#the creative side of my brain hasn’t been used in a while its covered in dust

[wishchip106]

reading a fic rn when cherik are so entirely smitten for eachother its driving me crazy

they aint even together yet

gonna need this translated to the big screen (cherik specifically not so much the fic even tho its good)

need to see gay people on my television 😔

[sylvies-chen]

Suggestions - Melendaire

(AO3 link)

// Neil accidentally lets something slip on a drowsy Sunday morning in bed with his girlfriend. Claire, naturally, panics. //

Word count: 2384

Neil Melendez wakes up with Claire Browne in his arms just about every morning.

The feeling still hasn’t gotten old.

Their one-year anniversary is coming around the corner. Just under two weeks away, the surgeon realizes when he does the math in his head. And even after all this time, the feeling of waking up with her head on his shoulder and tucked under his arm has never lost its luster. The rush of excitement and pure affection still rushes through his veins all the same. He’s still groggy as that dawns on him, barely awake enough to move away from the blinding sunlight coming in from the bedroom window. All he does is squint and tilt his head the other way, right into Claire’s brown curls. Getting a face full of hair should bother him, but he’s used to it by now— it only makes him smile.

They don’t need to get up right away today. It’s one of their few days off, which means they’ll spend most of the morning the way they usually do when they get a day off: sleeping in for a while, going a few rounds if they’re in the mood, and then making pancakes for breakfast. It’s a nice routine they’ve gotten into over the past year, one that’s made Neil dread work the next day. He just likes spending time with her too much; likes getting lost in her and her soft brown eyes.

Suddenly, he feels her stirring in his arms and she opens her eyes, waking up slowly with a tired moan. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he replies, sitting up in the bed leaning against the backboard.

“Ugh, I hate early. I want to kill early,” Claire groans. “Do we have to get up?”

“No. It’s our day off, we can sleep in. No surgeries, no difficult patients, no paperwork. None of it.”

“Good,” Claire sighs contentedly, pressing a lazy kiss to his cheek and sitting up to snuggle into him. “I like staying here with you.”

“I like it too,” he admits, smiling. “Hey, what do you say we go running this afternoon?”

“Yeah? You think we’ll be fully awake by then?”

“Definitely,” he affirms. “We can sleep in and then go after lunch. And the only thing I love more than you and my work is beating you at the track.”

“Oh, really funny, Neil,” she quips sarcastically, giggling. “If you win, it’s because you cheat!”

“I prefer to call it being creative,” he protests. “Besides, you’re the one who keeps falling for the old ‘fake an injury’ trick. I’ve done it a hundred times now and you fall for it every time.”

“Well excuse me for trying to be a good girlfriend,” she mumbles teasingly, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry though, sweetheart. When I beat you this afternoon, it’ll be fair and square,” he comforts teasingly, pressing a kiss to her head. They normally spend their mornings like this too— exchanging quick kisses.

“You’re unbelievable,” Claire giggles. “Always so—“

“Arrogant?” He guesses the end of her sentence, because it’s one of the first things she’d called him when she came to St. Bonaventure’s.

“Self-assured,” she corrects him. “But if you want to say arrogant then I won’t argue with that.” She gives him a teasing smirk, which sends them both into a fit of laughter.

“I want to marry you,” he lets out as he chuckles, before he can really think about it.

Oh crap. Something he hadn’t even expected to say, something lingering underneath the surface of his mind, just slipped out.

Oh crap. Claire’s staring at him with eyes like a deer in headlights.

Oh crap. What the hell did he just say?

It’s not like he doesn’t want to marry her. He definitely does. They’ve been dating for quite some time now, ever since that close call during the earthquake nearly a year ago. But they’d both agreed to take things slowly, especially since it had taken everyone at work a little while to adjust to the idea of him and Claire in a relationship. Dr. Melendez and Dr. Browne, secret lovers. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but they’d weathered it together. He loves her and she loves him, that’s all that ever really mattered. Now, they’ve built this life together— a routine of date nights and tender kisses. He’s never felt happier, and his love for her has only grown stronger with time.

So yeah, the thought of marrying her has crossed his mind more than once. Although apparently, it’s crossed his mind more frequently than he’d thought because here he is, blurting out a proposal while tangled up in bed with his girlfriend on a Sunday morning.

“What?” Claire gets out of bed and stands up, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest. Suddenly, through Neil’s fault and his fault alone, she’s wide awake and alert.

Neil winces, his nose scrunching up into his eyes. “Nothing. I mean, I didn’t— that’s not...”

“Oh my god,” she lets out, quiet and stunned as she gets up out of the bed and takes the sheet with her, keeping it wrapped around her body. “You just asked me to marry you?!”

“No no no,” he replies frantically, reaching to grab his boxers and yanking them on before standing up to face her. The bed separates them, but her eyes are wild and piercing with shock. He knows he’s just done something monumentally stupid. “That wasn’t a proposal, I swear.”

“Then what the hell was that?”

“It was...” he pauses to rack his brain for something to say to get him out of the corner he’s backed himself into, and he only lands on one thing. “... a suggestion,” he finishes with a shrug.

“A suggestion?” She looks at him skeptically, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Yes,” he confirms hesitantly.

“Ok, that’s it,” she nods curtly. “you’re insane. This— this is insane!”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “It was a nice moment, I was happy and still half asleep, and- and it just slipped out. Like it or not, I said it. But if you want to go back and pretend like it didn’t happen then fine, we can do that.”

“Well we can’t go back now, Neil,” she huffs. “I can’t go on pretending you didn’t just say that. I mean— god, I can still hear it in my head even now! We need to talk about it.”

“Ok,” he sighs— a little defeatedly, since he has a gut feeling that this conversation isn’t going anywhere he likes (and his gut has never steered him wrong, being a surgeon has taught him that much). “The floor’s open for discussion, Browne. How do you want to go about this?”

He tries to be as clinical as possible he waits for a response. This whole situation is a little embarrassing, really. In the small amount of time since they’ve woken up in each other’s arms, Neil’s somehow managed to blurt out a proposal to his girlfriend of less than a year and has nearly ruined everything. They’re both standing on opposite sides of the bed, in nothing but their underwear, and Neil swears the tension is thick enough to choke them to death. He can picture his colleagues attempting some hypothetical surgery, can picture calling the time of death of their relationship and marking the cause of death off as asphyxiation on some intangible substance. It’s funny, in some weird and twisted way. He’s beating himself up over where this conversation is heading, but at least Glassman would get a kick out of it.

But then, by some miracle, it doesn’t head that way at all.

Claire exhales quietly, deep in thought. Melendez can see her muscles relaxing, the tension leaving from her shoulders as she sits back down on the bed. She leans in a little, staring shyly at her fingers sunken into the bedsheets. “Well, for starters... I think you should ask me again.”

“What?” His brows furrow as a small smile creeps onto his face. Neil sits down across from her on the bed, delightfully stunned. “Are you being serious?”

“I am,” she replies calmly. Her tone is a hell of a lot calmer than Neil feels right now. He can practically feel the excitement rushing through his veins.

Is she saying what he thinks she’s saying?

Neil hasn’t expected this conversation to come for a long time. They grew into each other’s love in time, but it doesn’t erase the scars they have. Claire’s pain and trauma is actually what made her so scared to admit she loved him in the first place. It’d taken him being on the brink of death for her to admit her feelings. Now, they’ve finally grown more comfortable with their feelings but Neil still knows that taking it slow is the right move. It’s why he was so surprised when that proposal slipped off his tongue. Proposing after nearly a year of dating isn’t exactly moving at a slow pace. He supposes his feelings for her— the overwhelming urge to marry her— overcame all the voices of reason telling him to take it easy for fear of scaring her off.

Now though? Now it’s a whole different story.

He stays quiet for a second too long and the small smile on her face fades, bringing in a nervous glance instead. “I mean, only if you want to ask me,” she adds awkwardly after a moment.

“God yes I do,” he assures her. It sparks a small giggle from Claire, her eyes now sparkling and glossy with what Melendez thinks are tears of joy. “I just... I figured you might want it to be a bit different from this. I don’t even have a ring.”

“Well you know me, I’ve always hated romantics,” she dismisses with a watery chuckle.

He laughs in return and smiles until his cheeks hurt. The space between them on the bed slowly closes as Neil inches forward, dragging the sheets with him and taking her hands in his. “You... you are the single best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he starts. The awe in his own voice surprises him a little, but it’s not unexpected. Spend enough time around Dr. Browne and you’ll get used to incredible. That’s what he’d said around a year ago, and it still rings true now. He’s also said being around her makes him a better surgeon and person, which is also very true. She just makes him better, in everything he does. “I love you more than I thought was possible. So, Dr. Browne...” Claire lets out another watery laugh but her hands start to shake in his, so Neil holds them tighter. “... Will you marry me?”

There’s a moment where everything is quieter than silence. Neil starts hearing ringing in his ears, a throbbing sensation that this could go very wrong. Or, as he suspects (and hopes), it could go very very right. And he knows this is weird— that not-so accidentally proposing to your girlfriend while half-naked on a Sunday morning isn’t exactly the traditional way to ask someone to spend the rest of their life with you— but he just doesn’t care. Neil wants to have a life with her. He wants the whole package, the thing they’ve both been searching for long before finding each other. The life they’d almost given up hope on. And not for the first time since he’s met her, he wants it with Claire Browne.

And the silence is broken, like a dam flooding with a river that ends up only being one word. “Yes,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Neil can tell, even without looking in a mirror, that his face lights up at those words. His cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, his body practically aches for her.

A year ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of unprofessional touches or intimate moments. He’d been so scared to cross the line, the point of no return. But now, he’s about to spend the rest of his life with the most talented, kind, incredible woman he’s ever met, and he doesn’t have to be scared. He leans over, meets her in the middle of the bed while on their knees, and kisses her without hesitation.

It’s sweet, the way Claire’s kiss is always a sweet release to him, and beautiful. Admittedly, he feels tears of his own coming on and tastes the salt streaming onto their lips from both of their eyes.

Claire pulls away after a while, laughing and smiling while crying. They’re both blubbering messes at this point, filled with overwhelming tenderness.

“What do we do for a ring?” Neil finally asks after they both compose themselves a little bit.

Claire looks around the room, ruffles around the drawer of the nightstand for something, and then finally pulls out a sharpie. “Here,” she says, pulling the cap off. Melendez watches in shock as Claire scribbles a line all the way around her ring finger, forming the trace of a ring with black ink. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it’ll do.”

Neil laughs giddily. Only Claire Browne would draw an engagement ring on her finger. There’s truly no one like her, and he loves her for it. “It looks beautiful, Dr. Browne,” he teases.

“It’s just until we get something nice. And when we do, it better not be anything big or tacky or expensive. But that’s just my preference. You know— just a suggestion,” she finishes with a smirk.

“Right,” he chuckles. “And I suggest you kiss me now.”

“That can be arranged,” she quips back teasingly, smiling as she leans in with her hands on his bare chest.

Neil smiles into the kiss, his lips pressing against hers. His hands find her hips and pull her in until they’re flush against each other. They crash onto the bed in a frenzy of blankets, Neil settling on top of her gently, and he sees Claire’s beaming smile and the black ink around her ring finger.

It’s the last thing he sees before he moves in to kiss her again. Neil tastes her lips on his, and thinks proposing to her was the best suggestion he ever made.

[scarletbluebird13]

Under the Christmas Tree

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Title: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

Pairing: Eisuke x MC

Tags: fluff, drabble

Word count: 2024

A/N: I know I’ve got some requests, and I swear I’ll get to them - this is progress ehehe~ I took a little bit of a break for a few days because I wasn’t feeling well, so to the people who’ve sent me requests; thank you all SO MUCH for your requests (I really do appreciate your requests and all of you <3 - since I’m saying this, I genuinely appreciate and love all of you - those who request, lurk, like, and reblog — thank you all so much xxx), I’ll work on them this week - to get myself back into the swing of uploading stuff onto here/making my brain use creative juices to wRiTe, I wrote this - which has been living inside my head since thanksgiving 😳 anyways, hope this is okays xx

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Autumn came and went. The golden crisp of the leaves left all trees barren, surrendering to snow-covered sidewalks - gone for another year. How many seasons have I seen with Eisuke…? How many times have we been together through another fall, winter, spring, and summer? I’ve lost count - then again, I’m not really counting anymore, since we’ll have forever (and that’s a lot of seasons - not that I mind, anyway).

The chill of the autumn wind has changed to a stinging winter breeze - which has me making Eisuke’s coffee a bit warmer - so he won’t get sick. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together; I’ll always be worried about him - especially now that the weather’s a lot cooler and he doesn’t do well in the cold heh, that seems to be another thing they have in common...

Below me, Tokyo gleams and glitters - the city lights at night are certainly nothing to scoff at. Especially not from our suite. Content at how my life’s been, I sigh a bit, gripping the mug in my hands a bit tighter - searching for the warmth, letting it seep into my hands - and letting the coffee I made for myself slide down my throat, coming to rest in my stomach. As I look out into the world surrounding me, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee keeps me grounded, it’s tempting smell wafting into my nose, slightly fogging up the window when I lean too close. Everything in the world couldn’t be more perfect.

My eyes growing softer at the serene, graceful landscape below, I lean my head gently against the grand window, letting my eyes gloss over the scene below as I think about the text Eisuke sent me about four hours ago;

“I’m going to be late today. Don’t wait up for me.”

Christmas will be in one hour, and I wanted all of us to be together when the clock strikes midnight. I hope he comes home soon-

Before I can finish that thought, an ear piercing wail snaps me out of my thoughts

Poor darling, probably had a nightmare - that’s his scared cry.

Putting the cup of coffee down, I walk over to the cream painted crib situated next to the Christmas tree.

“Shhhh, shhh… It’s okay, Eito. I’m here. I’m here, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I coo into our delicate seven-month-old baby’s ear as I pick him up and start rubbing his back.

“I promise I’ll protect you from anything and everything that ever tries to hurt you - whether it be the monsters in your dreams, the ones you’ll think hide under your bed or in your closet, and the ones disguised as ‘good people.’” I make that promise to him as I gently place a kiss on his head, adjusting him in my arms so that his head is no longer resting on my left shoulder, rather, that his head is resting in the crook of my left arm. His eyes are still shut, tears streaming from his little red eyes, but he’s calmed down a bit - the crying got a bit quieter.

“I promise I’ll always be here for you, Eito.” I whisper, kissing his tears away.

He looks just like his father - I bet Eisuke looked just like Eito when he was a baby. Eito tends to cry a lot - come to think of it, hasn’t Eiji said Eisuke was always fussy and cried a lot when he was a little kid? At least before his sister was born. I smile to myself, cradling our baby in my arms, knowing I’m probably the only person in the world who knows how similar Eisuke and Eito are. Not that Eisuke’d ever admit it, at least. ...Eiji’s really only met Eito once - when I gave birth to Eito, and even then, he looked at Eito like he was the only thing in the world that mattered - but I’m positive if Eiji were to ever visit and spend one day with Eito, he’d realize Eisuke and Eito’s similarities don’t just stop at their looks.

The crying’s stopped, and for now, Eito looks at me with those wide, beautiful brown eyes of his, and he smiles, reaching up to touch me.

“Hey, feeling better? You certainly don’t look sleepy anymore - wanna stay up with me and see your first Christmas?”

To this, he laughs - smiling myself, I decide to take that as a ‘yes.’

“I thought I told you not to wait up for me.”

The voice slightly startling me, I turn around, clutching Eito a bit tighter to my chest in the process.

“I wanted the three of us to be together - you know, for Eito’s first Christmas. And he had another nightmare, the poor baby - so I’ve been cradling him to cheer him up.” I respond, bouncing Eito in my arms, a natural smile gracing my lips as I look up at Eisuke - who responds by placing a kiss upon my lips.

“...If that’s what you want.” He says with a sigh, looking down at Eito with soft eyes and lifting his index finger to gently caress the baby’s cheek - who, in reply to his father’s tender touch, laughs and wraps his tiny fingers around Eisuke’s large one. Eisuke’s really changed since Eito was born…for starters; he gets that soft look in his eyes and smiles a lot more - especially around Eito.

With a smile, I ask Eisuke if he’d hold Eito for a bit while I make him some coffee.

When I return with Eisuke’s overly sweet coffee in tow, I find Eisuke sitting on the couch, rocking Eito back-and-forth, a warm look on his face.

“Here you go - I can hold him while you drink it.”

“I want to hold him for a bit longer.”

“Okay.” I say in agreement, inwardly screaming and trying to engrave this adorable moment in my mind forever - Eisuke rejected my coffee to hold his son

It’s 11:45 pm now, and Eisuke went to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable - I wouldn’t blame him, seems like he’s had a taxing day at work I wonder how Chisato and Sakiko are doing...I’ll stop by sometime soon and set up a date to catch up with them.

Eito’s squirming around in my arms, so I set him down on the grand, amber tainted floor - he’s been crawling recently, and I find myself eager to see which corner of the suite he travels to. This time, Eito makes a beeline for the Christmas tree, completely disappearing under it. I’m not too concerned about him going under the tree - I know it’s something I loved doing when I was a kid (it’s magical - laying under there and looking up - feeling like you’re looking at a completely different world, giving it an ethereal glow - the view of the christmas lights lighting up the tree from the inside is certainly a simple, nostalgic view worthy of competing with Tokyo’s midnight skyline) - so for the fun of it, I decide to follow him under the tree.

Mildly surprised I fit under the tree, I see Eito laughing - he’s sitting perfectly by the base of the tree, looking straight at me. Finding him adorable, I bring him towards me, carefully, taking special care not to accidentally whack him in the face with a stray branch, and not give him rug burn - even though it would be nigh impossible, considering he’s wearing his white and blue dinosaur print footsies. I bring him around to my left and tickle him a bit, laughing with him and enjoying this moment of peace.

Seconds later, Eisuke enters the room, and I stop tickling Eito - suddenly turning this into a game of hide-and-seek. Luckily, Eito seems to catch on, blissfully looking up at me, silently flapping his little arms in the air.

“Where are they…?” Eisuke asks himself, his feet coming to a stop in front of my face. I try not to look up - else he’d find us, and wanting to keep the game going for a bit, I bring one hand up to stifle my laughs. Unfortunately, Eito gives us up with a little giggle.

In no time at all, Eisuke bends down and we’re face-to-face. He wastes no time in scolding me or for that matter, doesn’t bother to ask why I’m under the tree with Eito - he just sighs.

“What are you doing under there?” He asks, looking painfully exhausted.

“Get under here with us!” I exclaim, laughing with Eito, who, giggling, reaches out towards his father.

“Why would I do that?” He asks, giving me a hard time while he gives Eito his index finger to play with (and, as Eito planned, to suck on).

“Just come on!” I insist.

“...fine.” he grumbles, trying his best to get under the tree without knocking it down.

He’s decided to go on the other side of the tree, keeping Eito between us.

“You know you’re a handful, right?” He asks, trying his best to sound annoyed with me; but deep down, I know he’s not really annoyed - he likes it. It’s because I can be a “handful” that he’s not “bored,” as he would have said, once upon a time.

“You love it.” I retort, my eyes glued to little Eito, as he laughs and reaches up towards a red ornament hanging on one of the lower parts of the tree.

We remain like that under the tree for a while, the smell of pine weaving its way into my hair, the christmas lights twinkling softly above us, the effect being amplified only after the lights in the living room were shut off. Eisuke’s eyes remain content, and soft - resting on Eito and his innocent antics. My heart set at peace, knowing my husband is by my side, our baby is nestled safely between us, and has seen the transition from Christmas eve to his first Christmas. In that moment, we seem untouchable - and it feels like nothing in the world could harm us, take our joy away, or tarnish this harmony we’ve found at last. For a moment, it feels like the warm lights above our heads are enough to keep us safe, protected.

Bonus:

After a while of laying under the Christmas tree with Eisuke and Eito, Eito decides he wants to explore some other part of the suit. Eisuke and I spend a few more minutes under the rich forest green tree, gazing at each other - and share a secret kiss beneath the chorus of the gleaming lights above us.

“Thank you.” He whispers, holding my head close to his.

Curious as to what he means, I merely tilt my head to the side and give him a quizzical look, to which he explains;

“For never giving up on me. For staying by my side. For giving me Eito.” I smile despite myself, and in response, decide to cup his face and softly kiss him.

Then he whispers into the kiss, “I love you.”

Smiling, I say it back, and slide out from under the tree.

Once I’m out, I take the mugs of coffee out of the living room - both mine that’s still half full, and Eisuke’s, which is completely empty.

After I spend a few minutes in the kitchen cleaning the mugs, I return to the living room, my heart swelling at the sight before me;

Eisuke’s fallen asleep in a sitting position on the couch, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his eyelids heavy with the pull of sleep holding them down. And resting atop his chest is none other than Eito, tranquility the scene on his face as he sleeps on Eisuke’s chest - his little mind free of nightmares Eito never has nightmares when Eisuke’s around. Even in sleep Eisuke finds a way to keep Eito safe and secure; he has his right arm holding onto Eito, guarding him even while he rests (Eisuke’s way of saying he’ll forever protect Eito no matter what - I’m sure of it).

I love the both of you. And I’d give my life to protect the little family we’ve got. Merry Christmas, my loves.

[writtenfan]

Welcome to the Party! Why Don't We Ditch it and Go to The Underworld!?

DisneyHades x FemReader

Going to the most poppin’ God & Demi-God Party of the month! With your dad the lord of the sea...turns sizzlin’ as your relentlessly chat up by the Lord of the Underworld...Oh, What.. Will... Happen? (~rrrrrowrrr...)

 (A/N) “I've been watching so much Hercules the Animated Series and I’m in love with this guy's personality I mean really, James Woods takes the cake. Kinda couldn’t help but write this! I mean Disney Villians are loved too am I right?”

You walk in alongside your father and hear a voice call out through the crowd causing eyes to turn to you both as you walked through the door. 

“Arriving, the Lord of The Sea! The go-with-the-flow god, as chill as cool water, as weighty as a wave, Poseidon! Oh? Also his plus one! His beautiful shining sea star, the glistening pearl of the sea (y/n!)”

Your face grows warm at this corny introduction as you enter the beautifully decorated hall, your eyes glance at the golden ribbons wrapping the marble columns and the warm red wool tapestry strung across the walls. Oh, the lighting was perfect!

Three figures briskly walk up to you as your father wraps his arm around yours proudly. “Oh, darling (y/n!)” 

“Uncle Zeus, Aunt Hera!” the two beam at you brightly but your eyes catch the face between them. At the man who was godly (ha) ripped!  his hair as red as his fathers. “Hello cousin,” he says with a smile opening his arms wide “bring it here!” You laugh and jump into his arms as he held you against his chest and lifted you off the ground moving you around. “Herc that’s too tight!” you choke as you pull back and he releases you gently onto your feet. “Heh sorry (y/n). It's just nice to see you!”  “It’s great to see ya too Herc, I've been hearing such great things! It’s been a while.” He rubs the back of his head and smiles “Ah gee (y/n)..” 

Zeus laughs and slams his hand on Hercules back which makes his pop forwards and a small wince appeared on his face.

 “Aw, I told ya that your favorite cousin would be here didn’t I son?!” Hercules's face grew red and he playfully pushed his father’s arm away “Dad…stop…I- I didn’t say such a thing…” You smirk and pop your fist against his shoulder. 

Felt like pure rock.

“Aww shucks ditto Herc.”

Zeus smiled and continued rubbing his sons back. “Its good to see you too brother.” He says placing a hand on his brother's shoulder with a smile. 

“Anyways we got to go talk a bit to Demeter about something…I have to ask her about some troublesome things going on with Gaia you know, global warming and all…” Zeus groans.

“See you later (y/n), catch you on the seaside later bro” he laughs as he begins to guide his family away, but Hercules gives you a quick wave before following suit.

Your father smiles at you and releases his hand from your shoulder. “Go on now…I tend to hover a bit much…” 

“Go introduce yourself to your Demi-cousins and whatnot…I’m sure they’re around…oh and make sure you give your Aunt Aphrodite a hello, she’s been asking for you way too much. Won’t tell me why.”

...

You smile nervously before making your way into the crowd, smiling, small talking for a while before glancing at a tremendous food display against a wall in the back of the room.

You walk over to the hors d’oeuvres table and get yourself a cup of fruity demi-god alcoholic nectar and you sip it as you look around you God and Demi-god watching in peace....

“So…you got tired of the whole bla-bla-bla thing too huh?” 

The voice was so raspy yet smooth and traveled in the air like a weird song. A chill followed by a flash of warmth shivered across your half-mortal body.

You turn to the wall on your left as you down the last of the drink and set the cup on the table. You see the tall blue flamed black-robed, sharp-toothed figure of...Hades the Lord of the Underworld.... “how ya doin’?”, with his arms crossed and a wide smirk plastered on his face. He coughed smoke into his hand and ran that same hand through his flaming blue hair and continued to smile, now with more teeth.

“H-Hades, It’s been a bit...” you stutter.

“Hasn’t it? My little under-the-sea Demi (god)~” Under the sea, he then begins to sing as he dances his finger in the air, finishing the cup he had in his hand and making it poof away in an instant.

“Yes, last time I saw you was briefly at that meeting between you and my father…which ended with you being drenched out of the palace if I remember.”

Hades shrugged and waved his hand in the air, “Yeah yeah...po-po didn’t quite like my porpoise-ition ha-ha...” he chuckles deeply but his laugh had no hint of humor in it.

 He moved off the wall levitating over to you, the black smoke at his feet curling up around your legs once he got close enough, tickling your calves. You watched as the smoke began to travel up your legs wrapping up and up like a snake....you shake them and he coughs trying to gain back your attention on him.

“Or the kind remarks I gave you once I caught you peeping at us ever so cutely through the doorway…told me not to even look at you…sheesh talk about protective huh?”

You feel calm despite him placing an arm behind you resting his hand on the table next to you as he smiled.

“Oh? Kind remarks?” you ask giving him a grin 

“Give me what you got, I’m curious.”

“Haha! Loving it. Well, I only said the obvious.” he looks you up and down which makes your face warm. 

“Which still applies I may add. Absolutely stunning!” He gestures to your face with a wink. “Fiery eyes…luscioussss lips~” 

He places his other hand on your shoulder with a toothy grin that made your shiver. You raise your eyebrow and he automatically backs off and glides in front of you his fingers trailing off your arm to your hand holding it up near his face kissing the back of your hand quickly causing a chill to run down it before letting it go.

“…and the. PERSONALITY?! I mean wow, come on!~” he puts his thumbs up and makes a clicking noise while he checks you out some more.

Your cross your arms and laugh, “Psh, Hades you don’t even know me that well.” You fix your (color) dress and give him a smile that faked how weird you felt, from him being so close to you. The weird part was that it wasn’t exactly bad.

“Come on. Babe! We always get together at these parties, don’t we?” he quickly turns his head and covers the side his mouth 

“Not in the way I would like”.

 You lean back and give him a look as he turns to you with an honest looking grin as if he was an absolute saint and you didn’t hear what he said, but he distracted you by gesturing his hands towards your face in appreciation.

“We gabble. We talk…I try and convince you to come with me to the Underworld for a...” he pinches the air while closing one eye, his flames a flickering blue.

“Quiiiiick little visit…but not too quick heh…”

He pops the collar of his tunic and smirks before sliding to your side closest to the table and picks up some kind of pastry, popping it in his mouth his hand once again wrapping around you while he chewed and made exaggerated noises responding to how good the pastry was.

“I jus-ch wanna hang out (y/n), sweetheart. Lets chat, lets prattle baby! Lets gosssssss-” He gently presses his clawed thumb on the side of your mouth as if wiping away something as he swallowed. He then retracts his hand and cranes your chin up at his face.

“-ssssip babe.”  You noticed that his face was now closer to yours than before. His breath was as smoky as a fire with a hint of…mint? and his hair was as bright and warm as a furnace as you watched it rouse up and travel down his shoulders.

“Wow really trying to sell it aren’t we?” you chuckle, amused by his courtship while also slightly disgusted. 

These emotions kept bouncing back and forth incomprehensibly.

His eyes widen with a smile and he looks around the room occasionally gesturing to himself and you as he talked,

“If it means me, and if you mean me, trying to sell myself to you… as a potential partnerrr~…” his eyes look mischievously at the ceiling then back to you with an enamored look.

“Then yes baby! Snap a price tag on me, honey, put on a little bow and check me out Duh-ING!~ because I’m yourrrrs!...”

 His rr’s rumbling in the back of his throat, his lips moving to your ear. 

“You can even get a discount and a lifetime guarantee for this products..” he gestures to himself. “..heheh… functionality.” His face is now in yours, well not literally, the point of his nose is almost against yours as leans closer to your lips still mocking a lusty beasty cat growl. 

His arm trying its best to fix you in place to the point where you have to push against his chest to prevent his lips from getting any closer. However, as soon as you placed a hand on his chest and felt the smooth fabric of his black toga your focus shifted to your hand, oh but not just that, woah his chest was quite…firm. 

He pulls back and stands at his full height noticing the hesitation in your eyes as he looked down at you staring at his chest. It was just a second too long and his smooth smile turned into a lusty wide-toothed grin and a growling lip bite. His blue flames bursting from the back of his shoulders flickering playfully before lowering. 

He snapped his hand to yours pressing against his chest, his strength quite intimidating, the way he rubbed his thumb against the back of your fingers even more so but in a different way. He wiggled his eyebrows as you craned back, and he leaned forward.

“Like the merchandise hmm? Feel free to unwrap babe.”

“Ha-ha-Haaaadesss my man….”

 A blue glow whipped around you both like a whirlwind startling him, his hand released and you swiftly stepped back and fixed yourself. Trying to keep your own eyes on where the voice came from...and wouldn’t you know...

“Ah COME ON!!!” his hair flared a bright orange,  fists clenching at his side. 

He squints his eyes and pinches his fingers together shaking them,

“Can’t you see I’m Bu-uh-say? YOU WINGED WOP!?”

“Ooo creative with the insults ash for brains…” The god hovered between you both clutching his winged golden staff propping his feet up on an invisible surface smiling slyly at Hades.

“Buuuuut I don’t think Po-sei-don will enjoy you-” he swoops behind you and places a hand on your shoulder pointing to Hades who looks at him through heated eyes.

“Being so close and personal with his “pearl of the sea..””  he air-quotes.

“His little sea star!” he pinches your cheek “His widdle baby-” You elbow Hermes in the chest and he jolts back with a pained look holding his hand against it.

“Ha-ha I get it. Sorry love…” he pats your back reassuringly, his blue glow causing you to squint. He glances back at Hades with a smug look.

“Besides I’m sure as heh- well Hades.” He looks towards you with a grin elbowing your side with a laugh as he dives between you and Hades 

“-that she sure doesn’t want to be hanging out with you!” He twirls his finger around while pointing to Hades who’s flames were now blazing red from his eyebrows to his shoulders. 

“NOw….WAIT a Moment...You LITTle FLUttERY!!-“

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH, cool it!” You slide ahead of Hermes and hold your hands to both gods with a complexly exhausted look on your face. 

“You.” 

You point to Hades whose hair automatically flickers off completely before igniting with the regular blue flame on his head.

“Simmer down before you have yourself a fun time getting forcibly escorted out of this “Soiree~” Hades pats down on his shoulder checking for flames with a playful sorry look on his face shooting you two-finger guns. “My bad.” escapes his mouth.

You turn to Hermes with a tired look, “It’s alright Hermes, thanks for the swoop check…but I was just chatting with “uncle” Hades.”

You instantly shiver as you recounted the whole related not genetically thing, and you hear Hades do the same but more verbally.

“Ok. Ok. Just so you know my little Demi-Dame…” Hades moves to your side resting his arm on your shoulder.

 “Genetics zip. Not reaaaaly your uncle. That’s a human concept. Gods? Not so much.” Hermes swoops to your other side nodding along in agreement.

“It’s best not to bring that sort of thing up, I mean. Have you heard what Zeus did in his youth?” he starts laughing nervously. 

“Talk about Hera’s wrath, I mean I still ponder how they stuck it out-“ Your eyes widen in anticipation. But he just chuckles nervously as Hades tugs at his own collar uncomfortably, yet still fuming. 

“ -I mean, don’t tell the big man I brought that up, but even your father had some questionable-”

You hold your hand up, step forward and turn towards them getting away from the Gods who just loved touching you, waaaay too much.

“Ah-ah alright I get it, dropping all that. I don’t feel like exploring that anyway. Gods…” You rub your temple “Being a Demi-god is weird sheesh.”

“Alright good now that’s outta the way…” Hades cuts in pulling you towards his chest, back first, you bump into him. 

“Book it wings. Flutter out of this conversation, will you? Like she said. His hands tighten around your shoulder and his thumb caresses the back of your arm out of Hermes sight. He looks down at you with the most fake pure intentioned filled eyes you've seen making you choke back a laugh. 

“Were just talkin’ having a lovely chat. She likes my company unlike you uncultured swine, you unkind and uncaring offering gobblers! Isn’t that right babe?”  

You open your mouth but are once again cut short by the booming shout of a familiar father figure. 

“Ah crap”. The footsteps come closer.

“Po-Po! Gosh, I was just talking with your lovely daughter here…she’s quite swell!” Hades smiles crookedly as he takes his hand from your shoulder and gives your back a few pats.

“Looks just like her mother…uh who was she again?” he laughs passive-aggressively

“None of your business Hades…” The man holds his triton by his side clutching it angrily.

“What have I told you about hanging around my daughter. Especially after I caught you two all buddy buddy near the fountain last festival.

You remember carelessly talking to Hades that one time and laughing at the wildest stories he told along, cringing at his detailed description of decapitation and evisceration at his mercy and intrigued with his absolute ego that shined as he talked about how his own festival would look like, and then your mind remembered once again as he tried to get you down to the Underworld to show you “the many lakes down there, you’ll like that right? I mean the water doesn’t run far from the stream, right? Like father like daughter, aqua-connoisseurs?” you remembered Hades saying.

“Poseidon…my man…she came to me a’ight? You can't stop her from talking to people, she's a grown wo-man!” he dances his shoulder his shoulders eyes wiggle at you and you blush uncontrollably causing you to cover your mouth to prevent a confused smile. He picks up on this and for some reason his sharp-toothed smile quivers and is replaced with a brief dumbfounded and happily astonished look.

Your father looks intently at your face and he growls deeply stepping closer to his brother, moving him away from your side and poking his chest with his finger, his glow increasing in intensity as Hades put his hands up defensively not tearing his eyes from yours.

“I won’t let this happen, despite what Aphrodite just told me! I’ll drown his blossom before it gets a chance to bloom! Your little infatuation with my daughter will end here Hades!”

He looks back at his brother with a pleading face. “In-?” He lowers his hands and places them on his brother's shoulder “In- heh- Infatuation?! Come on ! It’s not like that…” his eyes trail to yours but your father grabs him by the robe with one hand and forces his eyes back to him. You blush again and look in angry confusion at the ground trying to figure out all these torrenting feelings sloshing around inside you.

By this time, practically everyone in the room was staring at this little encounter. You saw Zeus on the other side of the room fuming and heading your way.

“I- heh- I mean bro, that’s absolutely not on the menu, I mean look.” He pats Poseidon’s chest before moving away from his piercing gaze.

“Whatever Aphrodite said, psh. Just because she’s the god of L-oooove” he mocks sticking out his tongue.

“Doesn’t mean she’s some kind of prophet capisce? She senses nothing, the only feelings I have towards your daughter…”

Poseidon’s face grows in a wave of crazed anger.

 “Is nothing! I got nothing. See? Just chatting with the gal, I mean, can’t we have a little friendly gab?

Your father lets out a huff, “You know that’s not the case Hades, I-“

“Brothers! What’s going on?!” “You two are ruining the party vibe!” Zeus voice cracks in the air, quite literally...electrifying really, as he stops before you four, head held high with his arms firmly on his waist.

Hades and Poseidon turn towards Zeus, Poseidon still holding tightly onto Hades robes.

You watch Aphrodite and Hera walk up besides Zeus and catch eyes with Aphrodite who gives you a weird smile making you raise an eyebrow.

“You tell Hades to keep away from my daughter Zeus!” he growls looking over to you with a split second of calmness before turning towards Hades and pulling him closer to him.

“Ack- agh, please! I had this robe specially imported from Agrabah!” He takes your father’s hand and picks it up between two fingers forcing it off him then brushing off himself.

“Besides, your just acting irrational a little hot-headed may I say which is surprising because…” he points to his own head. “That’s kinda my schtick get it?” he laughs darkly.

...

Annnnd That’s the exact moment you realize that you had the “hots” for the Lord of the Underworld..

..and as if on cue you lock eyes with Aphrodite and with a calm smile on her face she walks to your side catching the eyes of everyone in the room as she…as you guessed… places a hand on your shoulder… (why does everyone keep doing that?) Snapping her fingers In the air for the attention she already had. 

“Now come on boys stop this testosterone-fueled…” she scrunches up her face laying her hands flat down in the air, bringing them down

 “hate-fest and just cool it yeah? This is no time for talking through such personal matters out for every god and Demi-god to see isn’t that right Poseidon? Hades?”  

Hades scowls at his brothers especially Poseidon which seldomly never happens, usually, Zeus gets all the scowls for himself.

“Yeah yeah, what she said. Let’s talk mano-y mano” Hades gestures to Poseidon and himself. “But, once we do. I also want (y/n) to join in after we make a few things clear! I think her position….” He glances over to you his eyes as dark and soul-stirring as the Underworld.

 “Would be a great addition to the decision. Right DEAR?”

“Why I oughta…” you hear your father growl as he raises his fist towards his brother.

Zeus clears his throat and gathers back the attention of Poseidon, but Hades just holds his hand up to his face.

“Ok. You’re not apart of this Zeus-y, alright? This is between me and Po-Po.”

Zeus struts to Hades making him back off unwillingly.

 “Like Hades I’m not! I’m the King of the Gods! Any feud between them, I have to be a part of!” he growls walking up to his brothers in this personal little conversation triangle of anger which makes you awkwardly shuffle your feet and refuse to look at anyone in the crowd. 

“Now come on…people need to stop using my name like that!”

 You hear as your attention is guided away as Aphrodite pats your shoulder and you turn towards her, her smile is easy to follow as she leads you away from the confrontation that was growing between the three brothers.

She leads you into the crowd and past it near the stage and into a door next to it full typical band equipment and costumes. This room was dimly lighted by candles, and a circle of red mini couches faced each other towards the middle. You both locked eyes with the band members as awkwardly held their music silently staring you both before Aphrodite gestured for them to get out which they did quickly.

She walks in as the others walk out and turns towards you gesturing to a chair “Sit honey, we’ve got to talk…” her voice so smooth and alluring you felt like you were in a trance.

You sit down on the chair and play around with your hair, feeling quite intimidated by her looks.

She surprisingly comes and sits on the arm of the chair your sitting on and stops your hand from fidgeting fixing the hair you just messed with.

“…. It seems you’ve got yourself...the most surprising crush in the universe huh?”

[ddaenggtan]

hearts on fire | jhs

Hoseok has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s beyond excited to see you married and glowing.

He just really wishes that he was the groom.

pairing | jhs x reader, knj x reader

word count | 6.5k | cross posted to ao3

genre | angst, light fluff

warnings | angst, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, lots of choking, lots of angst, this is open ended so like.......potential (?) mcd??, like this is very very very open ended yall there is no happy ending and there is zero satisfaction at the end, like it’s truly just here to hurt you

a/n | part of Outro: Tear, The Angst Now Told, and you should really read all of those fics bc they hurt so good but they’re sO WORTH IT, and i’m shouting out to @personawife​ not only for betaing this, but also for putting the Outro Tear Angst Collab together, because it’s been so fun!!!!! and yet so painful!!!! in so many good ways!!!!!!! this was honestly really fun to write, mostly because it’s rare that i write angst - unhappy ending angst, at that - so it was nice to stretch my creative muscles. 

also go stream ego bc its wonderful and i love it

It starts, as most things do, with a kiss. 

It was innocent enough - just a soft peck on his cheek and a sunflower in his hand while he cried about another student kicking him in the shin. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that did it for him. Maybe it was the way the sunlight lit up the barrettes in your hair and made them glint like stars. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t hesitated to smooch him on the cheek and give him the flower you’d picked out of a vase just to cheer him up. Maybe it was the fact that it had worked when nothing else had. Maybe it was none of that, instead something bigger altogether and more complicated than he could ever understand. 

Or maybe it was all of it. A simple act that led to a simple reaction - him taking your hand and making you smile with some face he made - that led to this moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches you walk down the aisle in the off-white dress with the golden sash that perfectly matches the sunflowers in your hands, he doesn’t care. Because it all led to this moment. 

[then]

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You call over your shoulder. Hoseok laughs, wrapping his hand around your wrist to slow you down from your sprint. 

“We are not going to be late,” He tells you firmly. Your lips form a pout that he wishes he could kiss away, but he resists the urge. Instead, he grins and pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s not like they’re going to start our graduation without us, Starshine. It would be a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, conspicuous, big word! All that studying paid off, I see.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes; he doesn’t mention that he’s been studying his ass off ever since you started crushing on one of the bookworms in the school. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that he did it in the futile hope that it would make you notice him. 

“Hey, it was worth it! Got me into that fancy university, didn’t it?” He wags his brows and lets go of you, and he does his best not to let his arms linger around your waist for longer than they need to be there. 

“Yeah, that fancy university that’s a million miles away from here,” You complain. His smile falters a little, and he covers it with a dramatic gasp. 

“What’s this? Is my little starshine going to miss me?” He doesn’t tell you about the packet laying on his desk at home, about the scholarships he’s scoured the internet to find, about the decision he has yet to make, despite the looming deadline. He doesn’t mention the sunflower pressed between the pages of a book that sits beside his bed, so he can stare at it each night as he wonders whether it’s stupid to take the harder road just for love.

“You know I will, Hobi,” You tell him. You curl into his side, lacing your fingers with his. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Who’s going to make me study when I don’t want to? Or convince me that getting pancakes at two in the morning is a proper breakfast?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He knows exactly what will happen when you head off to school in a few months. You’ll meet so many new people, make boatloads of friends, create new memories and new jokes and new references, and he’ll be standing off to the side, waiting to hear about all of it. 

He can’t wait to watch you flourish.

“Who’s going to help you stop stressing out about your choreography, or your routines?” You ask. Your voice dips into a whisper, and it’s the most scared he’s ever heard you. “Who’s going to be there when I need someone?” 

He knows what you mean; he knows all about the anxiety that wracks your body every so often, the way your brain spirals and panics and can’t seem to bring itself down out of red alert. He remembers - in vivid detail - all the nights he’s climbed through your window to help you breathe in that rhythm your school counselor taught you, or just talked at you through the phone about some new song or dancer he found until he eventually heard your soft laugh.

He remembers the nights you called and called and called and eventually just sought him out, not even bothering to knock as you barged into his room because his parents adore you and don’t care to let you in whenever. You’re like a second daughter to them, something his sister gives him no end of grief about. He’ll always remember the way your hands felt against his skin as you tugged him out of his room and into the kitchen to make some kind of monstrosity, just throwing anything and everything into a blender or skillet, only to wind up going out to the corner store to get noodles anyway. 

“I’ll be here,” He tells you. His voice is as soft and firm as his fingers as he brings your chin up to face him. He wants you to look at him, wants you to maybe see after all these years just how easy it would be for him to move the earth if you asked him to. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Your eyes search for something in his, and he wonders if you’ll finally realize. If he’s finally told you about every single pang of love that he’s ever felt without even needing words. 

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and playfully shove at his shoulder. “Not when you’re off at your fancy university a million miles away from mine.”

He covers the heartbreak with a deep sigh and slings his arm around your shoulders as you head into the building where your graduation is being held. He wonders what you’ll think of the sunflowers sitting on your chair, waiting for you to find them. 

Something tickles his throat, a hint of a cough not ready to be cleared, and he swallows it back. 

“About that…”

[then]

Asthma is what he tells you, months and months later while you both sit in your dorm room, curled under blankets. 

You’re preparing for your philosophy paper, pages and sheets and everything else strewn about your bed while he sits at your desk. The lamp is focused and bright as it shines on the metal and stone in his hands, glinting as he twists the wire this way and that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your dance eval?” You ask him. He shoots you that half-smile, a quick glance so that he can finish wrapping the quartz in his palm. He hasn’t told you that he switched majors, that he’s now ‘undecided’ simply because he can’t keep up with the others anymore.

“Aren’t you supposed to telling me who made it their mission to disprove Kant’s entire career?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” You pout. He smiles, satisfied, at the stone in his hand; it’s wrapped in wire shaped to look like a tree. He never thought he’d be the jewelry-making kind, but thanks to a randomly-selected elective, he’s discovered he’s got a knack for it. 

Besides, he enjoys seeing the collection on your windowsill grow with each new thing he can make you. 

He extends the quartz to you -  a polished golden one that complements the tarnished brass he’d used to wrap it, the same colors as the flowers you love so much - and the way you light up as you take it makes his heart clench painfully. 

Something tickles his throat, too familiar now, and he does what he can to swallow it down, but this one is stubborn. It forces its way up his windpipe, giving him no choice but to try to cough it up. 

You watch, worried, as he rushes to the sink in your room, bending as far over it as possible so that you won’t see as much. 

It’s small, when it falls. Small and unassuming and spit-slick, he can almost believe it just fell out of the vase of them nearby, and he hopes that’s what you’ll believe as well. 

“Hobi?” 

He hates how small your voice is, how worried you sound as you listen to the ragged pants of his breathing. So he wipes his mouth, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no blood, and turns back to you with a wry smile. 

“I’m fine,” He says softly. His voice is still hoarse, and you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can argue. “Just asthma.”

“Asthma? You don’t have asthma, Hoseok-”

“I do,” He says quickly. “Developed recently. Strained myself too hard, weakened my lungs, or something. I don’t remember what the doctor said exactly.”

“But...your dance, how can you-” You cut yourself off with a sharp breath, and he can’t bear to see the heartbreak in your eyes as the realization hits, so he stares down at the scuff in his sneakers instead. “That’s why you aren’t practicing right now. You had to drop out of the dance program?”

You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, so he plasters a smile on his face that’s more convincing than anything else he’s ever done. 

“It’s fine, Starshine. Not all dreams come true. Besides, there’s other things I can do.” 

“But your scholarship, Hobi, I-”

“Already figured out,” He says quickly. It isn’t, not nearly, because he can’t just call his parents to say ‘hey I lost my scholarship because I’m hopelessly in love but don’t have the guts to say anything about it’ and he hasn’t had time to go visit them, either. The corners of your mouth are turned down, and your lips are pressed together, and it’s obvious you’re upset, and it hurts more than the roots tangling in his lungs. 

He crosses the room and slides some of your papers to the side so that he can sit across from you. You’re still holding the quartz in your palm, fingers wrapped gently around it like you’re afraid it’ll break if you squeeze too tight, so he wraps his own hands around that one of yours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him. Your voice is small and hurt, and he hates that he made it that way, but he knows it’s better than what would come if he told you the truth. 

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” He replies quietly. “You’ve got exams and studying and papers to worry about. I don’t need to add to that. Besides, you’d just try to help somehow, and you do that enough as it is.”

“How could I possibly be helping you with this, Hoseok?” The look you give him is familiar and humorless and fond and it makes his throat tickle so he looks away. Stares down at the feather-soft blanket in your lap instead. 

“Just by being here,” He tells you. “Distracting me from it. It’s not important, that’s all. I can do other things.”

“Like what? Dancing has always been your dream, and now-”

“Like,” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the quartz from your hand and placing it with the other things he’s made you on the windowsill, “Making things, like this. For you. For everyone.”

You’re quiet for a minute. Your eyes linger on the collection of stones he’s decorated for you, that he’s worked on so carefully to make them as beautiful as you deserve, and he wonders if you can tell. 

If you can see it in every careful twist of wire, in the way his hands are always so gentle against your own, in the way he can’t bear to look at you for longer than a few moments but can’t bear to be away from you in the same way. 

“Well,” You eventually say, blinking back what might be tears. “I suppose we’ll just have to find you a new dream, then, won’t we?”

Your smile is weak and watery and doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s still a smile. So he returns it, and locks his pinky with yours, and vows to himself to make sure you never cry for him again. 

[then]

"What is that?"

Hoseok looks up from the book he's got propped against the table. He hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation, too engrossed in the metalworking book his glassblowing professor gave him while you studied for an upcoming test, so your words surprise him.

"What's what?" He asks, looking around the cafeteria as if he can magically spot whatever it is you're talking about.

" That ," you repeat, stabbing towards him with your pencil. It's reflex that brings his hand up to his chest, and it's realization that has him clutching the pendant tightly, praying you hadn't really seen it.

"Nothing," he says quickly, tucking it back under his shirt where it's supposed to be. "Just a practice thing."

"Why won't you show me?" You pout. "You always show me your practice work."

"Yeah, because you always take it," He quips back with a laugh. You don't even try to argue, because you both know it's true. The collection on your windowsill has grown immeasurably over the last two years, and it makes Hoseok's heart stutter every time he lets himself consider why you keep all of them. Especially when some are so terrible.

"Seriously, Hobi, can I see?"

He starts to say no, because if there's one piece he's ever made that could tell you about his feelings, it's this. He should say no, should insist this once that you can't see it, but before he can, his hands are pulling the chain over his head and setting the entire thing gently in your palm.

He watches your mouth fall open and your eyes grow wide and he wonders.

He wonders what you see among the curl of metal; if the fact that he would do anything for you is obvious in the way it twists and turns on itself, looping around and around. He wonders if you can see, hidden between letters, how just being near you gets him through every day and makes it all worth it. He wonders if you'll be able to tell, between the pressed yellow petals, just how his chest aches; if you've put the pieces together, after so long, now that you're holding his heart so openly in your palm.

"'Remedy,'" You read, and Hoseok's heart jumps into his throat, even when he knows you don't know about it. "And some tulip petals? It's so gorgeous, Hobi, but what does it mean?"

"They're sunflowers," He corrects, almost scandalized that you could confuse the two. The petals are shortened, of course, cut so that they'll fit into the pendant without obstructing the text in the back, but still. "And it doesn't mean anything. Just something I wrote once in high school."

Your eyes light up. "You mean that poem you never let me read?"

"It was a song, actually," He mutters, but your attention is back on the necklace, looking for any hints about the secrets he keeps. Something soft tickles the back of his throat when you glance up at him and smile, the light glinting just right along the stones and casting golden beams along your features.

You look more beautiful than he's ever seen, and his chest aches with more than just the flowers taking root there.

"This is really gorgeous, Hobi," You tell him as you watch the way the light reflects through the amber beads along the edge.

"Yeah," He whispers as he watches you, drinking in the way your eyes widen in awe and the soft smile on your lips. "It is, isn't it?"

He wishes that moment could last forever, that he could tuck it away into a pocket and pull it out whenever he needs it, but he can feel the flower starting to work its way up his throat and he doesn't know how to hide that from you.

The coughs start right as someone calls out your name and his, and he tucks his chin into his elbow in an effort to hide it. He doesn't bother to look yet, just waves a hand as someone sits beside you, and by the time he's got the handful of petals tucked safely away in his pocket, you're deep in conversation with Namjoon about one of the classes the two of you are taking.

[now]

Hoseok decides, looking at you now, that you are happier than ever. 

You've said your vows and you've cried several happy tears and you've kissed more times than he can count, but you're still radiant. It's the glow of contentment, the promise of more to come, all coalescing to shine like stars in your eyes. 

"May I, Starshine?" He asks, extending a hand and pulling you away from your current dance partner. Yoongi doesn't look too upset about it, just smiles knowingly at you both as your hand folds into Hoseok's. 

You move with him as if it's second nature, and Hoseok supposes that it is , at this point. As many times as he held you this way while teaching you the steps, as often as he led you through them before today, you should be able to move out of sheer muscle memory. 

"Have I told you yet that you're sparkling, Starshine?" He asks, smiling along with you when you laugh. 

"I think that you're confusing me and the ring again, Hobi." 

On cue, he looks down at it. He spent so long on it, years of dreaming of what it may look like and months of trial and error and practice runs before he got it right. It was worth it, though; the ring does sparkle, takes the glow of your skin and the joy in your smile and amplifies it. 

Crafted to look like a sunflower itself, the ring is easily the most expensive thing he's ever made. Each petal sparkles with the same yellow quartz of that stone he gave you so long ago, and set into the middle is one large chocolate diamond that he spent entirely too much money on because it was already cut exactly the way he needed it. He'll never forget the way you cried when you saw it the first time. 

Hoseok's eyes meet yours, and he frowns at the tears he sees there. 

"Hey, none of that, Starshine. It's a happy day, remember?" He stops moving in the middle of the dance floor, hands moving to wipe your tears before they can fall. 

"I just...I'm so happy Hobi." He grins at your words, resisting the urge to poke fun, because of course you're happy. You just got married. 

You look up at him again, eyes still watery and he pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I love you so much, Hobi," you mutter against his chest. His heart flutters in his chest as he resists the urge to press his lips to yours right where you stand. 

"Yeah," He whispers. "Yeah, I love you too, Starshine." 

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he releases you, relinquishing his grasp on you so you can dance with Namjoon. The pendant around your neck sits beautifully, shadowed on either side by the white of the cloth, and he thinks for just a moment, that maybe he made that pendant for you, after all. 

He's worn it for years, of course, but the smile on your face when he slid it around your neck was worth it. It was worth being asked if you could have it, not entirely joking, and it was worth every single time you would fiddle with it during movie marathons, and it was worth every single night he held it in his clutched palm as he sat over the sink and coughed up the yellow blooms that you've strung up all over the reception hall. 

very day that you bugged him about it, how you asked every day without fail if you could have it. He knew you were kidding - mostly - but the light in your eyes when he finally gave it to you before the wedding today is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, no matter what the future holds for him. 

It ends, as most things do, with a conversation. 

It was innocent enough - just a phone ringing in its place on the worktable and his hands covered in clay while he struggled to hit the screen with his elbow. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that he missed, exactly. Maybe it was the way that you’d been calling him less and less in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t noticed that he’d been spending too much time in the studio, pouring his soul into every shape he crafts and wire he twists while he chokes down petals. Maybe it was the classes the two of you shared and the projects you worked on together, that he assumed was friendly and not anything more. Maybe it was all of that, everything working in tandem in a way that he could never understand.

Or maybe it was none of it. Simple acts that led to simple reactions - being too busy for each other, not talking as often, coughing up sunflower petals - that all led to that moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches the heart-shaped vase spin aimlessly on its wheel while you cry tears of joy through the phone because he finally - finally - asked you out, he can’t care.

[then]

Asthma? is what Jimin asks him, years later when they’re both locked in Hoseok’s newly renovated store, basically a hole in the wall that he saved and saved for with his online sales. Hoseok is curled over the workbench in the back, doing everything he can to catch the petals before Jimin can see them. 

When they eventually subside, long enough for him to gulp down some water and shove the red-tinted petals off to the side in a pile that’s been steadily growing for weeks now, Hoseok shoots Jimin a self-deprecating smile. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to lie to him. 

“How long?” Jimin asks him. There’s no softness to his tone; it’s all hard edges and naked truths, and for once, the exhaustion overtakes Hoseok. He’s so sick of lying. He’s so sick of carrying an inhaler he doesn’t need, of shoving sunflower petals into every nook and cranny he can find so that no one sees them, and he just wants someone to know. 

“Forever,” Hoseok answers simply. “As long as I can remember.”

“And you never said anything? Ever?”

Hoseok sighs, throat scratchy and raw, and he stares down at the ring he’s been fiddling with. “Would you?” He eventually says. 

When he looks at Jimin, the other man has a petal of his own in between two fingers and rubs it absently, distractedly, like it’s habit. When he looks up, Hoseok understands, and an understanding passes between them. 

Jimin goes back to the laptop perched in front of him while Hoseok continues to work on other orders, things less important than the ring burning a hole in his mind’s eye, begging to be made. 

He isn’t ready, he tells himself. He isn’t skilled enough yet. Maybe one day. 

“I’m getting the surgery,” Jimin says after a few hours of silence. Hoseok fumbles with the pliers in his hands, twists the wire the wrong way, and it all clatters to the tabletop. He doesn’t bother to catch it, either; he’s too busy staring at his best friend in shock. 

“Seriously?” He breathes. Jimin nods, and the air rushes out of Hoseok in the span of a heartbeat. 

Everyone knows about the surgery, just like everyone knows about hanahaki disease. It took years to develop and it’s the only known treatment, but there are always side effect. Always. Sometimes they’re minor, just losing your feelings of love for the person you have feelings for, or like the guy that just became allergic to the peonies that he had removed. 

But then there are the others. 

The people who lose the capacity to love altogether. The ones who never find anyone else, who never learn how to love another person, not like they loved the one that caused the flowers. Or the ones who just lose their emotions completely, and become essentially lifeless. Unable to feel love at all, or sadness, or grief, or joy, or excitement, or remorse, or anything. They just exist. 

“But...the side effects-”

“Aren’t guaranteed,” Jimin interrupts. “Plenty of people get the procedure every day and walk away fine.”

“Yeah and some of them turn into lifeless machines!” Hoseok counters. Jimin’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks steadfast, decided, and he’s barely looking away from whatever work he’s doing on the laptop, and it infuriates Hoseok. “You’re gonna sign away any hope that you have, any chance that you have, because it...because it hurts?”

“No,” Jimin says as he closes the laptop and slides it to the side. “Because I’m tired, Hobi. I’m so tired, all the time. I’m tired of keeping it a secret, and I’m tired of puking my guts every time I think about-” Jimin cuts himself off and closes his eyes, tight, as he swallows. 

When he opens them, Hoseok can see every emotion he’s ever had in Jimin’s eyes, and it makes his heart ache. 

“Aren’t you tired, Hobi?” 

Jimin’s voice is small, and weak, but it lingers in the air between them. It curls past Hoseok’s throat and then down to wrap around his chest, growing tighter and tighter with every breath. Neither of them break eye contact, and Hoseok wonders what Jimin sees in his face. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok eventually says. With that, the spell is broken, and he can breathe again, and he drags his eyes away from Jimin to look at the piece he’d been working on instead. “But I can’t just...stop, y’know? I’ve loved her for basically my entire life. I can't...I don’t even know who I am without that.”

Jimin’s quiet for a long moment, and Hoseok thinks maybe he’s not going to say anything. Maybe he got through to Jimin, maybe he won’t get that surgery. 

“Don’t you think that you should find out?”

[now]

Hoseok watches from across the room as Jimin spins you in a circle, both of you laughing brightly. 

Jimin’s suit matches your dress wonderfully; Hoseok doesn’t think anyone else could quite pull off the pattern on it quite like Jimin does in such an effortless way. He looks happier than Hoseok has ever seen him, more content, more at home in his own skin. 

He isn’t coughing, and he isn’t struggling, and everything worked out well for him. No more flowers in his lungs, no more lies to his friends, no more unrequited love left heavy in his heart. Just happiness and laughter and joy. Hoseok wonders if he’d be the same. 

His thumb rubs absently across the business card in his pocket. It’s been there since Jimin handed it to him, what feels like forever ago now. It’s worn, and faded, and torn, and old, but the doctor is still practicing, just got recognized by the World Health Organization for his work. There’s an appointment reminder dinging in Hoseok’s phone, and a business card in his pocket, and he still doesn’t know if he’s even going to go, because you look so beautiful. 

You’re surrounded by your flowers, and you’re glowing like the North Star, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. 

“She’s gorgeous, right?”

Hoseok turns and smiles at Namjoon. The man looks just as good, decked out in the best suit money can buy, with crinkles in the corner of his eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he grins.

“Yeah, she is,” He says. Emotions clog in his throat when he looks back at you only to find you looking his way. There’s love in your eyes and a soft, private smile on your lips, and it makes his chest tighten. “She looks really happy.”

“She does,” Namjoon agrees. 

Across the room, you wiggle a finger, and the ring glints in the light. Hoseok stifles a laugh, and shakes his head. 

“I can’t dance anymore, so this is all on you, big guy,” He tells Namjoon. The other man looks more than happy to take him up on the offer, grinning sheepishly as he sets his drink down to make his way to you. 

You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him close as the music transitions into a slow dance. Namjoon presses his forehead against yours, and both your eyes close, and suddenly, Hoseok feels like he shouldn’t be watching. This feels private, intimate, in a way that he’s never been privy to.

His throat clenches and he can feel it in his throat. 

He nearly drops his drink, but he gets to a table just in time to put the cup down with shaky hands. He knew, he knew what would happen. He clenches his jaw and heads through the side door of the event space, barely chancing a glance behind him. You don’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, but Hoseok makes eye contact with Jimin. The younger boy taps his wrist, and Hoseok just heads outside. 

He doesn’t need Jimin to remind him that time is up. 

[then]

“You need what?”

Namjoon’s smile turns shy at Hoseok’s tone. Of all the things that Hoseok could have anticipated Namjoon would ask him for, of all the potential items that he’s been commissioned by the taller man, this was never something he expected.

Though maybe he should have.

“-you know her better than anyone, y’know, and no one can craft like you, Hobi-”

The nickname sounds wrong, suddenly; like poison on Namjoon’s lips, but Hoseok just plasters on his smile again, the one he saves for truly difficult customers who try his patience, and he prays Namjoon doesn’t recognize it. 

“No, I get it, yeah.”

“I just...it needs to be perfect. And you’re the only one that I trust to make it perfect.” Hoseok’s heart twinges in his chest, and he can feel the roots moving in his lungs. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, too, cost isn’t a factor, it just needs to be-”

“Perfect,” Hoseok finishes. Namjoon smiles again, sheepish, and nods. “It’s fine, I’ll make it. No charge.”

“Hobi, I can’t ask you to do that, not for free-”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok insists. “I’m offering. Consider it a...gift.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and he really must trust Hoseok with this, because he’s heading out just a few minutes after, already on the phone with you because the two of you are meeting for lunch. 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It makes sense. It’s been years. Isn’t that the usual time people start to expect this kind of thing? 

A voice in the back of his head, bitter and cruel, tells him that he should have charged Namjoon. Should have made him pay an exorbitant amount, enough to keep the shop running through the months of the slow season, enough to help heal the wound in Hoseok’s heart, but he brushes it off. It wouldn’t have felt right, charging for this. 

Not when he’s had the design sitting in his head since he wrapped that first stone with wire, since he first learned how to make this jewelry. Not when he’s had pages upon pages of designs drawn out for years, since before he even owned his own shop. 

That was never his to design, though, he reminds himself as he heads into the workshop. He had no right to that design. 

Just like he has no right to you. 

[then]

Later, weeks and weeks later, In the darkness of his apartment, Hoseok cries. 

Hoseok cries for all the things he’s never said, all the things he’ll never do, all of the things that you don’t know. He cries for the late nights together and the impromptu adventures and the panicked phone calls. He’s been so blind, he’s refused to see it, he knows. It’s all been waning, all put on the backburner in favor of him. 

He’s the one you call when air can’t make it to your lungs. He’s the one you pull from work in the dead of night to make him sleep. He’s the one that gets to wraps his arms around you while you watch the newest episode of whatever show you’re obsessed with lately. It’s all him, and it will never be Hoseok, no matter how hard he wishes, because he’s too late. 

He spent so long obsessed with maybe. Maybe you’ll love him back, maybe it’ll ruin the friendship, maybe you’ll realize. For years and years, he said maybe, and now it’s too late, because you’re going to be saying yes to another man’s question, and Hoseok will be left in the darkness, no longer able to look at the stars in your eyes because you’ll be looking at him. 

For the first time in his life, Hoseok hates. He hates you for not realizing that he loves you; he hates Namjoon for taking the chance and asking you out; he hates the flowers growing in his chest that are just further proof that he’s alone in his feelings. Mostly, though…

Mostly, Hoseok hates himself, he realizes as he crumples against the wall of his living room. He hates himself for not taking the risk that Namjoon did, for not putting it all out there so that you could give him whatever kind of closure would come. 

And it’s there, sitting on his floor, surrounded by the remains of too many projects that he spent too long on that you’ll now never see, that he first begins to consider it. Everyone knows about the surgery, everyone knows that you can get the flowers removed, but that it comes with a cost. He stares, past his tears, past the colorful crystal remnants at his feet, and he considers. 

There’s already a numbness spreading through his body; it follows the same path as the roots of the flowers in his lungs, it runs parallel to the petals and seeds, and it only serves to highlight the painful ache that his feelings have caused. He’s already becoming numb to it, so why not? He may lose the ability to love forever, yes, but he can still be your friend. He can still watch you marry another man, this time without the itch in his throat and the flowers in his bile. So why shouldn’t he?

His phone rings, and he already knows it’s you. Not by the specialized ringtone - the only custom one in his entire contact list - and not by the blinking light that’s sure to wake him up in the middle of the night. No, he knows it’s you, because he knows that there’s no way Namjoon could have resisted the temptation to ask you tonight. He’s pictured what you’d look like a hundred thousand times, knows exactly how bright your smile would be as you said yes, how soft the tears would feel as he wiped them away, he knows. 

And now you’re calling him, to tell him the great news, or maybe scold him for not giving you a heads up about it in the first place since he’s the one that made the ring. Either way, you’re on the other end of that ringing, ready to tell him about the happiest night of your life, and Hoseok can’t…

He can’t resist it. It’s autopilot as he drags himself to where his phone is still ringing, and it’s only after a deep and shaky breath that he answers it. 

You don’t even give him time to speak for you’re launching into your squeals and happy giggles and how Namjoon did it, and Hoseok feels a reluctant smile cross his features. It only grows when you start to gush about the ring, complimenting his skill, and he can feel a bud trying to make its way up his throat, so he mutes his phone. He doesn’t want you to hear as he rushes to the kitchen sink, as he chokes and coughs and gags and eventually spits out a nearly whole sunflower. 

It’s not a big one, maybe an inch or so in diameter, and not fully bloomed, but it’s there, and Hoseok knows it’s more of a death sentence than anything. 

“Hobi? Are you there?” 

He wipes his mouth and clears his throat and leaves the flower in the sink with its red-stained petals so that he can unmute his phone. 

“Yeah, Starshine, I’m here.”

[now]

In the alley beside your wedding, Hoseok coughs. He coughs and he gags and he chokes, until the ground is littered with flower petals that aren’t from your bouquets, and blood drops and tears. He chokes until he can’t breathe anymore, until he has to reach in and pull the flower from his throat before he really does die, and it makes him shudder when he sees that it’s nearly fully formed, almost completely bloomed and everything.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the next one.

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the red suit he chose for this exact reason, and he looks through the window, to the space where you should be dancing with Namjoon. 

You aren’t, though. You’re watching him, brows drawn together, confused, and you’re saying something that he can’t quite make out through the glass. 

Fear strikes his heart. Fear that you saw everything, that you know everything, but directly after it comes relief, because he knows now. He knows what he needs to do, because he doesn’t think he can bear to have you watch him die, but he doesn’t think he can bear not to love you anymore, either; no matter what, he’s lost you, and that knowledge solidifies his decision. He holds a hand over his chest, and you mirror him, your fingers closing around the pendant he made so, so long ago.

You turn, looking for someone - Namjoon, maybe, or Jimin, to ask what’s wrong with him, and he takes the opportunity. He heads out of the alley, as fast as his legs can carry him, because he knows. 

When you finally make it into the alley, you don’t understand. Your best friend, your best man, is nowhere to be found. In his wake are flower petals, drawn out by the wind. 

One catches your eye, and you pick it up. It’s soft against your fingertips, and you frown when you see the red on it. 

You don’t ever see Hoseok again.

[ikemenshakespeare]

Harr X MC | “Spring Fever”

Warning: NSFW.

Authors Note: I’ve been inspired to write something like this since “A Charming Change” event released a while ago. They missed a few of our favorite guys, So I asked around and most people said they were curious to see our boy Harr with a different type of personality then his regular shy withdrawn self. Although the storyline is not the same (like at all.) I had fun putting in my own creative twist on the idea of opposite personalities! As always enjoy, reblog, and comment because I love to see feedback from you guys. Thank you to all who read! 💕

Harr darted onto a quiet ally still hand in hand with me. He let out a small sigh of relief but I stared him down with a frown. “What’s wrong?” We were casually strolling through central quarter and next thing I knew he was frantically trying to find some place to hide.

“There’s just so many people, I’m not used to openly walking around like this.” I looked behind me to exam the scene, trying to understand the feeling Harr was having. With close examination all I could see were the many people laughing and enjoying each others company.

“Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time. After all, the weather is beauitful. I find going out like this really fun, I think you just have to give it some time and you’ll grow to love it too.” The sounds of spring played peacefully. The birds were chirping and the wind whistled a soft happy tune as it breezed by. Looking into his eyes I could still see the conflict, but he responded confidently.

“I guess you’re right, let’s continue.” He stiffly led me back into the busy street and we began walking once more. I thought back on all that’s happened in the past couple months. Harr had his reputation as ‘The Wanted Wizard’ upheld after he helped both armies defeat the currupt magic tower. He was so used to living in his own isolation that he forgot what it’s like to be around lively groups of people, to be excepted in a town which he came from. I glanced around hoping to find something that would take his mind off the nerves. I suddenly stopped short, in awe of what I saw. A little Kiosk stood on the corner of the road. The entire thing was covered in a number of different flowers, Some I’d seen before and some I had not. Harr spoke up, “what is it MC?”

“Look over there, have you ever seen this little shop before?” He looked over and shook his head, a shy no. “Do you mind if we take a look? Maybe they sell flower arrangements, I’ve been meaning to get something new to spiff up my bedroom.” He smiled sweetly and squeezed my hand.

“Sounds like a plan.” As we walked closer I saw a woman a bit older then us organizing bottles. I spoke up to get her attention.

“Hello, Miss?”

“Oh hi! Are you be interested in purchasing one of our perfumes?” Perfumes?

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I was admiring your kiosk and thought you might be a flourist. My mistake.” The woman’s smile never faltered.

“Well that’s quite alright, You can still sample and see if you’re interested?” She pulled up one of the bottles she’d been organizing earlier. The pattern was an array of 5 different colors so bright I thought it may be glowing.

“I really don’t have much money, so I don’t know if I’d be able to purchase something as fancy as that.” Harr looked down at me then spoke to the shopkeeper.

“Can we take a look at it?” Her smile gleamed.

“See! This young man understands quite well what a woman wants. If your hesistant to try for yourself, maybe your boyfriends opinion could help make up your mind?” She handed the bottle over for Harr to inspect then continued on. “Our scent is made up of several of cradles most beauitful flowers, that’s why I’ve decorated my kiosk this way. Every bottle is unique due to its combination of colors which upon movement of the bottle reveal many different variations.” As if testing her theory Harr tilted the bottle, and surely the rainbow pattern changed.

“It’s beauitful...” I stepped forward to take a closer look for myself now. The woman stared on expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to try it sir?” To my surprise Harr wore a skeptical look on his face. I spoke up not wanting him to get uncomfortable.

“The scent is for woman right? If you don’t wanna smell feminine I could-”

“It’s fine.” One quick spray and the area around us smelt of the most wonderful flower field. Surprising since he’d sprayed it directly on himself.

“It smells amazing!”

“It really does! People say while wearing it they find themselves feeling more active or excited. Some have even said they’ve felt amorous.” The way she spoke those last words left a sour feeling inside me. It was almost as if her whole demeanor had changed. Using my better judgement I gave my final decline to her offer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ll be buying anything from you today. Thank you for all your kindness!” With that I turned around and walked away as quickly as possible, dragging Harr not far behind me. I know I saw a park a couple blocks back, maybe we could head over there to sit down and relax. The entire way Harr remained unusually silent, even for him. When we were just far enough into the park I stopped to ask him, “That women was a bit strange, wasn’t she? I’m glad we got out of there when we did.” No response, I turned around. “Harr, are you feeling alright?” Before I could make eye contact, I felt myself being pushed to the ground. “HARR?!-” my shout was muffled by his left hand against my mouth. I was in such shock I didn’t even notice he’d pinned my hands above my head.

“SHH.” He hissed. I tried mumbling some confused questions his way but they remained unheard. He gazed at me with eyes I’d never seen before. He looked lustful, maybe closer to hungry. We locked eyes for a moment before he slowly tilted my face, leaving one side of my neck exposed. I felt his tongue move leisurely down my neck. My body tighten as I breathed out a small moan. Harr gave me a deep chuckle in response, something I would never expect from him. My eyes widened in shock. “I never realized how cute you could be Alice, I should’ve taken control sooner.” Alice? He hasn’t called me that since we’d first met... Desperately I ripped my hands from his grip and used them to pry his fingers from my lips. Leaving his hand halfway between my jaw and throat.

“What is going on with you?? You can’t do this here, someone could see us.” I urged, I felt like my entire face was on fire. Yet somehow, his hands were warmer. Gentle as they were against my skin, his eyes were relentless.

“Alice, are you trying to tell me you don’t like it?” My brain practically flat lined at his words, All rational thought leaving my mind. Truthfully I had lost count of how many times I’d fantasized about Harr. Imagining all the possible things he could do to me. Even a moment like this was something I could only daydream about, but the possibility of it ever actually happening... Harr could never- Another unarming laugh fell from his lips, in the best way. “It’s written all over your face, you don’t really want me to stop, do you?” I’d been caught red handed, lying would do nothing for me now. I shook my head, turning a brighter shade of pink then should’ve been possible. A grin like moonlight spread across his face. Then he brought his lips unbearably close to my ear and nipped. A gruff whisper came to follow, “Alice, I promise to take care of you... so long as you behave like a good girl.” My heart hammered in my chest as he started undoing the buttons on my blouse, slipping his hands to cup my breasts. The sun was starting to set, and many of the towns people were more then likely on their way home. I could go against my better judgement and go through with this. Get away with our dirty little act and have some fun, but something inside me screamed it’s not right. This has to do with the woman at the perfume shop? I just know it! If he goes on like this he’ll regret it. I took my hands and placed them on either side of his cheeks, I struggled to speak through the undeniable moans of pleasure I felt.

“Ha-Harr, this isn’t like you. You don’t have to do this.” He paused abruptly and his one eye winced shut before flashing back open again.

“What are we...” Like he was having some sort of epiphany, he jumped back in surprise. “Eh-!” He fell back on his behind, using him arms as support. He was turning a shade of red that rivaled the color of my own cheeks, I’m sure. “The-the perfume. That’s the last thing I remember before I-” he looked me over hesitantly, a disheveled mess.

“She tricked us, it’s not your fault. As soon as I can I’ll be sure to notify the red and black army about what happened here!” I angrily began adjusting myself back to normal, buttoning my shirt and giving my hair a quick run though with my fingers. Harr gave me a weary look.

“No MC, it was my fault we’re in this position. I had a feeling that woman was up to something, but as soon as you volunteered to try out the perfume yourself I panicked and reacted without thinking. I’m sorry.” He looked away from me, ashamed. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight as I could.

“This wasn’t your fault, that lady played a nasty trick on the both of us. We can figure out what to do about her later, but for now we should head home. It’s starting to get dark.” The look of astonishment on his face was undeniably cute, but then he did something that surprised me for the upteenth time today. A soft kiss pecked my lips, so quick I could have been mistaken that he’d even done it at all. “What was that for?”

“You’re amazing, you know?” I grinned bashfully.

“Listen, My heart cant take much more of your antics. Are you sure all the effects have worn off?”

“Yes. But if you don’t mind I would like to say one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I love you.” He rendered me speechless. As he stood up he helped me to my feet aswell, brushing the grass off my skirt like the true gentleman he was. We spent our entire walk home in content silence. Our hands never apart from one another.

[of-fire-and-light]

[RP - bad moment]

[Quick RP log that I wanted on here for keepsake reasons. My Galvatron, raisedbymoogles�� Rodimus. Long post, hurt/comfort, tw hallucinations/meltdown/panic attack, some kissing and making out at the end. Rated... PG13-ish?]

Galvatron: [tensed, shaking all through his frame, dentae bared and optics glazed as though he's not entirely all in one place mentally right now~] [-but not too lost in his own head to recognise his lover] [grabs Rodimus and pulls him close, desperately, bending his head to bury his face against Rodimus's chestplate] Hhh- Prime. [CLING]

Roddy: ::-don't know what's wrong but this is Not Good, oh slag:: ::...arms around him, one hand coming up to protect cover his helm, feeling him shake, knows what he can do to Help right now and not going anywhere:: I'm here, Galvatron. I'm here.

Galvatron: [doesn't know what that was or what broke in his processors to make him experience it, somewhere between a hallucination and a waking nightmare. Lost in a dark place, somewhere cold and lightless and empty, and he'd thought Cyclonus and Scourge were with him but when he reached out to them they were empty too... just soulless dead lights behind their optic glass and hollow armour, and when he'd tried to touch them...!] [shudders and continues to cling to Rodimus, feeling his Prime's familiar sweet warmth wrap around him, grateful even for the blaze of the Matrix scorching against his faceplate because at least he knows that pain is real] [fingers curl, grip into strong bright metal that isn't crumbling under his touch...] 

Nnh. Rodimus. [Yes, I know you, I know you're here...]

Roddy: ::here and staying, as long as Galvatron wants, the galaxy can spin on its own for a while.:: ::he's running hot and trembling-tense, honestly Rodimus would have half expected him to go find something to blow up in this state - not that he'd prefer that to this, his lover clinging to him like a lifeline while reality's taking a hot second to get its act together around him. Galvatron's been his stability more than once. Now it's his turn.::

Galvatron: [for once in his life he's almost afraid to blow anything up right now, what if he falls through the hole and that other reality is underneath-?!?!?!] [but that's what Rodimus is for, he's the half of their dynamic that pulls things back together and keeps them whole. Rodimus is Galvatron's Light, the one who breaks the grip of darkness~] [slow shudder, the whine of charged plasma coils starting to drop away, engines slowly beginning to gear down...]

Roddy: ::...good. Feeling him start to spin down and encouraging it, love/soothing affection and that bright-edged stubborn that's Rodimus's answer to Cyclonus's steadfast, whatever demons took a swipe at him this time will have a Chosen One to contend with if they want a second shot. Got you, not letting go until you're damn good and ready...::

Galvatron: [mmh, that precious bright warmth sinking into his plating...] [shifts his grip and folds their frames together a little less awkwardly, his head still bent against the hollow of Rodimus's shoulder, still nuzzling into him but not quite so blindly now] [...doesn't speak, but the rigid, pain-locked planes of his fields soften, trying to mesh with his lover's.]

Roddy: ::doesn't speak either, then, this silence is Galvatron's to break.:: ::got all the communication they need in their fields anyway, Rodimus's meeting Galvatron's reaching need with love/connection/trust. ...and maybe purring his engine a bit, just to see if it helps.::

Galvatron: [it's the trust that's the most precious of all, that Rodimus can come to him willingly and fearlessly embrace him even when he's like this] [reaches back in a ragged, incoherent pulse of want/need/mine that's... rather more of a question than a statement than is usual for him] [shudders a little at that purr and lets himself nuzzle into it, mmmh]

Roddy: ::...when it comes down to it, it never even occurs to him not to trust.:: ::keeps purring then, if it helps, his body's harmonics settling in with Galvatron's so easily that Galvatron's shudder becomes more of a backbeat, and - yes, yours. Complex pulse of reaching-back and pulling-close that he could have only learned from his Unicronian lovers, yours always...::

Galvatron: [... he does not melt, that is not a thing he does, but you could be forgiven for calling it that as he settles against Rodimus and soaks up that field-pulse like it's exactly what he needed to feel] [fingers curling around Rodimus's flank; his grip no longer tight enough to hurt, softening instead into a caress] [holding-close/claiming/mine-and-precious!]

Roddy: ::...claiming is the thing he is doing. Obviously. <3:: ::yours, respect/trust/adore, and maaaaybe nudging them both over to the nearest bit of furniture to go sit now that Galvatron's knees aren't locked up so tight. Comfort and more cuddles...?::

Galvatron: [has to claim, can't let Rodimus send yours without sending back yes mine no matter how rough he feels at the time! it'd be like not bothering to say I love you too] [allows himself to be coaxed over to the couch, willing to curl up with his Prime and just... yes, that]

Roddy: ::...just. Galvatron. <3:: ::curling up together, then, don't have to do a lot of wiggling to arrange themselves so they're comfortable, they know each other and themselves too well by now:: ::and Rodimus tucks his helm down by Galvatron's, shuts off his optics and just focuses on touch and purring and aura-sense. Love.::

Galvatron: [warmed through with that sweet golden warmth that contrasts so vividly with his own consuming fire, wrapped around and half on top of his lover] [raggedly purrs back for as he tries to reclaim his usual certainty-of-self, engines still hitching a bit] [...love]

Roddy: ::...love. Not a shred of hesitation or self-consciousness about it, loves Galvatron with his whole spark and as much as he wishes Galvatron's own brain module would lay off sometimes he relishes the opportunity to demonstrate it. Love, yours always, and if it would help Galvatron's certainty to feel for himself that Rodimus's faith in him hasn't wobbled one millionth of a degree, then here it is.::

Galvatron: [...it does help. He's trying not to let the backwash of his meltdown vision or whatever it was push him into prickliness as he comes back to himself; he knows his pride will try to show its dentae as soon as it gets its head back above the parapet, but this is Rodimus and he doesn't want to lash out at his Chosen One. It's one thing to shove Cyclonus or Scourge away with a sharp that's enough, or pin them down to reassert who's in command; but for Rodimus, he at least tries to translate his gratitude into something legible-!] 

Hhhh... Rodimus. [tilts his head up to nuzzle Rodimus's cheek and the corner of his mouth, trust/appreciation/love]

Roddy: Mmm. ::love/warmth, letting Galvatron feel how he's shamelessly enjoying the nuzzles:: ...hey, Galvatron.

Galvatron: [reaching up, fingers curl around the side of Rodimus's helm] [optics shade to ember-warm darkness, and there's that particular softness around his mouth that's only ever for Rodimus] [...looks at him for a long moment and then settles a chaste, much-gentler-than-usual kiss upon his lover's mouth. Thank you.]

Roddy: ::....definitely melting, here, Galvatron does this to him every time...:: ::returns the kiss, just as gentle, all the warmth and sweetness he can muster in it...::

Galvatron: [that's better; he genuinely can't acknowledge what just happened out loud right now, but he can certainly show his appreciation with kisses and touches, if Rodimus will accept those. It's a good unspoken code for both let me give you something good now and see, I'm myself again, you fixed it...]

Roddy: ::and it's such a huge relief that Rodimus has to engage in a little creative capacitor use to keep it out of his aura. The last thing Galvatron needs right now is to directly feel how worried Rodimus was.:: ::...and really, it's easy to let those touches and kisses seduce him into killfiling the worry-loops and letting himself relax, responding to Galvatron's whims in a familiar dance for all it's slower than usual. Love, relaxation-pleasure...::

Galvatron: [it's not really a whim as such this time - he sincerely wants to repay all the strength and love that Rodimus just poured into him] [gratitude~] [stroke and kiss, fields finally opening back up into their usual responsive, liquid heat as he wraps them around Rodimus. Want to feel you...]

Roddy: ::right here, all of him here to kiss and stroke and answer his lover's gratitude and want with love/affection/trust/always! and kisses. And Galvatron's aura-heat, perfect, the stinging satisfaction like sliding into a bath that's juuuust on the edge of too-hot...::

Galvatron: [relaxing as he pets his beloved; it's soothing to have Rodimus's bright spark nestled close against his own through the weight of their armour, and the way Rodimus just welcomes him so completely every time they touch does things to him that no language he knows has words for~] [slow kisses, fingers only following the contours of Rodimus's armour for once rather than pressing hard enough to modify them - love.]

Roddy: ::love, want Galvatron in any permutation he's willing to give, and getting his body more or less mapped out by Galvatron's gentle stroking is honestly every bit as good as getting pinned down and half crushed by the warlord's ardor. Purring in response and encouragement, letting him know how good he feels - there's a curl of lust in him, but it's the kind of lust that is content to just be experienced for itself, no need to go chasing off after it.::

Galvatron: [...shreds of nightmare still echoing in his processors, it's one thing to leave his mark on strong, living, self-repairing armour but in his vision they had crumbled to charred metal under his hands... it'll take him a little while to fully trust his own strength again after that, honestly] [but nope not thinking about it and kissing his Prime instead, glossa nudging caressingly between Rodimus's lips, and his senses catch that little twist of lust as it flickers in Rodimus's fields...]

[No need for Rodimus to chase anything, here and now. He need only ask, and Galvatron will gladly do the work of bringing his pleasure to him if Rodimus so desires.]

[spacereadinglesbian]

35 reasons why I love you

Summary: TJ hasn’t really seemed like himself for about three days. Cyrus tries everything to wrap his mind around it but he can’t. So he decides to write a list on why he is son important to him. (This is a spin off of 45 reasons by Theo @you-get-to-exhale-now-Cyrus, please check her fic our! )

Word count: 1882

1. You’re kind


The first real interaction we ever had together, you were nothing but kind to me. You took time out of your day to talk to some nerd who was all sweaty on a swing set, for what? For a split second I thought you were there to make fun of me, to laugh at how I look but you surprised me. You sat down and talked to me, and that’s the day I realized you were kind. It’s been over 4 years and you haven’t stop showing me kindness. It’s not even just me you show kindness to now, you’ve expanded and now your kindness radiates off of you like the sun on the lake during summer. You’re the kindest person I know.

2. You ask about my day
No matter how shitty your day is, you make sure that you ask about my day. At first I thought it was a courtesy thing, but you actually listen to my answer. You listen to every word I say, and hang onto them like a needle on a thread.

3. You have a special smile reserved for me
You’re smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if I can make you smile for the rest of your life, I promise I will. 


4. You’re intelligent
God, you’re so intelligent. You can state history facts off the tip of your tongue, and you have a quote from literature for almost any situation. Even in math your excelling, you took the hardship and got help, even when you didn’t want to. You’re doing amazing now Teej, and I couldn’t be more proud.

5. You’re sympathetic 
You care. You care more than any person I’ve met. That day when I came home because my dog died, you were there holding me and reminding me that I was going to be okay. When Andi and Amber had their first fight, you comforted Amber then were at Andi Shack in a matter of 10 minutes. And Buffy. When Buffy has a problem with Marty she doesn’t ask me, she asks you, that’s a huge step, especially for her. And when Jonah has panic attacks, he talks to you. You’re the first person he goes to, he says he does it because you’re the best listener, I agree. 


6. You don’t put hair gel in you hair when it’s just us


7. You’re incredible with kids 
Whenever I go to bring you lunch at work you have at least two children clinging to your leg. They say that Mr.TJ is the best gym instructor they’ve ever had. 


8. You’re strong
When your parents went through that divorce you were the glue that held the family together while you were also falling apart. You kept it together in front of your mom, your little brother, and Amber. You said they needed at least one man that wouldn’t screw them over. You were only 15 at the time but wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of. You’re the strongest person I know.

9. You’re a great story teller
Damn I could listen to your stories all day, every day. The amount of detail you go into when you’re telling story and the little light in your eyes when you realize somebody actually cares about it is breathtaking.

10. You’re warm 
When I’m cuddling with you I don’t even need a blanket. I think you’re so warm because you have such a warm heart, but that's just my personal opinion.


11. You make the best coffee


12. You can ramble about history for hours

13. Glasses 
When you wake up from a nap and have your hair misplaced and your glasses on you look like the softest little teddy bear. 


14. You care about the environment 
Do you remember the day when we had a beach date? We didn’t even end up swimming, we ended up picking up as much trash as we possibly could on the beach. And after that, your smile was radiating so we went to a different beach and picked that one up too. I also gave up beef for you because your love for the environment is so infectious, and you know how much I loved hamburgers.

15. You respect and love your mom 
I’ve never seen someone have so much respect for their mom. I don’t know if its because you’re a respectful person or because of everything your mom has done for you. From being a single mom to accepting you when you came out. All I know is that you look at her like she holds the world, and you’re not wrong because she held you for 9 months and now you’re my world.


16. You text me to make sure I get home safe 
Nobody has ever taken the time to make sure I get home safe every single time I leave them, it just reminds me how lucky I am to have you.

17. You’re an awful person to watch sad movies with. Yeah I said it. You get so emotional while watching sad movies we always end up changing them, but I don’t mind because I hate thinking about sad things when I’m with you. 


18. You collect socks 
Whenever I have a bad day I look at your socks. You always have something cool on them whether it’s dogs, or basketballs, but my personal favorite are the ones with unicorns.


19. You don’t have one plain pair of sheets 
You say that if you fall asleep on plain sheets your brain doesn’t get enough imagination. Now I know why you’re such a creative person


20. Every time we are out we have to get your dog a new toy 
I swear Bonnie has at least 30 toys all from you. “Cy, we have to go get her a toy! We went out without her she’s going to hate us!” Every time I cave. 


21. You like to capture the moment
At first I hated it that you took so many pictures, I always said “let’s live in the moment.” But you always wanted to take at least one picture. Now I’m lucky that you did that, we have a picture from every movie night to every date.


22. You have soft hands 
I always take your hands in mine because they are so soft, I just can’t help it, plus I love playing with your fingers.


23. Your eyes light up when you talk about something you love
I don’t know if you know this, but you get a sparkle in your eye whenever you talk about something you care about. That’s why I watch history documentaries with you and help you pick up beaches. I never want to see your eyes without sparkle.


24. You don’t half ass shit 
No matter how hard something is, you give it your all. You put everything you have into it, I can’t help but admire that part of you. 


25. You’ve worked for everything you have 
You have worked since you were 14 years old, almost nobody does that. You pay for your phone bill, you’re gas, and your car insurance, and you still beg to pay while we’re on dates. 


26. You volunteer at the elementary school
Every Wednesday you read to a second grade class, I don’t know why you do it, you’ve never told me, but I know it holds a special place in your heart. 


27. You’re an incredible brother
You always help Cooper with his homework when you get home from school. You’re always there to talk to him, you even talk to him about girl troubles even though in your words “I have no experience”. And Amber. Oh my god you’re such an incredible brother to Amber. You’re there for her to talk to or yell at, or use as a punching bag when needed. You even letter put makeup on you when she wants to try something new, you’re the only person I know who lets their sister do that.

28. You’re a good cuddler
That’s it, that’s the whole reason. 


29. You put your friends first 
Ever since we adopted you into our friend group you’ve cared about everyone. If they look down you make sure to text them ask them privately, if they are having a hard family time you offer them to stay at your house. You treat everybody like family, it’s one of the many reasons I love you. 


30. You always offer to pay 
Even though I got a job, you still offer to pay, ALWAYS! We have to rock, paper, scissor, it out every time to decide who gets to pay.

31. You’re a great captain
Ever since 8th grade you’ve respected your teammates and you made sure they get the attention they need. You put your practices first, you’re kind to every single person, you even have game nights once a month at your house.

32. You have a good relationship with my family 
My mom literally treats you like her own son, she always asks why you aren’t at the house and when you’re coming over next. My dad asks when your games are and shows up to every one, he always tells me how great you are basketball. He’s thankful that one day he might have a son that loves sports just as much as he does.

33. God, you have really soft lips 


34. You’re sincere 
I feel like I’ve already said this, but I guess I’ll say it again, you love with your whole heart and nothing less. You care about people, you truly care about people TJ and it shows, you’re just an incredible person.


35. You’re the most important thing in my life 
From the day I met you I knew you were special. I knew you held a special place in my heart and I didn’t know why. Then I got to know you, I really got to know you and I started to understand why my heart felt so full while you were around. It’s because of everything that I’ve listed and more. When I’m not with you, you’re all I think about, and when I’m with you I think about the next time I can see you. I think about your voice, and your eyes. I think about how soft your lips feel on mine. I think about when you giggle and try to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand. God Theodore, i just think about you. I think about what I would do without you, and my mind goes blank because I can’t. I can’t see myself without you by my side. You are the most important thing in my life, and I love you more than you can ever imagine. And all I want for you is to be happy.

Love always,

Cyrus

[teentalkx]

10 lifechanging habits

10. Naps:  All of us are different, every type of body has its necessities. I, for example, am a very active person, therefore means that my body needs a bit of rest. It has been scientifically proven that  20-30 minute naps can help reduce stress, restore alertness, enhance performance and reduce accidents

9. Meal prep days: If you are like me who is always running around or comes home way to tired and hungry to cook and ends up eating chips and Oreos for lunch, then try meal prepping. This habit will not only save you tons of tie but will also prevent you from binge eating. 

8. Snacks: I can’t stress enough the importance of snacks. Growing up, I used to skip breakfast because my stomach couldn’t handle anything, therefore my stomach got used to drinking soda and gummies before lunch. Again, everyone’s bodies function different but starving ourselves until the next big meal isn’t beneficial. Nuts and fruit are a go-to, especially on busy days.

7. Waking up earlier: Yes, I know, maybe you stayed up the night before working on school papers or watching Netflix. Waking up at least 30 minutes ahead of the alarm that you probably will postpone after the first ring will contribute to becoming more productive throughout the day. Becoming a morning person didn’t happen overnight but once you decide to get more stuff accomplished earlier, believe me, Will be worth it! 

6. Stretching/yoga: I wake up around 6:30 during weekdays and after brushing y teeth, exfoliating my face and drinking a cup of hot lemon water I make time to stretch my sore muscles which get very tight during sleep. Not only does this help prevent injuries but also boosts energy for activities later in the day. The same happens at night right before bed. Except, before going to sleep I like to relax and take deep breaths. I encourage you to stretch even for 10 minutes every morning. It is something you have to be consistent on, in the end, flexibility and being more healthy comes with it

5. Reading: Did you know that billionaires tend to read 30 minutes every day? Reading helps improve vocabulary and improves brain function. I strongly believe that everyone is or can become a reader, the person hasn’t found the correct book yet. Think of it as something beneficial to your mental health rather than an assignment. Also, remember to not judge a book by its cover, sometimes, the best stories are hidden under monotonous tittles. 

4. Journaling: Before bed, I like to write ideas or emotions down while drinking a hot cup of tea by my side. It is always so relaxing, my emotions are poured out and my mental health feels stable. Today could be a rough day but a month fro now, I can look back and learn something from that specific day. We are always changing and reading it and turning back and seeing all of our accomplishments is important. Along with that, every month planning beforehand makes chores more exciting, bullet journaling is for everyone, for creative people or someone who wants to be more organized. Give it a try!

  3. Stay hydrated: Our bodies are made up mostly of 70% of water so we might as well drink a lot of it. We lose a lot of electrolytes along with that 70% of water. More clear skin and even weight loss with a healthy meal plan are important for our bodies. Water with electrolytes is beneficial to our bodies after a workout, along with coconut water. Overall, sporty or not, make sure that your body stays hydrated all the time, and try to use a reusable water bottle instead of a plastic one!

2. Stay active: Maybe you want to gain muscle, get slimmer, improve strength or run faster, exercising at least 20 minutes a day is necessary. Make sure to warm up before a workout and stretch afterward to prevent injuries. It doesn’t have to lift weights maybe you like soccer, then go out for a run as often as possible or hold a plank for 1 minute every day. No pain no gain! Make sure to do it for you, because, at the end of the day, you’re the only one responsible for your body, no one else is. 

1. Spiritual health: I come from a Christian family who has always encouraged me to love others as God loves us. I read the bible every night before bed and in my bullet journal, write what I am grateful for, even if it was a bad day. My relationship with God has become a lot stronger, yes, there are bad days. Being a Christian doesn’t mean life is a paradise and everything comes easy, honestly, it’s the contrary. Overall, being close to God and feeling his presence, letting him see through my heart and letting him decide what’s best for me even if I disagree makes me feel good. Nobody is perfect, and only he has the right to criticize us is something I recently accepted. 

[goldheartofsteel]

coffee: the drink of love - A Creativisleepality & Analogical fanfic  

(Chapter 1: When Patton met Roman)

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Characters: Morality | Patton Sanders, Sleep | Remy Sanders, Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Logic | Logan Sanders, 

Category: Multi, M/M

Relationship: Eventual Romantic Creativisleepality, Eventual Romantic Analogical, Platonic Prinxiety, Platonic Logicality

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:  Roman and Virgil have a friendly chat about their respective love lives and things spiral out from there.

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Pre-Relationship, Misunderstandings, Pining, Disaster Gays

Tagging: @notveryglittery

Link on Ao3

The sight of Patton’s favorite coffee shop brings a bright smile to his face and his excitement for his usual coffee drink grows. It’s been a few days since he’s had a chance to get here last and he’s more than ready to partake in his favorite coffee beverage.

The bell rings as Patton pushes open the door.

The shop is fairly busy, filled with mostly regulars though by the looks of it, there are some newcomers trying the coffee for the first time. Good, its what the shop deserves.

“Hey babes. I haven’t seen you for a few days so I thought you found a new coffee shop and that broke my poor little heart,” calls out a familiar voice.

Patton looks over to the counter and sees the owner, Remy standing there with his hand dramatically over his heart.

Shaking his head, he grins at his friend’s antics.

“Oh no, I’d never do that. I know better than that,” replies Patton, “I’ve missed you and the coffee these last few days. Blame it on work.”

Remy laughs.

“Do you need me to talk to Logan?” asks Remy.

“I appreciate it but after last time…..” Patton trails off.

Signing into the register, Remy focuses on the task at hand, now that his favorite customer is here.

“So, the usual Pat?” asks Remy.

Patton nods his head.

“Yuppers!”

Remy smiles as he enters the order into the register.

“So, one large vanilla latte and let’s see what scones we have today,” he looks into the baked goods display, “one cinnamon scone for everyone’s favorite cinnamon roll.”

Patton blushes at the compliment.

“Go have a seat, Patton and I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready,” comments Remy.

“Thanks Rem,” replies Patton.

He walks over to one of the free tables by the window then scans the coffee shop, to people watch while he waits. Eventually, his gaze lands back at the counter and moves down the line from Remy helping another customer to the baristas making drinks and chatting.

In that second, Patton realizes there’s a new person behind the counter – tall, well-kept hair, a charming smile who’s making the people around him laugh as he makes the orders for the customers.

The new barista catches Patton’s eye and winks, causing him to blush then turn his head away.

----------

On a particularly hot day, Patton decides to swing by the coffee shop for some nice and iced to drink because he needs a break from all the water and Gatorade he’s had already, to keep properly hydrated. He thinks Logan would be proud of him.

Patton waves at a couple of people he knows as he makes his way up the counter.

However, instead of Remy working the register, it’s the new barista.

Ok Patton. You’ve got this. Just because handsome and charming doesn’t mean anything.

The man’s eyes widen in excitement when he realizes who Patton.

“Oh! You’re a friend of Remy’s and one of the first people who came here when he opened up a few years ago,” he says grinning.

Patton blinks at few times.

Then he blushes; both at the fact the man knows who he is and that Remy’s been talking about him.

“Yup! That’ll be me!” replies Patton brightly.

The man chuckles.

“So, what will it be, padre?”

“Think I’ll do the iced chai tea latte and make it a large,” Patton looks at the man’s name tag, “Roman. Thanks!”

Roman rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’ve only been here a few days,” says Roman.

Patton smiles.

“No worries, that’s why name tags were invented,” replies Patton.

Roman rings him up then Patton pays before stepping out of the way of the next customer while he waits for his drink. Patton can’t help watching Roman with a smile on his face.

----------

Weeks pass and Patton strikes up a friendship with Roman and it’s been the best few weeks of his life so far or it would be, if it wasn’t for this pesky little crush he’s developed on Roman. It’s just, Roman is so good, so kind and so charming. Really, it’s no surprise Patton’s fallen for him honestly.

Patton enters the coffee shop one day, ready to see two of his favorite people in the world (he can’t forget about Remy after all).

In the doorway, he pauses once he spots Roman – Roman standing very close to another guy dressed all in purple and black, blushing at whatever Roman’s whispering into his ear.

He decides he’s not in the mood for coffee after all.

----------

“To be fair, it’s not like the topic of our relationship statuses ever came up. To use your words, it’s highly probable that Roman has a boyfriend. I would have been surprised if he didn’t.”

Patton stares down at the coffee in his hands and sighs.

Sitting here in this popular chain coffee shop with Logan makes him feel weird and guilty. Not the Logan part; he likes that part actually. The coffee shop is too much for him to take – too loud, too fast and too crowded.

It’s not Remy’s coffee shop.

Logan stares at his friend with a frown on his face.

“Perhaps, you should talk to Roman. Clearly, you miss him and I’m sure he misses you. You’re a hard person to not miss,” states Logan.

Patton gives him a small smile.

“Wouldn’t it be poking my nose into something that’s not my business though? If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me when he’s good and ready to,” responds Patton dejectedly.

After all, he’s been taught to respect people’s privacy.

Logan’s frown grows bigger.

“You do seem to have quite the conundrum, Patton.”

He just sighs then takes a sip of the subpar coffee.

----------

Patton’s phone goes off, letting him know that he has a text message so he pulls out his phone and sees that its from Remy. The message is simply a video of a very sad-looking Roman trying to go about his job.

Immediately, he feels guilty.

Regardless of his feelings for Roman, Patton misses him and makes a mental note to stop by the coffee shop after work. He only hopes it won’t backfire on him and that Remy hasn’t banned him.

----------

Opening the door to the shop, Patton’s relieved to find the place fairly empty so he won’t make a fool of himself in front of a crowd. The first person he sees is Remy, so he cautiously makes his way over to him.

“Uh, hey Remy….”

Patton bites his lip as he watches his friend freeze at the sound of his voice before slowly turn around. He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

Remy’s eyes widen at his appearance then slowly scan Patton’s body from head to toe then back up again.

“PATTON!”

Throwing his arms around the startled Patton, Remy hugs him tightly and doesn’t let go for a few minutes.

He releases Patton from his hug but keeps hold of his hand.

“If I had known a video of Roman was all that it took to bring you back in, I would have sent it earlier,” comments Remy.

Patton blushes.

“A what of me?” asks a familiar voice.

Roman appears in the doorframe leading to the hallway the restrooms are located and Patton feels the breath leaves his body because Roman looks not very glittery like the last time Patton saw him.

Time slows down the moment Roman sees Patton standing there.

Remy lets go of Patton’s hand then slowly backs away, subtly getting the last of the customers out of the shop before flipping the sign to ‘Close’ and locking the front door. Then he watches his friends from somewhere out of the way.

Roman stumbles over his feet in a hurry to get to Patton, afraid this is a hallucination and he’ll fade away.

Eyes wide and concern for Roman hurting himself, Patton rushes towards him just in time to have Roman trip over his feet, sending him flying into Patton, who’s arms wrap around his waist as he’s knocked to the floor.

Looking up at Roman and meeting his gaze, Patton smiles brightly which is returned quickly and makes Roman look more like himself.

Roman slowly gets off of him then stands up before holding out a hand for Patton to take and he does, so with Roman’s help, he’s on his feet in seconds.

“You alright, padre? Didn’t mean to knock you over,” says Roman.

Patton gives his hand a squeeze.

“I’m good, better than good actually,” he replies.

Before either of them can say more, another voice interjects.

“What the hell is going on here?”

It’s the purple punk guy Patton say talking to Roman last time he was here. He can’t help trying to drop Roman’s hand and putting some space between them.

Roman’s having none of that.

Tugging on his hand, Roman causes Patton to stumble into him then quickly let’s go of Patton’s hand in order to wrap his arm around his shoulder instead.

Mr. Purple makes his way across the room to them.

Patton looks between the two men in confusion.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend, Roman?”

There’s silence for a couple minutes before its broken by the sound of glass breaking – Remy dropped a glass on the floor in order to cover his mouth to hide his laughter.

“Yeah no, my dude. Whoever told you that is selling something. Princey here is the closet thing I have to a brother and my best friend but he’s not my type. I prefer someone with a brain in his head. I’m Virgil, by the way and you must be Patton,” explains Virgil.

Patton shakes his hand as he blushes because of his assumption.

Roman stares at Patton with his mouth open for a few minutes before he realizes what happened.

“Oh Patton, you cute puffball you,” he comments.

Virgil smirks.

“Yeah, Princey here prefers guys who wear polos, have glasses and lots of freckles that he wants to count then kiss.”

[pinesposts]

Vote for Mabel!

hello! thank you to everyone who gave me feedback on my first fic. it really really means a lot.

this one is quite a bit longer, and is also NSFW, so beware of that if it that’s not  your thang. i hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is appreciated :) (also, excuse any minor grammatical errors. i’m pretty sure i caught most of them but they tend to slip through the cracks haha)

welcome to Vote for Mabel!

“Hi, my name is Mabel Pines, and I want to be your next student-body president.”

“That’s great, Mabes. Though it might be worth your while to try it on somebody who isn’t, you know, your brother.”

Mabel blows him a big fat raspberry. Okay, so maybe she’s been a little nervous to campaign to the people at school. So what? No matter how bubbly and friendly you are, this is a whole different ballpark. She needs to show everyone how great of a president she’d be in just a few short words, and dangit, that’s hard stuff!

“Ugh. I know.” She sighs, falling back onto her bed. Dipper follows suit, lying down next to her across her rainbow comforter. “I’m sure it’ll be easier once I get started, but right now my nerves are having a party in my stomach and they forgot to invite me.”

He snorts, rolling over to face her. “You’ll win them all over, you know it.”

“Well, duh.” She giggles. A comfortable silence washes over them as Mabel stares up at the ceiling, mentally going over her speech for the billionth time. As she nears the part about her idea for Pet Day, her eyes wander over to look at Dipper. He has been such a big help for this whole thing, hasn’t he? Despite his protests, he was never too busy to come and listen to her speech or suggest that maybe her posters don’t really need to be covered from top to bottom in glitter glue.

Too bad he’s not running for a position, she muses. They balance each other out perfectly. Whenever Dipper gets too focused on doing everything according to the book, she’s the one who helps him look at the creative side. And he’s the one who helps ground Mabel when she gets a little too crazy. Still, he never makes her feel weird for it. Though he’d never admit it, she secretly knows as well as he does that Dipper loves all her crazy weirdness. She loves his too, when cares to show it.

“So, what’s next on the agenda for President Pines?” Dipper asks. “World domination?”

“We’re getting there,” giggles Mabel, “but for now all the candidates have a meeting tomorrow. Just about speeches and stuff, you know the drill. No campaign managers, allowed, sorry.”

“Campaign manager, eh?” Dipper quips. “Got a nice ring to it.”

“I’m glad you approve. I mean, you’ve done a ton for this campaign. Though I still resent your stance on the glitter.”

“Please. You’ll be thanking me when the student body isn’t choking up sparkles during your speech.”

“Pffft. As if glitter could ever be used for evil.” Mabel scoffs, propping herself up onto her elbows.

“Ahem?” teases Dipper. “Don’t you recall a certain April Fools, circa three years ago? I was scrubbing glitter out of my hair for weeks afterwards.”

“Those were rhinestones, my dear bro. A completely different beast.”

“Ah, right. My apologies.” He smirks, pushing himself off of the bed. “Well, if there are no more election duties, calculus homework calls.”

“Aw, boo.” Mabel protests. She reaches out to grab his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed. Her angle is a little wonky, though, and she accidentally pulls down towards her. Giggling, she watches Dipper’s slender frame move closer and closer as he falls. Despite his best effort to stop himself, they land in a heap with Dipper pressed up a little too close to her face. She keeps laughing, hoping to dissuade any weird tension that might come from the slightly awkward position. She expects him to get up any second now and laugh it off. But instead of pulling back, he lingers there for a moment, awkwardly holding himself up above her.

Then, as quick as his weird freezing happened, it quickly unpauses and he’s standing up on his feet again. He gulps, his face unnaturally red even for him. “Uh, like I said. Calculus.” Before she can spit out a second protest, he’s gone from the room. Mabel giggles. She may be the weird one, but Dipper can sure be strange sometimes.

___

Mabel gets to the meeting just in time, sliding into a seat next to a particularly cute blonde-haired boy. She had gotten into a nasty game of tug-of-war with the vending machine but luckily had came out victorious. Now, settling into her seat with her fruit snacks in hand, she gazes around the room. There are a couple people here she recognizes from various classes but the rest are completely unknown to her. She gives a tiny wave at Lizzie from Art just as the teacher supervisor strides in.

“Hello, everyone!” greets the cheery red-haired teacher. “I’m Ms. Blais. It’s great to see so many candidates this year! That means the pressure’s on, though!��

Mabel smiles. She’s pretty sure that this Blais lady teaches science, which is why they’ve never met, but she seems cool enough.

“Have you had Blais before?” A voice whispers from beside her. Mabel shakes her head in the voice’s direction, realizing it’s none other than Cute Blonde Boy. “That sucks. She’s a riot. Mind you, her class is brutal, but she’s so cool it makes up for it.”

“If I ever lose my mind and decide to take a chemistry course, I’ll make sure she’s the unfortunate soul that gets to teach me.” Mabel giggles.

“Maybe I’m jumping the gun a bit, but I wouldn’t call it unfortunate to have you around.” The boy replies, his cheeks turning pink ever-so-slightly.

“D’awww.” Mabel replies, unable to contain her smile. “I’m Mabel.”

“Felix.” He replies, running a hand through those pretty yellow locks. “So, what are you-”

“Felix!” Ms. Blais cries out, shooting an overly-animated disapproving glare his way. “There’ll be plenty of time to chat up the girls after the meeting, ‘kay?”

Felix smirks back at her. “Sure thing, Ms. B.” The petite teacher clicks her tongue disapprovingly, but that doesn’t mask the smile stretching across her face. She continues making her way around the room, passing out identical white forms to every student.

“Now, I’ll keep this short. We’ve got speeches coming up at the end of the week, which means you all need to submit your final drafts by Wednesday. Not that I don’t trust you all to keep your speeches G-rated, but I don’t trust any of you. The next day will be speeches right after lunch, and then everyone will return to their classes to vote. We’ll announce the results Friday! Any questions?” Ms. Blais finishes her short speech, glancing around the room a couple times for raised hands. Upon finding none, she smiles and places the remaining forms into the crook of her arm. “Well, then. See you on the ice, kids.”

Felix and Mabel continue to chat as they exit the meeting. She finds out that he’s a total science nerd (but like, an adorkable one), he’s in three of Dipper’s classes, and he has a pet snake. How awesome is that! She also learns that he’s directly competing against her for president, but hey! Who doesn’t like some friendly competition now and again? Mabel leaves her lunch hour behind feeling totally smitten, and knows she has to tell Dipper as soon as freakin’ possible.

“Do you know a guy named Felix Ross?” she asks later on their car drive home. Dipper absentmindedly turns onto their street, his face contorted in thought.

“I think so. Kinda tall, blonde guy?” Dipper asks, and is promptly replied to with a nod. “Yeah, he’s in my Calculus class, I think. And maybe Physics? Not sure.” He pauses. “Why do you ask?”

“I met him at the campaign meeting during lunch. Gosh, and to think I could’ve gone my whole life without meeting a dreamboat like him. Running for prez sure has its perks, eh?” Mabel giggles. She notices Dipper’s grip grows slightly tighter on the steering wheel as he pulls into their driveway.

“I mean, he seems like kind of an ass to me.” Dipper says. And with that, he exits the car. Mabel huffs in her seat. Dip sure can be a party pooper sometimes.

Mabel spends the next day and a half falling head over heels for Felix. As soon as she gets home from school that day, she cracks open her phone and sent Felix a jokey message she hopes will make him laugh. Success is reached in the form of a laughing emoji reply, followed by him asking about her day went. He was so nice to her, but never in a way that felt forced or phony. It was just him being a genuinely nice guy. And she felt so comfortable talking to him! The only other guy she felt like that with was Dipper.

Who, speaking of which, has grown even more sure that Felix is a “total ass”. But how does he know? It’s not like he’s ever talked to the guy. As far as Mabel is concerned, Felix is as perfect as they come. And heck if she was going to pass that up!

Which is why she might have gotten a teensy-weensy bit carried away the following day after school, when Felix asks her to help him “Mabel-ify” his posters. It’s not her fault the guy doesn’t know which end of a glue gun is up! As far as Mabel’s concerned, this is a crafting emergency that desperately begs for her attention.

Still, she winces when she sees Dipper’s name come up on her phone. Shoot! She forgot to cancel.

“Hey, Dip. Listen…”

“Hey, where are you?” Dipper asks. He sounds concern, like he’s worried something must’ve happened to her. Aww. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine…” she trails off, dreading having to tell Dipper the truth. “Listen, I’m kinda sorta at Felix’s house right now. Do you think you could pick up the extra poster copies without me? Please?”

She hears Dipper sigh on the other end of the line. “What are you even doing at his house, Mabel?” he asks, his voice small and meek.

“I’m helping him with his posters is all. They are in desperate need of some Mabel TLC.”

That gets a half-hearted chuckle out of him, but she can tell he’s upset. Ugh, she feels so bad! Why does her dumb brain always get so caught up in the moment with boys? Now her brother is upset. But before she can apologize further, his voice stirs on the other end of the line.

“I’ll go get the posters, okay? Just…don’t stay out too late or anything.”

Mabel giggles. “Okay, Mom.” She quips, coaxing yet another chuckle out of him. Operation Dipper-Cheer Up has done the best possible job considering the circumstances. “I’ll be home nice and early so we can practice my speech, ‘mkay?”

“Sure, Mabes.” She hears him say, before giving her a quick goodbye and hanging up the phone. Aw, crud. Now she feels terrible. Still, she’d be lying if she said those feelings didn’t go away a little when Felix re-enters the room with two cans of pop for them.

“Dr. Pepper for you, Diet Coke for me.” Felix recites, passing her the can of soda. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Just Dipper.” She says, smiling up at him. “Now, let’s see those posters.”

It’s just after eight thirty when Mabel finally gets home, which is admittedly a bit later than she had intended to leave. Whatever, she got carried away! Plus, those posters seriously needed some work. She makes her way up to Dipper’s room, knocking lightly on the door.

“Come in.” His voice echoes through the door. She turns the handle, meekly walking into his room. He’s lying on the bed, idly drumming his fingers across the cover of a torn-up mystery book that his eyes have neglected in favour of wistfully gazing at the ceiling.

“Hey.” She says, giving her brother her best I’m really super sorry smile.

He gives her a weak smile in return. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry about running off. I just got kind of carried away, and Felix is soooo cute Dipper, seriously like I almost start drooling when I look at him for too long, it’s really…”

“Yeah, I get it, Mabel.” Dipper says harshly. He instantly looks regretful, and lets out a sigh as he runs his hand through his messy brown hair. “Sorry, I know you like him. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Mabel knows that look. She knows it means that Dipper is holding something in, because she’s always the one that can see past it. Because she is the one that he lets everything out to. It’s a look that, when she’s on the receiving end, makes her heart break.

“Dip, come on. I know it’s not okay.” She says, plopping herself down at the foot of his bed. His legs curl into his chest and he tries very very hard not to look at her. Why is he being like this? Dipper has always been one to hold in his emotions to everyone else, but when it comes to his sister, he always lets them out.

“No, it is. You’re-you’re just…You’re having fun. And I’m glad that, uh, Felix is a cool guy after all.” He says, picking at his faded Legend of Zelda t-shirt.

Mabel frowns, thinking hard. She knows she majorly screwed up and all that, but would that really make Dipper this mopey? Something must be way seriously wrong. Ugh, she’s never been good with this sort of thing.

“Okay, just…” She hears herself say. “If you want to talk, y’know my door’s always open!” She ends this by shooting him finger guns, giving him her goofiest Mabel smile. Luckily, this gets a chuckle out of him.

“Okay, Dr. Mabel.” He says, picking up his book and burying himself back into it.

She sighs. That look is still there behind his eyes, but she doesn’t know if there’s anything she can do about it but wait.

The next day, Mabel spends extra-long at the mirror getting ready. This is for two reasons. One, because today’s Speech Day! And while of course she's going to wow them with all her fantastic ideas, it can’t hurt to be looking spiffy too. Reason number two is that she’s going out for lunch with rival candidate and all around cute dude Felix Ross right before the speeches.

Their lunch goes perfectly. Duh, why wouldn’t it? Felix is a total gentleman. He holds the door for her, makes her laugh like a gazillion times, and even pays for her meal at the end. She idly thinks over their date as they walk back to school, her arm in his. No matter what happens with the election, Mabel’s sure glad that she met Felix. This state of bliss doesn’t last long, unfortunately. Her current Felix mental fantasy is pierced by her twin’s voice calling her name. Ugh. Right now, Dipper? Really?

“Mabel?” He calls again, now standing in front of her and Felix.

Felix clears his throat, probably feeling more than a tad awkward. She may have let it slip to him that her brother isn’t the hugest Felix fan. “I’ll see you out there, okay, Mabel?” He says, giving her hand a squeeze. She smiles at him as he walks off, though that smile quickly fades to a look of annoyance that gets flashed Dipper’s direction.

“Seriously, Dip? I was kind of in the middle of something!” Mabel accuses, exasperated.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I stopped you.” Dipper replies, his face redder than usual.

“What?”

“Listen, Mabel, you can do whatever you want, but I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to be hanging out with your opponent right before the election, y’know?” He shrugs, idly picking at the fuzz on his forest green sweater.

Say what? Who does Dipper think he is? He can’t just barge into the middle of her Felix fantasy, interrupt their date and then yell at her for having a little fun. She won’t stand for it.

“What the heck?” She says, raising her voice despite the other people still standing around in the halls. “This is a high school election! This doesn’t mean anything! “My opponent”? Seriously, we aren’t running for Congress, you know. This is supposed to be for fun.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” He says, his voice tinged with regret. “Listen, I’m your campaign manager, right? It’s just my advice, is all. I don’t trust that guy.”

“You don’t trust anyone, Dipper! And by the way, “campaign manager”, I only gave you that title because you were being nice and helping me out. Not because you were bossing me around. I’m not a little kid, Dipper, I can handle myself.”

“I’m trying to help, Mabel!” Dipper says, his voice raising to match hers. Not a good move.

“Well, quit it!” She yells, backing away from him. “I don’t need any help from you!” She can’t stand to look at him anymore; she’s practically seeing red. Where the heck is this all coming from, anyway?

Mabel feels a single tear trickle down her cheek. Oh boy, here come the waterworks. She ducks into the girl’s bathroom, quickly locking herself into a stall so she can let the tears fly. Why did he have to do this right now? Now she’s going to be all shaken up and sad for her speech! She’s supposed to be all fun and happy; that’s how she was planning to win the student body over. God, everything is so messed up now.

She curls her knees into her chest, pressing her back into the wall of the stall. Tears dance across the scrapes on her legs as she presses her palms into her eyeballs. C’mon, Mabel girl, pull yourself together.

What the heck is she going to do?

—

Mabel makes her way up to podium, still desperately trying to scrub the mascara off of her tear-stained cheeks. God, she must look like a total mess. Eventually she finds herself positioned above the microphone and opens her mouth, praying that her voice won’t be as shaky as the rest of her.

“H-hello, everyone!” Mabel starts off. Lovely. Her shaky voice decided to make an appearance after all. “I, uh, am so excited to be running for your president. And, I, um…” Her eyes scan the room desperately for Dipper. Why can’t she remember what she’s supposed to say next? Where  is he even sitting? He didn't leave, right?

“I want to be your next president because I’m super organized, for one thing. I’ve, uh, been part of tons of clubs over the years too! Like, ah…” She had her whole speech memorized less than an hour ago. Then she had to go have a stupid fight with her brother and now she can’t remember anything! Finally, Mabel spots Dipper in the crowd. Despite their argument, it still hurts her heart to see that his face is just as red and splotchy as hers. He looks just as scared as she feels.

Eventually Mabel makes her way through the speech, stumbling over her words and just generally making a total fool of herself. She can’t believe this. All the campaigning in the world can’t save her now. Her posters, the ones she spent days making, might as well not even be up there on the walls. She totally effed everything up.

She finishes her speech on the verge of tears, and is met with a half-hearted applause from the audience. Pushing her way through the couple of people waiting to go on next, Felix included, Mabel finds herself inside an empty classroom. Immediately, she slumps down in a nearby chair and breaks down crying. She’s so mad at herself right now she could scream.

The classroom door gently creaks open as a lanky figure approaches Mabel. She instantly knows who it is, even though she doesn’t really want to face him right now. She feels Dipper’s arms wrap around her, silently rubbing circles on her back. Despite how angry she was at him, all she wants to do now is let herself melt into his warm, comforting frame. She lets her tear-stained face rest on his shoulder and wonders what in the heck to say to him.

“Dipper, I-”

“Listen, Mabel-”

They both speak at once, cutting each other off. The twins let out soft giggles, both secretly glad to have alleviated a fraction of the tension in the room. Mabel motions for Dipper to continue, infinitely grateful that he’s not making her take control of this scary conversation.

“I’m sorry, Mabel. I’m sorry I was such an asshole earlier, honestly, I had no right to say those things about Felix, or any of this. I know you like him and I just— I feel awful. This is all my fault and I never, ever, want to hurt you, okay? And you can hang out with whoever you want, obviously, I just missed you is all. But I know I didn't handle it right, like, at all, and I’m really sorry. God, I’m so sorry, Mabes.”

Mabel can’t help it, she starts to sob. She isn’t upset with Dipper anymore, at least not nearly as much as she was before. Now she’s just upset with herself for letting everyone down, most of all her brother.

“I just feel like I let you down.” She says in a small voice, avoiding all eye contact. “You worked so hard helping me, and I just blew it.”

Dipper grabs her chin, tilting it up gently to look at him. “Hey. That’s crazy talk. I’m so proud of all the work that you’ve done, okay? Seriously. I’ve been looking up at those crazy cool posters on the wall all week and every time all I can think is how lucky I am to be your brother.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Mabel, you’re the coolest, funniest, most amazing girl I know. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

Mabel smiles, finally meeting his eyes. But when she does, she notices something there that’s never existed in his eyes before. There’s this intensely passionate look lingering on his features, like he’s looking at her as if he can’t believe she’s really there. She’s been on the receiving end of similar looks from boys a handful of times before, but nothing this intense and definitely nothing like this from her brother.

Behind all that is something else. It’s almost hidden, but Mabel knows him better than anyone and picks up on it. Behind the adoration is fear, she realizes. He’s deeply afraid. She gulps, watching him gaze at her in a way he hasn’t ever looked at her before. A look of admiration, of passion, of fear of what it all must mean.

A montage plays in Mabel’s head of the past few days and she realizes something earth-shattering. This isn’t the first time Dipper’s looked at her like this; not by a long shot. He’s been looking at her like this for a while now. But there’s always been some distraction; the campaign, an upcoming test, a new cute boy. Right now, though, it’s just the two Pines twins, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. And for the first time, she’s finally noticing just how Dipper looks at her. It’s anything but platonic.

She watches him get closer and closer to her face. This can’t be real. Dipper Pines, her brother, is inching his way towards her lips. There’s no way he’s really doing this, right? He’s just… he’s just… Her mind goes blank.

He’s kissing her.

It’s extremely soft; so gentle that if she wasn’t holding her breath and remaining as still as a statue she might not even have noticed it. She can’t bring herself to push him off of her; she’s in shock. Dipper takes this as a green light, and continues to gently press kisses upon her lips. His thumb caresses her cheek, in a way that (gulp) might have actually made her shudder a little.

So this is really happening, then. Her brother, her best friend for life is kissing her. Why isn’t she pushing him away? Why is she kind of sort of maybe—

“What the fuck.” A deep male voice whispers from behind them. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

The twins instantly break apart. All the colour has drained from Dipper’s face. He’s terrified. Still, he inches his way in front of Mabel to shield her from the person in front of them.

“Felix, let’s not make any rash decisions, okay?” Dipper speaks, his voice quivering and breaking in ways she hasn’t heard since middle school. Mabel, meanwhile, can’t even manage to look up at Felix’s face. She’s frozen in place.

She hears Felix slam the door, presumably running off to go tell everyone what he saw. Mabel sinks to her knees, her face once again buried in her hands as she sobs. This time, though, she isn’t sobbing for some stupid presidential campaign. She’s crying for her, and her brother, and oh god, she’s going to have to move schools, and her parents will find out, and they’ll separate her and Dipper, even though neither of them know what they’re doing. They’re just stupid kids, for God’s sake. They’re just kids.

“Mabel.” Dipper finally breaks the silence, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“I-I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She heaves through tears.

“I’ll make this right, Mabel, okay? I’ll fix everything. You don’t need to worry. Just pretend this never happened. Please.” The pleading in his voice is so desperate it makes her heart break. But she can’t seem to move from her position. She can’t go comfort him right now. She can’t do anything but cry.

By the time she looks up, he’s gone.

—

Mabel wants to scream. Instead, she settles for roughly throwing her phone down against her mattress. She’s called Felix a grand total of six times, and every single time she’s gone straight through to voicemail.

Truthfully, she doesn’t even really know what she’d say to him if he picked up. Beg him to take her back? Definitely not. They’re way beyond that. Probably just plead with him not to think she’s a freak, to keep quiet about what he saw. To yell, to apologize. Maybe she’d just cry. Who knows?

Usually she’d ask Dipper for guidance about these kinds of situations. She’d curl up next to him under his covers and have a good cry. Then, once she was all cried out, she’d watch as he sat down at his desk and sketched out a thirty-something part plan to fix everything.

This time, though, there’s no long-winded plan to guide her. In fact, Mabel hasn’t even seen Dipper since that super awful moment in the empty classroom. When she had finally gotten home, she gave his bedroom door a soft knock that was met with no answer. She knew he was in there; she could hear him softly crying. The sound felt close, as if he was right on the other side of the door. She slumped down against his doorframe, her chest heaving as she silently cried into her knees.

Now, she’s lying down on her bed, still heaving the same tears but desperately trying to think of absolutely anything else.

How on Earth are they going to fix this?

The next day is almost as tough, though at least the tears have died down. Dipper had left extremely early in the morning, leaving her to sullenly pick at her breakfast for fifteen minutes until her mom told her to just leave it.

Dipper left her the car, but she’s never liked driving. She spends the entire lonely walk to school chewing on the inside of cheek as she tries to resist the urge to cry. How can she face everyone at school, when they probably know the whole sucky thing? How can she possibly face Felix? Her mind has long forgotten the fact that today is Election Day. Now, she’s just trying to survive. To Mabel’s surprise, no one mentions the incident to her all day. In fact, everyone treats her as normally as ever. It’s as if Felix kept the secret to himself. Mabel is completely baffled.

When the results are announced in last period, it’s no surprise to Mabel that she lost to Felix. Frankly, he deserves it a lot more than her. She’s a freak, a stupid, brother-kissing freak. All she cares about now is fixing things. Luckily, she manages to catch a glimpse of Felix right as he’s exiting the school. She speeds up instantly, racing through the halls to catch up with him.

“Felix!” Mabel cries, making everyone in the halls turn to look at her. Oops. “I need to talk to you.”

Felix gives her a blank look. Silently, he follows her around the corner and into an empty classroom. Without a word he sits down on top of one of the desks and crosses his arms. Okay, Mabel girl. This is what counts.

“Felix, I don’t really know how much you saw yesterday, or anything, honestly I’m not even sure what it was that you saw, but…” She trails off. Blargh, she’s no good at this. God, she wants Dipper here. He’d be able to reason with Felix. Even more, he’d be able to put his arms around her and pull her close. He’d be able to make her feel okay again.

“It’s okay, Mabel. I’m not going to tell anyone about what I saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Say whaaaa?

“You’re not?” She asks tentatively.

“I’m not that much of a dick.” Felix says, his eyes very pointedly avoiding her. “Besides, your, uh, your brother came to talk to me last night. He showed up at my door and begged me not to tell anyone. I’m not saying I’m not weirded out by what I saw, but, well, he assured me it wasn’t what it looked like. Even if it was, that’s your business to deal with.”

Mabel can’t help it. She runs at Felix, enveloping him in a bear hug. Thank God. He really was a good guy all along, huh? Dipper must realize that now too. Felix gives her back a couple of awkward pats before clearing his throat. Oh, right. Despite everything he’s said, he’s probably not exactly thrilled about being around her.

“That being said, I don’t really think we should be spending anymore time together.” Felix continues, drumming his fingers along the side of the desk. “You clearly have some stuff to work out and I don’t really think you need the added confusion.”

“You’re right, you’re so totally right.” Mabel says, breaking away from their hug. Still, she can’t help but conceal the smile on her face. She’s so freaking relieved, it doesn’t bother her that Felix is ending their barely-a-relationship. There are plenty of blonde-haired dreamboats out there, after all.

“Right, so, uh… I’m gonna go.” Felix says, using his arms to push himself back off the desk. He gives her a slightly awkward smile before quickly ushering himself out of the room. Mabel wants to cry again, but for an entirely different reason. This time it’s out of relief, and most of all, gratefulness.

Thank God for Dipper Pines.

Mabel skips her way back home, a drastic change from the somber way she had trudged to school this morning. Now, she feels light as a feather. She and her brother are going to be okay. She just knows it.

In fact, it surprises her just how happy she feels. Even if Felix isn’t going to let their little secret slip, she should still be upset by the fact that her brother freaking kissed her. That’s wrong, right? Any normal person would think so.

But for some reason, Mabel doesn’t. It caught her off guard, alright. But after she had gotten over the initial shock that it was indeed her brother kissing her, she had been able to focus on the actual kiss. And okay, fine! It wasn’t horrible! In fact, it was kind of nice. She had never, ever, been kissed like that before. No one had ever made her feel so cared for, so safe. No one had ever made her shudder like that either.

What’s even more is that no kiss had ever felt so right to her. Having Dipper there, gently cupping her cheek and leading her through a minefield of emotions in one kiss felt strangely perfect to her. As if it was meant to be that way all along.

That’s not as big of a surprise, though. Everything with Dipper always felt so natural to her. He always made her feel like she could be herself with him, even (especially) at her weirdest. She knew that Dipper felt the same way too. Heck, she was the only person he was ever truly comfortable around. It made her feel good, knowing that she was the one person he trusted in that way.

Why Dipper has such a problem with being himself, she’ll never understand. Frankly, he’s the best person she’s ever known. From his weird-mystery solving antics to his torn-up collection of mystery books to the super cute way he looks at her when he’s just woken up—

Oh, fiddlesticks.

It hits her like a dang truck.

She loves him.

She really, truly is head over heels for her brother. Her best friend for life.

Mabel can’t believe it took her this long to see it. She’s always known on some level that they were different than your average siblings. She’s heard countless people tell her how nice it is that they’re so close, but even then, she knew it was something more. And in a way, the platonic love is still there. They tease each other relentlessly, and get into stupid arguments, and god knows how competitive they both get over Saturday morning video game marathons. But there’s always been that longing, that insatiable urging inside of her that they’ve got to be more than just “close”.

Dipper just seemed to realize it first, is all. That’s no surprise, though. He’s the one who loves mysteries. He thrives off of them, it seems. While Mabel is always content with stopping to smell the roses, Dipper constantly needs to know exactly what’s going on. She wonders how long he’s known for.

Her feet stop at the front door of her house. Oh. She’s home. Well, it’s now or never. Mabel slowly makes her way up to her brother’s door. She’s made the trip up these stairs thousands of times, and yet now it feels completely new. In a way, she’s a completely new Mabel.

Before she knows it, though, her knuckles are rapping against his door.

“Mabel?” A shaky voice calls out through the door.

“That’s my name.” Mabel replies softly. There’s no answer, so she gingerly reaches over to the doorknob and opens the way in. The sight she’s met with makes her heart break. Dipper is sitting on his bed, eyes puffy and red. His knees are tucked into his chest and he is quite deliberately avoiding eye contact with her.

“Dipper?” She whispers. Without looking up at her, his hand reaches up and gives her a gentle wave. Welp. This might be harder than she thought. Truthfully, Mabel had sort of pictured that she’d just run up here and fall into his arms and they’d figure everything out later. Turns out, this might require a tiny bit more tact.

After a long silence, Dipper finally looks up at her. “I know what you’re going to say, okay.”

Mabel almost giggles, but realizes he probably wouldn’t take that too well. “I really don’t think you do.”

Dipper looks confused for a second, but then shakes his head sternly. “I do, so just-just listen, okay? I know I’ve made things weird for you, and god, I know I totally fucked up. I should’ve never, y’know, kissed you, especially where anyone could’ve easily walked in. Sometimes I just don’t think, like, at all. I should’ve been thinking that day because I’m the one who’s supposed to protect us. But for whatever reason, I wasn’t. Still, you don’t have to worry. I fixed it all. I talked to Felix and he promised not to tell anyone. Honestly, Mabel, he really does seem like a good guy. I was prepared to threaten him or to pay him off but he just promised not to tell right away. I’m sorry I was such an ass about him.”

“Dipper-”

“Hold on, I’m not done.” He says, clearly working himself up over this. Mabel crosses over to put her hands on his shoulders but he quickly scoots away. “Sorry, just… Well, I think you know why. Anyway, I’m really sorry about the whole kiss situation and I’ve already started working on it. I’m gonna work out all these fucked up feelings for you, I’ll even see a therapist if I have to. I promise, Mabel, whatever it takes. I’ll fix everything I’ll stop— whatever this is.”

With that, Dipper gets up and runs a hand through his hair, beginning to walk towards his bedroom door.

“Wait.” Mabel’s voice calls out. Is that her voice? She can barely recall. “You don’t, uh… I don’t want you to stop.”

Dipper stops in his tracks, turning around slowly to look at her. His eyes are staring at her more intensely than they ever have before, searching every line and shape of her face for some sort of sign. She watches him, turning words over in his head as he tries to figure out what to say back. She knows him best, after all. She knows exactly what’s going on in his head.

So she takes a deep breath in, closing her eyes as she sits waiting on Dipper’s bed. She can’t be the one to walk over, to close the gap, to put her lips on his. But she can sure make it easier on him.

Sure enough, the next thing she feels are Dipper’s chapped lips softly placing themselves in line with hers. He kisses her ever-so-softly, the warmth of his cheeks emanating off of him. Hesitancy lingers in his motions, but he doesn’t find that reason enough to stop. Slowly but surely, just as he had done after her speech, Mabel finds herself being kissed by her very own brother.

And she’s kissing him back.

The rational parts of her whispers to stop, that this is wrong. And yet something deep inside her never wants this to end. For whatever reason, that part deep down is the part that wins, and her hands float up to press softly against his chest. Dipper immediately reaches his hands up to her shoulders, and then her hair, and then the nape of her neck. His hands continue to run up and down her, as if they were dead set on touching every inch of her skin.

Their kiss quickly transitions into something more than the gentle, soft kiss that had originated this whole dang thing. No, this kiss was deep and passionate and god, throws Mabel for such a loop that she can barely even think straight. She clings onto Dipper, the only thing she’s sure of right now.

Oh, and look, now his tongue is —yup, Dipper’s tongue is definitely entering the equation. Wowzers. He is kissing her like his life depends on it, like if he doesn’t get it all done now there might never be another shot. Will there be? Could there be? Her thoughts are having quite the temper tantrum in her brain right now at this whole situation.

Dipper holds her closer than he ever has before, gently lying her down onto his bed. Their warm bodies line up almost perfectly (he’s got a good two inches on her) as he continues to kiss the freaking heck out of her. Her racing thoughts are quickly banished by Dipper’s lips placing soft open-mouth kisses along her jaw, and then along her neck. Jeepers, this feels like nothing she’s ever felt before and oh my gosh did she just moan?

Dipper evidently heard it too, looking up at her with that damn sheepish grin. Her insides start going wild, butterflies flapping in every direction. She knows she’s an oddball sometimes but that is most definitely not how you’re supposed to feel when you’re looking at your brother. Then again, you’re definitely not supposed to be in love with your brother either, but here they are.

Mabel registers that Dipper’s lips are hovering just over the space in between her breasts. That sheepish grin is asking her a deliberate question. Without thinking, she reaches down to the hem of her shirt and it quickly loses itself in the mound of dirty clothes lying on Dipper’s floor. It’s then she remembers that, oh right, she’s not actually wearing a bra. Oh well. Dipper looks her over like she’s nothing he’s ever seen before, like she’s a real life goddess lying there for him. It makes her tummy do another triple backflip because she’s had boys look every which way at her but never like that.

Finally, Dipper seems to remember where he is and presses a kiss in between her breasts. His hand floats up to softly cup her right breast, running a gentle thumb over her nipple. It instantly makes her shudder, but oh boy is it a good kind of shudder. His other hand quickly drifts up too, and his awe-driven fondling of her breasts makes her weaker and weaker. It makes realizes very quickly that she wants all the Dipper she can get.

Her hands tug on the bottom of his shirt, silently pleading with him to throw it away too. Luckily, he gets the message and before she knows it he’s practically ripped his shirt away. And yes, she’s seen him shirtless at the community pool and whatever but he’s never looked quite like this. Quite this…aw god, she’s gonna say it. Quite this hot.

Their bare chests press against one another as Dipper pulls her into another deeply passionate kiss. And she feels something hard push up against her leg. Is that…? To test out her theory, she holds him as close as she can and delicately rocks her hips up into his.

Yup, Dipper has definitely got a case of the sister-boners. But truthfully, she isn’t all that upset about it. Actually….

Maybe it’s out of curiosity, or maybe it’s out of pure lust, or maybe it just feels right in the moment. She doesn’t know. What she does know is she can feel her hand making its way down to Dipper’s bulge and gently grazes her fingers over it. Now it’s Dipper’s turn to let out a moan, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck. She decides she likes this very much, and continues to rub him through his pants. Now he’s the one clinging to her, cursing under his breath and shaking ever-so-slightly. It makes her feel good how easily she can work him up like this, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want more.

So she allows herself to unbutton those pesky jeans for him, and feels Dipper quickly kicking them off the rest of the way. That’s more like it.

Dipper reaches around to cup Mabel’s butt, using that to pull himself back onto her. It riles her up beyond belief and without thinking she rocks herself ever-so-slightly into him again. And it feels insanely good, so she does it once more. Dipper lets out another curse under his breath before slowly rolling his hips back into hers.

And oh boy, does he hit the nail right on its friggin’ head.

Mabel squeaks, clinging to him as he continues to grind against her in a place that makes her legs turn to putty. She eagerly presses herself into him, but that’s all the work she can really do at this point. She’s overwhelmed in the best possible way and all she can think of is how she’s going to get her own pesky pants off.

Not wanting this to end, she reaches down and wiggles out of her sweatpants as fast as she possibly can. And while she’s there, she might as well get rid of the other pesky clothing down there, right? Soon, she’s lying completely naked on Dipper’s bed. She’s not quite sure how she got there, but she wants to be there; she needs to be there. She needs him.

That awe-filled, holy shit holy shit type of look returns to Dipper’s face as he takes in her naked body. She sees him lick his lips ever so slightly and dang she’s really freaking wet. His fingers trace their way down her ribcage all the way to her lower stomach, and then they halt delicately.

“Can I…?” He asks, drumming his fingers against her lower stomach. She nods frantically, eternally thankful that he just seems to know exactly what she needs.

His fingers maneuver their way through her slick folds, placing just the right amount of pressure against her. She’s always been rather sensitive down there, so it’s lucky that her bro has decided to be gentle. Her insides continue to flip-flop as he continues to rub her, making her want to squirm and thrash about because holy shit how is he so good at this? Dipper’s always been a man of his research, and clearly he’s researched a lot more than Gravity Falls anomalies.

She can’t stop herself anymore and starts to moan, trying as hard as she can to keep quiet so as to not wake up her parents. Still, it’s hard to think about your pesky ol’ parents two doors down when your brother has three fingers pressed up against your lady bits and is making you pant and squeak in ways you never thought you could.

Suddenly, he withdraws and reaches down to his underwear, quickly tugging himself out of it. Instantly her eyes go to his, ahem, junk. Mabel’s never actually seen a real-live penis up close before, so she takes her sweet time studying it. The head, the way it curves ever-so-slightly to the right, the curly wisps of black hair peeking out from underneath. He smiles shyly at her, his face growing even redder than before.

“So, are we… Are you okay with doing this?” Dipper asks, looking down at her. His face is creased with worry and hesitation.

“Heck yeah I am, Dippingsauce.” Mabel giggles, reaching up to graze her fingers along his inner thighs. He shivers ever-so-slightly at her touch. Yup, she could definitely get used to that.

He gulps, quickly sitting himself back down onto the bed. What’s going on? Is he having second thoughts? Oh boy, did she push it too far? She kind of does that sometimes… These thoughts circle around in Mabel’s brain, making her more and more nervous. That is, until she bothers to look at what Dipper’s actually doing.

Dipper Pines is currently hunched over, frantically trying to rip open a condom wrapper.

That’s when it really sets in for Mabel. They’re really going to do this, aren’t they? Less than an hour ago Mabel had been completely (well, not completely) unaware of her feelings for her brother and now here they are, about to go just about as far as two people can go together. She should be scared, right? At least a little worried?

But, well, she isn’t. Sure, the butterflies are still flapping around down there as strong as ever. But scared? Never. Not with Dipper by her side. He would never do anything, ever, to hurt her. In fact, she’s glad that she’s doing it with him and not some random clown from school. Dipper’s a guy she knows, a guy that she trusts. No matter what happens from here on out, she knows he’ll have her best interest at heart. The thought makes her smile.

Dipper finally looks back up at her, seeming to have come out victorious in his battle against the condom wrapper. He quickly rolls the condom on, looking almost upset to have paused their, uh, previous activities. Still, he is soon back and ready for action. He climbs on top of Mabel, looking at her so fondly that it makes her stomach do another round of backflips.

He’s nervous. She can read it in his face. To calm his nerves, she leans up ever so slightly and kisses him. Their lips connecting seem to spring him back to life as his hands instantly begin exploring her body once again. This time, they don’t hesitate in the slightest. Her whole body is free reign to him now. Suddenly, she feels him prop himself up on his hands, his body looming over her. Mabel looks up into his deep brown eyes, giving him a silent, yearning nod.

Dipper lines himself up at her entrance. And ever so slowly, he coaxes his way inside her. She’s way too wet for it to be painful, but it’s definitely a new sensation. She feels every inch of him pressing against her walls and oh god she feels so full. She watches his face contort and twitch ever-so-slightly as he rests himself inside her.

Once she’s gotten used to the sensation, Mabel gently rocks herself against him. Clearly, he’s not expecting that, as she hears a sharp moan emit from his mouth followed by a mumbled curse. She surprises herself too, letting out a quiet whine. Dipper picks up on it though, and gently begins swaying his hips. Holy jeepers, this is all so new and unreal and yet it feels so freaking good and right doing this with him. She can tell that Dipper feels it too, from the way that he’s cursing under his breath and letting out tiny moans into the crook of her neck.

And oh god, she can feel every single inch of him, twitching ever so slightly every once in a while as he keeps his steady rhythm. She looks up at him fondly, shooting him a shy smile that he returns with one of his own. Suddenly Dipper’s forehead is pressed up against hers and he’s locking lips with her once again, covering her frame with his own.

His hands start to wander along Mabel’s body, delicately grazing along her smooth stomach. But frankly, she’s growing a little impatient. Unable to wait any longer, Mabel grabs his right hand and places it atop her breast. Dipper certainly takes the bait, beginning fondling her in a way that’s certainly a little more, uh, rough. And hoo boy, does that work for her. His fingers catch along her nipples, giving them a tiny squeeze that sends shivers down her spine. She needs more.

“Faster, Dipper. Please.” Mabel whispers, trying not to sound too needy. Dipper looks like his eyes are going to bulge out of his head, causing Mabel to stifle a giggle. He certainly listens, though, and soon Mabel has a hand clamped over her mouth, trying desperately to suppress her moans.

Dipper begins planting kisses along her jaw, tickling her cheek slightly with his hint of peach fuzz. His path continues down her neck, placing wet, open mouth kisses all the way down to her collarbone. This, combined with Dipper’s never-faltering rhythm, make Mabel’s toes curl under and her hips buck up into him. It’s all so deliciously overwhelming and…

An idea strikes. She gently takes Dipper’s hand, placing it inches above her labia. He looks at her confused for just a second and then instantly gets to work. She keeps her hand atop his for a couple moments, guiding his fingers in circles around her clit that make her almost afraid she’ll scream. Once he’s making her good and squirmy, she lies back, eyes clamped shut and clinging to Dipper’s back for dear life.

Mabel feels lucky her brother is such a quick learner. He soon begins rocking three fingers across her, placing pressure all around her clit (but never directly on, she’s still sensitive!) and follows each tiny moan, each whine and gasp so he knows exactly what gets her going. Soon she’s panting even harder than before, coming completely undone for him. She reaches up to her breasts, squeezing and tweaking them in a way that Dipper can’t seem to take his eyes off of.

She can feel Dipper’s rhythm faltering ever so slightly, hinting to her that he’s probably closer than he cares to admit. Luckily, her back is arching and her hips keep involuntarily bucking up against his, so she knows she’s rather close too. One hand remains tightly wound around Dipper’s back, while the other slams into the mattress to grab a fistful of Dipper’s dark blue sheets.

“Dip, I-I…” She starts, barely able to string together a sentence at this point. He nods, instantly knowing what she means.

Mabel feels her orgasm wash over her, reaching from her curled toes to her flushed cheeks as she moans into Dipper’s shoulder as quietly as she can. No boy has ever made her feel this way, made her feel so unbelievably squirmy and heated as she feels right now. And he never lets up, keeps rubbing her as she begins to tense up and her thighs squeeze even tighter around him. She hopes she’s not hurting him but at this point she’s finding it hard not to give into her every impulse. Her breathing, while still ragged, begins to slow as she comes down from her high.

She looks up at Dipper’s face, watching her in awe as he clamps a hand over his own mouth. He’s not far behind her, slamming himself into her in quick, deep strokes. He buries his face into the crook of her neck once again, his cheeks warming her. She can feel little whinnies and moans being echoed into her skin as he finishes, his strokes beginning to progressively slow until he stops completely. For a moment he just lies atop her, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Eventually, he looks up at her.

Now Mabel has gotten plenty of smiles from her brother. “Happy Birthday I love you” smiles, “Oops I accidentally ate your last cookie” smiles, even sarcastic “oh aren’t you funny” smiles. Such is the nature of their relationship, after all. They are a smiley duo. But the smile she gets right then from him is unlike any she’s ever gotten before. It’s swimming with desire and with contentment, but most of all with adoration. It’s a smile she hopes she’ll get to see plenty more of.

—

Soon, Mabel is lying under Dipper’s comforter in his baggy old Mathletes t-shirt, his arms wrapped snugly around her. She can feel his rhythmic breathing on her shoulder, and her heart flutters happily.

Oh, boy, is there gonna be a big long talk between them tomorrow. Probably some tears shed, at least on her part. She’s no stranger to getting emotional, but Dipper has been known to grow a little teary-eyed when the time is right.

If this is going to be a regular thing, there’ll be even more to work out. They won’t be able to walk down the halls holding hands like a regular couple, and they’ll have to figure out a way to maneuver around her parents. Heck, they’ve already started that trend; Dipper has an alarm set for early in the morning so she can safely retreat back to her own room.

But no matter what happens, they’ll always have each other. That much, at least, she knows to be true.

[lorenzobane]

Whatever It Takes

(AO3 Link) 

Magnus knows. Magnus knows. Magnus knows.             Until suddenly--                                              He doesn’t.

And Alec knows better than most that Magnus’s moments of weakness, those rare moments he falters when he’s human in a way that Alec desperately wants to sink his teeth into because yes. He’s not alone. Magnus is here in the mud with him- struggling and making mistakes and fucking up. Those are the moments that people latch on to. It's unfair, and its cruel, centuries and centuries of being right more often than wrong somehow barely matter. What’s crazy, and what Alec hasn’t figured out how to say, is that he wants that. He wants the blood, and the tears, and the sweat on his brow. He thinks its ridiculously cute that Magnus bruises easily. That Alec barely needs to press his fingers into Magnus’s trim, muscular hips to leave bruises makes him happy. Mostly because... Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to seem like a crazy person. Intellectually, he knows that Magnus wakes up with morning breath and he needs to shit, just like any other human being. But Magnus just won’t show him. He tries his best to understand. He tries to imagine how he would respond to Magnus suddenly became cruel, the way Camille did. If a person who loved him, and helped him, and literally pulled him off the ledge, suddenly began corroding at his heart and his soul. If Alec is honest, he’s not entirely sure he’d ever recover. But Magnus did. He kept loving, and trusting and giving- and fuck. He wants to say all of this one day, he wants decades and decades to say the things he’s not ready to say yet. But Magnus is somehow both stubborn and dying. A combination he’s mostly convinced that no one else has mastered. “Let me in, Magnus,” Alec says, pounding on the magical separation for what feels like the thousandth time. Magnus glares at him, infuriatingly put together considering he has blood pouring down his mouth. “We have no proof I’m not going to kill you. We will wait until Isabelle is finished.” “Izzy,” he says to be contrary, “thinks that you shouldn’t be alone.” Because it’s a Warlock illness. Lilith, having figured out that Magnus is the one putting her evil plan together, decides to punish him. She corrupts the ley lines in such a sadistically specific way, so she’s physically ionizing Magnus from the inside out. Magnus shakes his head as much as he can and lays back down. The only victory he has won thus far is that Magnus should rest. “Magnus,” Alec tries again. “This is an illness designed for you. No one else can get hurt. I won’t be hurt. Please, let me be with you.” To hold you, to wipe the sweat from your brow, to be trusted by you. Magnus stares at him. “We don’t know that.” “Yes, we do!” Alec yells. “Everyone with more than two brain cells says so. So please, just... Drop the barrier. Let me be there.” Magnus stares at him again, and he looks ashamed. Weak. Alec hates it. “I... I’m not myself. I can’t... be me right now.” Alec glares at him. “You think I care? You could be projectile vomiting, and I would still want to be there.” Magnus glares back, “there is no need to be disgusting.” Alec rolls his eyes, “baby. I’m a shadowhunter. I am covered in disgusting fluids most of the day--” “Well, you’re really more of a bureaucrat now-” Alec doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans back against the wall and stares at Magnus. “I don’t... It’s hard. I don’t want you to see me like this. Disgusting, and weak.” Alec responds, “you’ve never been disgusting.” They look at each other for a moment, and Magnus looks away. Well, to be fair more vomits away. Alec hates watching because he sees the bright red leave Magnus’s mouth and he knows that the blood loss is going to start getting bad. Magnus has been using spells to keep his blood pressure up, but sooner rather than later, he’s going to get tired.   Magnus is quiet long enough that Alec just continues, “please. Magnus. I love you. Don’t... I can’t take it. You being in there, suffering alone. At least let me be with you.” The spell drops. Alec rushes to Magnus’s side before he can think, and Magnus looks terrible. There are times when they are fucking (”making love” his traitorous and obnoxious mind insist) Magnus has looked wrecked, panting and trusting and Alec’s. He doesn’t look like that now. He looks shattered, and Alec can’t fix him. He smells sick. Alec’s shadowhunter senses aren’t terribly helpful now, because he can smell the rot right under Magnus’s skin and he’s scared. “Magnus,’ he says, to distract himself. “Everyone is looking. Us, the Warlocks, the Vampires, hell- for reasons I can’t understand, even the Silent Brothers.” “I’m likable” Magnus replies, he has a small smirk on his face while he pretends to be brave. Alec ignores that and reaches for the bowl of cold water Magnus summoned fifteen minutes ago, and gently dips a cloth into it, pressing the water against his sweating head. “I do have to tell you though,” Magnus says, his lips are dry and chapped this close up, “that I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my blood levels up. Exsanguination might be a more pressing problem than anything else.” “Can you please,” Alec starts, sighing heavily, “not use the word exsanguinate when you’re talking about yourself?” “Is there a better word?” Alec thinks about it for a second, and says, “probably not, but luckily that won’t be a problem because we’re going to fix it before it gets that far.” “Speaking of,” Magnus says, laying down fully and closing his eyes, “why are you here? I thought you’d be out busting balls.” Alec shakes his head ruefully, “unfortunately ley line magic theory and greater demons are a bit above my understanding. I was just slowing Cat and Izzy down, and making them waste time explaining their theories in regular people terms just wasn’t a good way to help you. At least here, I can be with you, try to make things a little less painful, and you can borrow my strength.” “You’re cute,” Magnus says, his eyes still closed as he talks, his lips just barely parting to form words. Alec smiles fondly, as worried as he is, now that he is at Magnus’ side the problem feels solvable. Magnus’s skin under his hand, cold and clammy it may be, remind Alec that for the moment Magnus is breathing. Alec opens his mouth to respond when Magnus shoots up suddenly and leans over the bed to grab the bucket next to him. He gags violently, the scent of blood and bile filling the space. Magnus’s body trembles as tears of pain and frustration edge at the corners of his eyes. “How much longer do you think you can hold up?” Alec asks softly, he wants an honest answer. Magnus shakes his head as he lays back down, “honestly, Alexander, it’s a miracle that I’ve even lasted this long.” “That is because you’re the most stubborn person on Earth,” Alec replies, filling his voice with false confidence. “That still doesn’t answer my question though.” “I’m giving myself probably another half an hour before I don’t have the strength to replenish my blood,” Magnus says, his voice calm and even. Alec pulls out his phone to check if Izzy has any messages, his heart clenching when he has no new notifications. “Give me a second,” Alec says, and Magnus gives a disinterested hum as he seems to slip into a light slumber. Alec moves swiftly out of the room, hoping not to wake him up. He punches Izzy’s number, and it rings for a moment, before she answers, breathless, “Alec! How is he?” “Not great,” Alec says, understating drastically. “Please tell me you have a solution.” “I think we’re close,” she says, distracted. “The problem is Lilith didn’t corrupt the Ley Lines in a straightforward, “poisoning the well” way, it is just affecting Magnus. So, short of temporarily redirecting the entire line and letting it reset, we don’t know what to do.” “So why don’t we just do that?” Alec asks. Izzy goes silent for a moment, “are you asking me why we aren’t redirecting a line of pure archaic magic?” “Magnus did it once,” Alec reminds her. “Yeah!” she says, slightly hysterical, “He’s Magnus. We don’t have anyone else who can do that!” “Can’t Caterina?” Izzy makes a noise in the back of her throat, “Maybe! But if she can’t, she’ll be burned alive. Magnus would never, ever forgive us if that happened.” Alec wants more than anything to remind her that what Magnus thinks won’t matter if they aren’t able to actually save him. He shoves it down. “What if she had help? I can give her my strength, or Clary can. I mean Clary has pure Angel blood! That has to count for something. Or, we both can. Come on, Izzy- we have a solution! We just need to make it work. I am not letting him die because we weren’t creative enough to save him! Fuck that.” Alec takes a deep breath, he didn’t even realize he started yelling at some point. Izzy goes silent on the other end, and says, “Let me talk to Cat. I’ll call you back.” When he walks back in, Magnus is still asleep. His skin is paler than Alec has ever seen it, and now that he is getting closer he can see that Magnus’s body is shaking violently, and Alec can see why. He has sweat through his blanket and the sheet underneath, the cool fabric feeling undoubtedly worse against his overheated skin. “Hey,” Alec says softly, as Magnus stirs. He blinks up, confused and slow like he isn’t sure exactly where he is. “Hey, yourself,” he says after a moment. His voice is rough and dry, so Alec gently helps him up and gives him water. “We have a solution,” Alec says eventually. Magnus turns to him as sharply as he can, “really? That is wonderful, what is it?” Alec hesitates. He knows Magnus if he implies that either he or Cat will be in any danger, he’ll riot (as much as his weakened body will allow). Alec spends a second more, hedging his bets before responding, “I’ll tell you when it’s confirmed. Izzy is talking to Cat about it right now.” As he says that, his phone pings. Alec glances down, and he sees a text from Izzy, with a simple “Come upstairs. Cat agreed.” Alec swallows nervously but goes to put his phone back in his pocket. “Cat just agreed. I have to go upstairs to help out, I’ll come back when it’s done.” “When what is done?” Magnus asks nervously. He has a weak grip on Alec’s wrist, his shaking cold hand on Alec’s pulse point solidifies what he has to do. He would do anything for Magnus, this is easy. Alec gently pulls out of Magnus’s grasp, “we found a solution for the Ley Lines.” Magnus makes an impatient noise, “Well, what is the solution.” “I’ll tell you later,” Alec says, pressing a kiss against Magnus’s chapped, cold lips which are parted slightly in outrage. “No,” Magnus says, his voice haughty and imperial, “you will tell me right now, Alec.” “We’re going to redirect the Ley Line to let it reset,” Alec says in a rush as he continues towards the door. “And by we, you don’t mean… You can’t mean…” Magnus says, his eyes going wide. He tries to pull himself up, desperate to stand. Alec rushes back to push him down gently. “We’ll be fine, I’m going to give her my strength. It’s going to be fine, and I’ll come right back when we’re done.” “Alec,” Magnus says urgently. “This is dangerous, Cat has Madzie, you can’t let her… Not for me. Please, I’m not worth this.” Alec shakes his head, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Magnus. But we all disagree. You are more than worth this. Besides, you once did this by yourself, I think the two of us can handle it.” Magnus shakes his head again, his eyes are wide with terror, and Alec feels terrible for a moment before he shakes it out. Magnus dying isn’t an option, so they will do what it takes. He walks towards the door without looking back, he can hear Magnus’s panicked breathing as he walks away and everything in his body wants to turn back and pull Magnus into his arms but he can’t. They don’t have the luxury of time. When he gets upstairs, Caterina, Izzy, Clary, and Jace are already there. Izzy is standing by the metal lever while Clary stands to the right of Cat and Jace guards the door.

“I’m going to need both of you,” Cat says sharply, looking between Clary and Alec. “I am going to need to hold it for a full five minutes, much longer than I will be able to stand alone.” With that, she pulls her sleeves up and gestures for Clary and Alec to each grab an outstretched forearm. Her fingers spread wide as she gets ready to channel the energy through her. “On my count,” Cat says, her eyes fixed firmly in front of her. “One… Two… Three… Now.” Izzy flips the lever, and as soon as she does, pure white energy begins coursing through Cat. Alec feels the magic under her skin, burning and intense, so he immediately channels his own power, forcing it through her and allowing the magic to travel through him as well. It is agony, he can’t imagine that Magnus once did this by himself because the pain is unreal. It is like pressure on all sides, threatening to burst his skull, the magic is white hot and heavy. Alec will never again be curious about what it would be like to be covered in molten lava. Time stretches and snaps, popping in and out of Alec’s head like daisies. It could be seconds or hours, but all Alec can focus on is Magnus. He breathes through the pain and thinks about Magnus’s weak, cold hand on his wrist and knows that he has to stand his ground. When it ends, Alec collapses slightly, as to Clary and Cat. Distantly, he hears Izzy run frantically up to them, gently pulling Alec back up. “Did it work?” Alec manages. “We won’t know until we…” Izzy starts, before cutting herself off slightly. “Yes, I daresay it did work,” a new voice cuts into the room. Alec turns around, his face already split into a weak smile because standing on the door frame, leaning heavily, and still clearly weak, is Magnus. The blood loss and, the physical pain of the poisoning remain evident in the tired tilt of his eyes, but he’s standing, and he looks like he has already regained some strength. “Oh thank the Angel,” he hears Clary say, her voice thick with tears. Alec moves without meaning to until he’s in front of Magnus and pulling him into a bear hug, “Thank the Angel. I love you so much. I am so, so glad it worked.” “My hero,” Magnus says with a dry twist on his lips, but his eyes give his act away. They are shining with love and worry. “Never do that again though, Alexander. If I find out that you have endangered Caterina ever again…” “Hey, old man,” Cat says cutting in. “It was my idea too, don’t blame the infant.” Alec rolls his eyes, “Yeah. We had to do something, what was the other option?” Magnus raises his eyes pointedly, “fine. Thank you all very much. God knows that dying like that would have been humiliating. Not at all my style.” Alec opens his mouth to say something, but what comes out instead is a sob, because Magnus is right there. He’s standing, and joking, even though he is in a thin t-shirt and loose pants he has never looked more like himself, or more beautiful. Magnus’s eyes turn back to him in an instant and Alec is pulled back into his arms. The smell of rot that was under Magnus’s skin before is dissipating, leaving behind his natural scent and it makes Alec shake even more. “I think,” Magnus says, “it might be time for all of us to go to bed.” Alec nods into Magnus’s shoulder, “that sounds like a great idea.” When they are back in Alec’s room at the institute, and after Magnus has showered and changed, Alec lets himself breathe. Seeing Magnus come so close to death, so close that if they had been slower, he could have died in a brutal, painful, way, it terrifies him. Alec already knows he is going to have nightmares about this for years, but for the moment, Magnus is settling next to him, tired and warm. His heartbeat is steady in his chest, and his breathing is constant, and it is better than any symphony ever composed. “I love you,” Magnus says softly, his head is resting on Alec’s shoulder, so the soft puffs of air hit his neck. “Magnus,” Alec starts, swallowing hard. “I love you, too. I love you more than you can even imagine.” “Thank you for saving my life,” Magnus continues, his voice still soft. Alec pulls Magnus close, so his body is resting more entirely on top of Alec like a sizeable muscular blanket. “Trust me when I say, there was no other choice.”

[tcstu]

September’s Honorable Mentions

I was so blown away by the incredible entries I received for this month’s contest that I decided I had to make an “Honorable Mentions” post to share some of the other pieces. The creativity in these entries is inspiring and it would be a shame if they were not read.

I’m posting these entries based on the order they were submitted, so this list does not reflect any system of ranking. I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I did.

The artistic piece for this contest was an untitled digital art piece that was created by @palxeye. Please visit this page to see more incredible work by this artist!

Forest of the Disturbed

Written By: Buzzard (@buzzardboy)

The air is cold.

I am strictly aware of the frigid atmosphere, painfully alert as I feel the small teeth of the breeze bite into my frosty, goose-bumped skin. My black hair is disturbed slightly by the low wind, blowing into my eyes and shrouding my vision in shadows. I move my hand to my face to brush the sable strands away.

Though it is dark, the path before me is white, white enough that I can see it in the twilight of the forest. The trees around me appear purple under the blanket of night, and their muted leaves glow under the pale moonbeams which so curiously peak through the haze of clouds above.

The noise is small at first, so small I barely hear it. Like a nagging thought in the back of my mind, one I pay no mind to, yet I still know it is there. But as I walk further it gets louder, so loud that after a few minutes I have to cover my ears. It’s horrific. Atrocious. It scrapes against my ear drums, clawing at my hearing like a rabid beast.

The screams of the disturbed. They haunt me in the present, in my past, and surely in my future. But oh, for the present. How they rake their claws across the inner ear of my head, crawling through my ear canal and wrapping their hands around my brain like a fortune teller caressing inner crystal ball.

I feel their hands now, fingers like the legs of a spider crawling up my sides, my back, my chest. I feel their digits slowly wrapping themselves around my neck, throat bobbing as I swallow hard, take the last breath I am certain I will take. They trace my jaw, my eyelids, my lips which appear so thin as they begin to turn purple.

Their eyes are gaping voids, black holes straight from space that swirl and bore into my face. They are not black, no- they are far darker. A darkness that no human brain could understand, one that could drive you insane at just a glance. Their mouths, they gape like the entrance to a cave with stalagmites dripping down, teeth appearing as jagged daggers dull and unbrilliant.

I am suffocating. My lungs cannot fill with the air I so desperately need. My eyes bulge out of my skull quite literally, and I can feel the pressure throughout my whole body, gripping me like a fist around a throat, not unlike the fist which now constricts my airway. The sound and the lack of air and the gaping, terrible eyes, they all build up. And soon my vision is swimming, my eyes are painting themselves black, and then-

It is completely, utterly silent.

   Don't Look Back

Written By: Stressball (@unendingballofstress)

I walk the well-worn path and I don't look back

The trees whisper to me, call to me, but I don't look back

Their grasping branches caress my face, pull at me, but I don't look back

One foot in front of the other, right left right left

I'll make it if I don't look back

I know what happens to people who look back

 Untitled

Written by: Bree Johnson (@loafofbree)

 Your first thought when your eyes open is of the rock pressing painfully into your back and your second thought is of how you came to be laying on the ground. Of course, these thoughts lead to other, more important questions that you have about your current situation but they all melt away, replaced by calm acceptance. This is fine, you think, I’m alright. But, it was not fine and you were decidedly not alright. This did not stop you, however, from believing it anyway.

     It was not long before you noticed that you had been laying down in the middle of a neat pathway, leading to a forest that looked a bit blurry to you even after cleaning the glasses resting on your nose. It seemed to you that the best course of action would be to continue on down the neat little path to the blurry forest. This, of course, was not a good idea, but who am I to judge? This is your story after all.

    Down the path you walked, breath visible in the chilly air, and not one doubt in your mind that you were heading in the right direction and so on you marched, confidence oozing from you. I had doubts. Large and little doubts. But oh well. On you went and though you got closer to the forest, it was still not clear to your vision. This, still, did not deter your marching.

     Finally, after years of confident marching, you reached the edge of the forest. It was still quite muddled in your vision strangely enough. Personally, if I had not turned back by now, this would be where I’d do it. But not you. Oh no, not you brave little one.

     You step into the forest.    

     You are immediately accosted by something grabbing onto your arm, and though you jerk and shake, the grip will not loosen so you still your movements and look toward the one that holds you. Ah, now your confidence sinks away, down, down, down, replaced by an old and deep fear.

     The tree sprite, feeling mischievous as usual, drops your arm and waves, a bone-chilling smile crawling onto its face. You back away, right into the arms of another.  You jerk wildly in fear until the sprite lets go, making you fall from your seizure-like movements. You think you’re free, hope swells in your chest and you launch yourself up, right…

 Into…

 Me.

     “Hello,” I say quite pleasantly with a kind smile on my face.     

     You begin to scream.

 Untitled

Written By:  @brandenburgva

 “Just close your eyes,” Mariel Dunne muttered, glowering at the dim path ahead. “Yeah right, Briar, that shit doesn’t work.”

It could’ve been a trick of the light, her mind trying to impose patterns on chaos, the consequence of hours spent playing survival horror games. It wasn’t, but it could have been.

…but it wasn’t, and Mariel knew that very well. The price paid for being ‘in the know’ was losing all capability to simply dismiss weird shapes, swaying branches and dark, eager eyes as something her mind superimposed over a bland path through the National Forest’s western edge.

No, she knew now, and that meant sucking it up and facing facts. The trees had…some… things in them, reaching out eagerly, smiling with a hope so vivid it could only be malice.

And the only advice she had to go off of was 'close your eyes.’

“…big fucking help.” Mariel drew in a deep breath and wondered why in blue hell she had been the one to draw the shortest damn straw imaginable. Everyone else got areas in the city proper. She got the fucking forest and who would possibly mistake her for a damn Girl Scout?

One glance at her cell phone nearly flipped her legendary temper. “No bars? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

The forest bordered the city and yet she couldn’t get service in it. If the creaking wood on either side of the path hadn’t been enough to make her rethink this entire endeavor, that was the clincher. 

And yet, Mariel gritted her teeth, shoved her phone into her pocket and hastily wound her long hair up. A nearby bush–carefully checked for hands, eyes or grins–bent but didn’t break under the weight of her hoodie. “All outta breadcrumbs,” she huffed, cinching everything she could in as tightly as possible. 

Buckling down the pockets on her cargo pants, Mariel gave her belt another hard cinch and took a deep breath. “Every cigarette I’ve ever smoked is going to bite me in the ass right about now,” she quipped, the sound of her own acerbic voice to keep her courage up. 

It’d be a race, one she could probably win. And she would run it because she’d drawn the short damn straw. She’d run it because one of their freaks had gone missing, and damn if the freaks didn’t always look out for their own.

 Untitled

Written By:  @evanthenerd83

We’re always so focused on our maps and how to get to our destinations that we never notice them. We mistake their warnings for the lunacy of a shrieking wind. We brush off their guiding arms and branches. And we trudge into the dark innards of the woods with mortal obliviousness.

Don’t go exploring. You’re never the first.

  Untitled

Written By:  @littlewriterling

The trees have always whispered to her.

They’ve always seemed alive in a way the other humans aren’t.

The other humans. As if she’s one of them. As if she’d really belong.

She laughs a little, looks up at the moon. His light is brighter than yesterday, his form rounder. The craters seem deeper than they were the night before, darker. Like they’d swallow you up whole should you make the mistake to wander too closely.

Soon.

The grass tickles between her toes, a pale shadow of what it once was, moon-lightened and brittle.

The stones cut up her soles, cold as shards of ice, hot like the flames that have burned here.

The pain—

The pain is insignificant; hasn’t held any real significance in a long while now.

She’s used to it, after all. And, after everything, it’s nice to know she’s still alive. Still human enough to feel pain, to feel relieved at the fact that her blood’s still red.

The Northwind’s breath is harsh against her naked skin, it reeks of the coming winter. She can taste snow on her tongue, if she opens her mouth, can taste dark earth and death that was here all along.

She’s getting closer now, she knows. Can feel the beat of it in her heart, the thump thump thump of the dying.

The whispers are louder now, loud and chanting, but not oppressive.

The trees’ presence has never felt as demanding as that of the other humans, never felt as crushing.

Here, she’s free. Here, her feet leave bloody prints and no one yells at her to clean them up immediately.

Pain doesn’t equate pain in that cruel, only-sometimes human way.

The trees welcome her. Thump thump thump.

There’s a smile gracing her cracked lips now, ashes and rust on her tongue when she licks them, a drop of blood trickles into her mouth, two, three.

In the light of the stars, the dawning night, she drifts from the path worn into the underbrushes by her own two feet, every night.

The trees reach out to her with wooden fingers, knot-holed mouths gaping, eyes full of rotten worms and shadows. She lets them caress her hair, lets them taste her blood, see her soul.

They know her secrets.

She knows theirs.

The trees have always whispered to her.

She has always listened. Has always whispered right back.

They’re not alone out here.

Not tonight.

Not by the time the moon’s finally ready.

But afterwards?

Afterwards, humans will know not to stray from the path. Will know not to take the things that don’t belong to them.

They’ll have learned. They’ll never forget, not for a second in their lives.

(Because those lives aren’t going to last much longer.)

The trees whisper.

She listens and laughs.

The moon watches and waits, and the stars are ready for whatever might come.

They don’t judge.

But, oh, she does.

[recentanimenews]

THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Opens the Gates in Episodes 43-49!

  Welcome back to THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH! I'm Nate Ming, and I'll be your host this week as we make our way through all 220 episodes of the original Naruto. Last week, we covered episodes 36-42, and we continue this week with episodes 43-49.

  This week is all about the FIGHTS, as we witness some of the best action in the series yet--and the start of what many consider the best showdown in all of Naruto! The "elimination tournament" portion of the Chunin Exam heats up, and we get to see a whole bunch of characters show what they're really made of--Kiba, Neji and Hinata, Shikamaru, and of course, Rock Lee and Gaara all get a chance to shine.

  But first, a reader question from last week--this one's from twintailedmadness:

  Hey, what happened with the two people impersonating the grass ninja along with Orochimaru? At the beginning of the forest exam part when they run in he says "you know what to do, we only have one target" and they go separate ways. Its not the two with Kabuto, you also see them at their own gate. Is it a plot hole or something that will come up later?

That's a really good question! They actually do vanish and we only see Shiore/Orochimaru-in-disguise--I think that Orochimaru was either controlling their corpses, or he had two underlings impersonating them. Sound off in the comments with your thoughts on the two random Grass Ninja who entered the Forest of Death and never returned!

  And now, this week's Q&A!

  This week we've got three, four… FIVE fights all in a row, and yet we're also getting a whole bunch of great character moments and development. How are you feeling right now with the show's pace?

Kevin: Knowing what’s coming with the third exam, I wish that they had saved some of the more poignant moments for after the prelims. Maybe of the people that completed the second exam, the slowest half need to fight, and then everyone else moves on to the actual third exam, so that the likes of the Hyuga fight and Lee versus Gaara would happen while the plot was actually moving forward?

Paul: No objections here. The show is moving along at a brisk pace, especially considering that it's a shonen action series, and by comparison sometimes a single fight in One Piece or Dragon Ball will last like five or six episodes. Two to three episodes per fight, maximum, is about my attention span these days.

Jared: This set of episodes in particular really felt like it moved quickly. Which isn’t bad, considering all the fights and moments that were packed into these episodes, it’s amazing how well it kept the flow up. Which really is how I’d characterize the pace, in that it does a good job of keeping things moving and the only time it really feels hindered is when it can go into recap mode.

Danni: I watched all of this batch’s episodes in one day without even realizing it until I was done. It was extremely tempting to just go ahead and keep watching. It feels like we’re really moving along right now.

David: The pace hasn’t been consistent--the recaps and long-winded explanations of stuff that should be easy to grok come to mind - but these episodes were all incredibly solid and left me wanting more. It’s very easy to see why this arc is remembered so fondly.

Noelle: I don’t have any complaints. It’s mostly fighting, but it’s compressed enough, especially when compared to a lot of other shonen series of the time.  What we get really isn’t that bad, and is engaging enough that I didn’t feel like it was dragging.

Kara: I think I may be in the minority that actually enjoys when fights cut away to back story. We had a lot of characters introduced all at once, and they seemed genuinely interesting. Especially considering the techniques a lot of them use. I dig the sheer amount of action, but I’m also enjoying finding out more about these people as we go.

Joseph: I’m loving the pacing of these episodes because, with a couple exceptions (especially Gaara vs. Rock Lee), I don’t really think they needed to spend too much more time on anything here. The stakes aren’t that high, but they still make it seem as if each fight is a deathly serious affair.

Carolyn: I’m also in the minority but for a different reason. I actually really like when the fights are sprinkled with backstory, I feel like it makes their fights more relevant and emotional. But I’m really over how many fights are dragged across multiple episodes. It feels like they are stretching them out to fill time.

Peter: What’s. With. The. Constant. Split. Screen. Facial. Reactions. That aside I was pretty pleased with the animation treatment Kiba and Hinata got. The show really set its pace to the moment whether it was comedy, dramatic reveals, character moments, or even just taking an extra second so you can appreciate how f**ked-up Temari’s finisher was.

How does it feel getting to truly see Shikamaru in action, even if it was for only a half an episode?

Kevin: Shikamaru is one of the characters that grew on me over time. Early on, he’s just lazy and doesn’t do much, but as we get to see him fight and plan more, he just gets more awesome. So finally getting to watch him execute a plan in the moment was a great taste of what’s to come.

Paul: While I enjoyed it in the moment, I almost instantly forgot that Shikamaru defeats his opponent by using his understanding of the layout of the battlefield to trick them into banging their own head against a wall. For some reason, the details weren't sticking with me.

Jared: For me, seeing him in action was pretty similar to everyone else we hadn’t really seen fight yet. I was glad to see them all get screen time and actually see what they can do. With Shikamaru we kind of saw what he could do in the forest with his shadow possession, but this fight really showed the extent of that power and how dangerous it can be.

Danni: Shikamaru seems cool, but I don’t understand why people call him a galaxy brain level strategist. He seems no smarter than the other top genin.

David: The best of Shikamaru has yet to come. As of now, he’s interesting, but not much more interesting than the rest of the cast.

Noelle: This fight is more of a Shikamaru 101 than anything. Where he really shines has yet to come, but it’s nice seeing that his intellect and creativity has been highlighted even this early on.

Kara: One thing I’m learning about Naruto is there are very few one-trick ponies, despite what early episodes may lead you to believe. It was cool seeing Shikamaru step up from being the “mendokusai” guy to having some good in-the-moment tactics.

Joseph: I think I mentioned his power as being the type I’d like to have myself. I loved the strategy of using his environment to his advantage, even it if seemed like a totally wild gambit.

Carolyn: Shikamaru! I love him so much. I love that everyone tends to think he’s just a lazy jerk when really he could be the most grounded of them all. Reality/knowledge leads to depression and all that. In my opinion, he’s incredibly observant and clever.

Peter: I have never understood why he doesn’t just hit someone with a damn shuriken when he’s got them trapped. Even with all holsters being coincidentally placed in the same location, he could have another one just for this purpose or pull a needle out of himself. Then even him taking damage was part of his plan.

We're seeing more and more ninja animals show up--Kakashi's ninja dogs, Shino's ninja bugs, Guy's turtle that only showed up once, and now Kiba's dog, Akamaru. What animal companion do you think would be the most useful for a ninja to have?

Kevin: The insects would probably be the single most useful creature a ninja could be in charge of. Reconnaissance that no enemy would think to check for, setting up traps that are practically invisible and a weapon that drains the enemy’s chakra, making them much easier to defeat, all in one. The only problem is that the bugs live in their host, which would make me run away so fast that Lee wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Paul: Definitely a turtle, because while your enemies are busy wondering why on Earth you brought a turtle to a ninja fight, you could sneak up behind them and shank them in the kidneys. Ninja are all about sowing confusion, and the only ninja animal that would be more confusing than a turtle would be an inexplicably out-of-water shark.

Jared: Having a bunch of bugs would probably be very beneficial since you could have just thousands upon thousands of them swarm an opponent. Just having that numbers advantage is going to be beneficial in most circumstances.

Danni: Without contest bugs are the most useful for a ninja to have. Control a few and you have the most stealthy intel team imaginable. Control a swarm and you will never, ever lose.

David: For the sake of variety, I’d argue that rodents like mice and squirrels would be similarly useful to insects. They are everywhere, which is useful for surveillance and such, and they easily carry disease for assassination purposes. Also, you probably wouldn’t have to let them live in your body, so it’s just a win overall.

Noelle: Bugs, all the way. There are so many kinds that each specialize in different things- poisons, paralytic agents, webbing, heightened senses- even reconnaissance from away is very easy for something so small nobody would notice. It’s a lot easier to catch sight of a mammal than a fly. I also am pretty fond of bugs, so it’s not like dealing with them would be a problem.

Kara: Guinea pigs, and not just because me owning four of them kind of obligates me to say that. Those little suckers are faster and stealthier than potatoes on legs have any right to be.

Joseph: I’m down with the dogs, because when you’re not fighting to the death with them by your side you got yourself a ride or die buddy.

Carolyn: Based on what’s in the show and not just any animal we choose? Because, sharks maybe? I dunno. But I guess bugs would make the most sense. Dogs could be useful in a fight but they would need to be exceptionally trained, I would think. Bugs at least give you a shock factor.

Peter: Really can’t argue with chakra eating demon bugs. Such a variety of insects too. Always thought Shino was an underutilized character given how freaky his power is. Little sad they turned him on his head to be an awkward joke character in Boruto. I’ll always have my Ninja Storm ougis I guess.

Neji and Hinata's fight had a lot of raw emotion to go with the really brutal combat. For those of you who are new to the series, how do you think this story's gonna play out?

Paul: I don't honestly know where they're going with the conflict between Hinata and Neji, although I doubt they'll let Neji remain victorious in the long-run. Neji demonstrates the sort of rigid thinking that's a prime candidate for karmic retribution, and pride goeth before the fall. It was also nice to see that Hinata practices Hokuto Shinken.

Jared: Neji’s gonna have to get his comeuppance eventually, although you could probably go about this in a few ways. One could be that eventually Neji finally realizes that Hinata is deserving of his respect and they go that route. Or they have Hinata save him from something and that’s what makes him change his mind. Either way or with whatever they do, I’d be surprised if this beef extended throughout the entirety of the series and they aren’t at least tolerable of each other.

Danni: The conflict within the Hyuga clan is one I can easily see becoming tied in with a civil war were that to ever happen. The lesser clan families will likely attempt to usurp the main family through assassination and align themselves with a greater evil threatening the Hidden Leaf Village, is my guess.

Kara: For me, Neji reads so much like the personification of Hinata’s self-doubt—at least in this fight. That feeling of self-doubt never goes away; we kind of resolve ourselves to it, admit it’ll be there, but learn not to let it overtake us. With all the focus Naruto has on personal growth, I feel like their relationship will mirror this to at least some degree, with Hinata coming to a point where Neji’s thoughts about her don’t even matter. Whether he’ll ever respect her? No idea. I hope so.

Joseph: I think it’s gonna end up with Hinata shocking him with her prowess later on, and bringing out his own lurking self-doubt in a way that mirrors how he messed with her at the start of the fight. I’d like to see more psychological ninja warfare either way.

Carolyn: I’m not new to the series, but I’ll answer with my thoughts on the episode, anyway. I was very happy with Naruto throughout Hinata’s fight. He pays close attention to his friends, which often comes across as being callous or inappropriate, but he knew Hinata wasn’t out of it yet even when everyone else thought she was down for the count. I appreciate that.

Peter: I don’t think this question's for me because I already know, but just wanted to say I forgot how brutal the whole affair was and the anime delivered. Right when the board had their names next to each other you knew Hinata was afraid and their opening combo was basically psychological torture. Bless Kurenai for being a good wingman.

We're here, at my single favorite fight in the series: Rock Lee vs. Gaara. For newcomers, how was the experience? For those of us revisiting Naruto, what was it like coming back?

Kevin: Rock Lee versus Gaara will always be one of the hypest things in all of Naruto, and the hypest part of it comes next week, once Lee starts tapping in to the Eight Inner Gates. It is taking all of my discipline to wait to watch the next episode.

Paul: One of these days, Rock Lee is going to hit a Lotus on somebody that doesn't use Ninjutsu trickery to cushion the blow or replace themselves with a decoy, and that day will be glorious. Until then, I'm just going to have to wait to see how the final episode of the fight plays out next week. I can see why people like this fight, but I still have difficulty taking Sandy Murder Cinnamon Roll (aka Gaara) seriously as an antagonist.

Jared: Maaaaaaaaaaaan, this fight rules. I’d seen the gif of Rock Lee’s weight moment before watching this so knew at some point it was coming, but I’m so glad to finally see the context and know it’s even cooler. The animation in the first episode of this fight was just astonishing with how much it let that fight feel so dynamic and fluid. Rock Lee continues to solidify himself as the coolest character in this show and the best boy.

Danni: This is the only fight I’ve ever heard anything about in Naruto, and I’ve seen the weights dropping already. It was still extremely kickass to see my favorite boy landing shots through Gaara’s impenetrable defense. Rock Lee is the ultimate underdog and I want nothing more than to see him dominate.

David: Ridiculously good. I haven’t watched this fight in years, and it’s really amazing how supremely it holds up. Taijutsu is straight-up the coolest form of fighting in the series, and it’s already being set up to be outclassed overall, and while that’s kind of sad, it ends up making Rock Lee’s underdog status so easy to see and root for that this fight benefits from it.

Noelle: Rock Lee!! Appreciation!!! This fight, and I think a lot of old fans would feel the same, was one of the most spectacularly awesome moments in the series. I haven’t rewatched it since I finished the series, but it’s just as hype as I remembered. Gaara, the boy who has never taken a hit, finally is forced to eat a blow from someone who only uses pure martial arts, and it’s great.

Kara: Everyone’s been talking about how this fight is The Best. I get it, I see it, I believe you now. It’s amazing and hype, but also a little weird because we’ve got two characters who wandered in from other genres going at it—Rock Lee being every sports anime personified, and Gaara genuinely belonging in a horror movie. (Seriously, the sand shell was hitting my creepy doll vibes more than Kankuro’s literal creepy doll.)

Joseph: It’s Frieza eyes vs. Usopp eyes and it rules. I’ve read the source material but I like the anime version of the event even more. When Rock Lee dropped the weights I got chills.

Carolyn: I actually liked the flashbacks more than the fight itself. Seeing baby Rock Lee so dedicated and driven, holding himself to impossible standards, it’s why I love him so much.

Peter: I thought there was still one episode to go until I saw literally ANY animation. Azuma was talking to Choji or something and I was thinking to myself “why does this look so good?” They gave every second of that episode special treatment. Lee dropping the weights is still iconic.

This is less of a Naruto question, and more a general question about action anime. Can you think of 1-2 other instances that were your "Rock Lee dropping the weights" moments from other shows?

Kevin: After giving it some thought, nothing I can remember did the same thing. In Lee versus Gaara, we had no idea that Lee was holding back, but then suddenly he’s on a whole new level and managing to injure a character who was previously untouchable. The closest comparisons I can think of are various moments from Dragon Ball Z. In the Raditz fight, Goku and Piccolo wore weighted gear, and Gohan had his first berserk moment that showed he had further untapped powers, and later on Goku going Super Saiyan for the first time also showed off the hero managing to one-up the villain with powers the audience had never seen, but each of those moments have a part of what made Lee dropping his weights such a memorable scene, not the whole picture.

Paul: There are plenty of direct parallels, such as Sky Star removing her weighted shoulder pads in Air Master, but I think my favorite recent example of someone taking the limiters off (at least in a metaphorical sense) is when Satsuki Kiryuin stabs her mother, Ragyo, in the heart before openly declaring her rebellion in Kill la Kill. That moment has the same transcendent impact, dramatically speaking, because you can kind of see it coming just an instant before it happens, but the reveal is still glorious.

Jared: These maybe aren’t direct comparisons, but for me it’d be something like Joseph vs. Esidisi from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Battle Tendency where we see the fruits of Joseph’s training and cunning pay off. Although, I might also put what Jotaro is able to pull off in the final episode of Stardust Crusaders as one that got me hyped in the same way.

Danni: Dragon Ball has quite a few moments where characters literally take off weighted clothing, but the most "Rock Lee dropping the weights" moment in the show I can think of is when Goku unleashes the Kaioken on Vegeta for the first time. I think a good recent example would be Uraraka vs. Bakugo in My Hero Academia. Everyone completely underestimated her and it looked like she was being ripped to shreds, but then she reveals it was all part of her plan to launch a meteor attack.

Noelle: This is hard, because I don’t think there are any direct comparisons. The fight shows a capable fighter showing their true strength, but also in a way that nobody expected, even the audience. There are many good fights, and many surprises, but none that we can’t see coming, at least on some level. I think the thing that elicited the closest feeling to that was Black Lagoon when Roberta was first introduced, and despite her demure appearance, she started blasting through absolutely everything.

Kara: It’s really kind of the “I am not left-handed” of anime, isn’t it? Except turned up to a ludicrous extreme. Funnily enough, the first one I think of is sort of an inverse—the mid-point of GaoGaiGar, where after a battle to the near-death that leaves our heroes and multiple robots on the point of falling apart, we get a post-credit scene that shows us the villains have been holding back. Definitely not a “punch the air” moment so much as a “drain the glass” moment.

Joseph: I have a really bad memory so no, this is the only one ever.

Carolyn: Not to be repetitive, but I think Uraraka and Bakugo are a pretty good example, as well. I tend to watch darker anime over action anime, so I don’t have a lot to draw from.

Peter: I have to thank Carolyn since I was trying to find a way to shoehorn in that in retrospect you can see a lot of the Hinata/Neji fight in Uraraka/Bakugo. As far as a moment where the series reveals its been underselling a character? Maybe Killua ripping that dudes heart out in the Hunter exam? Or Kenpachi pulling off his eyepatch is probably closest. I love when Ichigo claims there’s a trick and Kenpachi admits the trick was he had a demon eating his power the whole time.

  COUNTERS:

"I'm gonna be Hokage!" count: 19

Bowls of ramen consumed: 2 bowls, 3 cups

Shadow Clones: 123

And that's everything for this week! Remember that you're always welcome to join us for this rewatch, especially if you haven't watched the original Naruto!

Here's our upcoming schedule!

-Next week, on MARCH 8th, the Chunin Exam finals begin in EPISODES 50-56, with CAROLYN BURKE hosting!

-Then, on MARCH 15th, DANNI WILMOTH covers EPISODES 57-63--Naruto settles a grudge as the finals heat up!

-On MARCH 22nd, the Chunin Exam ends as NICOLE MEJIAS covers EPISODES 64-70!

  Have any comments or questions about episodes 43-49? What about our upcoming installment, featuring episodes 50-56?

-----

Nate Ming is the Features Editor for Crunchyroll News and creator of the long-running Fanart Friday column. You can follow him on Twitter at @NateMing. Check out his comic, Shaw City Strikers!

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[pengychan]

[Coco] Confession

Title: Confession Summary: Héctor is having some impure thoughts about his best friend, and decides to use the confessional booth for its intended purpose. Incidentally, Ernesto is currently using that same booth. Not for its intended purpose. [Pre-canon, nsfw. There is some period-typical homophobia in this, for the record, but nothing too heavy. Don’t expect anything serious.] Characters: Héctor Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz. Rating: M

A/N: I entirely blame the Coco Locos Discord server for this thing’s existence.

***

It had all started out innocently. Well, as innocently as it can get when you’re inside a church’s confessional booth with a nun on your lap. Which, come to think of it, was not innocent at all. 

Ernesto de la Cruz probably needed to rethink his definition of innocence, but he’d do it later. At the moment, he had his hands full. Quite literally.

“Wait, wait. I’ve got it, I-- I can’t see a thing!”

“Quiet, someone could hear! Let me handle this.”

Ernesto leaned back against the side of the confessional booth, breathing in the smell of old wood and incense. It was small and clearly not meant for two, with only enough space for him to sit, and for Sister Sofía to climb on his lap. It was also dark, the only light coming from the tiny holes on one side to hear the confession. Maybe he should slide the panel shut, he mused, but then Sister Sofía was done unbuttoning his shirt and moved on to unbuckling his belt, and that was one hell of a distraction. She did know how to handle it all right.

“... How many men have you screwed in this booth, Sister?”

“This one specifically?”

“How many are there in this church anyway?”

“Four.”

“And did you--”

“Yes.”

“And Padre Edmundo never--”

“No. ”

“Amazing.”

“Thanks. Can you keep your voice down?”

“It would be a sin against God, but I can try,” Ernesto breathed, then her mouth was on his in a bruising kiss. It went straight to his groin, tugged him forward to return it, and he found that the booth was not small enough, after all. There was still too much distance between them… not to mention that damned robe she had on, leaving hardly any skin for him to touch. He groaned in frustration, fumbling to get it out of the way, and felt her chuckling against his skin, a hand running down his chest.

Sister Sofía - who had absolutely no idea that, some twenty years later, she’d be the basis of a movie character - grasped a handful of his hair, forcing his head back. Ernesto let out a hiss when she placed an open-mouthed kiss on his neck and, with her other hand, reached down into his trousers, palming him through the underwear. The hiss turned into a groan, which he stifled when the kiss turned into a bite.

“Quiet,” she said, her voice suddenly harsh, and grasped him tight - painfully so. The sound that left his throat wasn’t too far away from a whine. "Don't make me get the rod."

Ah, there was the nun again. “You’re already holding it,” Ernesto quipped, gaining himself another squeeze - and a chuckle muffled against the side of his neck. Heat was pooling down in his groin, he was growing hard almost embarrassingly quickly, and he grinned. He reached up to get rid of her headdress, ran his fingers through her hair.

“How do we settle this with the Almighty? Can you confess me?”

“Someone hasn’t been paying attention. Only priests can hold confession and absolve from sin.”

“I was distracted.”

“Oh?”

“By the paintings. Clearly.”

“Clearly.”

“I don’t suppose Padre Edmundo would confess us, would he?”

“After a stiff drink, perhaps. He has a fondness for mass wine. He may forget about it.”

“Speaking of stiff, would you mind…?” he muttered, thrusting up into her grip. There was another muffled laugh, and then she ran… no, scraped a fingernail over the underside, causing Ernesto to utter a rather creative curse that gained him another pull at his hair.

“Is that how you talk in the house of God?” Sister Sofía hissed. “Maybe I should get the rod.”

Ernesto held back a laugh, breathing fast when he felt her thumb running slowly over the tip. The heat was almost unbearable now, and keeping himself from thrusting up into her grip was taking all of his willpower. He shuddered. “You would sound so much more convincing if you weren’t-- ah! Mierd-- I mean--”

A bite on his collarbone and another tug at his hair kept him from uttering any more blasphemies, but just barely. That was going to leave a mark for sure, he would need to keep his shirt all buttoned up for a while to hide it. In the heat of summer it would be a nuisance but he found he didn’t care, not with that sort of heat already taking him over. For that, he felt he could face the flames of Hell, and gladly.

“Tell me whatever verse you use to excuse this, and I’ll believe it,” he rasped. His own voice had never sounded so rough to his ears. He slid a hand beneath the rough fabric of her robe, up her leg and then between her thighs. He found her wet and open and ready, and his fingers slipping in got a moan out of her that she muffled against his shoulder, clinging to him as though her life depended on it.

Good. He didn’t mind being led, but if she’d thought he’d leave all control to her, she’d been sorely mistaken. “This,” he whispered against she side of her neck, “would be a good moment to get things going. I promise it won’t hurt”

A breathless scoff, and she pushed his arm away. His fingers came out slick and wet. “Oh, please. I’ve taken bigger.”

“I don’t believe it for a sec--”

“The bellringer.”

“What? You’re joking!”

“Am not.”

“He’s missing a leg!”

“That’s not the appendage we’re discussing here.” A hand pressed against his mouth before he could argue. "Be still," she whispered, and shifted on his lap, pulling up her robe - then she sank on him, and for a moment he could think of nothing. The fingers in his hair let go and she clung to his shoulders with both hands, pressing down, pressing closer.

He was stuck between her and the wood behind his back, her hair was on his face and her mouth on his neck, and he had almost no complaints. Almost. They were close but not close enough, he was deep in her but not deep enough, he needed more of that scent and that heat and that tightness. She rocked against him, breathing fast, and his hands clenched on the fabric of her robe, hips shuddering.

There was a bit of a false start, he thrust up just as she pulled away, but then she came down on him - hard - and they found their rhythm. For a time there was nothing but that, gasping and warmth and motion in the dark; he could smell more than just old wood and incense now and it was sweet, sweet, intoxicating.

“Do you still want to hear those verses?” Sister Sofía panted against his shoulder, grinding down on him. Ernesto bit his tongue to stifle a curse, but he let out a breathless chuckle.

“No,” he managed. He got one of his hands between them, beneath her robe, and cupped her breast. His thumb brushed over her nipple. “No way in hell I’m apologizing for this.”

A smile against his skin, a tilt of her hips. “Jesus would be saddened.”

“You’re his bride, not me. You sort it out,” Ernesto gasped, and she muffled her laugh against his mouth. A hand ran through his hair, across his shoulder, down his chest.

“I’m starting to suspect you’re not a good Catholic.”

“I have yet to meet one of those,” he muttered, and he was about to add something else, but he never got to: the next moment a sound reached his ears, that of heavy double doors being pushed open, and then footsteps. They immediately stilled, holding their breath, blood still rushing in their ears and pleasure still dulling their senses. Sister Sofía did not move away from his lap - not enough space for her to - but her hand went up to his mouth again.

Still buried deep within her, Ernesto reached to cover it with his own and smiled against her palm… but the smile died down when he realized that the steps were moving closer and closer, until they stopped right in front of the confessional booth.

Ernesto’s eyes flickered towards Sister Sofía to see that she was staring back at him, dark eyes widened in the dim light, just as worried. Then it hit him that the fact he could see her at all was the problem. The small window at the side of the confessional had been left open; the tiny holes wouldn’t allow anyone to look inside, no more than he could glance out from where he sat, but if whoever was there thought that the confessional booth was open--

Close the panel close the panel close the pa--

Too late: before Ernesto could manage to detangle his hand from Sister Sofía’s hair, he heard someone kneeling outside, and clearing his throat.

All right, new plan, I’ll pretend I’m not in. No one is in and he’ll go away. Just keep quiet and--

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen,” a man’s voice rang out, and for a moment Ernesto’s brain came to a complete standstill, his eyebrows raising up almost to his hairline.

Oh. Oooh, that changed everything. He wasn’t going to miss that, no señor, no way. It didn’t matter how hushed the voice was, he recognized it right way. It would have been impossible for him not to: he’d heard Héctor mumbling, yelling, whispering, crying, singing and more so many times, since they’d been children. Beneath Sister Sofía’s palm, his lips curled in a gleeful grin; he didn’t even notice her perplexed look when he pulled her hand off his face.

“Bless me, Padre, for I have sinned. It has been… uh… about… it has been a while since my last confession.”

A while didn’t even begin to cover it, Ernesto suspected. If it turned out he’d confessed himself even just once since before his first Holy Communion he’d pick up the wimple from the floor and eat it. He cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed tone himself, making his voice huskier than usual - not too difficult, really, considering that he was still balls deep into a woman. Who, from her part, was now pressing a hand on her own mouth not to laugh, despite the situation being quite a bit more dangerous for her than it was for him. Ernesto had to admire that.

“And what are your sins, child?” he asked, and held his breath for a moment. He was pretty good at changing his voice, but Héctor had known him for a long time, too - he might just recognize it. Luckily Héctor could be amazingly unobservant, especially when upset… and he did sound kind of upset now, really.

“It’s… difficult to talk about,” he said, his voice trembling, and Ernesto blinked, some worry worming its way through the amusement. Wait, how bad was it? Had he killed someone? Did he need help to hide a body? He had a spade somewhere and there was a grove not far from there where they could--

“Nnnh--!”

Ernesto was unable to stifle a groan when Sister Sofía suddenly began tilting her hips again, still on his lap, still around him. He looked at her with wide eyes, and was met with a smirk; she put both hands on his shoulders to push him back against the wall, still tilting her hips slowly.

Oh, she was going to make that difficult, wasn’t she? Very well. He could handle it. Maybe.

“Er… Padre? Is everything all right?” Héctor was asking, and Ernesto held back a grin, brushing back Sister Sofía’s hair.

“Yes, yes,” he rasped, leaning the back of his head against the wall and letting her do what she would. A hand reached again beneath her robe; her skin was slick with sweat just like his own. “Speak freely, child. What is buggin-- troubling you?”

There was a long breath on the other side of the confessional, followed by a mumble. “I have… I have been having impure thoughts, Padre.”

Have I died and gone to Heaven? Have I? Because a nun riding me while my best friends hands over years’ worth of blackmail material sounds like Heaven to me.

“Impure thoughts?” he repeated. Keeping his voice muffled wasn’t very easy, not with a grin that threatened to split his face in two. Well well, it was about time. How long had he been pining over Miss Attitude, anyway? And all while denying he’d even thought about her that way, like she were Virgin Mary herself or some nonsense.

Of course he’d been having impure thoughts, the pandejo, and he couldn’t blame him. Ernesto had had a few thoughts about Imelda himself, all right, though he wasn’t crazy enough to try anything. There were risks he was willing to take in life, as his current predicament proved, but castration wasn’t one of them.

“Yes,” Héctor’s voice reached him again, almost childishly thin. “Impure thoughts.”

Ernesto caught Sister Sofía’s mouth with his own and exchanged a quick kiss before speaking again. “What sort of impure thoughts?” he rasped, running a hand through her hair.

“I… I’m afraid it’s… I fear it’s offending God.”

Really now? And there Ernesto had thought he was the overly dramatic one. Since when was Héctor that prudish? Ernesto rolled his eyes before speaking, trying to keep his voice steady. Not an easy task. He felt like he could catch fire any moment.

“Well, as long as it’s-- ah… Only in your thoughts, and the young lady is not… er….”

“Vexed,” Sister Sofía whispered in his ear, tilting her hips, and Ernesto nodded, drawing in a deep breath.

“Vexed. Right. As long as it’s in thought--”

“But that’s the thing!” Héctor exclaimed suddenly, words tumbling out of his mouth. “It’s… it’s not about a woman, Padre!”

Wait. Wait. What.

What.

“... What.”

For a moment, everything stilled - and that included Sister Sofía. She paused, hands still on his shoulders, and tilted her head towards the confessional’s window. On the other side, Héctor was talking fast.

“I… I mean, there is also a girl, and… and I think I’m in love with her, and I could never have those thoughts… well… maybe sometimes, because she is so beautiful, and I know I have no chance with her, but I’d… I would never vex her, Padre, I could never - but that is normal, I suppose? But these thoughts for another man, I know… I know it’s… it is unnatural.”

“Because celibacy isn’t,” Sister Sofía whispered, and Ernesto held back a laugh, surprise starting to give way to something closer to glee. And there he’d thought he knew Héctor like the back of his hand. Full of surprises, wasn’t he? That was mocking fodder that would last him for years to co--

A quick, sharp slap on the cheek reminded him that he was supposed to say something. He cleared his throat. “I see. That’s interesting.”

“... Padre?”

Whoops. “Concerning,” he corrected himself quickly, grinning a little when Sister Sofía  rolled her eyes. “Quite concerning. How long have you been having these… impure thoughts?”

“For months now. It started out… we were just at the stream, and… it was only a thought at first, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and now I don’t know what to do.”

‘Do him’ was a possible suggestion, Ernesto supposed, but not a viable one if he was to keep that charade up. And he did want to keep it up, if anything to find out who the hell it was about. Ernesto tried to imagine who in the world could Héctor be having the hots for but, Imelda aside, he drew a complete blank. He thought of the one-legged bellringer, and had to bite back a laugh.

“I see. Does he know of your, er, desires?”

“Oh God, no!” Héctor was groaning. “I could never tell him, I don’t know what he would think! He’s my best friend, almost a brother! I don’t want him to know I’m a… some sort of deviant! If he were to find out, I… I don’t even know what I would do. What should I do, Padre?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“... Padre?”

“Huh,” Ernesto said. On his lap, Sister Sofía was trembling in what seemed an almost heroic effort not to burst out laughing. He blinked a couple of times, opened his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again. “Huh,” he repeated.

“I am afraid that if he finds out, he will never look at me the same way again,” Héctor was adding and well, he wasn’t wrong about that. Impure thoughts about Imelda and about him? He had good taste, if anything. How in the world had Ernesto managed to entirely miss it?

“I have prayed, but it doesn’t seem to help,” Héctor was adding, his voice weaker. “I don’t know what else to--”

“Have you considered telling him?” Ernesto asked on a whim, causing Héctor to sputter and Sister Sofía to press her mouth against his shoulder, desperately trying to muffle more laughter. He’d almost forgotten he was still in her, taken as he was by the confession, but the sudden movement made him all too aware, and his hips shuddered. Ernesto drew in a deep breath. He’d thought it was hot inside that booth a few minutes earlier but oh God, now he may as well be in Hell. And he still had no complaints.

“No, I. I can’t tell him,” Héctor was saying, his voice a couple of octaves higher. “I don’t know what he’d think.”

That you have taste, Ernesto wanted to say, but he bit his lower lip instead. Sister Sofía was moving again, grinning against his skin, and he had to hold back a groan. The heat in his groin was back, he wasn’t sure precisely what was causing it now, and he found he didn’t care. He clung back to her, trying to get a hand beneath her robe.

“Well,” he rasped. “These impure thoughts, have you ever… acted on them? When alone?”

More sputtering. “Wha-- no! I never--”

“The truth before God, child,” Ernesto cut him off, and that was a perfect imitation of Padre Edmundo, if he said so himself. If his current predicament had allowed him, he’d have patted himself on the back; instead, he settled for thrusting up into Sister Sofía again, leaning a cheek on her hair. He felt like he was burning up; even the air he breathed seemed to be scorching his throat. “You’re here to confess everything and, er…”

“Free yourself of sin,” Sister Sofía breathed in his ear.

“Free yourself of sin,” Ernesto repeated, and held his breath. After a few, long moments of silence, there was a sigh of defeat.

“I… I have. Once. Or twice,” Héctor mumbled and oh, oh wasn’t that getting better and better. The mental image hit Ernesto like a jolt, went straight to his groin. His breath caught in his throat; if Sister Sofía noticed, if she wondered, she said nothing: she just ground harder against him and Ernesto suddenly realized that he  was very, very close.

“Once or twice?” he repeated, his voice hoarse, and he definitely heard Héctor shifting on the kneeling stool, heard him groaning.

“Several times,” he admitted, just as Sister Sofía tilted her hips sharply and pressed a kiss on the side of his neck. The muscles in Ernesto’s thighs twitched and he clung back to her, his mind conjuring a very pleasant mental image - Héctor resting on his back in his bedroom, his trousers open, a hand sneaking in, Ernesto’s name on his lips.

“These thoughts,” Ernesto breathed. “How… how impure…?”

“Do I have to--”

“It is called confession for a reason. How can I absolve you if-- nnnh… if you don’t tell me all about your sin?”

At that point Ernesto wasn’t even sure his voice sounded like that of a priest at all, but he was already beyond caring; Sister Sofía was getting close, too, he could tell by her quickening breathing and the was she moved, quick and desperate.

“I…” a pause, a long breath. “God help me, one time I imagined him on his knees for me, and… and…”

Héctor’s voice broke, but even if he hadn’t, Ernesto wouldn’t have heard another word. The mental image hit him like a physical blow, and Sister Sofía was clenching around him, and that was it. Ernesto had to bite on his fist to muffle a groan, not knowing what was it that had pushed him over the edge and frankly not giving a damn. He shuddered a few times, his body flushing hot and cold at the same time, blood rushing in his ears and heart thundering in his chest.

Very far away, Héctor was still talking, but he didn’t catch the words. He leaned back against the wall of the confessional booth with a trembling breath, Sister Sofía suddenly limp and still on him, leaning her head against his shoulder and breathing fast against his ear. He could feel the thumping of her heartbeat through the robe. He ran a hand through her hair again, and felt her smirk against his neck. Ernesto grinned back - not that she could see it, but it was the thought that counted - and made an effort to turn his attention back to Héctor.

“So I need some… some advice. And prayer, of course, I am going to pray, but--”

“This friend of yours, is he handsome?”

“... What?”

“Well, is he?”

“Uh… I guess that… women do think he is…”

“But do you?”

“Er. Sí?”

Ernesto took a mental note of that, for next time Héctor tried to react to his teasing over his ears and nose by uttering some nonsense about his chin scaring small children. Hadn’t he been lost in the afterglow, he would have realized that his voice didn’t sound much like that of a priest anymore and he would have definitely picked up the sudden doubt in Héctor’s voice. But his mind was still dazed, so he didn’t notice.

That, or his brain had decided that he just didn’t care to keep the act going anymore.

“Well, if he’s that handsome, I am sure God would understand.”

“... Would he now.”

“He did tell us to love the… the…”

“The neighbour?”

“Yes. That.”

“I am not entirely sure he meant that kind of love.”

“Which one of us is the priest again?”

“I see. Well, Padre, thank you for the enlightening words. Come to think of it, I probably need not worry. It would be worse if I’d been having such thoughts about a real man.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” Ernesto repeated, incredulous. Sister Sofía trembled in his arms - a quiet snicker, most likely - but he was beyond noticing. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have seen his… well, we grew up together, you understand. Just last week we went to the stream to freshen up. I didn’t intentionally look, but it couldn't be helped. It was… nothing to write home about.”

“Wait a minute there--”

“Actually, you almost couldn’t see it. Almost like looking at a woman. Maybe that’s why--”

“That’s not true!” Ernesto all but screeched, causing Sister Sofía to recoil and pull back, raising both eyebrows at him.

Really?

… Ah. Whoops.

As realization hit him, he heard Héctor standing suddenly and crying out in triumph. “Ah-ha! So it was you all alo-- oh. Oh my God, it was you all along!”

“Er…”

“What the hell, Ernesto?”

“I, uh--”

There was a groan, a few footsteps as Héctor walked around the confessional booth. “What in the world are you doing in there?”

“No, wait--” Ernesto tried, but it was too late. The door was thrown open and Héctor was glaring at him, his face beet red. Not that he kept glaring for long: within a moment, just as Sister Sofía pressed her face against his shoulder and lost her long battle not to laugh, his expression turned perplexed at first, then completely blank. His eyes shifted from the laughing nun on his lap to Ernesto, who tried to smile, still sweaty and dishevelled.

“This is not what it looks like,” he declared.

Héctor blinked at him and slowly, wordlessly, closed the door again. There were quick footsteps as he walked out of the church, but Ernesto failed to hear them over Sister Sofía’s laughter. He groaned and leaned back against the wall, wiping some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

More laughter, a smile against sweaty skin. “Oh, no. Never.”

***

“Well, we did learn some interesting things about each other today.”

“Chingate, Ernesto.”

“You sure you wouldn’t like to do that yourself?”

“Ernesto.”

“Just asking!”

Silence.

“... She’s not going to tell, is she?”

“Naah, she’s good. Plus, she wouldn’t want to explain what we were doing in that booth.”

“Oh. Good.”

Silence, again.

“You said I’m handsome.”

“I also said you have a small dick.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“I’ve seen bigger.”

“That’s the second time I hear it today. And whose would that be?”

“Mine.”

“Hah, dream on. Mine is thicker and women like it  thick. Unlike you, I would know.”

“That was a low blow.”

“In every sense of the word.”

More silence.

“... But if you want to settle the matter--”

“No.”

“Afraid of comparison now?”

“Just do us both a favor and keep it in your trousers for two hours straight.”

“Heh.”

“What now?”

“You said ‘straight’.”

“Idiota.”

Another pause as they both gulped down a shot of mezcal.

“So, about those impure thoughts--”

“Can you shut your mouth?”

“Would you prefer to shut me up? Because you did mention a fun way to do it.”

“For the love of-- we can’t, all right?”

“Says the Bible?”

“Says everyone.”

“Well, not me.”

“I caught you fucking a nun inside a church.”

“Your point?”

“You’re not a good role model.”

“Probably not. But I’m a great lover.”

“Says who?”

“You very shortly, if you dare. You can confess yourself later. Possibly to a real priest.”

He did dare. He did, begrudgingly, concede that Ernesto knew what he was doing. But he never attempted to confess himself again. Actually, he never came within a ten foot radius of a confessional booth ever again.

Just in case.

[dat-town]

Definition of Beauty

Characters: Seokjin & OC (Bona)

Setting: college au, photographer au

Genre: romance, fluff, slight angst

Warning: mentions of past bullying

Summary: Define beauty, I will define love.

Words: 6.4k

Previously titled Pose. Click. Kiss. on AFF.

“Okay, everyone. Today’s topic is beauty. Let’s talk about what beauty means to you.”

Mrs. Son is an excellent professor blessed with all the skills needed to gain attention of lazy ass college students who only signed up for her class in hope of a good grade without much effort. She's intelligent, open-minded and strict about deadlines. Her strong persona makes her an ideal role model for girls in this man-driven society. Hence her creative art class was Bona's favourite and no wonder why she takes the advanced level this semester. She hopes for even more challenging projects like the ones she enjoyed most last year so she's always an active participant in class. A few still cough nerd behind her back but she doesn't care because at the end of the day she's the one getting an internship at a good company and not them. Her dream of leading a successful career in the future keeps her going.

She raises her hand up high asking for permission to speak up. She doesn't mind starting any discussion because someone has to break the ice. Last year, she was that someone every single time. It set a routine. That's why when professor Son breaks into a lovely smile she's ready to talk but instead of pointing to her, the woman's eyes are glued on someone else behind her.

“Yes, Seokjin?”

Who? Bona's ears perk up at the unfamiliar name. She lets her hand fall bayk by her side while turning around in the seat to look at this kid. Her eyes scan the area behind her in the occupied lecture hall until they fix on this particularly gorgeous guy. There must be something about him that catches people's interest because he hasn't even muttered out a word and dozens have started to gossip. Maybe it’s his broad shoulders hugged by a white button-up or his delicate features, maybe the light brown locks hovering over his eyes or even his fashionable thick framed glasses. Still, Bona isn't fazed by his appearance, nor by his manly voice when the burble finally stops and he speaks up.

“I believe beauty is in details and without doubt, in finality. We're so obsessed with planning ahead of us, we often miss important moments. It’s enough to look at the Korean school system. Their evanescence is what makes everything beautiful and precious. Every beautiful thing has an expiration date. We want to prolong it, capture it and the beauty industry is living on the desire of staying young and pretty, preferably forever.”

He has an interesting approach, Bona admits but she raises her hand once again.

“Ah, Bona, go ahead,” the professor coos.

“I think Seokjinssi misunderstood the question,” she says diligently and raises her head to look at said guy sitting three rows behind her. Now he's carefully observing her with his tentative gaze while tapping his pen's end on the paper simultaneously. He raises an eyebrow in question so Bona explains further “He only considered the outer aspect of beauty, like the way we appreciate a sunset or someone who will age. What does numbers, such as age, really has to matter? Why couldn't be a grandma beautiful? Just because she's loved by her family. Or the Great Wall of China. Yeah, it's a tremendous but it's a great achievement of the human race and it's standing for thousands of years now. I think beauty doesn't have a limit. It comes from within.”

“You say this like beauty has to come with something worthy,” Seokjin argues flatly.

Was that even a question?

“Of course.”

“You know that the Wall was probably built by thousands of slaves, right? It's just a show-off of a Chinese Emperor,” he snorts and disapprovingly shakes his head. His bangs cover his eyebrows but his gaze doesn’t leave Bona’s face as he continues. “You can ask around but I'm sure if we would pass around pictures of a sunset and Stonehenge or a grandma, sunset would win. People are attracted to the more appealing things even if they are morally low. Terrible scenes could be pictured beautifully too, like natural disasters.”

When his words are swallowed by anticipating silence, it’s her turn to give voice to her thoughts again.

“But that's not beauty. That's judging the book by its cover.”

Anger boils up the blood in her veins when she snaps at him. She doesn’t like Seokjin’s zoomed-in view on the topic. Not even one bit. She likes to appreciate the big picture, the details and their connotations altogether.

“Real beauty is inside, in its meaning,” she insists talking louder than the ocean of whispers around them. She can only see that boy with raised brows and an amused smile. She’s sure her gaze is judging but doesn’t care when she’s trying to make a point. “A lullaby sang by a mother. The twinkle of happiness in a stranger's eyes. Words of philosophers living through centuries.”

At that, Seokjin giggles. Literally giggles! Like what the hell? How old is he? Five? And how dares he laugh at her in front of hundreds of students?

“You're being a hypocrite,” he says lightly with nothing hurtful or offending in his tone. As if it was a simple observation. “Everyone has prejudices because of looks, some just hide it better than others. You, on the other hand, are failing miserably.”

Well, that was insulting.

“What makes you say that?” Bona glares at him and gets prepared for what comes next. Though, she can’t prepare when the harsh words feel like a slap.

“The fact that you put me down as a pretty boy with no brain the moment you saw me.”

“Uh, burn,” a guy lets out a horse-laugh a few seats away from her and a lot join him. Bona feels her face heating up in embarrassment and she hates it.

“Okay, kids, enough. You can continue this outside of the classroom later but we still want to hear a few more opinions,” Mrs. Son interrupts their argument just as Bona has a witty comeback to tell Mr. Know It All where to get off.

Thus, she’s left with only fuming. Right now, she wants nothing more than to leave and never see that flawless face of the arrogant ‘pretty boy’ again.

The class goes on like nothing happened for another thirty minutes when...

“Okay, lesson’s over. Don’t forget the pair project about beauty due to next month,” the professors wraps up the lesson nicely but before anyone can leave she adds: “Oh, Mr. Kim and Miss Shin, come here please.”

Bona grits her teeth when she walks down the aisle towards the teacher’s desk. She isn’t in the mood to get scolded for her impulsive behaviour. Usually, she’s a reserved and calm person. Well, until someone gets on her nerves.

She gulps visibly when the three of them gather together and refuses to meet the eyes of Seokjin. Looking around the lecture room aimlessly is much more interesting until Mrs. Son clears her throat requesting their attention.

“I appreciate your passion about my course but what we would like to do is discussing, not arguing. Please respect each other's opinion.”

“Yeah, ma'am,” the guy nods while Bona mumbles out a sorry.

Professor Son’s smile is reassuring yet full of authority. “Don't be but I would like you two to work together on this project to sort out your disagreements.”

Wait, what? Bona gasps not believing her ears. All of her plans to have a quiet semester without stress go to Hell immediately. She hates teamwork with strangers.

“But I’ve already chose Dami,” she whines like a child but she can’t say no to Mrs. Son.

“I'm sure she won't mind. I hope you will get along well,” the professor waves a little without waiting for their answer and takes her leave. Bona’s struck there dumbfounded.

“I can't believe it,” she mutters to herself while adjusting the bag on her shoulders. Creative Art classes always went smoothly for her but now she feels betrayed. What did she do to deserve this? Let’s say hypothetically that she was wrong (which she wasn’t but still), does she have to be cursed with this arrogant stranger’s presence for another month? Really? What kind of punishment it is?

Bona knows it’s rude but she just wants to leave to have a good coffee and forget this awkward lesson ever happened. Unfortunately a puppy face stops her on her track.

“Wait a little, partner,” Seokjin shouts after her, grabbing his bag from the desk and runs to the door where she snarls at him:

“What?”

Bona wants to make it clear that she wouldn’t wait for him forever to groan out what he wants. The fact that they have a project together doesn’t mean they have to become BFFs.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize. I guess I was too harsh,” the guy rubs his nape bashfully. A nervous habit maybe? Otherwise, he seems totally unfazed by the whole situation as if he was totally okay with working together on this assignment no matter their opposite opinions.

She snorts.

“Calling me judgemental and hypocrite? Yeah, you definitely were.”

“Sorry?” he flashes a shy smile although he doesn’t seem like the shy type. More like someone who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth and have been growing up among praises.

“We started on the wrong foot. I'm Seokjin, but my friends call me Jin. My major is photography,” he introduces himself dutifully and bows a little. Bona mirrors his actions out of habit.

“Bona, journalism.”

Keep it short and simple, she tells herself. Maybe they can actually manage a mature conversation like adults do.

“I haven't seen you around much,” she makes an innocent remark referring to his absence from previous classes. He doesn’t take the hint.

“Well, yeah. You're a second year, right? I'm in my third and I don't live on the campus anymore. Maybe that's why,” he shrugs while opening the door wide and lets her walk out of the room before him. His reply could explain why she didn't remember him from last year's course but she only hums in acknowledgement.

“So I guess we should start brainstorming about our topic soon,” he brings up as they are manoeuvring in the hallways towards the exit gate of university.  

“I have already decided,” Bona replies casually like it’s no big deal while Seokjin stands there with mouth agape. She knows her attitude must be testing his patience.

“What? But...  Ok, nevermind, what's it?” he catches up to her quickly with his long limbs and sounds sincerely interested.

“Independence. Equality. Freedom. Justice...”

“They're moral ideas,” he cuts her off with a confused expression.

No hell, Sherlock, really? Bona rolls her eyes. Ever since Mrs. Son mentioned the topic she knew she wanted to do something unique. She could have written little stories with excellent, mesmerizing writing style, jaw-dropping vocabulary and adjectives that only a few know. It could have been without a plot, just a description about the unearthly experience of seeing the sun rise and set. It could have been beautiful but not for her. Not anymore. Not when she thinks beauty can’t be in vain.

“Yeah and they're beautiful.”

Well, he can’t argue with that but his almond brown eyes are still searching for answers. Glowing in the darkness of the place like bright stars lighting up the night sky. It’s not fair. From up-close he’s even better-looking.

“And how you wanna portray them?” the question throws Bona off. She didn’t think about that.

“Well, we have to figure it out, Picasso.”

Seokjin pulls a face at the nickname and reminds her. “I'm into photography, not painting.”

That’s when she catches a sight of a clock and panics.

“Okay, my next class is in 5 minutes so here's my number. I'm free on Wednesday evenings, Friday night and Saturday before noon,” she scratches down a row of numbers on a ripped paper while talking. She despises being late.

Seokjin nods in understanding, wrapping his fingers around the tiny piece of paper.

“Got it. I'm gonna text you,” he promises.

And texting he did. No other than:

Kim Seokjin: Are you a carbonara or jajangmyeong person?

Are you for real?

I'm not playing this game.

Kim Seokjin: Come on, it's not a game. I'm curious.

It depends. If my mom makes it, her jajangmyeong is delicious but I like Italian cuisine.

Kim Seokjin: You're being difficult again.

Nothing new.

Kim Seokjin: And you're quite bitter.

Am not.

Bona would like to say that Seokjin is an arrogant and unbearable asshole but in reality he’s far from that. She should be glad because he seems genuinely enthusiastic about their project. He follows her on social media and sends her various pictures about beautiful things constantly, most of them are likely to be his own works: a park, roses, scenery of Seoul, balloons, someone laughing so hard he hides his face… And more: just snippets of their fragile beauty. Such as cherry blossoms before they dry, birds before flying away, neon lights under the dark city sky and food! He’s so into cooking, it's almost unbelievable for a college student. He could have been a culinary major. His Instagram feed is full of photos of either food or selcas. He likes to show off his pretty face along with his cute dog Jjanggu.

Oh, not like Bona is stalking him online. Even if she did, he’s way worse: he stalks her in real life. Luckily, he’s not creepy or rude about it. Sometimes they grab a coffee together when they meet in Starbucks or he stops by at a course she’s taking just to drop an idea about their project. It’s actually easy to get to know Kim Seokjin because he likes to talk. You can chat with him about everything and he’s too nice -the kind who helps grandmas on the street nice. But she doesn’t want to be deceived. Perfection is only a fragile illusion of the mind.

Kim Seokjin: Are you a romanticist?

I don’t believe in love at first sight. So no?

Kim Seokjin: Idealist?

Most likely.

Kim Seokjin: Vegetarian?

No.

Kim Seokjin: Good. Tonight’s the opening of this new Thai place and I’m taking you with me.

Kim Seokjin: ...

Kim Seokjin: If you want.

Okay. I can’t wait.

Kim Seokjin: REALLY???

Kim Seokjin: I mean cool.

“Yah,” Bona fishes out her phone of her best friend’s hands. Nara laughs hysterically.

“You will thank me later. He seems like a dream guy,” she pinches Bona’s cheeks to melt her frown but she doesn’t like to be treated as a child.

“Emphasis on seems,” Bona grunts out that makes the other girl pout. Nara’s voice is tiny and kind when she dares to say the name that shouldn’t be said:

“Not everyone’s like Dojung.”

The name that rolls off her tongue is heavy and cold in Bona’s ears. She feels a tug at her heart-strings. Words taste like dry sand in her mouth.

“I know.”

It doesn’t change a thing.

Sorry. It was my best friend.

I'm busy tonight but if you insist we can go after we finish the project.

Kim Seokjin: So raincheck it is. Okay.

Their - sort of but not really - friendship revolves around the Creative Art project and arguing about beauty constantly. They don’t get fed up anymore because they have learnt to respect each other’s spaces (more or less). They often grab a drink while brainstorming together between classes but the first time Bona meets with a friend of Jin’s, they get together in a small coffee shop near the university. When she arrives, her eyes unconsciously wander to the senior student who currently chit-chats with a waiter. The guy has the weirdest mint green hair and a sarcastic laugh when he lets out a grumble:

“You're really okay with representing beauty with these ideas like sex equality? That's ridiculous.”

“I think it's interesting. The way she sees the world,” Seokjin shrugs and pushes his bangs aside. There's something mellifluous in his voice. “She's so fond of this but sees the world without colours: only black and white.”

Bona snorts loudly as she gets closer.

“Black and white, huh?” Bona mumbles when she sits down in front of him. She has to bite back an insult so instead she takes a moment or two to look at the waiter. “Then can I have an Americano, black with ice?”

“Well, well the infamous Bona. Seokjin just won't shut up about you,” he ignores her order and teases the older with a gummy grin.

“That's a huge overstatement,” Soft, awkward giggles escape Jin’s mouth and pink blush creeps on his face. He must have talked quite a lot. He motions towards the pale, manga-character looking guy. “He's Yoongi, by the way, my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you,” the waiter nods then excuses himself to hurry and make her an Americano. When the two of them is left alone, Seokjin rubs the back of his neck a little nervously.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough”, she says nonchalantly, not really caring about what she heard. She believes in the freedom of speech and expression. Only if he respected her opinion she would do the same. Most of all, she doesn’t care one bit because she has way more important things to do. “But we're here to discuss our project and not your home life and how much you tell your roommate.”

“Sure. I’m all ears.”

“I’ve written some drabbles, short stories about why these ideas are beautiful but we should make it visual, you know hit the big screen.” her voice is dripping with sarcasm towards the end. It’s obvious she isn’t really keen on the idea of shooting a short movie just for this project. Seokjin doesn’t take offense or he’s totally oblivious about the irony. He nods running his long fingers through his silky locks.

“Agreed. I’ve also thought about acting out scenes representing your weird ideas about beauty.”

It’s no surprise that there’s no malice in his voice when he say weird. Maybe it’s the difference between them: Bona is quick to judge and very much headstrong while Seokjin is so open for new things he welcomes even the oddest ideas.

“That could actually work but I'm not an actress.”

He flashes a warm smile.

“You're presentable. That's what matters.”

“Geez. Thanks,” she rolls her eyes and Jin laughs. He has a nice laughter without doubt. That kind of high-pitched giggles that makes everyone smile around him. His beautiful almond-shaped eyes turn into crescents and strangers stop on their track just to look at him. Not in the judging way but a curious one. Bona wonders whether he got any offer by modelling agencies.

“To be honest, I actually have a theatre major friend and he could bring along someone to play out your drabbles. Is it alright?” Seokjin suddenly sounds serious. His facial mimics are so expressive, Bona can easily pinpoint his mood… At least, she thinks she does.  “Are you perhaps available on next Saturday?”

“Yeah. Saturday is good,” Bona notes it down in her schedule book. She just wants to get over with it. “What do you think about Han River as a location?”

Seokjin purses his mouth and touches his chin. His gaze averts outside of the window looking lost in his thoughts. “Isn't it too cliché? And crowded at the weekend?”

“Right,” she clicks her tongue in irritation. She would have been more grateful if he had actually did something instead of just criticising her ideas or occasionally accepting them. “Maybe Namsan then?”

Seokjin hums approvingly with a glint of happiness in his eyes. There’s a snippet of excitement in those chocolate brown orbs.

“That could work, the atmosphere and the lights are considered ideal. Where do you live? I'll pick you up.”

Bona has always been the suspicious kind. Careful with her private information so she doesn’t answer right away.

“You have a car?”

“Well, as a photographer I need it. I have a lot of equipment and I can’t carry a tripod on subway all the time,” Seokjin shrugs. His reasoning doesn’t sound like something mommy’s little boy would say. Maybe he really did work for what he has. Bona likes this idea more than she thinks she should.

“I live in the dorms on the east side of campus. I'll meet you there at 10.”

Jin’s smile is just like his laughter: bright, vivid and genuine. It makes her want to smile as well.

“There you go. Enjoy your treats,” Yoongi returns with a tray and two cups of coffee. They both thank him and it’s borderline awkward when he leaves too soon.

Then it happens. The door opens, the bell rings cheerfully and time freezes. Bona looks up ready to comment on Jin’s choice of place, but her face is painted white, all colours drained out. Voices mingle together and Jin's face fades away. Suddenly she feels dizzy.

“Hey, Bona? Do you hear me? Are you okay?” the low panic-painted grunt is coming from afar. It sounds slurred almost as if she was under water.

“I... I have to go,” she stutters and stumbles to her feet without having a slip of her drink.  Her breathing is laboured, voice raw and it feels like the world collapses on her. Or it only happens in her?

Everything is a blur. The door, the street, the people. She doesn’t even know where she’s going. It doesn’t matter, just away. Away from him.

“Bona, wait!” Seokjin calls after her, catching up to her as if his life depended on it. He’s a little out of breath when he carefully touches her shoulder. Bona shakes him off impatiently and annoyed.

“Leave me alone.”

Gosh, why does her voice break? It’s hurting her ears. Doesn’t it enough that she’s already hurting everywhere else?

“No, I won't,” Jin counters and grabs her shoulders with a little bit more force to make her stop moving. Her eyes are red because she struggles not to cry. She looks terrified. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Because I just did. He's dead to me.” she says relentlessly and sobs while trying to hide behind her hands. Her voice is cracking and she can’t shake off the feeling of shame because of her public breakdown. “Oh God, I'm so pathetic.”

Seokjin shakes his head violently. He pries her hands off her face and lifts her head to look at her properly. Warm reassurance is swimming in his eyes, his fingers are soft against her skin and his voice is dripping honey.

“No, you're not. You can be weak sometimes and that doesn't mean you're any less strong.”

Bona is staring at him for a long time before she finally, finally let herself cry. Tears are soaking Seokjin’s pink dress shirt but he holds her close nevertheless. He soothes circles onto her back while she clings onto him silently asking him not to let go.

Things get better after. Even though Bona doesn't talk about what happened, she feels more at ease beside Jin. He acts like nothing wrong ever happened but from time to time he's more careful with his words. He's still blunt but don't blame her for being bitter anymore. He doesn't expect an explanation either. They start hanging out more. It begins with walking together to Creative Art class and sitting next to each other. Sometimes they share lunch boxes. Despite any of her protests, next thing Bona knows, she's having a coffee at the place Jin's roommate's working. Seokjin makes sure that she would sit with her back to the door in a little hidden corner.

It has also become a daily routine to talk via SNS if they can't meet. Seokjin often asks her to have a bite of every new receipt he tried out. She doesn't have to worry about food anymore. Also, she has to get used to being photographed almost every day. The guy takes his major seriously, always carrying around one of his cameras and snapping photos here and there. Bona hates taking selcas, she feels uncomfortable under the unknown gaze but Jin never demands her to pose. He likes to take photos of slices of life when she doesn't know. Like that time when she changed the burnt-out bulb in her dorm once he was over. Or when after they helped two foreigners on the street and she laughs at Jin's broken English. On every single picture he takes, she looks ephemeral and beautiful. Nonetheless, she makes him promise to delete these later. But deep-deep down her heart flatters because of his little habit. Although he may be the same with everyone since he likes to take photos in general. She wonders why it pains her.

Kim Seokjin: Are you ready?

Her phone pings on the day of their shooting. Bona is staring at her reflection in the mirror and wonders if Jin sees her differently. She's not that skinny or graceful like other girls. She hates wearing skirts and isn't really keen on shopping or going to cosmeticians. She can be quirky, picky and stubborn as a mule. She prefers superhero movies over stupid American comedies. Funnily, they bond over Disney movies and playing video games at Jin's place. They argue a lot about who's better but he has someone to play with and Bona always gets dinner so it's a win-win.

Bona never had guy friends before so she doesn't know what to feel about all of it or when Jin opens the car door for her like a gentleman. Inside of the car a cheerful voice of somebofy with boyish features greets her from the backseat.

“Dude, nice to meet you. I love the concept. Jin said it was your idea. Unique that's for sure.”

“Uhm, thanks?” Bona isn’t sure how to react. The boy introduces himself as Taehyung, a cute dongsaeng of Jin when the older starts the engines. He’s bubbly and way more talkative than the quiet girl with cold appearance next to him.

The drive is filled with Taehyung’s chirping, Seokjin’s laughter and not-so-subtle glances between Bona and the photographer. She can’t really pinpoint why but this shooting feels like the end of something. The end of this month when they had this bond or something. After this, there’s no project and no reason for them to hang out for its sake. What will happen to them after?

She tries to dismiss her concern during the shooting which goes surprisingly smooth. Jin gives her the upper hand to act like a director and give out orders. Meanwhile, he’s snapping pictures quietly and recording short scenes when she says so. They work well together and their ‘cast’ is talented too. At the end of the day, they can wrap it up nicely. She should be satisfied. Yet, she has this uneasiness in her heart for some unknown reasons.

The light footsteps and honey sweet voice take her by surprise.

“Tae said they would catch the bus home so they left early.”

Bona looks up to see Jin smiling lightly like he always does. It brings out his soft features which create a perfect contrast with his sharp jaw-line. She averts her gaze. Why does he have to be so sinfully handsome?

“Have you finished packing?” she asks instead of commenting on it. She stays completely still when Seokjin sits down next to her on the bench. There’s a convenient distance between them: not too far, not too close. Just like their relationship is on the edge between strangers and lovers. They’re somewhat friends but not really.

“Yeah and checked some of the videos. I’d give it a week to edit the material.”

Great, they will finish in time. She should be happy but she doesn’t say a word. Ahead of them the clear sky is swimming in carmine and crimson colours. There are no clouds, no threats of upcoming storms, no crowd. Birds’ singing and tourists’ murmuring are faded into the view.

Sunset from the top of Namsan Tower is indeed undeniably beautiful. Bona agrees however she still seeks for meaning. It doesn’t take too long to find it in the reflection in Seokjin’s eyes or in the melody of his voice. In him.

“I wanted to be an actor.” 

His confession is so sudden and raw, Bona can’t help but stare at him. He doesn’t turn his head, eyes focusing on the scenery.

“It was my childhood dream and I actually applied to the uni’s theatre major. I thought I was good, at least mediocre but they rejected me. One of the judges said at the audition that I'm nothing more than a pretty face and they're looking for talent there. The bruise I got that day hurts every time I meet students who learn performing arts. You know, it’s like ripping off a bandage all over again.”

Then there’s silence and Bona’s throat is dry. She would have never thought that this warm-hearted boy of all people was discriminated because of his looks. He seems like someone who have been praised his all life and had everything served on a silver plate. Spoiled and narcissistic. Even though he’s confident in his face, he’s not egoistic at all. He spends most of his times behind his camera and not in front of one. He could easily become a model with his looks but he’d rather capture beauty through his lenses. It has always made her curious.

“Then how you got into photography?” she wonders out loud.

“That's actually a funny story. I got an old polaroid camera from my grandma when I was a child and I liked taking photos ever since. After they turned down my application, it was Yoongi who sent in a couple of my pictures. You can imagine how surprised I was to get a congratulation letter on my university entrance. I'm truly grateful to him, because now this is what I want to do all my life.”

Jin’s eyes light up as he talks about it. It’s obvious that he truly loves doing this. He catches Bona off guard when his gaze suddenly drifts to her but neither of them looks away. Under the starry Seoul sky, she can almost feel the breeze of ocean, a scent of home just by looking at him. He doesn’t feel real. Like a midsummer night's dream.

He doesn’t have to ask what’s her story. Bona tells him anyway,

“I’ve loved reading ever since I stumbled upon Harry Potter. I used to dream about becoming a famous writer. Now I know better, I’m not that talented but I want people to hear my voice. I know I can’t force world peace but I want to stop bullying and I wish people would be more considerate towards each other.” Wishful thinking, something only a dreamer would say. But Bona is one and she doesn’t even try to deny it. She casts down her eyes before continuing. “When I was a kid, I was mocked a lot because of my weight. By the end of high school I’d become thinner and Dojung noticed me.”

His name tastes like salt and regrets on her tongue. She’d like to spit it out. To forget and move on. Maybe telling someone about him would help. She wants to give it a try.

“He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen,” Bona gulps loudly, her heart is already panicking at the thought of him. She can breathe again when a soft hand takes hers intertwining their fingers comfortingly. “I fell so hard. I was in love with his smile and everything about it. It took me a lot to figure out he's rotting inside. He manipulated me, making me skip dinners with family, abandoning my friends and studies just for him. Freshman year, he dumped me; he said I wasn't enough. I was alone and had a rough semester. I finally just started to get a hold of myself when you came along.”

It’s a mistake for sure but Bona dares to stare into Seokjin’s chestnut brown eyes. They’re passionate yet caring just like when he has a camera in his hands. The fondness in his dark orbs never fails to amaze her. He would never put pressure on her. He’s waiting patiently for her to collect her thoughts and open up. Bona drowns in his kindness.

“I had a hard time trusting you because you reminded me of him. You really don't have any similarities except the fact that both of you are beautiful.”

“That's offensive. I'm sure I'm way more handsome,” Seokjin gasps dramatically with his free hand on his heart pretending he’s offended. It makes her laugh.

“Probably you are but your flaws are my favourites. They show you’re human, too,” she says gently playing with his crooked fingers and admiring his lopsided smile.

But will she be ever enough? For him? For anyone?

During the following week, it’s hard to decide whether they’re friends or more. They never talk about it yet grow closer day by day. Their project video is finished in time so both of them claim their regular seats (now next to each other) in the lecture hall in ease.

Mrs. Son smiles at them knowingly when she enters the room. When she clears her throat, every pair of eyes focus on her.

“Good morning everyone,” she chirps and in the silence her footsteps are echoing in the room. “I’d like to thank you for all your submitted works, I love the different ways you interpreted beauty. Today we will discuss the three most creative and interesting projects.”

Excitement spreads among the students, murmuring about odds and grades. The whispering is fading away as soon as the professor switches on the computer to let them see her choices one by one.

“Look at these different interpretations and after we have seen all three, we’ll talk about them.”

The first project is an oil-painting. At first, it's really chaotic. The audience need a moment to realize the purpose of iridescent colours splattered on the canvas. The background is black and silver showing the universe, but there are Hangeul characters for the word beauty and it contains tiny replicas of famous paintings. It's the most beautiful collage Bona has ever seen.

The second one is a contemporary sculpture built of cosmetics bottles and cans. It symbolizes a women's submission to the beauty industry. Bona really likes this approach.

“And last but not least, my personal favourite! Miss Shin Bona and Mr. Kim Seokjin, congratulations! Your work was captivating and it reinvented the meaning of beauty.”

Others clap either cheerfully or not interested at all. Bona is so excited she grabs Jin's hand under the table without a second thought. His long slender fingers fit into hers perfectly like two pieces of puzzle.

Bona is proud looking at their short movie with Seokjin's actor friends. While they follow the screenplay she's written about siblings during the French Revolution. She's ready to clap after the last scene but then the boy next to her presses her hand a little while their movie keeps playing. She has seen the mp4 file he sent her the day before and it should have been the end. There shouldn't be clips about her. Although you can't really say it's her because she is never shown directly. Just her hands, back profile, eyes, smile... never her entire face. She’s smiling at the camera carefree and happy because she didn’t know Jin was planning to use this. There’s also voiceover, a monologue in Seokjin’s narration that takes her breath away.

When it ends for real, Bona doesn’t even hear Mrs. Son’s comment on the subjectivity of beauty and love, she’s storming out of the room. She can hardly breathe but it’s not a panic attack. It’s something else, something overwhelming.

“Bona, wait! I’m so stupid. I thought you’d like that. Sorry, okay? I-”

“I can't believe you did that,” she snaps at him when he finally catches up to her and both of them stand still in the empty hallways. Seokjin rubs the back of his head nervously.

“I thought it was romantic. I suck at confessions.”

“Really? And that was your idea? In front of the whole class?” she rolls her eyes but she can’t hide her smile anymore. It’s almost impossible to stay mad at him for long. “Gosh I can't believe I like such a dork. “

“I like you more.”

He says it so casually, so genuinely open that it makes her heart flatter. She can hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. She clears her throat, suddenly antsy but instantly relaxed when he touches her wrist lightly like a butterfly kiss.

“So… to answer your question: I’d love to. It just caught me off guard.”

Seokjin’s relieved laugh must be one of the most beautiful things of the world. Maybe the 8th wonder. “Huh, I’m glad then. I was so afraid I misread you.”

“And what now?” Bona questions because they’ve already done so many things couples do. Except anything involved kissing or talking about feelings.

“What about an official couple selca?” Jin suggests and digs out his cellphone from his pocket.

“So boyfriend material,” she teases but there’s no edge in her voice. It’s soft and adoring.

“What can I say? Photography major,” his boyfriend shrugs and prepares for the shoot nevertheless. Scooting closer, making a fishy face and starts counting. “Okay, on three: one...”

Pose.

“Two...”

Click.

“Three!”

Kiss.

Wait! WHAT?

Pink plump lips touch her already flushed cheeks and the camera snaps.

“Yah!”

 beauty /ˈbjuːti/ noun

a combination of qualities, such as shape, colour, or form, that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially the sight.

a beautiful or pleasing thing or person in particular

Beauty. It's everywhere around us.

Beauty is independence when she's cooking alone. She could ask for the help of a mother's or a friend's but she decides not to. She can do it all by herself.

Beauty is equality when she insists to pay for her share in a coffee shop or when she changes a light bulb on her own because she doesn't need a man.

Beauty is freedom when she forgets about deadlines and burdens for a day and just has fun.

Beauty is justice when she gives herself instead of faking it and beats my ass at Mario Kart.

Beauty is complex, ethereal, strong, unique. Just like her. Her features. Even her flaws. The depth of her soul. She's more than enough.

Beauty is love when I look at her and offer my hand. Love is beauty when she looks back at me and meets me halfway.

That’s beauty: you and me together, today and tomorrow… if you would like to.