knew though.

He also suspected that they put chocolate in the box too, as Error was sometimes surprised that there was some there when he had said he had eaten it all.

“I didn’t even say I was getting chocolate! I might be getting something else.”

“You don’t snack on anything but chocolate.” Error’s scowl deepened. “You also sort of admitted to following me” He couldn’t help but laugh when the blush on Error’s skull deepened in realization and his taller friend looked away from him. It was always interesting to see just how much it took to get to this shade of blue, with the yellow freckle-like dots just barely seen overtop. The sight made Ink want to draw it.

He wanted to draw it so badly.

Laughter dying down, Ink tilted his head and smiled at Error. “If you wanted to walk with me, you could’ve just asked.”

For some reason, Error glanced back at him and quickly looked away again, blush deepening again, the yellow becoming brighter. He also started to glitch a little bit, which would normally spark a tiny bit of worry, but he could see that the other wasn’t in any danger, so he had no reason to worry. If the glitches got worse, then he could worry.

That was…pretty much the saying for being friends with him.

‘If the glitches got worse, then you could worry.’

Error burrowed down, like he usually would if he had his scarf on. It was, presumably, back in his room. Weird. The glitch he knew never went anywhere without his scarf; at school, at home, at the café, at the park, walking, sitting, it was always on. Well, it probably came off at home. Here he was with his family, a safe, happy environment away from the judging eyes of school and the city. He could be himself here. That’s an assumption, at least, hopefully the right one. Ink didn’t know the relationship between skeleton and scarf and never asked, never would talk about it until, or if, Error brought it up. He wanted to respect his privacy, after all.

But now that he thought about it, the scarf had been coming off around him lately. It had started off small. It started with it being up to his mouth, almost as if a way to hide or be smaller than he was. That was how it was for a while. Then one morning, it was down just a bit, just under his mouth. And as the days passed and the two talked more and became friends, the scarf would be lower and lower. Down to the chin in Math. Under the chin the next day. Around his neck a week later in English class.

It was almost like earning his trust. He had earned Error’s trust, which meant that he got to see the skeleton behind the scarf. The true, unshielded one.

It was…kind of nice, to be honest.

Ink blinked, coming back to himself and realizing that Error had mumbled something.

“Sorry, what?”

Error looked back at him and sighed a little before speaking up just enough so that Ink could hear. “I said, can I…walk with you?” His arms went in front of him. Ink guessed that it was a temporary shield in place of the scarf.

He was prepared to be rejected and just walk back to his room.

Well, Ink couldn’t have that, now could he?

“Of course!” The smile on his face widened and he started down the stairs with lighter steps. It was always nice when friends offered to walk you home or something of the sort. The walk was less lonely, even if you never spoke a word.

It’s just how it was.

They talked in the small time it took to get from Error’s house to Ink’s. Well, that wasn’t really true. Ink did most of the talking, which ended up being mostly complaints about homework and school and also talk about his works in progresses. Error just listened quietly, humming or nodding in certain spots. He would like to think that Ink could talk about nothing at all and Error would listen. It just seemed to be the way he was.

Their friendship was a good one. Maybe there were a few unbalances here and there, but overall, it was good and healthy and, most importantly, mutual. It benefited both of them in different ways. Ink had someone who would listen without interrupting, who cared about his interest and how he felt, even though he didn’t have a soul and relied on substitutes. Error had someone who didn’t pressure him into a conversation, who gave him and respected his personal space and asked before touching his things and body. It was like a missing piece just fell into place, so perfect, it felt like it hadn’t been missing at all.

That said, there were some hurdles.

Like how Ink was soulless. There was always that thought, loud or quiet, one that questioned whether the love he felt towards his friends and family was real. Or if he was just deluding himself and everyone around him into thinking that they were. This thought had always been there, since before Dream and Blue, before Error, before anyone he was with now—what if it was all fake?

It was kind of silly. The substitutes he took acted as a soul. It supplied him his soul magic, the working parts of his body and the emotion spectrum. He may not feel things as intensely as others and may be lacking a feeling in a certain way, but that didn’t mean they weren’t real. They’re substitutes for a reason, after all.

…Ah! They’ve arrived at his house.

Ink blinked, stopping on the first step and turning back to Error. “So…” he said, finding himself unable to think of what else to say. He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you next Friday?” He tried to think back on what else was going on in school. “We have some sort of project to do or test to study for, right?”

Error nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He fell silent too, but didn’t leave like Ink had expected. He lingered, clearly thinking about something with the way his arms slightly glitched around. He didn’t say anything, though.

“Anything else?” Ink asked, trying to prompt him.

The blush, which had died down as they walked over here, brightened again. “Um…yeah, actually.” Error straightened and fiddled with his sleeve. “Do you remember the lesson we had…I think it was a month ago? In Health?”

Ink rocked on his heels as he thought. It was times like these that he cursed his memory. A month ago…a month ago…he didn’t really remember a lot of the lessons from a month ago. But the ones that he did… “Do you mean the one about the different types of intimacy? I only recall that it was about intimacy, nothing specific.”

“Yeah…yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay…why is it important?” Curious. Error rarely asked him if he could remember a lesson from as long as a month ago. He knew how bad Ink’s memory was, so why did he ask? And why now, of all times?

“I, uh…w-well…” Error stuttered. Error didn’t normally stutter. It was only when he glitched really badly and was on the verge of crashing that he stuttered, or lagged, as he liked to call it. Normally, though, he spoke fine, if quiet and almost echoey.

Speaking of glitches…the ones on his arms had quickened up a little. Not enough to be too worrying yet, but definitely something to watch over.

Frowning, Ink was just about to bring that to attention when Error spoke again, voice clearer. “Just…can you…raise your hand?” He slowly brought up a hand with the inside facing Ink, like he was to high-five someone. “Like this?”

Ink eyed him suspiciously.

One of the first things he had learned about Error was that the other had haphephobia. He couldn’t stand people touching him, as it usually caused a flurry of glitches in the touched spot, and sometimes it was so bad that the minute someone touched him, he crashed. Those days were few, but they have happened. Ink had been lucky that it hasn’t happened since meeting Error. But this fact he had taken in and committed to memory, determined to not trigger his friend like that.

He would hate himself, if he did.

But now Error was asking him to raise his hand? For what? He couldn’t see them high-fiving. It would be too painful for Error and frankly a bit of a reach for Ink (he hated being short like that). And because it would be painful, he couldn’t see why he had to raise his hand.

But he was curious.

Curiosity usually made his answers for him.

Just as slowly as Error did, Ink raised his hand, mirroring the one in front of him.

Error inhaled and…

Ink’s mind froze.

He could barely focus on Error stepping closer as excitement and happiness began to take over. The urge to squeal was overwhelming, but he reigned himself in as he knew that wouldn’t help Error at all. It would probably just make him run away and never come near Ink again. And he didn’t want that. So, he forced himself to stay still and stay quiet, eyes focused on the hand that started to come closer and closer to his.

He could see the black bones begin to glitch a ton and felt a spark of worry—despite what might just happen, he didn’t want Error to hurt himself. He would never want him to—he should speak up now. He should tell Error to stop and calm down.

They didn’t have to do it like this.

They didn’t even have to touch at all!

They didn’t…have to…

It was…warm.

Fuzzy.

The hands contrasted starkly and they would be stunning in a painting. The white of Inks and the black of Errors. They were different, but they looked so well together.

This…This had to be a dream.

But it wasn’t. There was a light touch to his bones, just enough to know that the hand against his was, in fact, against his and trembling ever so slightly and actually existed in the world and not just his imagination. Somehow, this made it even more surreal. He knew it was real…but he just couldn’t believe it.

If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

Despite his promise to stay still, Ink shakily inhaled.

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Error retracted his hand and walked away quickly. Ink was slow to realize what was happening and so by the time his hand was up and the name of his tongue, his friend was already gone. He stood there with his arm outstretched, gazing at the house next door blankly.

He slowly looked down at his hand.

It still tingled.

Gently wrapping his other hand around it, not daring to actually touch, he brought the hands closer to his chest, right over where his soul would be.

It felt like something should be beating wildly in there.

It felt like some new emotion had been lodged in his substitutes.

And somehow, it felt like that contact, the light touch of hands, was far more intimate than a kiss had ever and would ever be.

[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part nine: falling fires

part one: falling flowers | part two: falling freedom | part three: falling fears | part four: falling failures | part five: falling fame | part six: falling feelings | part seven: falling forces | part eight: falling fractures

5k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

“I told you,” Arden whispered when morning came and the storm the paparazzi brought was drowned out by filtered sunshine. “Just needed to rest it.”

Calum was relieved to find she was moving about with much more ease than the night before; her fall on the sidewalk swarmed by flashing cameras looked much worse than it really was. Calum now figured part of the problem was shock; the unexpected growing crowd and being closed in had shaken her much more than the fall or the twist of her ankle. She woke before him but Calum had to wonder if she really slept at all after the debacle. He had held her close the entire night, had drifted and woke when she shifted. Now she stood at the edge of his bed with her hair piled on top of her head and one of his sweatshirts stolen and hanging off her frame for the morning.

“Why don’t you keep resting it and I’ll get us some breakfast?” He asked and sat up, rubbed at his tired eyes then used one hand to pull her close and hoped it would coax her back into bed. “Can swing by the diner and get your favorite.”

The promise of a cinnamon roll was enough to get her to settle back in. Duke clamored his way to her from his perch at the end of the bed where he liked to keep a lookout out of the door. Calum slipped on some decent clothes and bid them both a goodbye with kisses to their foreheads and left with a smile as they snuggled back in together. The morning felt much lighter than the night though new weights hung over their heads. Calum would have to negotiate with management to make his promise to Arden come true. No more paparazzi walks. He’d propose more social media posts to even the balance. He didn’t hold his breath or his hope that they would go for it, but he had to try. He made it to the diner and relished how quiet and calm it was compared to the club. He ordered at the counter but let his gaze flicker over to their booth where a crayon drawing had been created. It was still stuck to his fridge. After ordering his phone began buzzing, notification after notification pouring in. His eyes couldn’t keep up with the flickering screen but key words and names jumped out at him.

He went stiff and silent as he pieced it together. An interview they had done during their week of promo was exploding on its online publication. His words were plastered across headlines and taken terribly out of context. They were glaring and put a pit in his stomach. The crowd last night, the article going live along with cherry picked photos of Calum “leaving Arden in the crowd” and the timing of them all put together reeked of management. With numb hands he pocketed his phone, accepted the order from the kind waitress and headed back for his car, all the while fearing what Arden would think and if she might understand his words weren’t real. They were twisted and contrived into something he would never mean. He ran for the door as soon as he was parked in the driveway. He was about to rush to the bedroom with food still in his hands but stopped short when Arden was on the couch, Duke held to her chest and a despondent look capturing hazel.

Calum tossed the breakfast on the counter and went to her. She pursed her lips and though it seemed as if she was harrowed by his words and the way they were used against them, she reached for him. Discarded her phone and was thankful to see the article disappear as it locked.

“You know I didn’t say that right? Not like that. They took it all and twisted it. I’d never—“ Calum began but Arden shook her head and cut him off.

“I know you wouldn’t. I’m not stupid. And I trust you. Fuck, I was probably even there when you said what you actually said”—she shifted up and made room for him to settle in beside her—“I know we haven’t defined what we really are but… you wouldn’t say or do that.”

At first she was certain. Voice steady and breathing even as she rationalized and talked through the words that sank low in Calum’s stomach. And then she fell into the spiral and let it sway her certainty and fray her thoughts.

“Would you?” She asked and Calum could see the regret flash across her face the moment the words left her lips.

“No,” Calum was quick to put her small doubts to bed. His fingers trailed her jaw and coaxed her to look at him. Reminded her with a gentle touch of all that they were and all that was fake. “We’re together, Arden. I’m not waiting to start touring to see how things pan out. I’m not gonna leave you behind.”

“Together?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Calum said with a soft smile and easy glide of fingertips along her soft cheek. She pressed into the touch and let out a sigh, kept questions in her gaze and begged him to further explain. “I’ve wanted to be with you since the kiss on the dance floor. I thought it was decided that afternoon at the art gallery. I guess I never officially asked though.”

“No, you didn’t,” Arden responded and twisted the fake ring around her finger. For a second it didn’t feel so fake. For just a heartbeat Calum could picture it being real.

“Will you be my real girlfriend inside of our fake engagement?”

The question got Arden to giggle and it was music to Calum’s ears. The mood was lighter as she pretended to contemplate.

“Well I don’t know about that,” she said around a laugh and silenced when Calum kissed her, reminded her of why she should know. “I think my yes is obvious. Ever since Vegas. Especially since the art gallery.”

Calum couldn’t cut back the grin that consumed him or stop himself from leaning in to steal another kiss. She was supple and sweet and calm worked its way back through them. The chaos of the past night and morning was starting to shatter and for that Calum was grateful. Arden knew the headline was contrived. And now they both understood each other and the way they were defining what was between them. A real relationship veiled by a fake engagement. There were still hurdles to surpass, still truths that needed to be told, still forces that needed to be fought. But for now they had each other unquestionably.

“Why now?” She wondered aloud as the kiss ended and another notification lit up her phone screen discarded on the coffee table in front of them. “It has to be management. They’re starting the split aren’t they? It’s only been five months. I thought we had more time, why now?”

Calum shook his head, pressed a gentle kiss to her neck and rested against her shoulder. “I don’t know.”

Her fingers found purchase in his hair and lightly ran through it, the motion calming for both of them. “They’re making it seem like you’re not interested anymore. I thought it was supposed to be mutual. I thought we had an entire year before we had to worry about it. But now that we’re real…”  

“We’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Calum decided; he’d put an end to the flames, make sure paparazzi walks were a thing of the past, the truth was a fleeting thought in his mind but it was squandered by fear they may use it as ammunition against them. “We’ll get it figured out. I’m not going to let them ruin us.”

Calum felt a nod from Arden and the way she settled her chin on the top of his head. She was warm and her arms were comfortable. Rarely did Calum seek out such a form of affection and comfort; so used to being the one to hold his arms open, her embrace and hold was refreshing and reassuring. Calum remembered her whispered plea to go home during a promo day—to Calum’s place—and realized that right here, in her arms, with lips pressed to her skin, was home for him. She was his comfort; the certainty to the questions and the calm to the chaos. Two different four letter words he hadn’t felt in a long time. One was here. Home. One sat heavy on his chest and burned in the back of his throat. Love.

There was a fear that it was too soon; they were moving too fast and Calum was merely blinded by the lights and mixing realities. Then there were the years they spent coexisting. The remembrance of things past that only highlighted everything he felt in the present. Paintings in hallways and teasing initials and nicknames in melodies and nights spent in her bed. Maybe, it really was love at second first sight.

***

Once headlines were forgotten and Calum had words with management; an agreement reached to lean back on time with paparazzi and some expletives over the twisted words, Calum and Arden found alone time together once more. The diner brought back blushing memories and a sense of normalcy and ease. Hair fell in her face as she scribbled on a menu once more and words of a painting sat on the tip of Calum’s tongue but he held them back and enjoyed the subtleties of her happiness. A slight smile upturned the corners of her mouth and the backlight of the sun set her in a glow that made her a work of art.

Calum’s phone rang on the laminate table top and Arden only spared a second to glance over as he rolled his eyes at the device and silenced it.

“Anyone important?” She asked and ducked back down to her work in progress.

Calum sighed, the sound was tired and a bit exasperated. “Not really.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

He rubbed at his jaw and contemplated how to tell a truth, not wanting to leave Arden in the dark or omit anything. As many lies as they lived Calum needed honesty between them to even out the balance.

“It’s just…” he began and felt trepidation dance up his spine. She looked up at him, arched eyebrow and a gentle gaze telling him he could share. “An ex. She’s texted and called a couple of times since that headline came out. I thought she’d get the memo when I ignored them all. I’ll block her.”

“You don’t have to,” Arden said around a laugh and reached for his hand. “You know you could just talk to her and tell her some form of the truth. I had to with Brett.”

“Brett?” Calum asked, the name jarring something inside of him, setting something at unease. “Your ex? Who dumped you? Married your best friend in Vegas?”

“All of the above,” she confirmed and rolled her eyes—a huff leaving her in the same second.

A sense of protectiveness and perhaps a bite of jealousy ran through Calum. “He’s married.” His tone carried messages of what does a married man want with you and stupid Brett all in one.

“Was married. Guess they called it quits a month in. Maybe he had the same idea as your ex once that headline hit,” she explained, thumb running over the back of his hand to say words she hadn’t spoken. “I told him it was taken out of context. That we’re happy. He hasn’t called again.”

Calum warmed at the happiness part, felt his heart flutter and four letter words come back full force. He bit his tongue, pocketed his phone and decided to deal with both of those situations on another day.

“Good,” he said and regretted the word as it was laced with obvious disdain for the man he only knew in passing. But Arden’s airy giggle and lit up eyes told him his distaste was funny and he could maybe get away with being so openly against him. “I’ve never liked that guy.”

Calum knew the statement was outlandish as ‘never’ didn’t have two legs to stand on. Never was only Vegas. Only a ceremony and a passing moment at the reception. But from Arden’s words he assumed never could be from the moment she and Brett met. During their relationship when she’d find places like their diner to get away and not be with him. He wondered if they’d been in touch during those lost years if he truly never would have liked him.

“You don’t even know him,” she said but kept her smile and a fondness in her tone. “It’s okay though, I’ve never liked him either.”

Her nose crinkled to show her own distaste for the defenseless man and now it was Calum’s turn to laugh.

“Then why’d you date him?” The question slipped out before Calum could think better of it.

“So he would dump me and marry my best friend, thus making me need a date to their wedding and you giving me the pity I wanted. Why else?”

“An elaborate scheme,” Calum declared and brought her hand up to kiss. “I’m impressed.”

Arden licked her lips and pushed her newest place mat drawing towards him, tapped her fingers on the tabletop and launched into a serious explanation he wasn’t expecting. “I was really lost in university. I lost touch with Michael and my parents. I guess… he was just there when I pushed everyone else away. It went on way longer than it should have, he kind of ‘encouraged’ it, kept me busy and away from them. The only times I really talked to them was through phone calls in diners when I got away from him. He dumped me when I told him I was leaving university and I might go home. But I didn’t. I guess I just couldn’t face them yet. Tried to warn Viv about him, guess she learned on her own.”

Calum felt winded. The new information about her escapes left him heartbroken. It answered questions—why she never visited, why Michael didn’t talk about her much, why there was a strong disconnect between her and her parents. He could see she was trying to mend fences, build back what they had and find herself in the process. Find her family and where she fit into it. Calum knew Michael and her parents would always leave a spot for her. She just needed to reach for it. The fear of disappointing them made more sense than ever. Calum was going to tell her that opening up to them as she did with him would be a good starting point.

“You know,” she said suddenly and broke the solemn mood that befell them at her Brett explanation and stopped Calum from voicing things he didn’t have a say in—she needed to find her own way back to them. “You haven’t told me anything about your ex.”

Calum scoffed and waved a hand through the air to try and downplay it. “It was ages ago. Hardly anything to tell.”

“Oh come on, there’s got to be something. I just spilled my heart out. Your turn.”

He shrugged. Realized he had been keeping his previous relationship bottled up; his first true heartbreak still sat heavy with him at times. But it was Arden and the light that followed her that took the weight off him, made him question if it was really even love and if it wasn’t, then how could it be heartbreak?

“Things just didn’t work out between us. I think we both tried but it wasn’t right. I had to make the choice to end things before we came to resent each other. I don’t think she understood, I probably didn’t give her enough closure. I just needed to be done. I needed to move on.”

Arden nodded and broke her hold on his hand, picked up the crayon again and mumbled, “I think you have a call to make.”

“You don’t mind?”

She shook her head and spared him a glance. “Once you give her the truth and some closure I have something to give you. It’s back at my place.”

Calum smirked and excused himself to call her back. He stepped outside and braced himself as the phone rang. It came as a surprise when she answered and understood and wanted him to be happy; whether it was with her or with Arden. He told her it was Arden. He told her they ended because things weren’t right, something was missing and moving on to try and find it was what was best. After a moment she agreed. Thanked him for the call and wished him well. Arden came out of the door when he ended the call, offered her hand and a sympathetic smile. He pulled her into his side and held onto what he knew was right, to all the missing pieces he had been searching for. Calum felt his heart ease at the closure he could give and the colliding paths that found each other.

“You said you have a gift for me at your place?” He asked with a tilted smile and arched eyebrow.

“Don’t get your expectations too high. It’s just a little something.”

***

A little something was presented to Calum under secret circumstances. Arden rushed to her room and kept him out, came back out with her hands behind her back and a bitten lip. Calum cocked his head to the side and approached her slowly as a faint blush captured her cheeks.

“It’s actually two things,” she amended and presented one to start with.

Covered in cloth and rectangular Calum had no guesses  before his hands enveloped it. The first touch told him all he needed to know, a grin grew on his face as he removed the cloth and stared down at the sunset. The same sunset that was in the Clifford’s hallway. The original work of art that sprinkled renewed memories through Calum’s mind and made him realize he had always known and understood Arden, even in fleeting moments scattered through their childhoods.

“This is the real one?” He asked, just to ensure his assumption was correct and his memory was reliable.

“My mum sent it. I figured it’d be better off with you than tucked away into the guest room.”

He took a moment to admire it and relish in the memories it so vividly painted in his mind. Arden edged a bit closer to him, let her own eyes peek at the paint and quietly brought her other offering out from around her back.

“It isn’t much. I haven’t painted in years but you and your blank wall were begging for something.”

Calum chuckled at her remark and took her words in jest as he swapped with her and uncovered the new painting. His breath caught in his throat and eyes fluttered back up to her as she swayed back and forth, weight from one foot to the other as she watched his reaction. The canvas was painted with what was real to them. The diner was abstract but recognizable. Silhouettes in the windows represented them and Calum lost his words in the meaning.

“If you don’t like it I could paint you another beach,” Arden murmured, a note of panic and apprehension cracking her voice at the end of her sentence. Calum quickly shook his head, wanting to put those doubts at ease as soon as possible.

“It’s perfect,” he said and felt honesty fluttering his heart, moving him to set it on the coffee table and pull her close instead. She did the same with the waves on canvas and welcomed his embrace. “Like you.”

A giggle left Arden in a breathy and unbelieving way. Calum knew his words were cheesy but he also knew if she wasn’t perfect then she was perfect for him. Those four letter words came crashing back into his being and the tip of his tongue at the taste of sugar gracing him. He’d never tire of the sweetness.

“I’m ready to tell my parents,” she said as a whisper against his lips, her soft hands gliding through his hair and down to the tops of his shoulders. “It’s my turn to give the truth, isn’t it?”

Calum minutely nodded, felt the brush of sweetness against his lips again. Let shadows dance behind closed eyelids, the low lighting creating intimate images. The day had faded and nighttime crept up on them in a full moon and one window to cast slight light through to them.

“How about in the morning?” He mumbled, eyes still closed and seeking sweetness, a want for something else lingering between them.

“Okay,” she said and lifted herself to the tops of her toes, smirked into a kiss and set out to discover more pieces of each other.

His hands found her waist with ease, hers settled feather light on his jawline and footsteps carefully backed them away from the living room and toward her bedroom door. It was a trip made many times before, one that Calum knew like the back of his hand. The small distance to her bedroom had been walked before but there were still lines that had yet to be crossed. Calum felt electric with her touch, familiar with her warmth and the way her body fit so nicely against his. Her back hit the bed and he hovered over her, kissed places he already knew and wandered to ones that were exciting and new. She was pliable in his hold and receptive to his every touch, he savored every second as the night slipped by in needy sighs and new highs they had never reached before. And in the morning when they woke between the sheets with tousled hair and purple painted skin Calum nearly let one four letter word slip out.

He bit his tongue and tasted her, held his breath as she rolled over with contentment written on her face as her eyelashes fluttered. He was met with hazel in new light, a smirk that replayed the feeling of her lips against his skin and a sigh that sounded reminiscent of his name and more wrapped around it. When her hand roamed back to his hair and her fingers brushed through his messy tresses he could almost feel the pull and reveled in the attention. He noted the marks on her skin, the way they clashed with delicate ivory and painted a retelling of the night before. Calum grinned when she pouted and leaned in to say good morning in a way he usually did.

With his lips pressed to her forehead he asked, “Breakfast?”

She made a noise of agreement and slowly sat up, the sheet covering her reminded Calum of a panicked morning in Vegas. Except this morning was calm and cloudy, hazy with leftover lust. She reached for his shirt that was sprawled out on the end of the bed. It was the only article of clothing that didn’t end up on the floor.

“Can I borrow your shirt?” She asked with wide eyes and a playful smile.

“Nope,” he laughed and sat up with her. He kissed her shoulder. “Topless breakfast.”

She turned with a fake glare and grabbed the shirt anyway. “You go topless this time. I will next time.”

“Alright, but I’m holding you to that,” he promised and reached around to help button it. “Say, tomorrow?”

Arden laughed and shook her head. “You wish.”

As she vacated the bed Calum called after her that he did and waited a second—a little too wrapped up in his own thoughts and finding his pants thrown into the corner—before chasing after her. He met her in the kitchen where his shirt hung off her smaller frame and made him glad she had asked to borrow it. Though he still felt his idea would be even better. She pulled out cereal and offered him some.

“I’m gonna call my parents today, when it’s good their time,” she said around a bite then nervously moved her spoon through the bowl. “You don’t have to tell yours at the same time but it’d probably make sense to. I’m sure they’ll be in touch with each other after anyway.”

“We’ll do it together,” Calum offered, as he had since the very beginning. He was elated she was ready. “We can Group FaceTime them. Tell them we have a secret surprise.”

Arden let out a short breath and set her spoon down to clap her hands on the countertop. “We’re not just taking our time with the engagement. It’s not even a real one. It was just a drunken joke that management made us stick with. Surprise!”

Her words were sarcastic and Calum played along. “We’re not really engaged, that’s our secret. But we are really together. That’s another secret. Don’t tell Michael. He only knows about the fake engagement.”

Arden chuckled and shook her head, hair falling into her face. “This is going to be awful.”

Calum pursed his lips and nodded. “It’ll be okay, we’ll just take care of it one set of secrets at a time.”

***

Surprise fell on Calum and Arden at the reactions their parents had to the truths they told. They decided to start with Vegas and the fake engagement; wanting to wait to reveal their true relationship a while longer, feeling they owed it to Michael to tell him first. Mali merely said “I knew it” around their parent’s sheer shock. Gasps filled their end of the line but support and understanding followed quickly thereafter. Calum kept his eyes on Arden, noted the subtleties in her responses and the way she began to get quieter as the conversation went on. She became reserved; sunk back into the couch nearly out of view of the camera and let Calum take the lead. He wrapped it up when he turned to look back and saw she was biting her lip, gazing despondently out the window and worried she wasn’t okay.

“We’ll talk to you guys later,” Calum said with finality before hanging up with one last wave and smile for his mum.

He turned to her, hand going to rest on her knee in a form of comfort for her and a reassurance for him. She came back from her state out of the window and gave him a timid smile.

“I’m really glad we got that over with,” she admitted and sighed. “And I’m sorry that I even made us lie in the first place.”

Calum softened at her apology and understood the meaning; though he didn’t agree—she hadn’t made him do anything—he didn’t argue, knowing that the apology was just as much for her as it was for him.

“They took it well. Feels much better to get that out in the open,” he agreed and dipped down to rest his head against her shoulder, the automatic reaction of her leaning into him and accepting his presence made his nerves and hurt flutter in tandem. “We’re almost done.”

All that was left was telling Michael the fake engagement had blossomed something very real between them. And then they would circle back around to their parents and Mali who would likely have another “I knew it” in store. Calum trailed his hand up her thigh and found her hand, felt the cool ring on her finger and felt a fall of pressure on his chest. Soon enough there would be no more ring. No more reason management would want or allow them to be together. It was another bridge they would have to cross.

“It was almost too easy,” she said, paused and shifted to throw her legs over his lap and have him look up at her. Her hand came up to rest against his chest and he once again wondered if she could feel his heartbeat. Someday he would have to ask her about that. “I hope Michael will take his surprise just as well as they did.”

Calum huffed out a small and sarcastic laugh and took up the game they had played in the kitchen during breakfast. His voice screamed sarcasm. “Hey Mike, you know how we’ve been pretending to be together? Well that’s not entirely fake; we’ve been sneaking around. Surprise!”

Arden also let out a sarcastic laugh and threw her head back into the plush cushioning of the couch. “You were right. He is going to kill you. Or at least try.”

“You’re worth it,” Calum assured but panic was rising, twisting his stomach and doubt inching its way in.

There was a part of him that wished it could stay the way it was just a while longer. A lingering need to have her to himself, a selfish want to postpone the problems that were still left to be faced. What Michael didn’t know wouldn’t get Calum killed, what they didn’t tell Michael couldn’t possibly get him hurt.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she said and left the ball in his court.

His selfish desire spilled out. He couldn’t help it. He had a plan, an admission and declaration Arden needed to hear before Michael came into the equation. “Let’s wait awhile.”

“Whatever you want,” she promised, tapped her fingers lightly against his chest in a slow rhythm and brushed her lips against his cheek. “You’re worth it.”

<< >> 

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[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ nineteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 5.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, ! depictions of a panic attack ! ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

mists of celeste act three ➻ part one

​​​

“Have you been sleeping alright over the past few days?”

You glance over at San out the corner of your eye, catching his stare on you as the two of you walk through the corridor. Your gaze flits away from his in less than a second, and you redirect your focus to the floor under your feet rather than on his concerned expression. Despite heading to two separate places, the two of you walk side by side as you approach the training room. Seonghwa is waiting for you there – another sparring session meant to be rehabilitation for your thigh – whereas San is going to eat in the mess hall.

“It could be better…” You admit, letting a small sigh slip through your lips, and you bring a hand up to your hair. “Yunho gave me some medicine to help me fall asleep and stay that way.”

“I got the same thing,” San laughs, but the sound is dry, and there is no humor in it. The implication behind his words hurts a bit – the idea of him suffering and struggling with nightmares the same way you are – but you aren’t one to chastise him. “I’m glad to hear that though. You deserve some good rest. Truly.”

The softness and gentleness in his tone causes your stomach to turn in all sorts of ways. You press your elbow into his side, trying to brush off the sudden wave of embarrassment with nonchalant words.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, San.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” San pushes a bit more mirth into his tone. When you glance at his face, you can see that he’s being serious, and again your gut can’t quite handle that. Luckily San decides to speak once more and save you the trouble of getting flustered. “But I won’t get all soft on you, if you catch my drift.”

“Ew,” you scoff, rolling your eyes back when San cackles at his own jokes. The levity between the two of you is welcome though, even if you have to suffer his awful jokes.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” San exhales and lifts his hands as though to defend himself from another attack.

“You’re lucky we’re parting ways here. Otherwise, I would smack you upside the head.”

“Come on now, there’s always time for more,” San chuckles, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck. You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head rather than responding. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone for now then.”

“I’ll see you later,” you say as you bring a hand up to wave at him.

“Have fun with Seonghwa. Not too much fun though.”

“Oh, I’ll try my best. Don’t worry.”

San passes another smile in your direction, and you return the gesture before dipping into the training room. As soon as you step through the doors, you are greeted by Seonghwa and Jongho. The shorter dark-haired Berserker welcomes you first, lifting a hand to wave at you when you step through the doors.

“Oh, are you sparring today too?” You ask. Jongho laughs a little and tosses something your way all of a sudden. You barely have time to register what it is before you catch it, swinging a hand up to snatch it out of the air before it hits you in the face. You blink down at the roll of tape he threw your way with a questioning gaze.

“Seonghwa is feeling a bit moody today, so I’m gonna be sparring with you instead,” Jongho explains, a coy smile playing at his lips. You glance past his shoulder to look at the raven-haired man in question. He stands off to the side a bit and wraps tape around his own wrists as well, sleeves pulled up over his biceps. He glances at the back of Jongho’s head when the man mentions him, eyes rolling ever so slightly before moving to settle on you.

“You can go ahead and get warmed up, Y/N. Jongho already got warmed up earlier, so he’s ready to go whenever you are.”

You nod in response, tugging the tape Jongho passed your way around your palms and wrists with haste. As you move, Jongho trails after you. He catches the tape when you toss it back to him and square up with one of the punching bags.

“You look like shit, by the way,” he says when you start punching at the material.

“Wow, how kind. I’m truly flattered. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Jongho releases a loud laugh upon hearing your snarky response. You huff out a sigh before continuing your train of thought. “I didn’t sleep well last night. A few nightmares here and there.”

“I thought Yunho gave you some medicine to help with that though?” Jongho asks, tilting his head to the side as he watches you punch the bag. You gnaw on your lower lip and mull over the question for a few seconds.

“He did,” you say after some silence. “It isn’t helping all too much though.” Jongho’s lips draw together.

Part of you feels bad for withholding the truth from San. While you didn’t completely lie about how you were sleeping, you didn’t tell him that the medication wasn’t helping much. You just didn’t want him to worry about you more than he already does. Even though you have breached the hurdle that is your fears, you can’t stand the thought of him worrying over you in any way. It’s easier to admit that things aren’t working to people like Jongho because you don’t feel that same level of attachment like you do with San. Yunho as well, but mostly because he is the one providing the medication that is supposed to be helping you. You make a small mental note to talk to Yunho about your medications again.

“Are you ready to get started?” You ask, shifting the subject so that you don’t have to talk or think about your own issues any longer. Jongho nods and moves for the sparring ring. You follow him to the ring, and Seonghwa moves with the two of you as you step into it; however, he stays outside the ring, folding his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you fall into your respective stances.

You settle into a more defensive stance at first. This isn’t the first time you’ve sparred with Jongho; Seonghwa has had the two of you fight on more than one occasion so that he can focus on making sure you’re doing things the right way for your therapy. You’ve noticed that Jongho tends to be on the more aggressive side of things even when he’s in a defensive stance, probably due to the fact that he is aggressive by nature as a Berserker. His fighting style is vastly different than Seonghwa’s, and it caught you off-guard the first time you sparred with him.

Now, you’re more ready for his quick attacks. They come in rapid bursts one after the other. Each swing he makes is returned with one of your own, and you try to match his tempo. You barely register how your body is moving and what you’re doing as you settle into instinct. Apparently, Seonghwa isn’t all too happy with whatever he sees.

“You’re leaning too much on your right leg,” he calls out after a less than a minute. You huff in response and continue to focus on Jongho’s rapid attacks, but Seonghwa speaks again and breaks your attention. “Use your left leg some more. You need to be putting pressure on it.”

You listen to his words regardless and lean your weight to your left leg. As soon as you put pressure on that side though, Jongho hooks his ankle around your right calf. Your balance falters, and he knocks you to the ground in less than a second. The air leaves your lungs with a grunt, but the impact doesn’t hurt too badly. Jongho squats down next to your fallen body, a proud smile stretching his lips, and you return the stare with a roll of your eyes.

“Again,” Seonghwa commands. You glance up at him from your spot on the ground, a bit shocked at the haste in his command. Nonetheless, you push yourself up onto your elbows. Jongho mimics your motions and looks up at the lieutenant as well.

“Can you give her a minute to breathe at least? I just knocked her down.”

Seonghwa arches a brow, eyes dragging from Jongho’s face over to yours.

“She seems fine to me. Now again. Unless you’re tired, Jongho?”

“No, sir,” Jongho says through gritted teeth. He shakes his head when Seonghwa’s gaze travels back to him.

“Good, then go again.”

Jongho was right about Seonghwa being in a bit of a mood. You can see it clearly on his features, and in the way he stands outside the ring with his arms crossed over his chest. His whole body is rigid and stiff; your back almost hurts just from watching him. Jongho pulls you back to your feet with little effort, and as soon as you’re up, Seonghwa turns away from the ring and heads off to the cabinets near the furthest wall.

“He’s in a hella pissy mood,” Jongho mutters as you fall back into position across from him.

“Really? I couldn’t tell. He seems so cheery today,” you scoff.

“I think it’s because Captain won’t tell him what’s going on. We haven’t made any progress in over a week. That’s slow. Even for Hongjoong.”

“Do you think Seonghwa knows and just doesn’t like it?” Jongho draws his lips together upon hearing them, and a small sigh escapes after a brief moment of thought.

“Maybe Hongjoong found a lead on Dorado, and that’s where we’re heading next. Seonghwa might be tense because of that.” You narrow your eyes at Jongho.

“What’s so important about Dorado?”

Jongho’s eyes find yours and suddenly grow wide. He shakes his head a few times, but the nervous gleam that dances across his eyes doesn’t escape your notice.

“It’s just a shitty place.” Seonghwa cuts in and saves Jongho’s ass from getting more questioning, and you purse your lips. Jongho releases a small exhale of relief, but his relief doesn’t last long because of Seonghwa’s words.

“Why aren’t the two of you sparring like I asked you to?”

You settle back into a defensive stance, determined to get things right this time. Jongho falls into his typical aggressive one. As he starts moving towards you with quick attacks, you pick the conversation back up.

“I haven’t even seen Hongjoong recently.” Jongho swings for your right ankle again. This time, you’re ready for it and maintain your balance better, pressing your foot against the inside of his knee. Jongho swings a jab at your shoulder, which you deflect with it, but it’s only a set up for his next attack that aims to twist your arm behind your back. You slip out of his grasp and slide behind his form.

“I haven’t seen him either,” Jongho grunts as you push him forward. “He’s been locked up in his office for almost a week. Maybe longer, I’m not sure. Once San was cleared by Yunho, Hongjoong stopped coming out. Something happened… I’m not quite sure what it was, but – I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right whenever I’m on the bridge.”

You hum to yourself, ducking out of Jongho’s swinging right arm, and you throw a fist of your own in his direction a second later. He catches it head-on, absorbing the force with ease and pushing back against you. You stumble backward across the mat.

“Do you know where the ship is heading?” You ask through several huffs of air. “I’m never on the bridge, so I have no clue what’s going on.” Jongho shrugs a bit before moving to close the distance between you.

“Last I heard–” he scrapes your elbow with a fist, and you twist out of the impact to slam the flat of your hand between his shoulder blades “–oof! Damn, you nearly got me. But yeah, the last thing I heard was that we’re heading to Aurum.”

In a split second, your body seizes up. When Jongho moves to attack you, you can do nothing to defend yourself, and he slams into you with an overwhelming amount of force. You barely feel it as you fall back on your ass, hitting the ground with so much power that your teeth chatter.

“Shit, are you okay?” Jongho inquires. Your expression must be one of distress because he bends down and tries to look you in the eye. You ignore his question and concern, too focused on the other bit of information he shared.

“Why Aurum?”

“Uh, I-I – we-well, I don’t know?” Jongho stammers, pulling back from your form a bit.

“Why Aurum?” You repeat, and your tone climbs a bit in volume. Panic is starting to settle in just from the thought of heading back to the solar system. The sudden tightness in your chest is not from the sparring, nor are your heart’s rapid beats that ring in your eardrums.

“I really don’t know anything about it, Y/N. I promise. I just – just heard it in passing. No one elaborated or anything like that.” Jongho lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, and he glances away from you to look over to where Seonghwa is still standing near the cabinets. “Seonghwa probably knows what’s going on better than anyone else.”

You reel and follow his line of sight to look at the lieutenant. Seonghwa must either sense the eyes on his or hear his name through Jongho because he shifts to look back at the two of you.

“Why the hell are we heading to Aurum?” You ask, tone shaky as you shout the words. “I can’t go back there. I can’t be there. Why the fuck are we going there? We c-can’t go there!”

Jongho’s lips part a bit as he realizes what the issue is, and a small sigh slips through. He sits back on his heels. When he fails to say anything else, the panic in your gut becomes more prevalent. You clench your fists around nothing.

“Are we really heading to Aurum? Is it fucking true or not?” You demand through gritted teeth, looking past Jongho to stare Seonghwa down instead.

“Jongho, you’re dismissed for the time being,” Seonghwa says, his tone cool and calm as he looks back at you. Jongho glances between you and the lieutenant. His gaze lingers a little while longer on you, and he doesn’t move right away. You can’t even bring yourself to look back at him, however, because your panic is making your vision go spotty, and you feel lightheaded all of a sudden. “Jongho.”

He pulls himself together and extends his hand to get you up again. He mutters a string of apologies as he helps you to your feet, but you don’t hear a word he’s saying. The only thing you catch is him saying that he’ll see you later in the mess hall. He steps away from you, not bothering to look back at you on his way out of the training room, and Seonghwa comes closer to the sparring ring. He slips his shoes off and resituates his sleeves higher on his arms.

“I’m not going to fucking spar with you until you tell me what the hell is going on,” you spit out when he steps into the ring with you.

“I’ll explain if you spar with me. Your choice.” You huff at the nonchalant shrug of his shoulders but fall into an offensive position. Seonghwa mimics your movements then begins speaking again as you start attacking. “We are heading to Aurum.”

You falter at the confirmation. Seonghwa’s elbow slams into your shoulder, and you stumble back but stay on your feet.

“I warned Hongjoong that it might be a bad idea with you onboard, but there is a far more promising lead than the last one in Echidna. It’s on Kebos.”

“Kebos…” you repeat to yourself, sidestepping as Seonghwa takes the offensive and swings for your ankles. “I can’t go there.”

“You don’t have to.” A jab then a swift kick to the ribs. Seonghwa catches your foot and traps it against his side. “Hongjoong isn’t intending to bring anyone with him except for myself and San. He doesn’t need anyone else to come along. You’ll be safe on the ship.” You jerk your leg down and free yourself from his grasp.

“You don’t know that.” You twist, swinging your left leg up to clip his chin. Seonghwa ducks out of the way before you can make contact with him. “Anything could happen. Especially in Aurum.” Seonghwa catches your wrist when you go to swing at him again, and he yanks you forward. With a quick twist, he pulls you flush against his chest and pins your arm behind your back. His breath is hot on your ear when he speaks next.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” he whispers. “We won’t let anything happen to you.” Before you know it, you are trembling under his touch. The reassurances do nothing for you, and the pit of anxiety in your gut only grows larger. “We have to go to Aurum. There aren’t any other options.”

“Drop me off at the nearest planet then. I can’t fucking go back there, Seonghwa.”

“Recruit number seventeen. Name and age?” A cold tone that tears through your skin and confidence with its iciness, and yet you pull your shoulders back and stand up a little straighter.

“L/N Y/N, age 14.”

“I can’t go back there,” you repeat in a weaker voice. You should be used to the flashbacks, but you should also be able to handle the thought of Aurum without them being triggered in such a dramatic way.

“Purpose here?” The flat voice continues, and the man before you doesn’t even look up to spare you a glance as he stamps paper after paper.

“To join the military, sir.” Finally, the man blinks up at you. His gaze rakes over your body in a way that has your skin crawling, and you pull your arms closer to your chest in attempts to hide yourself.

“You want to join the military? Ha! Does this look like a charity to you?”

Seonghwa drops your arm and pushes you forward. You spin and start fighting back with more intensity and aggression. Seonghwa falters a bit at your haste but settles into the new speed as best he can with such short notice.

“We – we won’t leave you behind,” he grunts. “And we certainly won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Welcome to the team, little lady. You’re the youngest in our little bunch of recruits, but try to see it like we’re your older brothers, yeah?”

You fidget as several sets of eyes glance over your body, some kind and others not too kind. The one in the middle catches the majority of your attention though with his rounded smile and bright eyes. He can’t be much older than you are, and the mop of hair on his head is a mess of pale brown hair.

“Alright, we’re the mess of recruits, okay? They lumped us together because they think we’ll fail, but we won’t! So we gotta prove them wrong, little lady. Understood?” The boy jabs his thumb at his chest as he says the words, smile falling to emphasize his serious tone. You nod several times in response.

“Mingi and Jongho will both be staying on the ship. So will Yeosang.” Seonghwa’s words grate against your ears, pulling you in and out of the flashback that plagues you with such intensity. “Those three alone are more than enough to keep anyone off the ship.”

“Hey, little lady. Were you picked for this mission too?” You twist at the waist to look at the person talking to you, finding that boy with the rounded smile and bright eyes staring back at you with his head tilted to the side.

“Y-Yeah, I was.”

“Good, good. We’re the only two runts on this mission. You know what that means.”

“We gotta prove them wrong?”

The boy smiles and releases a small laugh.

“Exactly. It may be a small mission, but we gotta show them that we aren’t the fucking runts they think we are, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah, I agree.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m counting on you, little lady. By the way, my name is Jisung. Han Jisung. I hope you’ll remember it.”

“Of – uh, of course. Yeah, I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.” He cracks a smile, bright eyes disappearing behind his eyelids. “I just have a feeling.”

The palm of your hand smacks Seonghwa in the middle of his chest. He swings back, foot connecting with the outside of your left knee, and you nearly crumble to the ground.

“Stop relying on your right leg so much,” he mutters as you recover. “Put more weight on your left one, or you’ll open yourself too much to attacks.”

You try your best to process the words and focus on the sparring, but the incessant flashbacks are getting to be too much. Everything is starting to blur together with each passing second. You can’t tell whether your heart is racing from the sparring or from the panic that courses through your veins.

“Little lady.” Two days ago, you would have met in different circumstances. Eighteen and twenty. That’s how old the two of you are now. Strange how time seems to have passed by with such haste. Yet now it feels like you’re in a standstill.

“Jisung.” You glance at the man, his face slightly shrouded by the steel bars between you. “Jisung, I–”

“I thought we were gonna work through this together, Y/N.” The stinging of his disappointment almost hurts worse than the brand on the inside of your wrist. If you could twist them, you would, but the cuffs around your wrists prevent you from doing so.

“I know…” You can’t finish your train of thought.

“I, uh, I don’t know what I was going to say. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung.”

“Four years. I don’t want it to end like this.” Jisung shakes his head a little bit.

“They aren’t going to kill me. Just – just the brand a-and being kicked out of the military.”

“I’m going to fix this, Y/N. They can’t – this isn’t right. I won’t let them do this.”

“Jisung, you can’t – they – the damage is already done.”

“Then they’ll have to kill me. I won’t let them do this. Not to you, Y/N. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines this time.”

Seonghwa is talking more. He won’t stop speaking, but you can’t process any of his words. Your body is working with a mind of its own because your real mind is too far gone in the haze of flashback after flashback.

“I want to move back to Kebos once I retire from the military.”

“Come on, Sungie. You’re only nineteen. Why are you talking about retirement already?” Only a handful of months before you ruined everything. Strange how you talked about the future then but never realized how shitty it would turn out to be.

“And? We could retire tomorrow for all you know.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No, no.” Jisung laughs through his nose. “Let’s wait until I’m twenty, at least. When I go back to Kebos, though, I want to take you with me. Okay?”

“Okay, Sungie. Anything for you.”

Seonghwa slams into your chest. You’re too lost in your memories to stop the impact, and you barrel backward. Seonghwa falls with you, maintaining quite a bit more control of his movements, unlike you. A second later, you are flat against the mat with arms pinned on either side of your head.

“You aren’t focusing on anything I’ve said,” he says through a sigh.

The impact is enough to ground you though, and you slip out of the flashbacks with a gasp. Seonghwa’s presence feels like fire against you, however, and you scramble to shove him off you. Seonghwa lets you roll away from him, eyes watching each of your movements with narrow eyes. You bring a closed fist down against the mat. A shout tears through your chest without warning.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Seonghwa asks. He stretches an arm out to grab yours, but you’re too quick and shrug him off before he can touch you again.

“D-Don’t. Don’t even – don’t touch me.” Your hands tremble at your sides, and sweat pours from your brow. You know that it’s not because of the sparring; the neverending anxiety that twists your gut in knots tells you that it has nothing to do with the sparring. The constriction in your chest is painful beyond belief. “I c-can’t – can’t breathe. I need out. Seonghwa, I-I ne-need out.”

Seonghwa reaches out to retake hold of your arm, and you swing a fist at him this time. He catches you by the wrist before you make contact. The sudden touch nearly makes you spiral. You twist and writhe, trying to yank your arm free, and Seonghwa releases your arm when you start panicking a bit more. He puts his hands up to show that he isn’t going to hurt you, and when he starts speaking once more, his voice is much quieter and slower in pace.

“Concentrate on breathing, Y/N. Breathe in for me, deep and slow breaths.”

“I need to get out of here. P-Please, I need out.” You try to push yourself back to your feet, but your muscles refuse to function properly, and you slump back to the ground.

“That’s okay, Y/N. We can go outside, okay?” Seonghwa slowly gets to his feet. “Do you need Yunho? San?”

“N-No, I don’t. I just need out.”

“Okay, we’ll go, Y/N. Can you get up on your own, or do you need help?”

You don’t respond, and instead push yourself up as best you can. Thank goodness, your muscles decide to work this time. Seonghwa watches you with careful eyes, his gaze never slipping from your form. Once you’re back on your feet, he extends his hand in your direction.

“Can you hold my hand?”

“Don’t… don’t t-touch me.” You can barely stomach the thought of looking at another person right now. The image of Jisung is fresh in your mind, intruding every thought with his rounded smile and sparkling eyes. The pain in your chest constricts more with each breath you take. “It’s too much. I – I c-can’t do it. It’s too much.”

“That’s okay, Y/N.” Seonghwa’s voice remains soft and calm as he speaks to you. “Where do you want to go?”

“Out. O-Outside. I just–” You cut yourself off. Seonghwa just nods a few times and motions towards the doors.

“We can go outside, okay?” He leads the way to the doors, but it feels like you’re walking to your door as you follow him. Every sound is like thunder to your ears, including the rattling of your rapid heart rate against your chest, but once you finally step out of the training room, cool air rushes back into your lungs.

You grip the wall with a sweaty palm and shaky fingers. Seonghwa doesn’t stop walking; he continues forward without looking back at you until you slide against the metal and sit on the floor. He twists upon hearing the sound only to find you with your back to the wall and your knees tucked close to your chest. He mimics your movements but maintains the same distance as he slides down the wall as well. Dropping your head between your knees, you let your arms fall to your sides uselessly. All you can do is focus on breathing correctly, trying to force the unwanted memories and flashbacks out of the way before they can get worse.

You don’t know how long you remain there, but the panic attack subsides bit by bit, and your breathing finds a steady rhythm that relieves the tension in your chest. Your right hand seems to move on its own as it stretches in Seonghwa’s direction, fingers reaching for his. He slips his fingers through yours within a second. You hear soft skids as he moves closer to you, and before you know it, Seonghwa is flush against your side, the fire of his presence no longer overwhelming your senses.

“We’re going to keep you safe,” he whispers after a few minutes of sitting in a comfortable silence. “No matter what.”

“You can’t promise that,” you respond, lifting your chin to look over at his sharp features. His gaze is soft as he looks back at you.

“I know.” A faint, dry laugh leaves his lips. His thumb starts to rub small circles over the back of your hand. The rhythmic pattern matches up with your breathing and almost urges you to remain in a calm state.

“How long – how long is it going to be until we reach–”

“Don’t worry about that for now, Y/N. I’ll tell you later, but you don’t need to be thinking about it right now, okay?”

“O-Okay…” You release a deep exhale and let your cheek fall against Seonghwa’s shoulder. He twists a bit to press his lips to the crown of your head as you rest on him, thumb still rubbing circles into your skin.

“I promise we’ll figure something out. We won’t put you in any danger willingly.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

✧✧✧ a/n: act three baybeeeee hell yes we are here at last ssdfldkj 3/15 how we feeling ;-; jsdfkld wow anyway this was way more sad and angsty than i meant for it to be i swear it was supposed to be rather calm then shit hit the fan QUICK ouch im sorry it’s okay tho i swear it’s okay it’ll be fine okay everything is fine it’s great okay imma stop talking now oasidfjoijdf

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon​ @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​ @anothershorthuman​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @yayhei​ @haotheheckk​ @noonawriter​ @lostscenarios​ @nlost21​ @mirror-juliet​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[samwinchestersgf]

sam winchester - jealous

summary: based off “jealous” by labrinth.

warnings: angst. sad. horrible decisons. drunk!y/n. arguing. fluff. a little bit of smut if you squint.

———————————————————————

sam winchester’s point of view.

you’re soaked.

you’re soaked and you’re twirling around in the middle of the wet field. the heavy raindrops dance across your skin and drip down your face. they trace every crevice of your face. they brush against your cheeks. your clothes cling to you in the most inprobable places.

i’m jealous of the rain.

it’s closer than my hands have been. the only part of you i think i’ve ever touched is your hair. it was soft, and smelled good. as i sit here watching you, i wish i could trickle through your hair like the raindrops do.

i'm jealous of the rain

you rakes your hands through your hair with one hand, while using the other to run the blow dryer up and down your locks. your faced turns into one of mischief and determination within a split second, and you turn toward me. the dryer is pointed at me, blowing hot air in my face.

“put your hands up,” you giggle.

i snort, “you caught me.”

“that’s what you get for watching me, creep.” you joke.

i want to tell you that i just can’t help it. you’re so intoxicating. just the sight of you makes me feel high. you pull me toward you, like gravity pulls bricks down to the ground. even your small, mundane tasks make me estatic.

“you just look pretty.” i tell you.

i can tell by your face that you don’t believe me. you think i’m being nice. i’m not just being nice. you’re stunning. “yeah. okay.”

the frigid air blows at you so fiercely that i think you might float away. you thinks it’s funny. i think it’s adorable how you can laugh at the smallest things. you find joy in nature trying to, quite literally, ambush you. thats one of my favorite things about you. you can make light of even the worst situations.

i’m jealous of the wind.

it ripples through your clothes. it makes yoj laugh without fail every time a big gust of it comes hurdling toward you. you force your eyes shut when they start to sting from the pressure. i take the moment to take a real good glance at you and mentally capture the moment. the wind is pressing up against you, and it’s closer than your shadow.

oh, i'm jealous of the wind.

everytime we go out to random bars, i wish you the best of luck finding a man who’s worth your time. i really mean it. you deserve the best of all this world can give.

“i’m so sorry to bail on you. it’s just... he’s really cute.” you smile awkwardly. “please forgive me.”

“there's nothing to forgive.” i smile back, waving you off.

the next morning, you walk in and gently closes the door. your face is bright pink, and you’re smiling. i look up at you, pretending that i havent been watching the door all night in anticipation.

“so..?”

i know what i want you to say. i want you to be torn up over how sleezy and horrible and rude he was. i want this to make you realize that the only one who could treat you right is me.

“i’m not one to kiss and tell, but...” you bite your lip.

i sigh, and put on a fake smile. “oh, i see.”

“yeah. he was really nice.” you shrug.

“did you get his number?” i ask, internally cursing at myself for letting jealousy slip into my tone. it’s hard for me to admit, but i’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me.

“no.” you shake your head. “we both agreed for it to be a one night thing.”

my heart swells a little bit. “oh, okay.”

another day, another town, another case, another bar, and another empty backseat of the impala on our drive home. i lean my head against the window.

“sam, you really need to get laid or something.” dean teases.

i respond with a grunt.

he scoffs, “i’m serious! what’s stopping you?”

i have to lie. it’s not like i can just outright tell him that i’m too consumed by my own jealousy to do anything. especially if i’m jealous of that random man in the bar that y/n went home with. i only saw him for a second.

“nothing, i guess.”

i stare up at the ceiling while i lay in bed. i’m jealous of every night that i don’t spend with you. i let my mind wonder. where are you; what are you doing?

who are you laying next to?

you walk through the door, and like always, you’re in too good of a mood for me to assume that nothing happened. we make small talk, and you sit across from me as we research the case.

you shut your laptop and clear your throat. “sam?”

“yeah?” i look up, startled by your voice.

“what do you think about hunters dating each other?” you swallow.

i shrug. “hunters dating in general is... not always the smartest idea, i guess.”

“yeah, but, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work.” you reach.

“i mean, i guess it could but, it’s never really been a good idea in the past, so there’s no reason to start now, you know?” i answer.

“yeah, right...” you go quiet.

another night, another bar, another- you know the drill. i’m starting to get bitter. being jealous is never fun, especially when it’s this intense, and goes on for this long.

another morning, you’re smiling. you dont talk as much, or maybe you do, i’m not sure. i’m distracted by your pretty smile.

at the bar that night, you drink a lot. you’re not normally a heavy drinker. you’ll have one or two, just for a small buzz, but i’ve never really seen you drunk. now, you’re getting there.

“sammmmmmmm.”

“hm?” i ask.

“i wanna go homeeeeee.” you draw out your words.

“wow, are you breaking your streak of never sleeping in the same bed twice in a row?” i tease. “or are you going home with someone else?”

“i’m drunk.” you admit.

“you are.” i nod.

“but i’m not drunk enough to lose all common sense.” you continue.

“okay, and?” i tilt my head.

“i know i don’t wanna go home with a stranger.” you tell me.

“okay then.” i nod.

you finish, “i wanna go home with you.”

i laugh, and tell myself you mean it literally. you literally want me to take you home, not sleep with you. “okay, let’s go.”

once we’re at the motel, you sit next to me on the bed. i raise my eyebrows, but brush it off. you’re drunk. you stare at me for a while, and i try to ignore it, but it eventually gets to me.

“y/n, are you okay? you look like you’re about to-“

your lips smash into mine. they taste like beer and cherries and i don’t think i’ll ever want to pull away. having you pressed up against me is more addicting than i ever couldn’t imagined.

“we shouldn’t be doing this.” i mutter when i pull away.

“sam, i’m in love with you.” you argue.

“you’re drunk out of your mind.” i respond. “this... this is wrong.”

your face turns red from embarrassment as you stand up. “you’re right. i should go.”

“y/n, no-“

you’re already up and out the door. i punch the bed. god, im so stupid. i should’ve made it more clear that i wanted to do it as much as you did. now you’re gone, and you think i hate you.

i call you. i call you 10 times and text you twice as much. you don’t answer. they all go straight to voicemail.

i can’t sleep. i can’t sleep because i’m worried about you. your location’s off on your phone. i, once again, don’t know where you are or who you’re with. it’s all my fault.

when the sun finally peeks about the horizon, my phone rings. i pick it up instantly. i doesn’t even finish ringing once.

“y/n, where are you?!” i ask frantically.

“it doesn’t matter. look, i’m sorry about last night.” you deflect.

“no, no. we need to talk about last night. i-“

“we really don’t. i get it, sam. i shouldn’t have tried to make a move on you. you said that hunters shouldn’t ever date because it’s stupid, and i should’ve listened.” you apologize.

“y/n, thats not what i meant.” i deny.

“seriously, you dont have to lie to spare my feelings. i understand.” you swallow. “i have to go.”

you hang up the phone. i run my hands through my hair. i have to fix this. this is going worse than i ever thought it could. sadly, i can’t do anything until you come back.

and, oh, you come back.

the door opens. you don’t look at me, and i respect your embarrassment. i watch you as you talk to dean about the case and ignore me. i know you know i’m looking at you.

dean leaves to get food. you beg to go with him, but he makes you stay. we sit on opposite sides of the room. you stare at your phone, but i know you’re not doing anything on it because there’s a window behind you, and i can see the reflection of your black screen.

“y/n, i know it’s embarrassing, but we need to talk.” i sigh.

“can you please stop?” you snap.

“huh?”

“i get it, you don’t like me. i’m not your type; i’m like your sister; hunters shouldn’t date. rubbing salt in the wound isn’t making it better, okay?” you raise your voice.

“y/n, i never said that.” i explain.

you don’t let me finish. “you know what, we should forget it. i was drunk and horny and i didn’t mean it.”

“what, so that meant nothing to you?” i feel the shame and anger rise inside me.

you hesitate, “no.”

“of course it didn’t.” i let slip.

“excuse me?” you raise your eyebrows.

“of course it didn’t matter to you, y/n! you’re out every night with a different guy, and i was just one of them, wasn’t i?” i yell.

“are you calling me a slut?!” you accuse.

“did i say that?” i groan.

“you’re insinuating it, sam. i’m not dumb. if you have suchna problem with me going out and having fun, then maybe you should say something about it instead of just letting me do it.” you argue.

“why should i? i don’t care.” i rebuttal.

“i know you don’t, that’s the problem. you don’t care about anybody but yourself.” she spits.

“that’s not true, and we both know it.” i shake my head.

“maybe it wasn’t, but now it is. everything’s all about mister sam winchester.” you declare.

“at least i don’t try to sleep with every guy who gives me an ounce of attention. i thought you were smarter than that, y/n.” i shout.

“i wouldn’t have to if my best friend pulled his head out of his ass and give a damn about anyone but himself.” you respond.

i narrow my eyes. “don’t blame me for your problems.”

“why shouldn’t i? you’re the reason i even started doing that.” your voice cracks the tiniest bit.

“what?”

“i started sleeping with all those guys because you don’t like me, and i’m in love with you, and i needed something to get my mind off of you.” you get quieter.

“you’re in love with me?” i ask quietly.

your eyes tear up. “yeah. its a dumb decision, i know. thats why im leaving.”

“no, don’t-“

“i have to, okay? i cant just... be around you like this anymore. it’s killing me.” i can tell you’re not lying. its tearing you up instead.

i watch as you slip through my hands and try to keep it together. i don’t want to cry. i don’t know what to do. taking a leap of faith, i walk across the room and lay my hand on your shoulder. i turn you around and cup your face, pushing our faces together.

you lean up into the kiss and i’m tasked with keeping you up on your toes. that gets exhausting, so i direct you over to the bed and lay you down. things get more and more intense, and close is never close enough.

“stay.” i breathe against your skin.

“i will.” you respond quietly.

[xxxrubytuesdayxxx]

If you tell him you’ve fallen for him...

Word Count: 13,003

Disclaimers: This is part (58) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

I hate the YN device as I find it “knocks me out of the story” so I have used my own name as a filler instead of YN [Sorry for any inconvenience]

Check at the end for glossary of Korean terms*

Start here:

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

“R...really?” you ask him hesitantly. He smiles and, for the first time in a long time, the smile goes all the way to his sparkling eyes as he nods enthusiastically. 

“Yup!” he affirms happily. “I just didn’t know you’d say yes so soon.”

“Oh…” you stall, your head still spinning at his sudden transformation from international playboy to Korea’s sweetheart. His face falls at your continued hesitation.

“It doesn’t have to be homemade this first time,” he explains, in a small voice. “We can get some gimbap and drinks from a street vendor or a convenience store and then walk back up here. If that’s okay with you, I mean?” he corrects himself, his hands twisting anxiously in his lap.

“Oh babe!” you reassure him, taking his hands in yours. “It’s not that at all! This is a really cute idea. And the blanket is beautiful! It’s just...I mean...what if I hadn’t?” you correct yourself quickly. “What if it hadn’t worked out. With me?”

“Oh!” he recovers himself with another of his adorable bunny smiles. “It had to,” he assures you, suddenly brimming with confidence again. 

“Okay? What do you mean it had to?” you ask, somewhat baffled.

“Well cos, you know my thing about hearing bells when I meet my soulmate? Well, I heard bells ringing when you came into our dorm the first time,” he explains, looking a little shy, but pleased with himself. You think back to your first day. Not surprisingly, you were a little too distracted at the time to remember any bells but you do remember one thing:

“JK...babe...It was a Sunday morning,” you remind him gently. “There were probably church bells ringing somewhere, and you heard those.” But he’s already shaking his head defiantly. “It doesn’t matter. It still counts. It doesn’t matter why there were bells, just that I heard them the first time I saw you. So I knew you were going to be mine one day.” You don’t really know what to say to this, so you just accept his kisses and pay him back in kind, until you’re both drunk on each other.

“Kaja, noona,” he murmurs against your lips, before pulling on your hand to make you follow him back along the park’s perimeter towards one of the little shops nestled under the office buildings of Gangnam.

“Don’t use banmal, Kookie. You know it’s naughty when I’m your noona. Besides, we’re in public. What if someone overhears you?” you fret, as you follow him obediently along the narrow sidewalk. He giggles and rolls his eyes at you.

“If someone hears me, they’ll see us together anyway,” he points out. “And if anyone sees us together, they’ll be able to tell straight away that I’m in love with you.” He stops as suddenly as if you’d just slapped him, his cheeks flushed and his gaze fixed on the ground. “Erm...I mean…I…” he stammers to a halt.

“You’re in love with me?” Your voice drops to a whisper, as if it doesn’t want to speak the words out loud and make them not true. He nods, embarrassed and still blushing furiously, then cringes away from you with a little strangled noise, covering his face with his hands. You want to tell him you’re in love with him too. That you should have said something earlier. That he needn’t be shy or nervous. You want to beg him to look at you. But you’re still so taken aback that you just blurt out: “Is that why…?” He nods vehemently, somehow reading your mind, though he doesn’t remove his hands from where they’re shielding his face.

“I can’t go on that show. I just can’t!” he mumbles from behind his hands. “And all the members will know why, cos I already told Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung. Joon...Joon-hyung will kill me,” he moans softly, still stubbornly hiding his face. Ah. So this explains Jimin’s cryptic comments earlier.

“Well then he’ll have to kill me too,” you murmur, moving closer to him so that he can hear your voice, husky with the emotions you’ve been suppressing. “I’ve been in love with you from the day we met.” You raise your hands to gently move his own away from his face. Those huge, dark eyes are devouring you, his expression somewhere between bewilderment, hope and wonder. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had feelings for me, noona?” he pouts. “Or even give me a hint until last night?” He kisses you again, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip in the sweetest punishment. “Were you just going to let me suffer, if I never made a pass at you?”

“Never?! Like you would have lasted another week without making a pass,” you tease him. He looks mock-indignant, but giggles after a moment and concedes your point, with a cute wink, running his hands over his bangs in a parody of a Bangtan dance move.

“Okay, okay - kayo,” you tell him, shooing him in front of you and into the convenience store to grab your picnic supplies.

Leaning back on his elbows on the picnic rug, he watches you set up the food and drinks you’ve collected together, with a predatory half-smile on his lips. As soon as you’re done, he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you down by his side, kissing you lingeringly. You kiss him back, but your eyes are still taking in your surroundings, ever on the alert for overzealous sasaeng fans who might be monitoring the park. He licks his nether-lip, gives you an amused look, and then casually takes a sip of champagne from the plastic glass you hand him, pausing with a tiny, cute grimace, before downing the contents in one swallow. He waves the empty glass at you, tapping the side with his finger, and you try not to smile at his imperious manner.

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Kook? Expecting me to pour your drinks?” you tease him. “We’re not even married!” you elaborate, obediently pouring him another glass anyway, but with a gentle shake of your head. 

“Yet…” he mutters, cheeky. You blush and occupy yourself with finishing the food setting, but he takes your hand to stop you, waiting until you look up at him.

“Come to Busan with me, when I go next week?” he asks you softly.

“Isn’t that a little...I mean...so suddenly?” you stammer. You know what he’s implying and, whilst you know that Korean men are notorious for moving quickly, this seems sudden even allowing for cultural mores. But he’s watching you avidly, and you still can’t resist those gorgeous doe-eyed looks he throws your way, even though you regularly see him throw them at the cameras, ARMY, even his hyungs and the staff when he particularly wants something from them. You’re not even entirely sure he realises how much power he holds, but he must notice that he tends to get his way when he looks at any of you like that.

“Okay,” you breathe, completely bewitched. You shove all your misgivings aside, close your eyes literally, to try and shut out all the potential hurdles to your fledgling relationship, and lean across to kiss him longingly.

He kisses you back, letting a wistful sigh escape his perfectly-shaped lips, before cuddling himself into your arms with an adorable little shimmy of content. You sigh in mild exasperation.

“JK?” you try. “Do you not want any of this picnic you were so insistent upon?” He nods, cute, with his eyes still shut, and opens his mouth obediently, apparently expecting you to feed him his lunch. Your mind is still reeling from everything that's changed over the past 24 hours as you reach across to fetch him a piece of the gimbap he chose first, figuring it’s the one to which he’s most looking forward. He takes it delicately from your fingers with his teeth, but as soon as it disappears into his mouth he chews it up as enthusiastically as you’re used to him doing, so you know he’s perfectly content here with you and happy to let you know that he’s enjoying his meal. His eyes flutter open once he’s done and he gives you a little pout, so you feed him another piece of gimbap and hand him back the glass of champagne he’s rested on the grass. But you draw the line at the third nudge, complete with a little motivational whine. 

“I’m not going to feed you your entire lunch, you little prince!” you tease him, with a playful shove. “Am I meant to read your mind? You decide what you want to eat, okay?” He giggles a little and tells you he doesn’t care, it all looks delicious, but helps himself to a few more pieces of gimbap and some fruit, then cuddles back into your arms to consume it all voraciously, his huge, gorgeous eyes watching you avidly. 

Unfortunately, the peace and repose of your tea party picnic is abruptly interrupted by the telltale shutter-barrage of a professional camera. Shit. Knowing the game is already up, the second those photos fly across to Dispatch, you allow Jeongguk to grab his precious picnic blanket and escape to his car, hands up to deflect the maximum amount of carnage. 

You’re already on the phone to Hitman Bang telling him there’s been an incident, alongside the bare details of an admission. You can feel the iciness in his silence through the phone, and you’re honestly already preparing your leaving speech, but eventually he speaks: “Thank you for warning me. Please return to the apartment with him at once. I will meet you all there.” Puzzled that he didn’t fire you immediately, you call Namjoon to brief him and jump in the passenger side of Kookie’s re-roofed BMW convertible. He takes off the second you shut the door, plastering you back against the seat. He looks angry and scared, so you don’t speak at all, trusting him to know he needs to drive straight to the apartment, which he does. 

Neither of you speak until he speeds into the underground garage and parks the car, upon which he puts his head on the steering wheel and swears softly in Korean. 

“What am I going to do?” he murmurs, just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

But it’s not until he raises his head to look at you pleadingly and repeats the question: “What am I going to do, noona?”, that you realize that the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Maybe you should go on the show?” you suggest, hesitantly, not believing you’re suggesting this. He looks hurt, but then resolute, perhaps realizing your intent. “It’s only pretend,” you add hastily, taking his hand in yours. He squeezes it and smiles weakly, giving it a little shake before letting go.

“Is PD-Nim upstairs?” he checks, already knowing the answer. You nod anyway.

He nods as well, facing back to the front and then closing his eyes, gathering himself for the onslaught. “Okay…” he sighs, opening his eyes. He turns to face you again, placing his hand gently on your cheek and kissing you insistently on the lips. “I won’t let him fire you,” he tells you fiercely. “I’ll quit first.” You know he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you, but you shake your head firmly.

“I won’t let you,” you tell him. “BTS is your whole life. The boys, ARMY, you can’t give that up for something as silly as the tabloids. You wouldn’t be happy. You wouldn’t be yourself.” He smiles sadly but sweetly.

“God, I love you,” he sighs.

“Love you too,” you reassure him. “Now, let’s go see if we can fix this mess.”

Considering the circumstances, you’re both careful not to display any signs of mutual affection when you enter, which seems to make Namjoon’s jaw relax at any rate. He gestures beyond him to where Hitman Bang is seated with the other boys, waiting for you.

“Do we have the…” You’re going to say photos, but Namjoon interrupts you with a curt nod and inclines his head to the older man. You bow your head penitently, feeling JK do the same beside you. You both wait an eternity for him to excuse you. He tells you to be seated which you both do, quickly and quietly, making sure to sit apart.

“We have the photos,” Hitman Bang tells you soberly. He turns to face Jeongguk, causing the younger man to bow his head again.

“Have you already broken up with Jisoo then, Jeongguk?” he asks bluntly. Jeongguk blushes hotly, before nodding and muttering “ye”. You’re simultaneously furious for him and proud of him for not taking the bait. It’s quite obvious that Bang PD is implying he’s as impatient and distractible in his personal life as he is with his hobbies. Yet Hitman Bang had been spared the repercussions of the ending of that relationship. It had been you, Namjoon and Hobi that had counselled and held JK, wiping his tears away when Jisoo had told him she couldn’t cope with the sasaeng hate anymore and dumped him over text. Not that he blamed her or spoke a word against her, saying he understood: that secretly dating an idol was widely acknowledged in the industry to be a nightmare. Yet now here he was brave enough to try again; to put his heart in someone else’s hands again.

“How bad are the photos?” you prompt Hitman Bang, your voice a little icy, as you make an instinctive gesture towards Jeongguk, still wanting to protect him from the ugly side of all this, even now, when he knows it so well. The older man, not missing the gesture or its meaning, turns towards you, and sighs.

“They’re actually not that terrible,” he acknowledges, grudgingly. “From our standpoint. They’re blurry and ambiguous and there’s only one of you both...(he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed)...together. The others are of Jeongguk with what appears to be your picnic blanket over his head.” He gestures to the open laptop screen in front of him and you take in the paparazzi’s handiwork. Two photos, as described, of Jeongguk making a dash for his car, and one of you both arguably cuddled up together, but Hitman Bang is right: it’s ambiguous and fortunately they caught you together when Jeongguk was momentarily engaged in collecting more food, rather than gazing into your eyes. But you’re still clearly very intimately positioned for work colleagues.

“What’s the damage?” you prompt. “Can we pay them off? Does anyone else have copies that might get leaked? What’s our official line on this? I’m not likely to pass for a trainee or another label artist. Friend visiting from Busan might work in a pinch?” you suggest, tentatively. Hitman Bang holds up his hand, and you recognise a slight smile starting on his face, as he remembers how enthusiastic you’ve always been about protecting the boys, right back from when you were working on the protect@bighit email.

“Dispatch are asking for (he motions towards the email again) a predictably outrageous sum to kill the story - though they do offer to kill it completely, so it doesn’t pop up anywhere else either. Apparently it was one of theirs, not a sasaeng as I feared. We can afford it. He sighs, more deeply this time. “But I don’t know how many more of Jeongguk’s escapades we can afford in the future.”

“It’s not just JK!” you leap to his defence. Hitman Bang actually allows himself a smile this time, albeit an ironic one. 

“Jimin’s little Parisian adventure?” he asks. “Or the lyrical interlude? The point is none of that makes it any less dangerous. Or expensive. And Jeongguk, of all the boys, does love those Dispatch headlines,” he provokes you. You shoot him daggers, but he just raises his eyebrows and catches Namjoon’s eye. Namjoon looks at you guiltily, but concedes their boss’s point, with an apologetic shrug. “Look part of me even admires the sheer balls that it took to go out under the nose of the paparazzi like that, but please please can we refrain from the temptation in future?” he sums up. You realize he’s preparing to leave, and you want to offer him something, stunned that he hasn’t mentioned a thing about your job, implying nothing has changed there. Not to mention his tacit approval of you and Jeongguk continuing your relationship, if you’re discreet about it.

“Would it help...I mean did you still want Jeongguk to go on the game show?” you ask, trying to catch JK’s eye, but he’s spaced out, probably thanking his lucky stars that he somehow got away with this. Hitman Bang glances across at him as well.

“I mean probably not anymore,” he decides. “I’d rather keep the media’s eye off him for the moment until we’ve got something concretely positive to feed their gossip mills. Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

You’re still pondering what kind of miracle has occurred (somehow you’re not only still employed, but unofficially dating the boy you’re crazy about and not being forced to watch him fake-married to a pop starlet on prime-time television), almost a week later, while you wait together, outside the train station in Busan, for his parents to meet you with the car. You’ve both learnt your lesson about holding hands or cuddling in public, but you’re still awed at how he can slip under the radar in his hometown, safely clad in a black hoodie, jeans and sunglasses. He’s careful to keep his hands in his pockets, of course, to hide those giveaway tattoos, but all-in-all this almost feels normal.

You’re not waiting long before a nondescript car pulls up and Jeongguk nods to the driver, before gesturing to you to follow him, which, after a moment of shy hesitation, you do. You climb in the back and sit quietly, waiting for Jeongguk to explain your presence. From the look of the driver, it’s his brother, not his father, so you feel a teensy bit less nervous, but you still want to make a good impression.

“Nuguseyo?” the driver asks, throwing your bags in the trunk, as Jeongguk is still messing about with his seatbelt.

“Nae yeochin,” Jeongguk answers him, looking a little smug. The driver raises his eyebrows and lets out a low whistle, clearly as aware of the implications as you are, if not more so. 

“Are you allowed a girlfriend, little brother?” he teases Jeongguk. He turns to you, and nods politely.

“Annyeong. Junghyun-i-e-yo,” he introduces himself. You nod back, shooting Jeongguk a nervous look. You’re still trying to process your sudden elevation to ‘girlfriend’ status, but you figure you shouldn’t be that surprised, if he’s bringing you home to meet his parents. Meanwhile Jeongguk isn’t happy with the introductions: 

“Aish, hyung! She’s your noona~,” he protests. Junghyun’s eyebrows go even further up. ‘Wow’ he mouths, giving his younger brother a look somewhere between impressed and scandalised. “Mianhamnida, noona,” he apologizes to you gravely.

“Gwaenchanaeyo,” you wave it off quickly, embarrassed. “Ruby-yeyo.” You ride home in companionable mostly-silence, Junghyun occasionally pointing out local landmarks or points of interest, as Jeongguk zones out in the front seat. The boys’ parents are waiting in the front room when you all enter and you bow formally, standing slightly behind Jeongguk. This time he is quicker to explain.

“I sarameun je yeojachingu, Ruby-noona-ipnida,” he murmurs, to the floor. You can tell Junghyun is desperately trying to keep his face neutral, waiting to see what response his parents are going to have. To their credit, they both manage to maintain their composure, though the news that their younger son is suddenly dating has clearly taken them aback. You do notice his father’s eyes twinkle a little at the ‘noona’ addition though. You follow Jeongguk’s lead, and murmur your salutations in formal speech, to the floor.

To your relief, the rest of the evening is actually lovely and you understand enough Korean to keep up with much of the conversation and be careful to use jondaemal, so it doesn’t get too awkward. Naturally Jeongguk’s parents are full of questions for you, so you answer as graciously and honestly as you can, knowing that, like you, they just want to protect him. Jeongguk’s mother laughs, cute, when he points out that, like you, she was attracted to a younger man and wasn’t shy about showing her interest. You tell them about the bells and how long it’s taken you and Jeongguk to finally admit that you fancied each other, and Jeongguk’s mother tells you all about her courtship with his father and some cute stories about Jeongguk. 

Eventually, you tell them that you had better head to the hotel you will be staying at overnight, before you and Jeongguk both catch a train back to Seoul the next evening, but Jeongguk’s parents insist you stay there, even though you protest that they barely get to see their son, whereas you live at the dorm with him. You only give in when you realise that they want to see how you behave as a guest as well as Jeongguk’s girlfriend and potential future wife. So no pressure or anything, as you tease him, in a whisper, when they leave you both alone, after showing you to the guest bedroom.

“You don’t need to feel pressure: I love you, and that’s all that matters to them. They are good parents,” he assures you, making you feel a little bad for teasing.

“This is a lovely room,” you tell him, changing the subject, nervously.

“Yeah, I never get to sleep in here,” he marvels, looking around in satisfaction. “I always have to sleep in my old bedroom, or on Junghyun’s floor.” You look at him amused.

“Revealing the true reason you told them we’re dating,” you provoke him. He sticks his tongue out, then moves across to start pulling his things out of his bag. You smile to yourself before doing the same with your bag, but Jeongguk stops what he’s doing to come across and kiss you softly on the lips.

“Jigeum dangjang wanjonhi manjokamniyo?” he whispers, his arms habitually slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You gently stroke a loose tendril of his hair behind his ear and kiss him back.

“Wanjonhi,” you assure him, draping your arms around his neck. He bites his bottom lip and shuts his eyes, wrinkling his nose adorably. “Mwo?” You laugh.

“Well...I was kinda banking on you being at that hotel, so I could sneak out later and ...you know...take advantage of our lack of company,” he complains. “I wanted to show you how loud I can get, so you know how much I’ve been holding back.” You exhale another breath of gentle laughter.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” you coo. “Let’s use this occasion to reassure your parents that we’re not just in lust with each other, okay? So they know I’ll always look after you well.”

“Okay,” he smiles wanly. You poke him gently in the ribs. “Maybe we can stop by a yanolja hotel tomorrow night, when we get back to Seoul instead,” you suggest.

“Jinjja?!” he checks, his eyes wide.

“Yes, really! Why not? I’m game. And I never get to spoil you properly these days, without it looking like I’m playing favourites.” you grin, making his eyes sparkle. You pull out your phone to make the booking online, making him purr with satisfaction and nuzzle into your neck. You fix yourselves up, then drift back out to the living room for a proposed nightcap with his parents. Jonghyun has gone into his room to do some work, so you chat to Jeongguk’s mother, while he retires into the study with his father and some whisky. You and his mother manage to have a lovely relaxed girls’ night, during which his mother tells you some priceless anecdotes and little tricks she assures you will work on her son’s naturally-flighty and distractible nature. In turn, you update her on some of the members’ recent escapades and reassure her that you always take care to be fiercely protective of her son’s interests, having fallen for him at first sight and not wavered in your affections since. She seems pleased with this news and takes your hands affectionately, before proposing that you both listen to some old records, which you’re happy to do.

When you notice her discreetly getting tired, you check what time breakfast will be prepared and insist that you will get up to help her, whilst the men sleep in, then retire to the guest room to ‘rest’ and wait for Jeongguk to join you. He comes in after another half-hour or so, gives you a nightcap-crooked smile and quite deliberately locks the door behind him, making you shiver with desire.

“Slight change of plan,” he intones, his voice husky and his eyes bedroom-ravenous. “Ot beoso-bwa: Neorang jago shipeo…” 

“But jagi...:” you protest weakly. He ignores you, closing the distance between you swiftly and kissing you with all the heat of a passion thwarted by circumstance. He tastes like whisky with an undertone of his own personal taste, that you’ve already come to be helplessly addicted to over the past week. “We can be quiet,” he pleads, seemingly unable to stop kissing you long enough for you to even respond. “Jebal, noona...Jagiya~” His pretty begging is belied by his insatiable hands, which are already under your deliberately-modest nightdress, caressing your naked breasts and tweaking your hardening nipples impatiently. You barely have time to gasp “but tomorrow night…” before his fingers are racing down your abdomen to dip inside you greedily.

“Ah shibal...you’re so ready for me…” he moans softly, fumbling desperately with his belt and jeans-zipper. Giving in, you grind your hips against his hand, letting his fingers slide all the way in, to play with your clit, as you help him remove his jeans. His cock is ridiculously hard and quivering with a life of its own, but you barely have time to register this before he’s tipped you back onto the bed and is deep inside you, thrusting urgently and messily as his moans bury themselves in your cleavage. 

You cling to him, trying to memorize every inch of him, just in case reality ever invades your shared safe haven and this night is all you have to remember him by. His taut thighs are shaking with the effort of the pleasure he’s bestowing on you and the delicate, feathery warmth of his breath on your skin sets your entire body vibrating to his touch. He’s quick and quiet as promised though, collapsing on his back next to you, to rake his tattooed fingers through his dishevelled hair, as you watch him fondly. He laughs, exhausted and drops his arm back onto the pillows, his chest still heaving.

“Aiyah, I need to take a shower,” he groans. “You made me all sweaty,” he teases, sticking his tongue out and winking discreetly. He’s surprisingly quick and you jump in after him, switching to your slightly-lighter summer nightgown as soon as you’ve towelled off. He purrs his approval, though you had been careful to choose everything with high necklines for even your summery options, not being sure which clothes his parents might see on this visit. This one is a little shorter though, and Jeongguk doesn’t miss the opportunity to give you a resounding slap on the ass when you pass by him on your way to collect your comb. You roll your eyes indulgently.

“You’re doing a great job of making us look like we’re in a serious, grown-up relationship,” you needle him, with a giggle. He looks fake-affronted.

“I’ve been a perfect gentleman all evening,” he defends himself. You soften, and lean across to kiss him gently.

“You have been. Until you locked the door,” you agree. “Now unlock it, in case your mother needs to come in for anything,” you tell him firmly. “It was incredibly kind of them to let me stay here overnight, and share you like this, and I don’t want to be disrespectful.” He makes a cute, pouting, aegyo gesture, but obliges you, before climbing into the king-size bed, pulling you into his arms, and settling himself to drift off to sleep, spooning you. You sigh happily, and cuddle up close, fully aware that you’ve never been able to be this “couple-y” back at the dorm apartment, even if you have managed to steal all those moments together.

You wake up somehow still in his arms, though you quickly scoot across the bed to flick your alarm off before it can wake him. He whines softly in his sleep, so you nudge your pillows closer to him and watch him wrap himself around them with a cute little satisfied noise. You laugh to yourself at his unconscious aegyo and head out to the kitchen to help his mother with the breakfast.

You make sure to take yourself off to the train station soon after your meal, ensuring that Jeongguk gets to spend some time alone with his family by explaining that you have lots of work to do back in Seoul. His mother sees what you’re trying to do and smiles softly at you as you all say your farewells. You remind Jeongguk to meet the company car at Apgujeong station at seven, rather than Seoul station at six. He winks at you discreetly, so you know he’s remembered why.

“So...just how noisy are you planning to be?” you whisper as he kisses you fervently. “Am I going to need to alert the police, so they know not to intervene?” You’re finally holed up together in one of Korea’s most famous ‘love motels’ with an hour at your disposal. Jeongguk has tried to convince you via text, while he was travelling back up on the KTX, to buy a whole night, but you’ve reminded him that you’re already pushing it. You’re assuming it’s as a direct result of having his overnight bid rejected that, upon arriving, he immediately dropped his bag straight on the floor, scooped you into his arms, and started devouring you with fiery kisses, without even stopping to greet you.

“C’mon, noona~” he whines, his lips gearing up for pout-mode, as you gently push him away to admire him at arm’s length. 

“Someone took you shopping?” you guess, making his eyes sparkle with mischief. He tosses his mane of dark hair away from his face and the pout hesitates, twitches, and reforms itself into a smirk.

“Do you like it?” he asks, preening a little, as he adjusts his lapels and flips his hair again, a little self-consciously. You nod, smiling at his shy modelling of the look.

“I love it. You look amazing,” you tell him.

“I’m going to dye my hair dark colours for...for later...as well,” he murmurs.

“It’s already dark?” you point out. 

“No. Like dark colours, but different to the natural colour,” he elaborates.

“I see. And later?” you echo his words, bemused. “Later like the next comeback?” He shakes his head.

“No...like...later later. ‘Cos you like dark colours on me, you said a few times...” he trails off, then laughs at himself softly. “Stop distracting me with talking, noona~ I want to kiss you so much right now,” he tells you, the pout returning.

“So kiss me. You don’t need anyone’s permission for that,” you tell him.

“Do I not?” he counters. You shake your head, unable to speak as you drink in his ethereal beauty. His eyes sparkle as he takes your chin in his hands and kisses you hungrily, biting your bottom lip in his passionate ardour. You kiss him back, as starving for his kisses as he is eager to bestow them on you. You’re so distracted by the black magic his lips and tongue are working on you that you don’t even notice him stripping you both until you feel the heat of his bare skin against your own and realise that you’re standing naked in each others’ arms. 

He lets you suck on his tongue, as he lifts you up to sit astride his hips, with your legs wrapped about his waist, before walking the few steps to slam you up against the wall. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before you feel him slide up inside you, simultaneously giving voice to an airy moan of pleasure that sets your whole body tingling. His kisses and bites head south until you can feel his breath warm on your neck as his moans increase their pitch and volume, interspersed with cuss words in both English and Korean.

“Oh! Jeongguk-ah!” you gasp, clinging to him and kissing every inch of him you can reach, as his hips shudder with increasingly messy haste.

“Oh Noona! Oh fuck! Oh shi~FUCK! Oh NE!” he responds, his voice raised to a pitch he usually reserves for online gaming or vocal practice. Somewhere in the room, muffled by your bag, you hear your phone start to ring. Without missing a beat, Jeongguk growls “ignore it,” raising your leg to rest on his shoulder to adjust his angle. You let out a tiny yelp of surprise and alarm at feeling yourself stretched further than you were aware you were capable of, but he must think you’re objecting, as he elaborates: “c’mon, noona, don’t worry about it. Neukkimi wa~!”

“I’m not, I’m just-ah! Kookie!!” you squeal. “I don’t know if I can get that high!”

“Course you can - I’ve got you,” he gasps, with a wicked little smile, thrusting himself into you faster and faster. “Seriously: gibun joha! Oh my God!” he groans, sounding ironically like he’s actually in pain.

“Are you okay, jagi?!” you ask, slightly concerned that he’s hurt himself.

“Mmf shibal, ne,” he giggles, kissing you softly, then nipping your lip. “Come over to the mirror…” he murmurs, letting you down to the ground and pulling you insistently towards the mirrored wardrobe door panels. “I want to watch you while I fuck you at behind...at the back?” he tries, checking your eyes to see if he’s on the right track, and making you smile.

“From behind,” you correct him gently, blushing. He blushes as well and you kiss him softly. “Such a dirty mouth for such a beautiful boy,” you tease him, in Korean. His eyes widen and a tiny smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he fishes one of your heels from the shoe rack by the wardrobe.

“Put these back on?” he requests.

“Oh really?” you ask, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

“Ne. Jebal,” he nods decisively. 

“Do you not want me to put the rest back on then?” you check, gesturing at the suspender belt and filmy stockings. He looks puzzled. “Not all the clothes. Just the lingerie,” you amend. 

“Oh!” he nods, to show you he’s understood. “Eung. Ne ranjeri joha,” he affirms, with a coy smile. You quickly slip your bra, stockings and suspender belt back on, feeling his eyes devour you as you do so. When you come back over to him, he embraces you from behind, watching your joint reflections in the mirror. The lingerie seems to entrance him.

“Nomu yeppeoyo…” he whispers into your ear.

“Jeongguk, do-yo,” you murmur, smiling into his eyes in his reflection. Exhaling, with a sigh, he lets his hands skim your sides, following the curves of your breasts and hips, until you feel his erection return, teasing the insides of your thighs. His head dips to lick the curve of your neck and you can feel his warm breath tickling your over-sensitive skin. He slips his hands inside the cups of your bra, making you gasp as the cold air hits your exposed skin. He stares at your reflection for an interval, his eyes drawn first to your exposed breasts, and then to your legs, angled at a high tilt from the heels.

“Go on then,” you breathe. “Show me what you’re made of Kookie.” You watch him bite his lip and close one eye, cute, clearly reassessing his bold claim last night.

“Oh I see,” you laugh gently. “Now you’re shy?” Well, that works. Repositioning himself, he gives you a defiantly cocky look and draws you back onto his erection making you gasp loudly. Reacting to your gasp, he groans loudly and then proceeds to give voice to a litany of moans that would make a whore blush.

“Faster, Kook! Oh my God ne!” you encourage him, too caught up in the act and in his beauty - reflected in the mirror as he enjoys himself - to give any thought to who might overhear you both. You’re close to collapsing from your shaking legs, when he gasps: “maltagi haeboja?” and grabs you around the waist with one arm, swiftly transferring you to the bed, before falling onto his back and gesturing to you to straddle him. Indulging him, you throw one leg across him, lean down to kiss his pretty mouth and simultaneously reach behind to lower yourself onto his erection. 

“Oh shiBAL!” he yelps, throwing his head back and tossing his dark hair everywhere. His hips are going like a jackhammer, and it’s hard to keep your balance, but you manage somehow, making you both giggle as you’re tossed about like a ship on the waves. His brings his hands around from your thighs to grab your ass hard and you raise your hips a little to bounce up and down on him, making him swear again and toss his head feverishly. His moans slip into pleading gasps and almost-sobbing sounds and you can feel his hip-thrusts getting messier as he gets closer to finishing. 

“Oh jebal!” he whimpers, gritting his teeth as the orgasm starts to sneak up on him. You wiggle around, letting him hit your g-spot until you feel your muscles start to contract around his erection.

“Ssalkeogata?” he gasps. You nod frantically, not wanting him to stop before you feel the waves hit you. He swallows hard, then follows up with “Same! Odiro hallae?”

“Eolgul-eso,” you whisper, wanting to reward his efforts. You lean forward to kiss his neck, and let your hands stray up to his nipples.

“Unf!” he grunts, “quick then - get down there!” You glide yourself off him carefully, then angle yourself between his legs, earning yourself a prolonged growl of pleasure as his hips jerk and thick ribbons of his jizz paint your upturned face.

“Mm,” he murmurs, his eyes already sliding shut. “That was hot.” You let him cuddle up to you for ten minutes or so, but then feel obliged to point out that your hour is swiftly coming to a close. “You need to get dressed, jagi. You guys have that slot on Jimmy Kimmel later tonight, remember?” you coax him. “What will ARMY think if you’re all spacey?” His laugh is full of mischief.

“They won’t think anything. I’m spacey plenty of the time,” he points out. “That’s like asking Jimin not to fall off his chair.” He sticks his tongue out, and then darts out of your way as you go to smack him lightly. He starts pulling his clothes back on and you do the same. “Oh wait!” he remembers, as he lights upon a tissue-paper package in his bag. “I got you something as well.” He holds it out to you shyly. You unwrap it with trembling fingers as he watches you anxiously. Nestled in the tissue-paper is a stunning, rose madder, satin negligee.

“Oh wow, JK...Are you...sure you should be spending this kind of money on me?” you ask tentatively. He gives you a deep, rather forceful kiss in reply, his arms wrapping possessively around your waist, as if you’re in any doubt that he owns you.

“Wear it when you go to bed tonight,” he demands. You raise your eyebrows at his imperious tone, but smile and agree to his terms, accepting another lingering kiss as a signed, sealed and delivered contract. “Also, I’m coming in your room later and sleeping there,” he informs you, leaving no room for debate. 

And so it is that, after lights-out in the dorm, you see your door slide silently back to reveal Jeongguk in (what you are to discover are deliberately-chosen) cobalt-blue satin pyjama bottoms and no shirt. Pretty, sleepy and refreshingly innocent, he turns his head away politely to yawn, then pads softly over to your bed, slips his room slippers off, and cuddles up close to you under the sheets. You turn to kiss him goodnight, but he’s already mostly asleep, and your insides curl happily at the thought that he genuinely just wanted to be with you when he fell asleep.

He stretches with a satisfied sound when he comes to the next morning, apparently not bothered by the sound of his insane alarm, which you wonder if you’ll ever get used to, though you’re aware that you’re leaping ahead in even considering such things. He turns his lovely doe-eyed gaze on your face, and then skims the curves of your body - clad in your present from him - lightly with his hand, letting his eyes follow along.

“Mmm...you wore this to bed like I asked,” he mumbles, obviously pleased.

“Mm-hm,” you murmur back, still half-asleep.

“Humm...look at you...look at us…” he purrs, tangling his legs with yours and running his tattooed hand from his own blue-covered leg to your red-covered one. You’re both splayed on your white sheets with the black satin pillows tossed everywhere by your sleeping limbs, and it takes you a second to take it all in, but then you realise.

“Oh yeah! Taegeukgi!” you laugh gently, amused by his cleverness but apparently completely missing what he’s implying. You don’t miss the look in his beautiful eyes though. He looks first bewildered, but then just slightly disappointed and you worry that you’ve somehow hurt him. You kiss him gently and smile into his eyes.

“Did you want to try and take a photograph?” you check, still unsure what you’ve said or done, or more likely not said or done. He hesitates, thinking it over, but then shakes his head and kisses you lingeringly to let you know you’re forgiven for your transgression. You rack your brain for anything vital you might have missed in the flag’s symbolism while you were researching Korean culture, prior to your move here, but  strangely the puzzle pieces only come together in your head months later.

You all manage to drift along in peaceful contentment for around a month until the day Hobi walks in on Jeongguk sobbing quietly in your arms because he’s so embarrassed that the weight he has recorded that morning is just slightly over the body-fat percentage ratio that the company had demanded from him.

“Hey guys! Anyone up for a coffee date?” chirps the dance leader, tossing his gym bag on one of the couches and pirouetting on the spot. “I was thinking we could try that new…” he trails off as he takes in the scene in front of him, catching your eye over Jeongguk’s shaking shoulders. “I mean later... I’m just gonna grab a snack…” he amends, making his escape quickly, but not without a sympathetic grimace at the back of Jeongguk’s head. 

He’s discreet enough not to mention anything in JK’s presence, when the latter insists on dragging you into the kitchen with him to follow up on the coffee proposal. 

“We’ll come with you to the new coffee place, hyung!” he announces brightly, his eyes still sparkling unnaturally, though he’s let you dab some cream on his eyelids to cover up the puffy redness and his hand is gripping yours a little too tightly.

“Um, sure. Just let me finish my snack, and I’ll bring the car around,” Hoseok nods agreeably, graciously giving you space to head back into the living room. You know better than to question Jeongguk’s course of action when he’s in a heightened state, so you just cuddle up next to him on the couch and wait for Hobi to let you know he’s ready. After a moment, you let your hand stray to the hemline of JK’s t-shirt and dance your fingers lightly over his abs. He looks shy and a little surprised when he catches your eye. You smile up at him fake-innocently.

“So sexy, babe,” you coo. “You should show this off more.” You press his t-shirt up teasingly, making him blush and yank it back down.

“Noona~ Hobi’s about to come get us,” he whines, but the little smile he tries to hide lets you know he’s flattered so you hope you’ve undone at least some of the damage. 

“He obviously trusts you,” Hobi is plea-bargaining with you before the next comeback. “And don’t even think I don’t know he was crying the other day, before we went to get coffee either. And why he was upset. I’m not stupid. He’s always down when he’s been binging and they spot check us. And Jin had to physically stop him eating the other day, so we all knew he was going to spiral. But that’s the first time I know of that he’s confided in anyone about it.” It’s true that you’ve all noticed Jeongguk’s weight yo-yo-ing and this time you and Hobi are a little frightened at the amount he’s lost so quickly and how he’s managing it. You grimace in acknowledgement of Hoseok’s words.

“Well I haven’t seen him eat anything today,” you agree, thinking it over. “Or yesterday for that matter. I was assuming he’d eat when you guys were scheduled?” Hoseok shakes his head sharply with a glum look.

“Nothing,” he laments.

“Shit,” you curse. “I don’t know what we can do. You know he won’t listen to reason...or compliments,” you sigh helplessly. Hoseok sighs as well.

You’ve both reached an impasse in your plotting when the object of your speculation flits into the room, looking suspiciously pleased with himself and acting a little tipsy. You and Hoseok exchange a look. Tipsy may be the vibe, but neither of you have seen him anywhere near anything other than his ubiquitous bottles of water for at least three days, so you’re guessing it’s lightheadedness that’s the culprit.

“Been out, JayKay?” Hoseok tries conversationally.

“Mm-hm,” Jeongguk replies, nodding, but keeping his lips together. You and Hoseok exchange another uneasy look. Instead of elaborating, the maknae scoops you into his arms and kisses you deeply, making Hobi turn away, flustered. 

“Oh...ooh...Oh!” you exclaim, surprised by his romantic gesture and then by the unmistakable feel of metal against your tongue. You laugh in relief as you realise why he kept his lips together. He’s gotten his tongue pierced.

“You know you’re not meant to kiss anyone when that’s healing?” you reprimand him lightly. Hobi looks across, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Apparently JayKay is still working on his mission to give Korean parents everywhere heart failure,” you update him. Jeongguk obediently sticks out his tongue, demonstrating. Hobi laughs, exasperated. 

“She’s right about the kissing,” he comments. “And kimchi too. Better lay off the kimchi…” he stammers to a stop, realising what he’s saying. “Actually, it’s probably fine, so long as you wash it after,” he mumbles, awkward as you all try to skirt around the subject of your golden maknae’s pre-comeback eating habits. Bit by bit though, Jeongguk starts to confide in you when he’s worried about his weight and you do your best to help him eat healthily and remind him that ARMY love to see him enjoy his food and gradually he inches towards a healthier body-image, though there are still setbacks, and you have to be very careful to praise his looks when he’s at a healthy weight and not to overdo the praise when he overdoes the dieting.

Yet none of this alerts you to what Jeongguk is building up to, and apparently none of the others are any the wiser, so he takes you all by surprise the day he puts his plan into action. You’re all at a company picnic, due to progress to dinner and drinks once the sun dips below the horizon. You and Jeongguk have already fended off the usual stellar jokes from the hyung line, pitched just at the level to needle you both without arousing the suspicion of the staff:

“How are you feeling JK?” asks Yoongi in an overly-solicitous manner. Jeongguk narrows his eyes, vaguely aware where this might be headed.

“Fine,” he allows, warily. Yoongi continues to feign concern.

“That’s good. Cos that stomach ache you had last night sounded pretty bad,” he quips, catching Namjoon’s eye. Namjoon grins and chimes in:

“Yeah. We can get you some pepto-bismol for that if it keeps up,” he concurs. 

“Pepto-bismol?” overhears Jin, joining the attack. “Good idea. Maybe we should grab some mosquito repellant as well,” he nods sagely. “Poor Noona seems to be their favourite snack lately.” The staff members milling around within earshot miss the implications, but neither you nor Jeongguk do. He shoots you a mischievous look and you return it with a warning look.

“Are we that loud?” you mutter to Namjoon, when he passes you a plate of food. He raises his eyebrows and gives you a broad grin.

“We could hear him moaning from the living room last night. It didn’t quite go with the classical soundtrack of the documentary we were watching on ‘galaxies beyond our own’,” he informs you, in an amused undertone.

“Sorry,” you grimace, feeling your cheeks flush. Namjoon shrugs indulgently. “And the hickeys?” you prompt, uneasily. “Are they that obvious?”

“Subtle is not Jeon Jeongguk’s middle name,” Namjoon reminds you, wryly. “Look, from my point of view, your bizarre courtship rituals are pretty funny, if not even a little bit romantic on occasion.” He pauses, with a deep sigh. “I just don’t know that management will see it that way,” he points out. Turns out Jeongguk has other ideas on that as you and Joon are about to discover. Bangtan’s leader is watching you pick at the leftovers of your food as he regales you with the details of the documentary you missed, when Jeongguk materialises at his shoulder.

“May I interrupt, hyung?” he checks nervously and very formally.

“Uh, sure...What’s up JK?” Joon asks, trying to bring the register down. Instead of adapting, Jeongguk clears his throat and extends his hand to take yours in his as he, rather melodramatically and very gracefully sinks to one knee. That gets the attention of the rather taken aback staff and members. As for you, you’re too flustered to move and can’t take your eyes off his. Your mouth feels dry and you’re finding it hard to swallow as you feel your heart beating way too fast. What is he playing at? you think to yourself, your head whirling as you try to think of other plausible explanations. 

“Ruby-noona, narang gyeolhonhae juseyo,” he requests in full honorifics, his voice trembling only the tiniest bit. “Oh…” he interrupts himself, his voice dropping in volume and register, “Moksori-ga tteolryeo…” Nobody else moves, or says anything. You’re all too stunned by his sudden vulnerability. Finally, you unfreeze and smile warmly down at his anxious face. Without even a glance to check whether it’s okay with the staff or your boss, you nod your head enthusiastically.

“Ne! Sucheon bon-iyo! ” you exclaim, bending to kiss his perfect lips. His eyes widen as he registers your lips on his and you feel him smile as well. Getting to his feet, he lifts you up above his head and kisses you again, revelling in the purity of the moment and the joy of his own strength.

By the day of the wedding, your head is still spinning over how quickly everything has happened from the day you first kissed until the day first his parents and then the company agreed to your marriage. His parents didn’t take much convincing, but you’re both still a little bruised from how much the company resisted. In the end, you agreed to a very private ceremony and only the most cursory of press statements. Neither you nor Jeongguk had wanted to announce anything to the public, but Hybe had insisted, pointing out that saying nothing would likely blow up in your faces later. 

You want to get married in the evening, so you manage to hire Gyeongbokgung Palace grounds for the ceremony, which has you in raptures over how pretty the background of your vows is going to be and him nostalgic over the last time he was here, performing a showcase for an American broadcast. You book your mother, best friends and brother flights over to Korea, and Jeongguk kisses you tenderly and takes you gently in his arms, pulling you onto his lap when you explain to him that your father has already passed away so he won’t get the chance to meet him and hear from his daughter how lucky she is to have found such an amazing man.

You ask him if there’s anyone that you’re expected to invite and he laughs softly and tells you his parents will arrange most of that, but he will make sure to invite your mutual friends here in Seoul and to let him know if there’s anyone else you or your mother want there. When everyone arrives in Seoul, you, your mother and your girlfriends join Jeongguk’s mother who guides you all graciously through the hanbok fittings, making sure everyone has the colouring correct. Of course your mother opts for purple over pink and you laughingly tell her that you’ll allow it because “Borahae!” (complete with ‘kimchi’ pose) which confuses her a bit but makes the others laugh. You fall in love with your own rich, red hanbok, carefully chosen by Jeongguk’s mother, and go to your trusted hairdresser to discuss hairstyles. You’re tempted to let your own mother choose your jewellery, but she laughs knowingly and says not to worry: she knows your taste is wildly different from hers.

And then finally, there’s the jeon-an-rye ceremony: Jeongguk, blushing shyly, as he bows twice and presents your enchanted mother with a beautiful kireogi. She eagerly tells him that your father was very fond of the symbol of a wild goose and, indeed, had them embroidered on his ecclesiastical robes when he was promoted. Jeongguk misses a lot of what she says, but picks up the gist, and that what she is saying has something to do with your father, nodding along shyly as she speaks. 

So in the end here you are, sitting in state in one of the little rooms off the main court of Gyeongbokgung, greeting the seemingly endless stream of guests while Jeongguk entertains everyone, including his 97-line buddies, outside. Thank God, your girl friends are happy to stay in the room with you, alongside a couple of the lovely junior Hybe staff girls, who make sure that you’re kept looking as fresh as a daisy and have plenty of water and fruit. Ellie, Mai and Yugyeom’s wife, Cass keep you entertained, periodically checking on what the boys are up to and reporting back. Meanwhile, your mother and your best friend are being looked after by your brother, nephew and Japanese sister-in-law who at least have some East Asian cultural awareness, although Jeongguk has made sure they have a translator with them as none of them speak any Korean.

Finally, one of the senior Hybe girls comes back into the room. The girl bows deeply and tells you that it’s time to come out, as the officials have arrived, and the kunbere ceremony is due to begin. Trying not to feel nervous all over again, you adjust your hanbok, letting the staff girls check you over and your girls check your hair and makeup, then they all fan out ahead of you to take their places in the prettily-decorated seats that are neatly laid out in blocks with a ribbon-lined aisle down the centre, leading up to the dais where you glimpse the celebrant, the MC and your beautiful fiance waiting patiently, patting his cheek with the back of his hand, then adjusting his dark purple bangs fastidiously.

Followed by your mother and future mother-in-law, you step out into the fairy-lit courtyard and step into the aisle as musicians begin to play a lilting wedding tune-version of “Euphoria”. Jeongguk smiles at you quickly, then lowers his eyes, still shy at having one of his songs as the wedding march. His eyes are sparkling more than the fairy lights as you join him on the dais. He takes your hand in a pure, innocent gesture of affection, and you both step in front of the celebrant. His hand is soft and warm and you feel a rush of love for him as he tilts his head to catch your eye again, and sends you a tiny smile.

The actual ceremony is, of course, standardly Korean - short and sweet. Jeongguk says his vows with heartfelt sincerity, his low, husky speaking-voice making you catch your breath. You speak your vows slowly and clearly, careful to get your pronunciation right, as he watches you, smiling his gentle encouragement. You share the traditional glass of wine, though you’re more than happy to leave him the lion’s share of the contents, grimacing as you swallow the bitter liquid. You laugh softly at his pantomime, eyes wide over the rim of the glass as he quickly downs the remains.

You both bow to your guests, then make your way back down the aisle as the musicians play - this time an instrumental of So-u-ju, that Jeongguk seems less shy about, judging by his mischievous wink at Yugyeom and Jimin as you pass them. You’re headed down to Busan tomorrow morning, to stay at Gamcheon Culture Village for your brief honeymoon  (which Jeongguk has insisted include a tour of Haedong Yonggungsa Temple), but you’ve decided to hold the post-wedding banquet at the Signiel Hotel, where you’ll then spend your wedding night. Jeongguk is full of suggestive whispers as you share some champagne in the limo, but you laugh gently and tease him that he probably won’t last the night, if he keeps up the pace with his drinking. He looks mock-offended, staring at you open-mouthed as you dutifully pour him another drink.

“Wae?!” he reprimands you, before taking the glass in both hands and draining the contents, his beautiful, dark eyes fixed on yours.

“Ah, was that too disrespectful, nae nampyeon-nim?” you amend quickly, bowing your head. You’re still nervous that you won’t adapt to being a good Korean wife, or that, due to cultural expectations you may not be aware of, Kookie will expect different behaviour from you now that you’re married. He seems to understand your nervousness because he smiles at you, cute and places the glass on the little glass-topped counter by your shared bench-seat.

“You don’t have to use -nim,” he tells you, gently. “Especially not when we are alone. And the teasing is fine too. I would prefer if you are respectful when we are in company, just because that’s what is expected for…” he pauses, looking for the correct term.

“Face?” you suggest. He nods, shy.

“Yes. For saving face in Korea, it’s best for how people see both of us if my wife is respectful. Especially because I’ve married a foreigner and sometimes people can be...unsure with that. But when we’re alone like this nothing will change.”

“Okay, babydoll,” you murmur, drawn in again by his lovely lips. He returns your kiss, then lets you cuddle up to him as he polishes off the rest of the champagne. He’s pretty intoxicated by the time you arrive at the hotel, but if anything it’s just made him more flirty so your only worry is keeping the festivities PG-rated. This concern deepens as you come out of your hotel room bathroom in your reception attire and his hands go straight around you, stroking the exposed skin at the base of the plunging back of your dress. 

“You look fire, jagi,” he purrs into your ear. You giggle and pull slightly back still in his embrace, fixing your earrings so that they won’t get caught in the loose locks of your hairdo.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister,” you compliment him, taking in his black dress suit, satiny black shirt and gold chain necklace. “Wait, excuse me, what’s this though?” you laugh softly. He looks mischievous, like he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he has to tease you first.

“C’mon, noona. You know I hate ties,” he pouts, brushing imaginary lint off his lapels. You give him a wry look.

“Yes. I know. And you know that’s not what I’m referring to,” you persist, trailing your finger down his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned halfway down to his waist. He sticks his tongue out cheekily and grabs your hand to pull you out the door into the main corridor.

Sighing and shaking your head, you follow him over to the elevator, trotting to keep up in your heels. You get a little round of applause when you walk into the grand ballroom together, holding hands and then you’re free to mingle and graze on the banchan while they cook the meat you’ve ordered. 

BamBam tells you, blushing a little, that you look pretty and you feel a sudden pang of guilt as you realize, with the full force of hindsight, that he has always been very sweet towards you and that there might have been something behind that. Jeongguk looks away, pushing his tongue into his cheek, then jealously pulls you over to examine the cake you’re going to cut later.

“Come on, JK. He was just being polite,” you caution him.

“He’s always thought you were pretty. He used to say so when we all hung out,” Jeongguk pouts, downing another shot of soju.

“Yet he’s always been a perfect gentleman. And then here I am, married to you,” you point out, stroking a tendril of his hair away from his eyes. He twists his lips in acknowledgement of this fact, then turns his attention to the cake.

“Is it mint choc?” he checks, anxiously. You hold back a giggle and regard him with a serious face.

“That’s what we asked for, so I imagine so,” you reassure him, keeping your eyes modestly down. He smiles and takes your face in his hands, kissing you lingeringly.

Of course, Yugyeom and Cass, having overheard this exchange, don’t miss the chance to wreck a little havoc:

“Wow, gross. Planning on eating the entire thing yourselves then?” Cass needles you mischievously.

“That’s a very tight dress, noona,” Yugyeom observes, sizing you up and taking in JK’s barely-concealed predatory gaze following your every move. He clears his throat and catches his wife’s eye. “I mean I’m assuming it’s just to make sure you don’t catch any chestnuts at the pyebaek?”

“No,” you tell him. “We’re just going to skip it altogether, sorry to disappoint, Yugs.” Yugyeom looks a little scandalized, but Jeongguk just raises his eyebrow in confirmation and points out that ‘I’m all the babie Noona will ever need, anyway,’ whilst cuddling you back against him and pouting for another kiss, with which you oblige him willingly.

“Ha! Not to mention all the trouble she’ll ever need,” Yugyeom adds, sotto voce as Jeongguk swipes himself another bottle of soju. You pretend not to hear Yugyeom, and turn the focus back on the only-recently married couple.

“So how many chestnuts did Cassandra catch?” you ask them teasingly. Yugyeom cuddles his Dutch-Australian wife in turn, lifting her hair away to kiss her neck.

“Enough,” he gloats, making her laugh and elbow him good-naturedly.

You girls let the boys rib each other playfully, and you’re careful to join the fray only when called upon by your new husband to back him up. You must pass the test, because in the end Yugyeom concedes playfully that ‘wow, you’ve trained her well. She’s transformed from our savage noona into a perfect little Korean wife in a matter of hours,’ which makes Jeongguk preen a little. You and Cass chat for a while, then you finally catch a moment to have a proper chat with your best friend, making Jeongguk sulk a little as he tries to follow the rather intense and rapid-fire conversation. Cass sidles up to Jeongguk, looking amused, and pulls him aside.

“Don’t worry about it JK,” she reassures him.  “They’ve known each other forever and I’m not entirely sure anyone else speaks their private language. It’s not an English thing and it’s not a romantic thing either. Anyway, she loves you to bits, so that’s not a fight worth having.” Jeongguk nods his understanding, then returns to your side, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching you fondly, as you speak and listen animatedly. You notice he’s there at the same time your best friend does and you both smile at him and readjust your conversation so that he can follow along comfortably.

“Right,” your best friend announces after a short while longer, “I shall release you into the custody of this incredibly attractive young man, and go acquire some delicious Korean cuisine for myself.” He smiles at Jeongguk, congratulates him and makes his way over to the buffet. Jeongguk looks after him, a little bewildered, then kisses you insistently and a little possessively.

“Come back down to our room with me for a bit,” he murmurs against your lips, nipping your bottom one for emphasis.

“You’re naughty, Kookie,” you murmur back. “We’re literally in the middle of our own wedding reception at a very fancy hotel.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about what’s under this...very...tight...dress,” he growls, his hands stroking their way up your naked back.

“I’m not taking this dress off, jagiya,” you warn him.

“I didn’t say you had to,” he purrs. “Come on...don’t you want me to fuck you while you’re looking out at that gorgeous view we have down there?”

“Is the view going to be gone when we go down later?” you tease, feigning shock.

“Aishh...jebal, noona~~” he whines, maknae-vibe on full-power.

“Joha, joha…” you pacify him, kissing him again, before letting him lead you out of the ballroom and back over to the elevator. “But we have to be quick or people will wonder where we’ve gone.”

“We’ll be back before the cake,” he assures you, pulling on your hand. The elevator is empty when it arrives, so he picks you up, rests you on the corner of the handrail that runs around the mirrored walls and kisses you hungrily. You can taste the soju and champagne on his breath. His cheeks are flushed high up on his cheekbones, and his hands are warm on your stockinged thighs, making your skin tingle. He drops his kisses under your jaw and down to your neck, his hands sliding up towards your chest. You’re just getting concerned how far he’s going to take this, when the elevator pings, shudders to a stop and the doors slide open to reveal two elegant-looking young women whose eyes widen in embarrassment at your extracurricular necking.

“Oh! Um…” the taller one murmurs, as they hesitate before edging into the elevator with you. You apologize profusely and move Jeongguk’s hands away from your chest, smoothing your dress fussily. He flicks his bangs, dabs at his face with the back of his hand and winks at the girl who spoke. Something clicks and they both stare at him in recognition, eyes flicking quickly to the tattoos on his hand.

“Jeon Jeongguk?” the second girl blurts whilst the other opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind and shuts it again. Jeongguk grins mischievously and inclines his head in acknowledgement of their recognition of him.

“Oh! Is this your…?” the first girl hesitates again, shy. 

“Jae anae. Ruby,” he finishes for her. You catch his eye, then bow your head to the two girls, awaiting their insa. They introduce themselves quickly and you let them have him to themselves as you finish the elevator ride, keeping your eyes modestly down and trying not to give them anything negative to report to their friends. They seem lovely, respectful ARMY though, and Jeongguk is more than happy to chat to them and sign them autographs before you arrive at your floor.

“Come, jagi,” he tells you softly, waving to the girls as you get out. You nod to them both politely and follow him down the corridor, your heart palpitating as you remember anew that this gorgeous man is now your legally-wedded husband.

You’re barely through the door of your room before he picks you up, hiking your legs to encircle his waist and kissing you messily.

“Oh wait, wait…” he whispers, with a giggle. “Get down a sec.” You do as he asks, wondering what he’s forgotten, but he just slides his warm hands up the slit in your dress, hooks his fingers into your panties and tugs at them impatiently, as he discovers they won’t do his bidding, threatening instead to become tangled in your garter-straps. 

“Let me do it Kookie,” you tell him. You carefully unclip your stockings, slide your panties off and then reclip the stockings, knowing he loves the look and feel of them on your legs. He gives you a predatory smile, then traces his fingers from your knee, up your leg and straight up inside you, without any warning. 

“Jeongguk-ah!” you yelp, shocked.

“Mwo?!” he asks, eyes wide as if he’s not being a dreadful tease. “Ah shibal...you’re making me so hard,” he breathes, closing his eyes and grabbing your hand to press it against his dress pants so that you can feel his erection growing and stiffening under the material. “ Nae jaji-reul bbarayo jurae ?” he begs.

“What? How will I enjoy the view if I do that?” you tease him. You kiss him hard on the lips, feeling him smile and his eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he opens his eyes again. 

“You bitch,” he laughs softly, nipping your bottom lip again and teasing you with his tongue. He pushes you onto your knees in front of him, making it very clear that he’s not going to accept ‘no’ as an answer. You undo his pants, pausing briefly to admire his two rings now adorning your ring finger, then wrap your lips around his cock.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, his hands moving from your shoulders to the back of your head as you start to suck him off. You let him guide your pace as you bob your head up and down and let your tongue alternately caress his shaft and glide over his tip, but you quickly come off him when you feel his hip-thrusts start to get messier.

“Oh jinjja?!” he complains, his teeth gritted in mild frustration. You sit back on your heels and give him an appraising look.

“Hm - why did we come down here again?” you ask him, pouting in aegyo.

“Because you look fire and I can’t resist you,” he purrs, raising you to your feet, and flicking his tongue out to tangle with yours in a heated kiss. “Unf...naega ni boji mangateurilkkeoya…” he moans, his hands already sliding up your dress again.

“I dare you…” you tantalize him, taking one of his hands off your leg and guiding him over to the little balcony off your room, that overlooks the city and Hangang. He whines at being impeded from his mission, but smiles when he sees that you’re going to let him continue. You take in the city lights with pleasure, turning your head to follow the river as it winds its way through the two halves of the city. Closing your eyes briefly, you let the gentle breeze and the sounds of the midnight city wash over you. You sense Jeongguk quietly admiring the city you’ve both come to love beside you and open your eyes to smile at him. The heat in his gaze is burning you up as he kisses you a little wildly, his hands going straight for the half-moons of your breasts exposed above the dress’s neckline.

“You can’t wear this anymore after tonight,” he teases. “It’s not cool to show off this much...yubang...in Korea.” 

“You picked it out,” you huff, tilting his head to kiss his neck as his hands get more insistent.

“So?” he sasses you, making you laugh indignantly.

Twirling you around and bending you over the guard-wall of the balcony with one hand, he uses the other to get the skirt of the offending garment out of his way and then you feel his cock go straight up inside you as his hands relocate to your hips. He’s true to his word, pulling you back onto him at a jackhammer pace and making you beg for mercy. You struggle to keep your balance, your legs shaking as he pounds you more relentlessly than he ever has before. You sense that whatever he’s held back until tonight he’s releasing now in one tidal wave of passion and you respond to his needy sighs and moans with a litany of appreciative moans of your own, which he seems to love from his reaction and the nibbles you get on your neck.

Finally you feel his legs tremble and his hips shudder and then a wave of orgasm hits you both, making your own legs give way. He’s quick as a flash though, catching you gently in his arms and sweeping you up to carry you over to the bed. He leans down and kisses you messily but tenderly.

“We should go back up, jagi. I just had to get that out of my system,” he laughs apologetically. You give him a look and laugh as well, shaking your head. “Well it’s your fault. I couldn’t keep my hands off you in that dress,” he defends himself cheekily.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, though both you and he are a little the merrier for the soju by the time you finally see your guests off and head back to your room, your heels dangling from your hand and his shirt untucked and buttoned even more haphazardly than it was at the beginning of your reception. He’s also somehow acquired a black cowboy hat, which he has lowered coquettishly over one eye, and which you relieve him of in the elevator, with an exasperated sigh.

“Whose is this, jagiya?” you ask him, tilting your head to catch his eye and try to make him confess. He giggles, shrugs and admits he has no idea, so you just bring it with you and leave it on the low table in your room, ready for whoever to claim. Jeongguk collapses onto the bed and pulls you down by his side with a lopsided smile.

“Mmm...let’s have a bath,” he yawns. You give him a suspicious look, but he laughs and waves his hand to ward off impure thoughts. “Ani, ani...I’m 100% satiated. But the view in there,” he defends himself. “Besides…” Another yawn. “I love traditional Korean-style baths. And I love it when you smell like soap and vanilla,” he bargains, knowing that you’ve brought his favourite body wash in your bags. You smile in surrender, dig up the desired vanilla body wash, quickly strip off your dress and wrap yourself in one of the towels. He’s already stripped naked and submerged himself in the water, so you bring him a couple of towels and step into the bath to join him, both facing the spectacular view of Hangang, with the Seoul N Tower sparkling in the distance. 

“Ah, cheonguk with Jeongguk,” you sigh, melting into his arms. He laughs softly at your terrible joke, and strokes your hair gently. “I love Seoul,” you murmur, awestruck as always by the beauty of the city at night.

“Mm...me too,” he murmurs, sounding sleepy.

“I can’t wait for you to show me Busan properly though,” you chirp, excited at the prospect of your planned week around his hometown. He kisses your forehead.

“Me neither,” he hums. You watch him sleepily, noting he looks even more tired than you feel, but the thought doesn’t make you feel anxious about your wedding night, just deliciously safe as he lifts his heavily tattooed right arm to reach for the body wash and you shift cozily against his other side.

“Let me?” you ask him shyly. He looks surprised, but then smiles and hands you the bottle, inclining his head and gesturing his consent to your proposal. Tingling with anticipation, you bathe him slowly, letting your hands linger on his beautiful body and enjoying being able to pamper him like this. When you’re done, he kisses you by way of a thank you, then tells you it’s his turn to return the favour. You lean back and try not to feel self-conscious as his hands trace every inch of your body. Eventually your eyes slide shut, so you gasp when you feel his lips on yours, then his arms around your back and under your legs. Tired as he is, he manages to lift you out of the bath and onto the wooden floor, where he wraps you in one of the fluffy hotel towels and himself in another.

“Come on, Mrs Jeon Jeongguk,” he whispers, cute, in your ear. “Bedtime.”

“Mmm...I love you so much Jeongguk-ah,” you mumble, towelling yourself off and following him across to the bed.

“I love you too, jagiya,” he purrs, crawling into the bed stark naked and pulling you in beside him. He throws his arms around you again and pulls you back against him, spooning you. “Shibal, I could get used to this…” he murmurs as you both finally drift off to sleep.

THE END

Glossary: (feel free to submit corrections for these ^.^)

Kaja/Kayo [가자/가요] = the informal versions of “let’s go”. The first is strictly for use with those your age and younger. The second is more polite but not formal

Banmal/jondaemal [반말/존댖말] = informal speech, reserved for intimate relationships or people your age or younger/formal speech used for elders etc

“Nuguseyo?” [누구세요?] “Who is this please?”

“Nae yeochin” [내 요친] “My girlfriend” [informal version]

“Annyeong. Junghyun-i-e-yo”/”Ruby-ye-yo.” [안녕. 정현에요/루비예요] = Hi. I’m Junhyun”/”I’m Ruby” in informal speech. Fine if we had known each other longer, though he is younger but for first meeting someone older, formal speech would be the norm. Hence JK’s correction. 

“Mianhamnida.” [미안합니다] = “Sorry” in formal language.

“Gwaenchaenayo” [괜찮아요] = “It’s okay/fine”

 “I saram-eun nae yeojachingu Ruby-noona-ipnida” [이 사람은 제 요자치누 루비누나입니다] = “This person is my girlfriend, Ruby-noona.” [in formal speech, of course]

Jigeum dangjang wanjonhi manjokhamniyo? [지금 당장 완전히 만족함니요?] = “Are you completely satisfied right now?”/wanjonhi [ 완전히] = “Completely.”

Yanolja hotel [야놀자] = “Love hotel” where Koreans can go when they still live with their parents or others to sleep together. Not as seedy as in Western culture and you can rent them by the hour.

“ Ot beoso-bwa: Neorang jago shipeo.” [옺 벗어봐: 나 너랑 자고싶어] = “Take your clothes off: I want to sleep with you.”

"Neukkimi-wa!” [느낌이와] = “I’m starting to get off” (’feel it’)

Gibun joha!” [기붅좋아] = “This feels really good” (slang)

“Eung, ne ranjeri joha.” [응, 네 란제리 좋아] “Yeah (v. informal) I love your lingerie.”

“Nomu yeppeoyo” [노무 예뻐요] = “You’re so pretty.” 

“Jeongguk, do-yo” [정국, 도요] = “You too, Jeongguk.”

“Maltagi haeboja?” [말타기 해보자?] = “Wanna try woman on top? (literally ‘riding the horse’)

“Ssalkeogata?” [쌀거같아] = “Are you cumming?”

“Odi-ro hallae?” [어디로 할래?] = “Where do you want it? (as in where do you want him to cum?)”

“Eolgul-eso.” [ 얼굴 에서] = “On my face/facial.”

Taegeukgi [태국기] = The Korean flag (as in your clothes and the bedsheets make you look like the flag - Korean couples often wear red and blue when they marry with the woman in red, so that’s what JK is implying that you miss).

“Narang gyeolhonhae juseyo?” [나랑 결혼해 주세요?] = Will you please marry me? 

“Moksari-ga tteolryeo.” [목소리 가 떨려] = “My voice is shaking.” (cute random fact: I stole this from what he actually says when he’s doing covers on V Live and he’s cold, cos it’s adorable)

Ne! sucheon bon-iyo! [네, 수천 번이요!] = “Yes! A thousand times!”

“Nae nampyeon-nim.” [내 남편-님] = “My husband” (but the addition of ‘nim’ is the most formal honorific in Korean, so you are trying to be very respectful as a response to his “wae?” (Why? Kind of equivalent to “hey!” or “wtf?!” in English, in this context)

Pyebaek [펴백] = a ceremony where the bride tries to catch chestnuts in her hanbok to see how many children the couple will have.

“Je anae” [제아내] = “My wife” (formal ‘my’ as he doesn’t know them) Cute fact 2: ‘anae’ literally means ‘inside’ in Korean cos your wife is your person you have inside.

“Mwo” [뭐], “Jinjja” [진짜] and “jagi”/”jagiya” [자기/자기야] I assume people know but just in case! They are respectively “What?”, “For real?”/”Seriously?” and “Babe”/”Baby” as a term of affection... 

“Nae jaji-reul bbarayo jurae?” [내자지를빨아요줄래?] = “Can you suck my dick?”

“Naega ni [ne] boji-ga mangatteurilkkeoya.” [내가 니 보지 망가뜨릴꺼야] = “I’m going to destroy/ruin your pussy.”

Yubang [유방] = ‘Tits’

Cheonguk [천국] = Heaven. So the bad joke is his name sounds similar to the word for Heaven in Korean.

[abbystanaccount]

Owen’s Aquarium Analysis

I was thinking about the various aspects of Owen’s Aquarium when it’s at its peak, during the Winter visit, and I just wanted to talk about it, throw some of my thoughts and interpretations out there.

This is where Owen has frequented for the past three years whenever he wanted to get away from the WLF. Abby has maybe been there a few times since their first discovery, but she hasn’t been in a long time. Personally I LOVE the way Owen reacts when he first sees her at the door. He’s very surprised, she asks him a question and it takes a second to answer because he’s busy thinking of how happy he is that she showed up at his home, the place he’s found solace in for the past few years.

The Aquarium is basically representative of Owen’s mind and his headspace. Owen’s in a pretty good spot when Abby comes to visit him in this flashback. He has games set up, he’s completely cleaned up the Aquarium trying to making it homey. But the fantastical set up is also a bit of a façade, Owen still has some issues with where he is in the world. His relationship with Mel is good (she can be really sweet sometimes), but Owen is hesitant to talk about Mel because whenever Abby is here, that’s all he can really focus on. When Abby gets there, all he wants to do now is hang out with her because he missed her. They’re playful, bantering, flirting a little, giving each other a hard time, it’s the Abby/Owen way 😌. He has a “selective memory”, and this Aquarium has many of his good memories.

The hooch. In this flashback and the present we see Owen drinking his homemade hooch, here it’s in celebration that Abby came to visit, later it’s because he’d drowning his sorrows. The fact that he makes his own alcohol, has a beer pong table, and can stand the taste of the hooch while Abby can’t, points to him drinking at least somewhat frequently. 

I’d also like to equate the hooch to his dreams of sailing away from it all and finding the Fireflies again. Owen has been making his own hooch and has also been trying to convince the other Salt Lake Crew that they should all look into the leads about the Fireflies. Up at the cafe when he offers Abby some, he enjoys it and he invites her to stay and see the view, Abby rejects both things like she did his notion of finding the Fireflies. Later on the boat he is consumed in his idea to leave and find the Fireflies (parallel to his drinking), then when he offers Abby some and to come sail away she declines.

Owen’s mural... he adds to Max’s mural and creates Salt Lake City on the wall, you can see the zebra’s and giraffe’s from Abby and Ellie’s memories in the foreground. The zebra memory and being in St Mary’s with Abby before Joel arrived were the last real happy memories they had, the last time they were still innocent and carefree. Owen memorializes these happy times through his art and puts it in a place he can look at frequently.

Abby also has a similar landscape painting she took from her dad’s office, it might also but of Salt Lake City, so she much like Owen kept those memories close. However I don’t know if Owen painted this one too, might be a little weird to paint your supervisor and secret gf’s dad a painting, idk. 🤷‍♀️

In relation to the Aquarium being like Owen’s mind, Owen projects to the world he’s happy with Mel, he tries to not think about Abby and get hung up on her, but because she still exists, she’s still around, that’s very hard for him. He is hesitant to write Abby on the board even though he says Mel won’t care, he knows that Mel will a bit, because it’s announcing that Abby was here. I feel like it had often been a discussion between Owen and Mel whether or not Owen was over Abby and Owen tried to convince her and himself he was, but it’s really not true.

Owen is a really sweet and creative person, he’d much rather be chilling in his Aquarium, getting it nice, or painting a mural or sketching (like his drawing of Abby). He warms up the entire place, except for maybe the hole in the roof he thinks it too much work to finish.  That’s probably very true, he is only one guy, but even besides the hole Owen shows an intense dedication to making the place fun, he lugged over party supplies seemingly by himself. 

Owen also doesn’t let anyone really know about the Aquarium. Manny only knew at the end because Abby told him, and Nora only knew from Manny. So for years it was just Owen’s thing. He offers to let Abby come “if she’s nice to him,’ he does want to share with her. It’s open to interpretation that maybe she never returned until this point because of her “skeleton” comment but I don’t like that so I like to think she did come back at least a few times, maybe it was less cleaned up though. It seems like since they broke up though, Owen has dedicated time to improving his Aquarium and starting anew. Once Owen starts dating Mel he eventually shows her the Aquarium and he hopes she’ll embrace it more than Abby did, which she does.

Their relationship became draining because of Abby’s revenge mission, and after they break up they both dedicate themselves to new things, Abby really ramps up her training and Scar killing, Owen tries to build a relationship with Mel and transform his Aquarium into something he can enjoy and live it. The issue there is Abby’s mission is just digging her deeper into a hole, and Owen can’t move on with Mel when Abby exists and he’s still in love and hung up on her.

This shot is pretty obvious, Abby is right in front of the Mel stocking, blocking it out. In another timeline where she wasn’t so caught up with Joel, it would have been her stocking there instead of Mel’s, Owen would have decorated the Aquarium for her and not Mel, and I think she sees that here. She’s even facing the Ferris wheel where they first ran away to. Owen is looking at this entire scene, and he can see it as well, it’s a gut punch to him that these are the circumstances. 

Owen still wants Abby to move on, he was overjoyed to have her visit him, play his archery game, just chat. It’s a rude awakening when he finds out she was there to just tell him that they’d found a lead on Joel, and that she’d already told the rest of the Crew including Mel about it. He’s feeling a bit betrayed by Abby here and pressured to join them. Owen wants what Abby wants, but he already sees how much pain its caused her and he doesn’t want more people than necessary getting hurt. But everyone else already said they would go and at one point or another he promised Abby they were in this together, and he’d never go back on his word for her.

I just want to touch on the state of the Aquariums when we see it, when we first see the Aquarium it’s not really Owen’s yet, it’s been abandoned and he had yet to put his work into it. Then three years later, it’s full his and representative of who he is. We see it after Jackson too, but it’s much more subdued and dreary because he’s been suffering mentally. If you focus on Owen during the Joel torture scenes you can really see how shook he was seeing Abby shoot Joel’s leg off, and he had to leave the room with Mel while she tortured Joel. Owen blames himself for not stopping her on this revenge quest, she’s finally doing it and it’s horrible to watch. 

Afterwards, Owen has retreated from others completely. The others are pissed at him when he disagreed about letting Ellie and Tommy go. How Abby behaved scared him. He doesn’t even want the new life with Mel, he just wants out of here by himself, everything else is too painful. When he shoots Danny, Owen realizes leaving is his only option is to go because he can’t stand to be in the WLF anymore. Owen wants to go back to a time when he was happy and working towards a real cause: the Fireflies. He still faces major hurdles though, the boat is broken and the WLF are going to come after him. Abby finds him curled up, retreated as far as he can go into his safe place. Waiting for someone to come and kill him for what he did. 

Then last time we go to the Aquarium, it is completely silent, eerie, and dead, Owen’s dreams of escaping to a better, happier life, shattered.

Sorry to end it on depression but that’s how it is 💔 except in happier au’s like mine lol.

Also side note, Abby saying “of course” when she sees the boat light on and not assuming he’s in the cafe or something, makes me think they returned there together at some point and more spent time there. So maybe that’s a less sad note.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

superhero’s

Summary: Could you do one where Freddy Freeman (Shazam) is Eddie's son and is about to meet Richie?

A/N: sorry it took me so long to post! 

Eddie is nervous. He rarely lets himself admit to it, and the instances where he does have been few and far between after Freddy was born and he became a dad, but today Eddie can say it without thinking of how to hide it. Freddy can discern it, just like he always can when it comes to his father, but he either can’t conjure up the words to reassure him, or he knows tonight is not going to go well and wants to prepare his father for it.

Eddie adores Freddy to bits, unsurprisingly. His son looks like a mirror image of himself when he was a kid, and it’s sometimes eerie for Eddie to come downstairs and see his son. It’s like feeling he’s been send back into the past to watch himself from the third person view. Though their physical appearances are similar, their personalities have a few major discrepancies.

For one, Freddy is a lot more brave then Eddie was at age, a lot more brave than Eddie is today. He’s obsessed with superheroes and convinced that they’re real, and he’s been know to dive headfirst into danger out of idolatry of these heroes.

He has a leg problem that he never lets other or himself acknowledges, but that’s no setback for the power of his mind. Once Freddy is convinced of something, it’s very difficult – impossible even- to throw him of his game. That Eddie likes a whole lot, that he can stand up for himself and is able to secure boundaries no matter who they’re aimed at, he likes the impulsivity a lot less.  

It’s because their way of handling things is so fundamentally different, that Eddie is afraid how he’s going to react to Richie. He’s not sure if Freddy will appreciate any of the jabs Richie makes, if he will accept a new man moving in with them, or what he will do if he deems Richie unworthy.

Freddy on the other hand is a lot more collected, to no one’s surprise. He’s been playing videogames for most of the day, and an abandoned comic book is carelessly thrown over the entry way table. He hasn’t said anything about the impending meeting, and acts indifferent, but Eddie thinks it’s just an act.

He watches from the corner of the room as Freddy concentrates on his game, fingers pressing the console so hard Eddie fears he’ll need to buy him a new x-box if he keeps it up. Under his breath, he mutters along with his actions, some words a lot more explicit then Eddie would normally allow.

His presence looming behind Freddy is unnoticed, because if Freddy knew Eddie was standing there, he would have stopped his stream of curse words and smiled cheekily his direction, the way he always does when he’s trying to get his dad to break the house rules and escape repercussions.

Eddie coughs once, but willingly waits for his son’s video game to end so he won’t have to start over. He’s not always blessed with the patience to wait, his road rage is a clear example of that, but Eddie fight hard against the instincts that his child has to drop everything for him. Myra accuses him of trying to be the favorite parent over it, but Eddie has no such intentions. After growing up with a mother like his, he’s all too aware of how fast the lines between requesting respect and demanding it get crossed. He doesn’t over want to be an overbearing presence in his son’s life that Freddy dreads coming home too.

His tactic pays off in the end, to Myra’s irritation. Where Freddy will roll his eyes whenever Myra asks him to do something, he now gets his game - Eddie doesn’t know which game he’s playing, he’s pretty much clueless about videogames in general- to a safe point, pauses it and looks acceptingly in Eddie’s direction.

‘What’s up dad?’

‘Is that your favorite game you’re playing?’ Eddie fumbles, having no idea what video game he was actually playing or what his son’s best-beloved even is. ‘The one with – spiderman?’ He guesses, judging by the eye roll that Freddy gives him he’s gravely mistaken.

‘Spiderman? Dad my favorite video game is batman arkham underworld. About batman, not Spiderman’, Freddy voice trails off and he draws out the last few words, clearly pulling Eddie’s leg about not differentiating the two superheroes. ‘I should be offended that you don’t know that. Don’t you ever listen to what I have to say?’

Eddie laughs, but it’s strained and shaky from the nerves jumping over on his vocal cords. He came up to Freddy’s room because Richie should be arriving in less than five minutes, and he get a word on how open to the conversation Freddy really was. Now that he’s up here though, Eddie can’t conjure up a worse thing but to ask.

‘Dad, I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about a videogame you’re not interested in. Spit out what you want to say.’

‘I- I need you to give Richie a chance. He’s brazen and sometimes a whole lot of weird, and he’s fucking stupid too sometimes’, Freddy doesn’t comment on the way Eddie smiles with full dimples out at the mere thought of Richie, ‘but I love him and if you could keep an open mind that would be great.’

Eddie walks deeper into Freddy’s room, on the verge of pacing around, feeling stupid for begging to his son about Richie. He can’t help it, he loves Richie almost as much as he loves Freddy, and it would kill him in the two most important people in his life didn’t get along.

‘Dad-‘

‘If you don’t like him then we can talk later. I love you and if you don’t like Richie that’s not going to change anything, but I’m aware Richie might not give the best first impression – the first time I ever met him he poured sand over me and I intended on killing him - so if you could stick it out for the entire evening then you can decide for yourself if you like him or not.’

‘Dad, it’s fine. I’m not going to judge the guy from doing different.’ Freddy chuckles, but it lacks all the normal energy and joy it normally contains.

At once, Eddie feels stupid. All he had considered was how nervous Richie was to meet Freddy, but he hadn’t contemplated how on edge Freddy was to be introduced to Richie. ‘Bud.’

‘No, it’s fine. I mean my own mom didn’t even accept me with my disability but some random stranger sure will.’

‘Freddy..’, Eddie trails off, he inches himself closer to sit beside Freddy on the floor, despite his kneecaps creaking. He’s all to aware that this is a delicate situations. Despite his resentment towards Myra for dragging him back into he’s old mindset that he was sick, she’s Freddy’s mom, and he would never do anything to harm their relationship.

‘Your mom loves you. Every part of you.’

‘No she didn’t, she liked that she could take care of me and get sympathy for it, but as soon as I tried to create some independence she hated it.’

It’s quiet in the room for a long time. It lays heavy on Eddie’s stomach, but he’s at a loss for words. The only thing he can do is to comfort his son, by hugging him close and trying with all his might to take over his sadness. Freddy asks him often what super power he would like to have if he had the change, and Eddie always responds with time travel, to have a redo of his childhood, but now he knows the actual answer is that he would like to absorb other people’s sadness and take it upon himself. Anything to get his son to stop suffering.

He can’t condone Myra’s actions, her cold behavior when Freddy managed to jump over small hurdles and she refused to see it and instead tried her best to sink his confidence by convincing him he did it wrong, no matter how much he had hoped his son would have a better relationship with his mom.

‘Richie’s not like that’, Eddie eventually settles on saying, because he knows that with all his heart. ‘And if he was I would kick his ass. If he would make fun of you’, he ruffles Freddy’s hair and is delighted to hear him laugh. ‘Then I’ll never allow him to set one foot back in this door.’

‘Okay dad, you don’t have to oversell it.’

‘Do you not think I would do it? I spend more than 300 dollars on comic books for you.’

‘Yeah cause buying comic books and beating him up are comparable.’

Freddy is back to his old chipper self, for now at least, and he reaches for his cane to help him walk.

‘Well, if what you’re saying is true, I better go check him out and see if he’s good enough for my old man. Race you down the stairs?’

Freddy doesn’t wait for Eddie’s answer before he’s off, fully ready to throw himself off the stairs if it means being the first one down. Eddie slows down tremendously, praying that he’s son won’t actually do that, but enjoying their little game anyway.

‘Flight or Invisibility?’ Freddy asks later at the dinner table, looking at Richie specifically as he asks.

Richie’s looking a little bit pale, and he glances at Eddie not understanding. Alas, he gets no help from him, Richie’s on his own on this one.

‘Euh, invisibility?’ The answer is said with uncertainty, but Freddy dismisses it as he jumps on the opportunity to talk about more superhero stuff.

‘Really? You picked invisibility? Okay wow, that’s surprising cause they once did this test where it showed that-‘ Freddy continues to ramble, but all Eddie can do is stare dreamily at his own little family. 

[phoenotopia]

2020 August Update

For once, development has moved on time (sorta). I am happy to announce that the "Reveal and Launch" trailer for Phoenotopia Awakening will drop this morning at 9AM. And the game itself is set to launch for Nintendo Switch on August 20th.

You may recognize that August 20th is in fact the 6th year anniversary of the Flash game. I wasn't particularly aiming for this date - I actually wanted August 14th. It's like a minefield - even just one week offset forward or backward could put you into a crowded release slot. And you don't know how everyone's moving because they're also probably considering the same things. At some point you're locked in and you can't change course. In the end, I added 1 week to the time I wanted initially as an error buffer in case some things came up - which they did! So August 20 ended up being about just right for us and a neat coincidence to boot.

First half of July

The first half of July, I threw myself well into the PC port. The controls still need to be figured out, but we did make a lot of progress. I found out about a 3rd party library called "Rewired" which is all about supporting a multitude of different controllers, disconnects, reconnects, and so forth. It doesn't take us all the way there, but it did remove a lot of the headache involved.

There's still a lot of design involved concerning controller rebinding. For instance, how much of the controls do you expose and allow to be remapped? Technically, you could allow so much freedom that you can break the controls. One solution for that is to lock a portion of the keyboard to be unmappable and so you're never without controls that can remap a menu.

(my solution was to have a lock screen that confirms you have the necessary inputs to at least return to the rebind menu and fix the controls should they ever be set in so bad a state)

There are also some things that a joypad can do that a keyboard can't, and vice versa. For instance, the control stick allows 360 degrees of movement and detects sensitivity. How much you push the control stick will determine whether Gail walks or jogs. However, the buttons on the keyboard do not have sensitivity - they're either all ON or all OFF. Thus, there's no way to "walk" if using a keyboard. I could add a separate "hold to walk" button to the keyboard but that introduces an incongruence between the joypad and the keyboard.

(Rewired's interface for mapping keyboard and joypads. If a "hold to walk" action existed, it would only make sense for the keyboard column, but not the joypad column. Finding that perfect balance between joystick and keyboard will be a challenge.)

Another snag we've hit are button names. If using a Nintendo, Sony, or Microsoft controller, the Right Trigger is either going to be named ZR, R2, or RT. Rewired can be agnostic about joypads, which is great because it reduces the workload on my end, but the caveat is that buttons like this will simply be called "Right Trigger". (See that first image again). Not really elegant...

I can probably fix this after I've had more time to investigate. However, around this time I had to pause PC development, because the Switch version became unblocked and now required my full attention.

Second half of July

The 2nd half of July proved quite busy. As noted in my previous blog post, I thought the Switch version was on track and off my hands. Turns out there were a few more hurdles to clear, and the ball came back into my court, and it moved back and forth a few times. Luckily, the hurdles are really cleared now and we're set to release (August 20!). The specifics of this process are under NDA, so I won't go into details.

We also went around updating a bunch of the game's social media sites - facebook, twitter, youtube. The second half of July was also when we started acting in a PR capacity - we're combing websites and youtube channels and looking for people who look like they might want to cover Phoenotopia. This was fun! I used to read IGN daily over a decade ago (back when Matt and Fran ran the IGN Nintendo channel). Then college happened followed by early work life, and I wasn't able to follow videogames as much anymore. I didn't even have access to a TV for a few years. And I never found a new landing page after that, so combing for websites and youtube channels was a lot of fun. It was interesting to see how the landscape has changed, and the new depth and variety that exists.

We're set to send out a BUNCH of emails tomorrow. Will they catch? No idea... I think if I had 20 reviews on launch day on OpenCritic, I'd consider that a success. We'll see!

Fan Art 

This past month, we see a lot of fan artists cross Phoenotopia with other universes. Luckily, all universes I'm familiar with. I'm impressed by the creativity on display!

First, what if Gail appeared as an enemy in Undertale? Glittering_Touch_904 depicts the scene. Gale, like Sans, has only one eye shining meaning she's about to dish out some serious pain. Nice! Definitely choose the Mercy option.

R_Contagio answers the question of what would happen if Phoenotopia was depicted in the style of Limbo? And the answer is very pretty! I'm impressed by how everything is done with one color. Using a band of white to depict water, the creepy eyes on every creature, the patience in drawing each leaf... very impressive! I'd play this game!

UnrealWorld_32 depicts a scene that asks what it would look like if Gale was still back in Panselo when the invasion happens :D I'm impressed by the use of colors - they look like they could come from the game itself! I think it wouldn't be a fair fight. For the invader.

A rare scene, Didi depicts Gail, hammer at the ready, approaching a dreaded Phoenix Pod. We get lots of depictions of 66, but rarely of the pod itself! In the Flash game, we skirt around how the pod opens by having it opened off-screen, so it's nice to see the pod up close. The mystery remains... how does it open?

Another crossover of Phoenotopia and the Shrek universe - this "Shrale" is drawn by Firanka. I'm impressed by the use of colors - dominant use of red garb contrasts well with her green skin. She kinda looks like a grumpy Namekian. Hah hah. What is she annoyed at? 

Maybe this little running Gail underfoot (also drawn by Firanka)

Coming Up

We'll continue acting in a PR capacity leading up to the game's release. When the game finally does launch on Switch, I suspect I'll become swamped handling bug reports. When the flash game launched, I remember being swamped for 3 weeks straight! Day in, day out, fixing bugs. I suspect it'll be the same with Phoenotopia: Awakening, but to a heightened degree. 

Regardless, we'll post an update on the state of ourselves at the end of September. Even if it's only a small one. Until then!

[nice-kill-tanaka]

Hi! I read all your x readers and love them! I especially loved the Bakugou x Rough and Tough Crush, I was wondering if you do a part 2 of that one? Where the squad are trying to get the two together.

Of course Nony! Glad you liked my self indulgent work 🥰

—————

🌄Bakugo + Rough And Tough Crush: Part 2🌌

Looking for the whole set? Take Part 1 right here!

Summary: The Bakusquad gets a little sick of watching you and Bakugo pine after each other in your own...special ways. So, it was decided to devise a plan to get you two crazy kids together!!

A/N: Me, internally: First request, don’t mess it up, first request, don’t mess it up, first request, don’t mess it up, first request, don’t mess it up-

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💥Katsuki Bakugo💥

Let’s start by looking at your end of the pining stick

When Bakugo started treating you differently (like an equal/rival rather than a hurdle to trample on) your own perspective started to shift

You now knew what it was like to be on Boom Boom Boy’s good side. And if you were being honest? It was fun as hell 🔥🔥

Nothing got under your skin very easily, so you took Bakugo’s aggressive taunts and jeers as petty opportunities to take him up on his challenges

What’s better than a free chance to get stronger??? (Mentally, emotionally, and physically)

It wasn’t very long before you began to find Bakugo’s unwavering passion and drive attractive rather than amusing. You wanted to see more of it, to draw it out, to match it

That wild and determined smirk he used past bared teeth when you bested him would really make you feel some type of way 😳

But Y/N is currently a single-brain-celled bastard in this household

My dude, you don’t even misinterpret your feelings. You're just incapable of giving them a label 😭

You just know that you have warm and fuzzy sensations in your stomach whenever Bakugo is being uniquely himself, which you mistook for indigestion on multiple occasions

Y’all are so freaking dumb it actually hurts 😭😭😭

((^^The Bakusquad’s general consensus on you and Bakugo’s mutual pining))

Which brings us to how the Bakusquad decided to go about bringing you hotheaded lovers together

Kirishima casually suggested that they let you two get together on your own, but was out-voted in favor of putting an end to the infinite frustration that came with watching two people crushing on each other and not doing anything about it

Mina and Jiro thought of the first plan:

They’d have a movie night for everyone in the friend group and Mina would conveniently choose a ✨romance✨ movie. The rest on the squad would think of lame excuses to leave in the middle of the film, leaving only you and Bakugo alone (hopefully on the same couch). If things went well, you two would be together by the end of the movie

Their reasoning was that if the concept of romance was introduced at the right time, you’d both feel more inclined to confess your own feelings 

It seemed feasible enough, so the plan was set into motion

As expected, the moment Mina pulled out the Blue-Ray box, Bakugo started to grumble about how corny the film was gonna be

But, Jiro caught a glimpse of you leaning over and muttering something to Bakugo, out of earshot of everyone else

Immediately, Bakugo began to loosen his shoulders, still not happy about the genre, but more complacent. He slouched into the couch and endured it like an adult

During the movie, especially the more romantic moments, the squad constantly stole glances towards you and Bakugo. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to look at

Bakugo, in the same position as the beginning, didn’t seem bored, but like he’d rather be doing anything else at the moment. His eyes were glued to the screen in a judgmental stare, but that he dared not say anything to ruin a certain person’s experience

You, however, looked like you were enjoying the movie! However muted your position might have looked. Though you weren’t enjoying it cause it was good. Oh no, you looked like you wanted to ✨a s c e n d✨ into orbit with laughter every ten seconds

For the sake of letting the rest of the Bakusquad enjoy the romance aspect, you limited your actions to biting your fist whenever something hopelessly cringy happened

Any longer than the halfway point, and you would’ve broken down in a fit of hysterical laughter, roasts, and jeers at the screen

Soon enough, the rest of the group made their excuses to leave the room momentarily, disappointed with their results

But, when they came back, something beautiful had occurred 

“Why the hell is she running back to the apartment?? HE CHEATED ON YOU?? KILL ‘IM??”

“SKSKSKS- Okay, but wtf is her FACE?! Is that supposed to be distress?? Freakin’ ahegao faceass.”

Bakugo was deadpan roasting the movie with an amused smirk. While you were coming after it with the gusto of Monoma coming after 1-A, snorting with every comment Bakugo made

Neither of you had even noticed everyone else come into the room

(Apparently, you had told Bakugo earlier that you two can shit on the movie all you wanted once you were alone)

Alright...not exactly the plan. But, possibly a step in the right direction

Sero and Kaminari thought of the next “plan”

I only put quotations, because it’s hardly thought out enough to call it one

It was literally just locking you and Bakugo in a closet 🤡🤡

Don’t worry Sero and Kaminari, I’ll play Taps at your funerals 🎺🎺🎺

You and Bakugo didn’t even have a genuine conversation in the closet...You were too busy yelling various profanities at your friends

“Dude, it’s really FUCKING HOT in here. Let us out while I’m still feeling nice!!”

“I’ll murder you bastards when we get out of here!!! You better start running now.”

Btw, you both ended up making it out of there on your own

You managed to deck the doorknob hard enough to break it off, giving Bakugo enough leeway to blow the door off its hinges

Bakugo took care of Kaminari, while you caught and hogtied Sero with his own tape 

You gave each other congratulatory fist bumps afterwards 😚

Despite the rest of the Bakusquad miserably failing in their schemes, their setups did help develop you and Bakugo’s relationship. Just not as fast as they hoped

You had become a pair that could laugh and fight together. Being each other’s advocate became a source of pride for you both

You were all set to become a romantic couple 

But, what actually brings you together??

Well, it went something like this:

I’m not too sure of the exact details, but I know that you and Bakugo were having an extra intense training session

Things were starting to get a bit sloppy, as your bodies were getting tired, but your morale was just as strong as ever

It could’ve just been a freak accident, or something neither of you saw coming

But, the point is: Either of you could’ve gotten really hurt, had you not been the tough cookies you are

In your perspective, you were oblivious to the danger that you had been in. And if you did know, you didn’t particularly care. You only saw that the person you cared about most in U.A. could’ve gotten hurt

The idea of that happening, and it being your fault (or, not being able to do anything about it) really rubbed you the wrong way. You were mostly angry at yourself

But, you took it out on Bakugo

Because you were the first aggressor, Bakugo responded with what he knew best: Aggression

Yes, he was absolutely mad at himself for putting you in danger. But, what made the feeling worse, was that you refused to acknowledge that you could’ve been injured as well

Your blatant lack of self-preservation pissed him off. Why couldn’t you care about yourself the way he cared about you?!

On the outside looking in, the fighting was far too intense for any peer of yours to try and break it up

Yelling, cursing, but neither of you put your hands on each other (Like you usually did when you play fought)

Strangely enough, I think that’s how you could tell the situation was serious

Finally, your emotions had reached their climax. All caution had gone to the wind at that point

You weren’t even thinking when you yelled the next thing in Bakugo’s face

“DO YOU THINK I’D FUCKING YELL AT YOU IF YOU DIDN’T MEAN THE GODDAMN WORLD TO ME?!”

“WELL FUCK YOU IF YOU THINK THAT YOU’RE ANY LESS IMPORTANT TO ME THAN I AM TO YOU.”

At that moment, you both turned away to storm off before abruptly stopping in your tracks

“What?!” You said in unison, registering what you both had heard and said

You sighed, frustrated at your own stupidity, unclenching your fists and begrudgingly explaining your true feelings to the seething object of your affections

As you spoke, you were realizing just how whipped you were for Bakugo. And how you didn’t know it until you were given the opportunity to blurt it out with pure emotion

Your words weren’t very poetic (You actually sounded very constipated), but what you said was what you felt in its rawest form

Bakugo could hardly think of what to do next. His crush was reciprocated and they confessed first??? Wtf???

His silence made you uncomfortable, and you didn’t feel like blowing up again. You huffed, shoved your hands in your pockets, and turned to stalk away, unsure of what to do next

Before you could completely turn on your heel though, you felt yourself being roughly shoved against a nearby wall

You weren’t even given time to react, because as soon as your back made contact with the wall, a warm, caramel-scented sensation met your lips

The kiss you had just registered didn’t even last two seconds, but the lingering feeling stuck with you as your brain effectively shorted out

“Yo, wh-what was that??”

Bakugo was impossibly red, one hand still on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Even though he refused to make eye contact with you, it was clear that what he had just done was completely intentional

He scoffed, voice barely above a grumble, “Damn dumbass...you didn’t even give me a chance to respond...”

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[🌌 There you go bud! That’s one set of headcanons for the road. Hopefully it lasts for a while, but if it doesn’t, feel free to come back! I’d be thrilled to see you again.🌄] —Reagan

[janus-stanus]

Do you have any Janus headcanons that you want to share?? I seriously love reading peoples' headcanon

You want Janus headcanons? I’ll give you Janus headcanons. All the headcanons.

* Janus came into existence as a Side later than the others, and he wasn’t initially Deceit. More on that here and here (though I have some changes in mind for when I actually write something out of it, hehe)

* He became in charge of keeping Remus out of school things kind of by default, and from there, they bonded.

* He got into spats with Patton often, which he took way more seriously than Patton ever did. Usually everyone else sided with Patton, cause they knew and trust him. Especially Roman.

* Janus learned to fake confidence fairly early on. He figured, he had to convince himself that he knew what he was doing before the others would take him seriously. You know. “I am the first one I deceive”. That. Oh, and “Razzle Dazzle”.

* He’s planted “roots” in Thomas’s mental system, like a network of cables that can transfer information to him almost instantly. He has clusters of roots form around secrets he (or the others) is (are) keeping from Thomas. For the aesthetic, his eyes glow gold when he checks in to it, and the information rings in his ears like hissing.

* As a kid he wore a yellow shirt, with a waistcoat over it to make himself appear more professional. As a teen, he wore a long black coat, a fedora, and a striped yellow scarf. There’s more I want to say about the scarf, but, spoilers.

* ...That being said, I will spoil this from the wip where the sides all find their names: Logan helped Janus find his (ever notice that we didn’t see Logan’s reaction to Janus’s name reveal in POF? I’m running with it). He liked the name, it felt right... but it, at this point, didn’t really tell him anymore about what his purpose was supposed to be.

* It stops being a sore spot for him at a certain point, but then by the time of POF, where his failures have definitely not been getting to him, it kinda sorta is again! Hence, his... reaction, to Roman’s... reaction.

* (Also, it’s just his instinct by this point to be snide and pointedly cruel when he’s hurt or backed into a corner. He knows how to go for the jugular, and sometimes he doesn’t realize - or doesn’t care - just how deep his blows will cut.)

* Since I mentioned Jan originally not being Deceit... here’s a song that basically lays out why he came to take on that role :) (spotify recced this to me a few days ago and I’m still not over it)

* It was only once Janus became Deceit that he started gaining his snake features. First fangs; then the changes to his left eye; then his scales. Right before the other sides found out about the gay, the scales covered his whole face, and probably went below his shoulders too. It was bad. By teen times they’ve receded to mostly one side of his face, but they’re still on his neck for a few years (hence the scarf).

* Jump ahead to Thomas in early high school, and Janus, for reasons that would be Big Time Spoilers (though I may be able to... share some excerpts... if people want...), chose to cut himself and Remus off from Thomas. He keeps their existence a secret, having them only influence Thomas subconsciously, until, well, the series basically. (Virgil joined the “others” shortly after the divide, of his own choice, and thus wasn’t hidden from Thomas like the rest of them were.)

* For all those years, Janus whispered comforting lies to Thomas. Lies that stopped working after he revealed himself in CLBG, because Thomas now recognized that voice as belonging to his deceitful side. I have a wip about this that I’m planning to finish and post for his birthday!

* Janus helped Thomas believe that he was an honest person. A good person, even. Because, that’s what Thomas wanted, as evidenced by the Big Time Spoilers. Even as Janus recognized the long term impacts of the lie. Even as he himself thought the whole moral dilemma was a distraction at best.

* The more Janus dedicated himself to becoming Deceit, the more he came to rely on lies, which is a large part of why his and Virgil’s relationship collapsed. All their conversations became like, to borrow an old metaphor of mine, fencing duels, with Janus always trying to assert his control and distract from his intentions with witty remarks, and Virgil always assuming the worst of him, rapidly switching between offense and defense.

* Janus and Remus’s relationship was, and is, much less hostile. Yes, Remus gets on his nerves, literally every day... but, unlike the others when it comes to Jan, “trust” isn’t a hurdle for Remus. They’re partners in crime; they’re best friends. And that’s enough. It has to be.

* I don’t really have a better place for the following diatribe, so here we go:

Ever since the Big Time Spoilers thing, Janus has done what he can to eliminate and prevent any feelings of regret for the bad things he does. He justifies to himself that it was the best choice he could have made, that it was a necessary evil; or, he convinces himself that what he said or did wasn’t that bad, the blame is on the everyone else for reacting the way they did; or, he simply goes “oopsie, my bad, definitely won’t repeat that mistake” and does everything he can not to think about it again. To quote the song “Devil in the Details” from his playlist again, “I put my past into the ground”.

Speaking of songs, there’s this line from the song “Never Love an Anchor” by The Crane Wives, one of my favorite bands incidentally:

It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest With this heart of mine that’s guilty not remorseful

Janus will readily admit to being guilty of having made bad decisions, decisions that hurt people (though in the moment he will be unreasonably stubborn about admitting he’s doing something wrong/stupid, to self defeating ends).

But remorseful? No, he’s never remorseful. At least, he’d like to believe he isn’t (because that would just make things so much more complicated).

And when so much of your own conception of yourself is based on lies you’ve told, to feel more confident, to feel like you belong, like you’re doing what you should be doing...

Is there really a difference?

I have No way Of telling The two Apart

Oh hey, “Devil in the Details”, what are you doing here again? It’s almost like I draw half of my entire Janus characterization from you alone /hj

* (This is a deliberate contradictory parallel to Virgil, who seems to keep a full record of every mistake Thomas has made (see ATDH). Anxiety constantly digs up your past mistakes, theoretically to make sure you don’t repeat them. What Thomas needs, as with every dilemma in this series, is a healthy balance between their two perspectives.)

* The last of the pre-canon headcanons I have is this. TL;DR, Janus helps Roman out when Thomas plays villianous roles (their cooperation could perhaps explain why Roman initially described Janus as “very nice”)

* Janus’s plan for CLBG was not to get caught; he was hoping to convince Thomas of his various merits over the course of multiple discussions, before properly revealing himself.

* When PattonJanus asks, “Virgil, it’s me. Aren’t we friends?” That’s like 10% him still trying to keep up the facade, but 90% him asking genuinely. And the fact that Virgil can’t even look at him when he answers implies that he has some doubt too... because it still might be Patton and he doesn’t want to hurt him? Or because, he knows it’s Janus, but his feelings are just that complicated?

* In between CLBG and SvS, Janus realizes the thing I pointed out earlier about his subconscious lies suddenly working not nearly as well on Thomas - specifically, the whole “good person” thing, since it’s currently causing him a lot of stress. Instead of dwelling on the fact that this has kind of undone years and years of work on his end, Janus goes, “You know what? I never believed that bullshit mattered anyway! I should convince Thomas that it doesn’t matter either; it’ll be much better for him in the long term.” And then the wedding vs callback dilemma presents the perfect opportunity. Hence, SvS, parts 1 and 2.

* Janus can read the other sides like open books... but only if they’re acting within the narrow perspective of what Janus would expect from them. The biggest example is with Roman in SvS. Janus knows that Roman wants to go to the callback more than anything. He’s Thomas’s Hopes and Dreams, for Pete’s sake! But what he doesn’t expect, is the extent to which Roman priorities Thomas being good (or believing himself to be good), even at the expense of his actual role as a side. That’s why Roman’s sentencing of Thomas throws him so badly; it’s when he realizes just how much Patton’s unopposed influence has affected Thomas (not that Patton ever meant it that way).

* My thoughts on Janus’s motivations for setting Remus loose in DWIT and his feelings on the matter afterward are covered in this fic (which you’ve commented on, but you know the hustle, gotta self promo where I can)

* So. Putting Others First. I don’t have much to add on top of the wonderful canon content it gave us. But.

“Sometimes I don't know the way. But... When I told you that, you were so scared. I couldn't bear it. So I said to myself, ‘Alright, Patton. Thomas needs you. You're responsible for his morality. You can never not have an answer for him.’

After Patton says this, the cut to Janus?

The Thing his face does after the eyebrow raise?

I live for this shit.

A while ago, my headcanon for this moment was that it was when Janus realized that Thomas wanted to be a good person, as much and as genuinely as he wanted anything else (like, being famous and fulfilling his dreams), and that, as the one who wants what Thomas wants, it’s a drive he should take into consideration. But then I rewatched CLBG, and was struck by this exchange:

[Thomas]: Why didn't I know about him until now? [Virgil]: He had you convinced you're an honest person. [Thomas]: But I... AM an honest person. [Deceit]: Oh, you are, Thomas. You are a good person. Everybody says so.

This is where some fo the earlier stuff about Janus playing into Thomas’s belief that he was a good person came from, and it required a changing of my interpretation of That Look in POF. So now? I take it as the moment Janus realizes that, when he revealed himself like a Scooby Doo villain, the effect wasn’t just that he could no longer use his comforting lies on Thomas. It put the whole responsibility of Thomas believing he’s good, something obviously very important to him, onto Patton, a side he could trust. And Janus knows what kind of toll that burden must have taken on him.

* I have plans now for a Janus & Patton fic set after the Janus & Logan one that’s been in limbo since the summer which will delve more into Janus’s vulnerabilities, going back to the whole idea of him being guilty but not feeling remorseful.

To not give away too much... Like how Logan insists he doesn’t feel things because he’s Logic, because it would get in the way of his function, Janus insists that he doesn’t have any interest in his own morality or how he’s perceived by the other sides, because it would get in the way of his ability to do what’s best for Thomas. He needs to be able to push Thomas to act in his own self-interest in all scenarios, and otherwise manipulate things behind the scenes, even when it requires being immoral. So he, Janus, can’t care about being a good person.

But Janus is a part of Thomas. And he won’t get away with hiding from the implications of that for much longer. 

He’ll have to face the mortifying ordeal of being known, and of feeling remorse.

Will this be his arc in canon? Who knows; I’m just having fun :)

...Those last two got kinda long. Sorry about that, lol. Let’s knock some final few ones out.

* Moving on, in FWSA, both Patton and Janus were watching the proceedings, with Janus contributing when called on (something he’s not used to, especially at that frequency). This leads to this post.

* Janus wants to have control, influence, some modicum of power, in any scenario he’s in. He does not like leaving things up to other people. He’s learned he can’t predict Remus and has mostly come to live with that, and he’ll ultimately bow to Thomas’s judgement if it conflicts with his own, but they are the only exceptions.

* This post.

* I don’t think about human AUs much, but, if you’ll allow me some projection: human Janus who’s nonbinary with eczema.

* An UnderTale related thought I posted months ago: A human Janus in that world would be a Determination (Red) soul, who has at times attempted and spectacularly failed at being a Patience soul. Put another way, the boy tries to plan and wait things out, but... you know.

* Lastly, he’s an enneagram type eight. Enjoy the song, and thanks for asking about my thoughts!

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Bonbon...just bonbon. Just bonbon stuck to his hand. And he has to make a choice to put up with bonbon, or cut off his own hand.

(Amazing idea that I cut short due to being so fucking tired and filled with writer’s anxiety to the MAX, smashing my head into the keyboard, but not wanting to keep abandoning the damn blog. Hope this is still fine though! I really need to cut back to shorter asks again, I should have considered that before making a “series” of this. At least it’s going to be done soon!)

Sometimes, your brain tells you to do stupid things. TRULY stupid things. Henry certainly was no stranger to it, not at all. Though usually he had a little bit more… of a reputation what to uphold. ‘What is the worst that could happen?’ That was the standard question to consider, the one thing to maintain at the forefront, while also eying the potential benefits of the risks. What was the worst that could happen? Usually death. That has prevented Henry from doing quite a few nonsensical actions, ranging from petty theft of objects he never needed, to making himself a name as a Serial Killer. Nonsensical ideas, with no rewards, and potentially risky chain reactions that could lead to the destruction of his entire work. It was for the better that they had gotten buried in his mind again, Henry would have been even more upset with himself now, looking back on his life, otherwise. Yet, now? Nothing was stopping him from the worst. Death? Never heard of ‘em. If you only wake up again in the same place as you were before, death lost its biting edge, it became old news, hardly worth a second thought. And this led to more and more bad ideas. However, today’s bad decision had taken the cake. Henry had sat down behind the desk just a moment ago, the night barely even started. Only few animatronics were roaming, thus it wasn’t anything to pay too much attention to. Maybe a few interesting conversations would come out of it- but that was it. So, instead he began picking apart the office. It wasn’t the common one, it was made out of steel and darker than the regular one, instead there were blinking lights shining- pizzas made out of plastic and glass, stage lights to the sides, and the eyes of two animatronics that were- probably not capable of coming to life. Probably. A shiny mask of Funtime Freddy’s and- The Puppet. The OTHER Puppet. God, when was it that he had designed and planned out THIS robot? It must have been when- … never mind that. Prying his attention away from the frozen machine, peacefully smiling, with its eyes glowing golden- Prying his attention AWAY, he turned to the table, where the small handpuppet of Bonnie was sitting. The panel to the side, filled with buttons and levers, was also interesting, but he would look at that later. The little machine seemed like a great opportunity to inspect if the animatronics were actually still working as they should have in reality… or if perhaps they were only plastic shells, filled with only the intent of the soul that created this place. He wasn’t sure what it would tell him about the maker… however more information was always useful. It was a light machine, in general. Its weight would still surprise anyone who wasn’t familiar with machines, but all in all? A lightweight, nothing to note. Peering into the opening, the Pink Guy noted that it was unnaturally dark inside of there. Even if he held it directly under a light, there seemed to be a void inside, swallowing all light, making it almost impossible to see any mechanisms that were in place. And that was when the terrible idea hit him. Usually there were a few criteria that thoughts of his had to pass before being translated into an action, like ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘what if’- due to his currently freedom of basically anything, it swiftly skipped past these hurdles. Before he knew what he really was doing, he put the little bunny onto his hand- Where it instantly clicked shut, grabbing his arm tightly from the inside. The lights flickered wildly, before the lighting changed to the usual “caught” atmosphere- Quite alarming. Now, there were two options- either a creature has come in from the outside while he was disracted, or BonBon was about to maul him. Seeing as the machine started twitching and booting up, the latter one seemed more likely, so Henry watched the creature with mild interest. What a funny way to kill him. The vengeful soul was rather creative, he had to admit that much. The bunny looked from the left to the right- Then up at Henry, who stared down at him somewhat unimpressed. For a moment both sides stared at each other in silence, then BonBon crossed his arms. “Put me down.” “Oh, I would if I could and in more sense than one. But you seem to be grabbing me.” “Where is Freddy!?” “On the wall, as far as I can see.” Looking at the mask, the bunny frowned for a moment, then swiped its claw over Henry’s eye and cheek, only barely missing the eye itself. Deep red scars were left on the cheek, blood slowly starting to drip down from it, a disgusting feeling in the Pink Guy’s opinion. “NOT FUNNY!” “DO NOT ATTACK ME.” “THEN STOP MESSING WITH ME! JUST BECAUSE I’M SMALL YOU THINK YOU CAN MESS WITH ME, HUH!?” Again he tried to attack, Henry only barely being able to hold him back. “I CAN EAT YOU. I CAN HURT YOU. AND I WILL IF YOU DON’T TELL ME WHERE MY FREDDY IS!” “I DO NOT KNOW.” “THEN FIND OUT!” “IF YOU STOP ATTEMPTING TO HARM ME, I MIGHT.” Finally, Henry was able to let go of the bunny, it wasn’t trying to rip him into pieces anymore. God, that little rat was a little stronger than he liked. “Last time I saw Funtime Freddy- or at least a thing somewhat resembling him- he was in the vents. Thus, the choice- do you want to let go of me and inspect them, or do you want to stay here and search the other rooms first?” BonBon- Benjamin, right? He thought he could remember him being called Benjamin before- looked at him angrily again, then his ears dropped. “I- don’t- I can’t! I don’t know how to! I think YOU did something to make me unable to let go, this isn’t my fault!” Finally, the aggression that had started to build up inside of him subsided, as he recognized this behavior easily. Benjamin was still a child, probably has not been very old when taken and not having been dead for more than a year or two. Raising his other hand, he tried to calm the boy down. “Alright, alright… I did not do anything, but if neither of us can separate from the other, we might have to look together. Would that be okay with you, Benjamin?” Wrong thing to say. “Wh-Who told you my name?! You don’t have a RIGHT to use my NAME-“ Something within Henry SNAPPED, the aggression returning, double as strong. “Please, CALM DOWN.” Finally, this seemed to shut him up. Perhaps it was the heightened aggression in his voice that helped- and while Henry didn’t enjoy trying to scare those weaker than him, this time it seemed to be necessary. This seemed to be the damn reason why that bear was borderline mad and always happy to throw this thing around. Looking at the little thing the man slowly shook his head, then took a deep breath. “Are you calm now, Bon? Good. Good. Amazing.” His tone had changed now, much sharper and colder than before. If it worked, it worked. “Let us have a nice walk now. A nice, long walk, you and I, both of us, maybe we will find Freddy, maybe we will not. And you know what, while we have this walk, we could also have a nice long talk about you. What brought you here, specifically.” “I- I don’t want to-“ Abruptly Henry moved his right hand, where Bonbon was located, almost smashing it into the wall. “Oh. I seem to have slipped. How CLUMSY of me. What were you saying?” It was a bluff. Of course it was. He wasn’t so pathetic as to try and harm a kid. But he also felt sick and tired of being in such a ridiculous situation. For a moment Bonbon stared at him nervously, his jaw slightly tremble, as he was caught between wanting to try and live with the situation, in hopes of it not getting worse, or if he should lash out, here and now, trying to kill the human he was attached to. “Only a little walking and a little talking and maybe we will find Freddy too. Do you not want that?” The easy way out. Old habits die hard. Most people preferred the devil that they knew. Including returning to familiar situations again and again, reenacting them, even if it had hurt before. The small machine pressed its ears against its body, clearly distress, but finally he nodded wordlessly, drawing a smile out of Henry, who was now more than willing to pretend he hadn’t very obviously threatened the kid before. “Fantastic! I am sure we will have a lot of fun. First and foremost, I would like to know, what is the last thing you remember from before waking up here…?” Maybe he would be able to make it up to the bunny a little while on the go. He did somewhat feel bad for him. They slipped outside the office. No animatronics in sight. And Henry for once was looking forward to a long night.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

yay its day 2!! uhh this one’s very dialogue heavy lol

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 2 - SECRETS AND PROMISES

“Hey... Cass?”

“Mhm?”

“The Day of Hearts is coming up. Think you’ll stick around for it this time?”

“Eugh. You know there’s a reason I don’t like to come back this time of year, right?”

Cassandra rolls her eyes so spectacularly far back Rapunzel can’t help but laugh despite the gesture being directed at her.

“Well, since you returned I’ve been thinking about the first Day of Hearts we spent together.”

“Oh, geez, this again? Can’t we just put that whole incident in the past?” Cass grumbles.

She’s posing – stiffly as a whistle, mind – for one of Rapunzel’s signature portraits. Rapunzel knows that Cass gets restless whenever she paints her, but the request is a way she can keep her in one place for a while. (That, and Cass is one of her favourite muses; something about the sharpness of her eyes draws her in, and the delight she takes in trying to paint hints of her toned muscles under her formless clothing is unparalleled.)

Cassandra hasn’t been back for… over six months now. She’s missed her.

“You just seemed so… annoyed about the whole affair, even before that guy Andrew arrived in Corona,” Rapunzel continues, mixing up a creamy paint for the base of Cassandra’s skin. “Was it really because you were only pretending to date him?”

“No, no, it had nothing to do with him at the core of it, I just… don’t care for romance and hearts, and Shorty dressing as whatever the hell kind of messed up cherub he’s going for.”

“Sure, the sight isn’t for everybody,” Rapunzel laughs. “You still believe you don’t care for romance and hearts though, after all this time?”

“You’re an exception to the rule, all right? Besides, Corona has way too many public holidays for my liking.”

“All right, noted. I’ve just always wondered if there was something more to it. I know we don’t share everything, and I know you have boundaries. If you really don’t want to talk about it, I’ll drop the subject. Princess’s Honour.”

She holds up her hand in a scout-like salute, almost dropping her paintbrush in the process, and Cass laughs.

“As a rogue traveller, Princess’s Honour only goes so far these days.”

“Well, what about Girlfriend’s Honour?”

“Now that, I can work with.” Cass hums in thought. “To tell you the truth, Raps, I just don’t have a great experience with romance. Besides you, of course.”

“I have no experience with romance besides you and Eugene,” Rapunzel remarks. “Does that make us about even?”

Cass grins, shaking her head in exasperation. “Uh, maybe, I guess. Besides, even if I was looking for love – which I’m not, just to clarify – it’s not so straightforward as that.”

“What?! Why? I know you, er, don’t warm up to people so easily, but you’re smart and funny and strong, and you’re beautiful! Any man would-”

“Well that’s one of the bigger hurdles, to start with,” Cass interrupts. Her mouth pulls into a line as she contemplates her next words, her eyes darting between Rapunzel and the door as if calculating her odds of being able to make a hasty exit if things get too personal for her liking. “I don’t date men, Rapunzel. At all. I thought that would be obvious, since I’m in love with you, but...”

Rapunzel stares, brush suspended midway to the canvas as she processes that last statement.

“What, at all? But, I thought – even if you were pretending with Andrew, you still…”

“Seriously?! After all that happened you thought I would actually be attracted to that whiny, pig-headed-”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Rapunzel holds out her hand, and Cass stops her arm-waving tirade to glare at Rapunzel. “Please, Cass, I’m still painting you.”

Cass pulls a face and reluctantly moves back into her original pose, before starting again. “Rapunzel, did you listen to that ridiculous story about the sheepskin jacket? I had to hear it three times. And the preaching on and on about being a bibliophile, while I had to sit there knowing perfectly well he couldn’t even spell the word… Any shred of curiosity I might have had for how the other half lives – it left long before that last retelling, believe me.”

“He had a nice face,” Rapunzel offers.

“A nice face is just a nice face, it doesn’t mean anything. Don’t forget he’s tried to invade Corona twice already.”

“Hmm. Good point. Well, you have me now, so we can forget about that guy.”

“I honestly haven’t given that clown a passing thought in years.” She stands patiently as Rapunzel holds up a tube of paint against her tunic to judge how much warm blue to mix with the yellow in her palette. “Besides, you’re telling me our extremely brief sham relationship felt believable to you? I’m surprised. Romance isn’t something you can just… force.”

And Rapunzel gets that – no, really, she does. While her relationship with Eugene has had its share of rough patches over the years, it’s something that happened organically. After all that she’s been through with Cassandra, it should have been obvious that she’d never had even an ounce of fondness towards the guy she had almost mercilessly swindled. Some small part of Rapunzel just wanted Cass to have felt happy and safe with someone in the days before they got together, she supposes.

“I guess back then I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did,” Rapunzel admits. She etches out Cassandra’s sturdy frame in shades of moss green, each stroke a little bolder than the last. “Maybe I still don’t. But I’d like to, you know! Has there ever been someone else you liked, as more than a friend?”

“...Once,” Cass begrudgingly admits. “It’s not exactly a happy story.”

“But it’s your story.” Rapunzel peers around the canvas to meet Cass’s reluctant gaze. “If you’re willing to share it, I’m here to listen.”

“God, I’ve never talked about this with anyone,” Cass sighs, folding her arms over her chest. This time, Rapunzel doesn’t bother asking her to move back into her original pose, out of fear of detracting from the story. “Well, anyone who doesn’t already know, anyway.”

“It won’t leave this room,” Rapunzel promises. She mixes a shade darker than the tunic and begins to fleck in little details. Stitches, tears, stains, anything to bring the girl on her canvas to life as the girl in front of her begins to recount her tale.

“...Her name was Alix. When I was turned fourteen my education was finished and I got indoctrinated into being a palace maid by my father. Alix was the same age as me but had been working there much longer, so she sort of took me under her wing and taught me the basics of, y'know, folding laundry properly! Making beds to the palace standards! All that stuff.”

“You've never mentioned an Alix before,” Rapunzel murmurs. She tries to conjure an image of this elusive Alix. Was she pretty? Did they understand each other on levels Rapunzel fears the two of them might never? Did she go charging in out of the goodness of her heart, blind to the consequences, like Rapunzel so often does when it comes to Cassandra’s wellbeing?

“There's a reason for that,” Cass sighs. She peeks over at Rapunzel doubtfully. “This... isn't going to paint me in a favourable light.”

“I can take it!” Rapunzel says, almost indignantly. She reaches over, standing on her tiptoes and stretching out her arm as far as it’ll reach past the canvas, to squeeze Cassandra's hand. “It’s me, Cass. You can tell me.”

Cassandra cracks a smile and hangs her head. “All right, all right! But you've been warned. Okay, so... just over a year after we first met, we started… I don’t know, being a couple, I guess. Iit wasn’t anything serious. Or maybe it was. I don't know, it was my first time just – just being with somebody, you know? It was all new to me – liking somebody, liking another girl.”

Rapunzel tries to picture an adolescent Cass, running arm-in-arm with this girl, whose features she just can’t seem to imagine. It’s pretty surreal, seeing as Cass was such a closed-off person when they first met, that she could ever be this giggly teenager smitten over a first crush. Then again, hasn’t Rapunzel been witness to moments like that, when she takes Cassandra’s hand unexpectedly, or hugs her from behind, or puts into words just how much she cares for her?

Against her better judgement, Rapunzel abandons detailing on the tunic and focuses on Cassandra’s face instead, wishing to capture a hint of that life in her eyes; memories of times she’s caught her unguarded, rather than the gloomy face of her girlfriend in front of her.

“So the Day of Hearts is approaching,” Cass continues, “and we’ve been together for a few months. It’s been great. But then one day Alix decides that when the day rolls around, the two of us are going to sign Herz Der Sonne’s journal together.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s a big step.” What else can she say? She and Eugene only signed their names last year, and they’d waited to get engaged before feeling ready to take that next step. She can only imagine the immense pressure someone like Cass, who has always been skittish about committing to anything in the department of romance, would feel when propositioned with something like that.

“Thank you, exactly! It felt like the biggest deal in the world! It was a big commitment, we were way too young, and I didn’t even think we were together long enough to do something like that.”

Rapunzel frowns. “So what happened?”

“We argued about it.” Cass snorts. “She called me chicken, like if she psyched me out enough I’d change my mind. Can you imagine that, saying it’s chicken for not wanting to commit to someone when you’re just barely fifteen?”

Rapunzel can’t imagine. At fifteen she’d never even met someone she could consider a romantic interest. Even the few books in the tower gave her a very limited view on what romance was.

“Anyway, I told her no. A firm no. I didn’t mind us spending the day together, but I didn’t want a written reminder that would show the whole world who we were. Of course, that turned into a fight about, you know, identity politics and pride in ourselves and stuff that as a kid I really didn’t think too much about. Well, she stormed off and I finished my shift as normal.”

Cass’s face changes a little, from this tired exasperation to… something of a stormy expression. “But I didn’t realise that she’d swiped my keys in the heat of our argument. That night, she snuck in and signed our names in the book after dark.”

Rapunzel’s jaw drops.

“But – but that’s against everything the ritual stands for! It’s something couples are meant to do together, with – with complete honesty!”

“Alix didn’t exactly care much about the rules, it’s what drew us together in the first place. Anyway, the next day she told me all about it, like it was something to be proud of. Really gloated that now we were serious and she’d done it because she wasn’t afraid of her feelings or what anybody thought about us.” Cassandra’s eyes narrow at the memory. “So I took a swing at her.”

“With a sword?!” Rapunzel frets.

“What? No, with the end of my broom. We were working. You think I’d still be working in the palace when we met if I’d struck another maid down with a sword?” Cass’s mouth draws into a grim line, and she suddenly finds herself incredibly interested in her own feet. “Well, that turned into the two of us physically fighting, so we were put on latrine duty as punishment and my dad was summoned. I was so distraught about what happened I couldn’t even think about explaining it to him, but somebody happened to overhear what we were fighting about and showed him the book.”

She falls quiet, and the silence stretches on. Rapunzel stops her almost frantic etching of facial features to peer past her canvas in concern, before Cass finally speaks up again. “That’s how he found out about me. About who I was.”

“Are you okay?” Rapunzel asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just kind of a horrible way for it all to go down, right?” She looks over at Rapunzel, eyes almost blazing, and utters, “My dad is a good man. He saw how furious and upset I was and marched right to the king to explain the situation. Hours later, our names were papered over and we pretty much never spoke of it again.”

Rapunzel thinks back to the times over the years that she’s spent flipping through the pages of the journal, recalling the one page with a simple square of embossed lilac paper neatly concealing the paper beneath, clearly a later edition. She had always wondered about it.

“And what happened to Alix?” Rapunzel ventures, as she mixes a deep raven for Cassandra’s hair.

“She was fired for breaking into the throne room after hours and desecrating royal property,” Cass recalls with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “After all, your father is a stickler for tradition. Last I heard she took up a post in Pittsford, but I don’t keep tabs on her or anything.” She spreads her arms out in a theatrical gesture. “Anyway, there you have it. My very sad, very brief experience of love.”

“She sounds awful,” Rapunzel declares, shaking her head in disdain. Cass shrugs.

“She wasn’t. Misguided, inconsiderate and a horrible decision-maker, yes, but she wasn’t a bad person. We were kids. I like to think she’s embarrassed about what happened, but I guess we’ll never know.”

“...So that’s the real reason you hate the Day of Hearts.”

“Raps, we went through this already!” groans Cass. “It’s not to do with any one thing, I just… don’t care for commercial romance and public holidays, that’s all there is to it.” She pinches her brow tiredly. “But I hated the book for years after. Just knowing our names were in there, even if no one else could see, just made me mad.”

“I’m sorry that it happened to you,” Rapunzel says gently. “It wasn’t a fair situation.”

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done. Look, uh…” Cass folds her arms, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “Can you… not tell Eugene about any of that? Or anyone? Not like… that I’m a lesbian, you can tell anybody that. In fact, I’m pretty sure Eugene already knows that part. But… all the stuff about Alix. That whole chapter of my life is kind of embarrassing, and I just. I don’t like to bring it up, so.”

“Cassandra, I promised you,” Rapunzel says, setting down her paintbrush and moving over to her. She grabs her hand and squeezes tight. “This is between us. No matter what.”

Pinched expression melting into relief, Cass squeezes back and squares her shoulders. “Thanks. So, can I see this painting yet? Or move from this spot, at least?”

“Sure, come here.”

Rapunzel leads her over to admire the canvas. The painting is a little odd, compared to Rapunzel’s typical style; the pose is stiff and vacant, just as Cassandra had been stood herself, but the ferocious brush strokes and tiny details woven in amplify the tension radiating from her body language, almost to the point of appearing antagonistic. Likewise, her expression is bright, wide-eyed and challenging; just as it is when Rapunzel says something overtly romantic or daring that takes her away from her usual focused exterior.

The amalgamation of those characteristics creates a vision of Cass that looks ready to jump up and pick a fight at any moment. Rapunzel glances over at Cass, an apology on the tip of her tongue, only to find that her girlfriend looks somewhere between amused and enamoured by the final product.

“I, um, didn’t mean to paint you looking so confrontational,” Rapunzel begins.

“Are you kidding me? I love this! Look, Raps, as much as I love your usual paintings of the two of us smiling at each other and hugging in a meadow or the like, this… it’s unusual for you. It’s fierce. I really, really love it.”

She leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Rapunzel’s head, before pulling her into a side hug. Rapunzel leans into the hug, beaming up at her.

“I’m glad you like it. It makes the standing in one spot for too long worthwhile, doesn’t it?”

“Ehh, almost. I wouldn’t push it too hard, Raps.”

“...Hey, Cass?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you think you’ll ever write your name in Herz Der Sonne’s journal, after what happened?”

“Maybe. See, now that you mention it, there’s this girl who I really like…” Rapunzel cranes her neck to look up at her, unimpressed, and Cass’s mouth quirks into a grin. “I’m talking about you, Raps. Just so we’re clear.”

“No, no, by all means! If there’s someone you’d like me to meet…”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint, it’s definitely not Andrew.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Rapunzel reaches up to cup Cass’s face, gently pulling her in close. “And it’s definitely not that jerk Alix, right?”

Cassandra’s grin grows wider. “You’re not jealous of the girlfriend I briefly had when I was a teenager, are you, Rapunzel?”

“What? No! I just, y’know, wish she’d treated you better, that’s all,” Rapunzel grumbles. “You deserve better, Cass. You deserve the world and more.”

With a huff of laughter, Cass leans in and kisses Rapunzel softly. “Lucky for me, my current girlfriend knows how to treat me right.”

“You know, my magic girlfriend powers work best on the Day of Hearts,” Rapunzel trills, twirling a strand of Cassandra’s hair around her finger. “Just so you’re aware.”

Cass groans. “I better not regret it if I agree to stick around this year.”

“You won’t! We’ll keep it nice and lowkey. You’ll never even know it’s the most romantic day of the year!”

“Uh huh, keep talking…”

Maybe this year won’t be the year. In fact, after everything Cass has told her today, wouldn’t it be super insensitive to broach the topic of signing the book together in two days time? Still, as she glances back to the painting of the tough fighter of a woman staring back at her, warmth washes over her, settling comfortably in the pit of her stomach.

Some day, when the timing is right, wouldn’t it be wonderful?

[sad-goomy]

confessions

Day 4 of Postwickshipping Week

Read on Ao3

Victor is tired.

Partly because he just got back from an expedition to Mt. Coronet and his body has yet to adjust to the shifting time zones.

Also partly because Sonia’s sick today, leaving him and Hop to actually run the lab, and it’s required a lot more running around on errands than he expected.

But mostly because he’s had to watch his twin and his best friend moon over each other for years now, and it’s all culminated into the nearly half-hour long rant that Hop has been going on as they care for the lab’s garden, going on and on about how he doesn’t want to make things weird, but Gloria’s so great, and he thinks he’s been dropping hints but he’s not sure if they’ve been clear, and, and, and...

And Victor is tired.

He sets down his watering can, letting out an exasperated sigh that cuts Hop off mid-sentence before turning to him and grabbing his shoulders, forcing him to stay quiet and look at him as he signs.

Tell her.

Hop blinks, fumbling with the clipboard and pencil in his hands as he looks off to the right, at the spliced berry tree that he’s supposed to be taking notes on. His voice is small, the shyness such a stark contrast to his usual self that Victor drops his shoulders, slightly more sympathetic as Hop mumbles, “But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Honestly, it’s a wonder Victor’s put up with this for so long. His face falls into a deadpan. She does.

“Are you sure?”

If looks could kill, Hop would be buried six feet under the spliced berry tree.

Instead, he swallows hard, gripping his clipboard tighter as Victor finally lightens up on the death glare. With a deep breath, Hop runs a hand through his hair, the pen in his hand very nearly getting snagged on a tangle. “How though?”

The garden grows quiet for a moment as the two think, Victor tilting his head before shaking it, quickly signing, Gloria’s a bit dense. Be straightforward and just tell her.

He’s right, of course; as much as the two love her, they also know that the Champion’s always a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to things like romance. Besides, it’s better to keep things clear, to avoid the awkward confusion of a messy confession that’ll only drag things out.

But Hop feels his hands grow clammy at just the idea of saying the words straight to her face, and he loses his appetite at the thought that there’s still a chance she can reject him. As he turns back to his observations, Victor picking up the watering can once more, he decides it can’t hurt to get a second opinion on what to do.

...

Marnie agreed to meet up with him a few days later, in between her gym challenges. They’d sat on the stage, her listening as he rambled on about his dilemma, because as embarrassed as he might be, Marnie’s always been a good listener.

She nodded her head sagely before taking a sip from her water bottle. “I’m no good with this stuff,” she sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “But you could send her a song. Something romantic. Tell her she should listen and it made you think of her.”

It’s certainly less nerve-wracking than saying it to her face, but now Hop finds himself lying on his bed, agonizing over the exact phrasing. Eventually, he decides on the second version of the text that he concocted, adds in an emoji, and shoots off the text along with a link to the song (something from a new favorite band of his and a bit on the nose with lyrics about falling for the girl next door).

From: Hopscotch [20:13] heard this and thought of you :) lmk what you think

He then tosses his phone onto the opposite side of the bed, burying his face in his hands to keep from calling her and taking it back, playing it all off as a joke.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes, and his stomach turns as he slowly picks it up, checking her response with his heart hammering in his chest.

From: Glowstick [20:18] Wow, that was really good! I’ll have to check out more of their stuff :D

From: Glowstick [20:19] You always know the coolest music

Hop stares at his screen in silence for the longest three minutes of his life, and then he lets his phone fall on his face as he groans with the realization that she didn't catch any of the romantic intention and he’ll have to try something else.

...

Bede was absolutely smug, and it took every ounce of self-control within Hop to not start a fight immediately. After all, the Ballonlea gym leader took time out of his day to meet with him at the lab, even if he immediately launched into how silly he thought this entire thing was.

With a far too haughty look on his face, Bede rolled his eyes and told him, “Get her a gift, something undeniably romantic – flowers maybe, although jewelry would be better. You both have bad taste, I’m sure she’ll like whatever you pick out.”

Mild insults aside, it wasn’t terrible advice, and so Hop finds himself in the Wyndon Stadium locker room, sitting on a bench and waiting for Gloria to finish up her training session. He slides a long box out of the inside pocket of his jacket, fidgeting with it in his hands. He chose a simple golden locket, something small that he can easily picture her wearing, but heart-shaped because...that’s romantic, right? Friends don’t usually get each other heart-shaped jewelry – there's no way this could be ambiguous.

Footsteps draw his eyes to the entrance, his foot bouncing as quickly as his heart beats while he waits. A moment later, Gloria appears, spotting him with a warm smile as she greets, “Fancy seeing you here! You should’ve texted me; I’d wrap up training a little earlier.”

“Just wanted to surprise you.” He stands, fumbling with the box as he turns and watches her walk past him and open her locker. His hands are getting sweaty, and if he fusses any more with the ribbon on the box he’ll ruin the delicate wrapping, so the second she has her jacket and bag on, closing her locker, he holds out the necklace box. She blinks, raising a brow at him as he quickly stammers, “I uh, got you something.”

Her smile is back, if a tad confused as she adjusts her grip on her bag. “What for?”

“Just...because.”

“You’re real sweet,” she says, sending his heart soaring only for it to plummet a moment later when she gently pushes his hand holding the box back towards his chest, adding sheepishly, “But I don’t have anything for you.”

Hop shakes his head. “That’s fine, really.”

“I know, I know, but...” She fidgets with the sleeves of her jacket, cheeks taking on a shade of pink that has him nearly distracted from his mission with how adorable it is. When she glances back up at him, she gives him a wink. “Well, I just feel bad. Save it for my birthday?”

He could scream. She’s never been good with gifts, and he knows that, so he doesn’t know why he expected anything else from her. Gloria gets too shy about being doted on, is always so quick to deflect it.

With a defeated smile, he slides the box back into his pocket, because if he says anything else, tries to get her to open it at this point, then he’ll have to actually tell her how he feels and that is just about the last thing he wants to do now.

The air between them is slightly awkward, so she clears her throat, looping her arm around his as she asks, “Since you came all the way here, wanna grab a bite? My treat.”

He very nearly tells her that now she’s the one who’s giving him something, that he wants to spoil her like she always finds a way to spoil him, but she’s giving him that one crooked little smile that has him simply smiling back, nodding as they walk out of the locker room.

There’s always next time.

...

Leon was no help.

Sonia was a little more help.

They were his last resort, because sure enough, when he approached the two in the living room while they were cuddled up on the couch and asked for advice, he had to suffer half an eternity of teasing, only for Leon to then have the nerve to shamelessly declare, “Oh, I didn’t confess to Sonia.”

She snuggled closer into his side, smirking at Hop’s absolutely disgruntled expression as she explained, “Lee was even worse than Gloria. I basically had to kiss him for him to realize.” Hop paled at that, calculations running through his mind as she tilted her head, slightly confused. “But haven’t you tried just telling her?”

He’d quickly excused himself after that, not giving them the satisfaction of seeing the brilliant blush on his cheeks as he escaped back to his room.

A blush that’s now making a comeback as he sits next to Gloria on a mossy fence on Route 1, Sonia’s words reverberating in his head.

Stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye proves to be a mistake, as he flushes three shades deeper at the sight of her smiling peacefully out at the fields, her bare legs swinging in the warm breeze that ruffles her dress.

Of course, Hop has thought about kissing her before, in a situation not unlike this one. But there’s a huge hurdle from thinking to doing, one he can’t quite push himself to make, no matter how long the silence stretches.

“I’m glad we still get to see each other so often.” She looks up at him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before smiling wide, and he swears his heart stops for a moment. “I was nervous we’d both be too busy, and I didn’t know what I was gonna do without my best mate.”

Well, he can’t not kiss her after that.

Still, he hesitates, looking down at her with wide eyes as she turns her attention back to the hills. Before he can overthink it, he leans down, his lips brushing against her warm cheek for a fraction of a second, and then he’s pulling as far back as possible, bracing himself for the worst.

She blinks, lips parted as she catches his eye, and he thinks, mercifully, that she finally understands.

And then Gloria’s leaning over and pulling him into a half hug as she coos, “Lucky to have such a cute best friend.”

Which is...is that a rejection? Hop looks down at her, his own arm wrapping around her shoulder to return the hug even as the gears in his head work overtime to make sense of what’s just happened. It could be a soft “no,” but she’s smiling up at him without a hint of discomfort or surprise. A sense of dread creeps over him as he realizes that she took it platonically, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbles instead.

It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth, and so Hop plasters on a smile and fights the urge to tell her that she’s his very best friend and so much more to him.

...

Victor is so tired.

Hop relays every failed confession to him when they’re at work, and because Victor is a good friend he listens, and he laments along with him, and he keeps himself from pulling out “I told you so.” Instead, he exercises the patience of a saint, and that’s wearing him out quickly when he realizes that at this rate it’ll be another ten years before this mess takes care of itself.

And if he has to put up with this for even just another week, he’s going to pass out from exhaustion.

He’s in the back of the lab with Hop, going through slides of Wishing Stars, when the front door opens. Sonia’s voice chirps from the kitchen, “Hey Gloria!”

Victor looks up from his microscope to see Hop next to him, body frozen and eyes wide with fear as Gloria’s voice carries through the air. “Hi Sonia – is Hop here?”

“In the back with Vic.”

“Is it okay if I borrow him for a second?”

Hop looks around, sheer panic written on his face, and his eyes settle on the broom closet. Acting on pure instinct, he begins walking towards it, only for Victor cut him off and grab him by the arm, ignoring his weak protests as he drags the other assistant towards the front.

Sonia and Gloria glance over at them, their conversation grinding to a halt at the sight of Victor frowning as he drags a reluctant Hop behind him.

“Is now a bad time?” Gloria asks, question ending in a giggle as Hop breaks free of Victor’s grasp. Sonia raises a brow at the two before shaking her head, turning back to her tea and datasheets at the kitchen table. The Champion shifts her weight, looking between the pair of assistants as she adds, “Victor said you had something to tell me.”

Every ounce of color drains out of Hop’s face as he lifts his hands, glancing around and desperate to avoid her eyes. “Oh, n-no, not–”

Forget if looks could kill.

The glare that Victor gives him wouldn’t even leave a body to identify.

Hop swallows hard, turning back to Gloria with a nervous smile. “Can we talk outside?”

She nods, a worried wrinkle forming between her brows as they walk out the front door. He leans against one of the front windows of the lab, thankful that the street is relatively empty. Gloria stands next to him, arms behind her back as she looks up at him, patient and confused.

Hop meets her eyes for a second, and it’s too much, so he looks back down at his feet as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Is everything okay?” Her voice isn’t quite worried, but it’s not as playful as it once was, which sends him into another panic because the last thing he ever wants to do is worry her.

“Yeah, it’s not...well, I guess it’s important, but it’s not anything serious. Er, maybe it is? I’m not...”

His voice peters off into a weak mumble, and his hands slowly stop gesticulating to instead hang strangely in front of his chest. He very nearly cuts his losses then and there, deciding he’d rather just go back inside and pretend this never happened than embarrass himself further, but Gloria has a sparkle in her eyes as she laughs behind her hand, guiltily amused at his strange display.

The corner of his lips quirks up, and he shoves his hands into his pockets as the sound of her giggles helps untie the knot of anxiety in his chest. “Should probably just spit it out, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” she says with a faux-sage nod, the remnants of her laughter forming a lopsided smile.

But looking at her while thinking of what he’s about to say makes his stomach turn, so he shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath as his brows knit together in concentration.

“I like you.”

He’s not sure what he expects, but it’s not the silence that follows. Hop cracks open one eye, only to find that Gloria’s looking at him, clearly confused as she chuckles, “Well yeah, I should hope so.”

His shoulders drop as that all too familiar sensation of missing the mark comes over him. It would be an easy out to take, to spin this all as some elaborate show of friendship, but Hop has come too far to go back now (and he gets the feeling Victor might really murder him at this point).

“No, like,” he falters, struggling to walk the line of not being brave enough to say too much versus being too frustrated to say too little, “As more than a friend.”

“Right, we’re best friends.”

She’s so earnest that it only adds to his frustration, and Hop is torn between laughing and crying as he huffs and plows on. “Have you ever thought about us being more than that?”

Her brows furrow. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“Y’know, best friends but...”

“But?”

“More affectionate.”

“Oh, like when you kissed me on the cheek.”

“Not platonic.”

“I’m just not sure what you’re–”

“Arceus’ sake, Glo, I’m in love with you!”

It’s absurdly quiet in Wedgehurst, making Gloria’s silence all the louder. Hop stares down at her, red-faced and shaking, watching as her face unwinds from confusion and falls slack in surprise. Her eyes are wide with realization as a blush slowly crawls across her cheeks and to the tips of her ears.

She blinks once, twice, and then whispers a breathless, “Oh.”

He nods, and his tongue is too big for his mouth suddenly but he still manages to mumble, “Yeah.”

Her blush goes from carnation to firetruck as she holds his gaze, and then her face breaks into a wide smile that has a swarm of Butterfree flutter in his throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He’s mirroring her smile now, and she’s laughing again as she tucks her hair behind her ears, giddy and nervous and finally understanding. The last of the nerves leaves him as he reaches for her hands, slowly intertwining their fingers, searching her face for the slightest sign of hesitation but only finding excitement. “Fair to say you feel the same?”

All she can manage is a nod, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

“Ace.” His eyes are slightly unfocused, glazed over in something hazy and sugary as he unabashedly stares at her lips, too lost in the freedom of finally having it all out there to be self-conscious anymore. “Can I kiss you now?”

With another nod from her, he leans down, brushing his lips against hers until she pulls him further down, deepening it with a smile as he wraps his arms around her like he’s wanted to for as long as he can remember.

...

Sonia takes another sip, feeling just a little creepy that she’s watching one of her assistants and the Champion make out, but then they decided to go and have a romantic moment right in front of her lab’s window. She turns, looking to the chair across from her as she chuckles, “Oi Victor, what did you...”

But the boy is passed out, head resting on his arms as he takes a nap on the table. Sonia gives his sleeping form a sympathetic smile before taking another sip of tea.

“Guess he was tired.”