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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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pairing: hoseok x reader / word count: 26.8k / genre: fluff, smut, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, slow burn, technically a buzzfeed unsolved AU but you don’t need to be familiar with BFU at all so dw!

summary: having hoseok as your best friend and co-host for your web series is a dream come true. the only hitch? you’re kind of in love with him, and it’s getting harder to ignore that fact, even if he doesn’t feel the same for you.

warnings: idiots being oblivious, sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving + brief mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), body worship + praise (f receiving), a lot of soft emotions and pet names, hoseok treating reader like a pillow princess

a/n: the more I read this the less happy I am with it but after the amount of time I’ve spent on it/how long it’s gotten, I’m calling it finished (even if it’s a lot lighter on paranormal related stuff than I’d initially planned OOPS...) please feel free to let me know what you think AHH x

Jung Hoseok is a lot of things.

Jung Hoseok is: a work-friend-turned-real-friend-turned-best-friend, and one of your favourite people in the world.

Jung Hoseok is: very easily scared, the opposite of a thrillseeker, Not A Fan of big rollercoasters, or haunted houses, or anywhere that involves jump scares or loud noises or anything vaguely dangerous or threatening.

Jung Hoseok is: a man with ridiculous lung capacity who can also screech so loudly that you’re fairly certain he could shatter glass if he wanted to.

“It’s just a bat, hyung,” Jimin says, before the bat comes back round and Hoseok shrieks again.

Jung Hoseok is: clinging to you with a vice-like grip as aforementioned bat flutters above you, squeaking and trilling, and you stroke his hand in an absent, instinctual motion, trying to soothe him.

“I definitely heard footsteps as well,” Hoseok whimpers. “Why are we here?”

Why are you here? Well, because Jung Hoseok is also: your co-host for one of BigHit’s most popular series, BigHit Unsolved.

It’s funny, in a roundabout sort of way, that Hoseok’s general fear of Most Things had been the thing that had cinched him his spot. You’d never expected Unsolved to explode in the way it had, starting off as a short video series with Yoongi beside you to bounce off as you described unsolved crimes, but then Hoseok had starred opposite you and the audience had just eaten it up: the way he got spooked at real life events, the modulation of his voice when it would rise or dip in fear, the way you riffed off each other- you, calm but enthused about your topic, and Hoseok, a quivering jelly of a man when scared.

Not to mention that Hoseok is just great on screen anyway, personable and bright and charming. He makes you laugh and brings out a level of exuberance in you in a way that no one else can, makes you do ridiculous things without even trying- your interactions are good video fodder, basically, and your audience loves how your friendship comes across on the show.

And that’s another funny thing. You’d known Hoseok before Unsolved, of course, because everyone knows Hoseok, because Hoseok is wonderful, a sunshine of a man, loved by all. You, however, hadn't really spoken much to him- when you'd started at BigHit you'd been crushing on Hoseok in kind of a big way and you'd been worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him, so… you'd done the logical thing of avoiding him as much as was possible without being rude or weird. Face your problems and anxieties? In this economy? Haha, you don't think so.

Anyway. Because of this, your interactions had been pretty limited up until you’d asked him to appear in one of your videos. If anyone asked it was because you’d thought he would be a fun, one-off guest star, which was true, but the main reason was that Yoongi had cancelled because he was sick and no one else had been free when you’d been scrabbling around the office for a replacement. Despite not knowing you all too well, and despite being scared easily by true crime (“my mum watched CSI when I was a kid and it gave nightmares,” he’d told you afterwards), Hoseok had heard about your plight and was happy to replace Yoongi for the episode, and you’d found out that- despite your initial worry that you were going to make things weird- you get on really well.

Like, really well. Not just on camera, either. Before they’d started to roll, you’d been frantically making sure everything was in place, that you had all your notes, that all the pre-production was ready- and Hoseok had made you stand still, taking your hands in his, and he’d smiled at you in a way that had been so warm and comforting that all the tension had leaked out of you. After that it had just been so easy. You’d felt relaxed and the episode had come out great, and then Hoseok suggested that you grab lunch together in the cafeteria so you could get to know each other more. Of course you’d agreed- and the rest is history.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to turn from a nice and funny colleague, to someone you actively looked for at work gatherings, to someone who you decided to ask to be your permanent co-host for the show, to someone who now has a spare key for your flat in case he ever runs out of snacks or just feels like dropping by. Which he feels like doing a lot, apparently, but you have a key for his place too, so it’s all even stevens. (You steal a lot of his face masks whenever you visit him and he never complains.)

Over time your huge crush on Hoseok has ebbed into a deep platonic love, fading and morphing into a comfortable friendship. Okay, sure, you still think he’s the most beautiful person in the universe and you’d immediately accept if he asked you to marry him and you kind of want to kiss him on the mouth sometimes (a lot of the time) or whatever, but that’s because you know how wonderful he is. It’s platonic. Not romantic. Mmhm. (Mostly.) Either way, you're completely comfortable around him despite any lingering feelings you might have, which is something you appreciate more than you can put into words.

So fast forward to now, multiple seasons into your show, and you’re more than used to Hoseok’s fear and touch. It had been startling, at the beginning, when Hoseok had grabbed onto you whenever he was afraid, but now you’re used to navigating places in the dark while Hoseok clings onto you like a particularly oversized backpack or holds your hand like a lost school child. (You’ve lost count of the minutes, nay, hours of footage that exist of Hoseok doing this, like some sort of gangly limpet, but you don’t mind.) Fans love to splice together footage comparing interactions over the seasons and it’s very obvious how wide eyed and stiff you used to go whenever Hoseok seized you, but now? This is your every day, baby.

Hoseok is still cowering behind you as the lone bat flaps above you, high up in the rafters of the old generator building you’re standing in. You and your crew and your guide are the only people at the abandoned gold mine, so Hoseok can’t have heard footsteps, other than your own- which is what you tell him.

“I think it was the building settling, Hobi,” you say. “This mining warehouse is pretty old.”

“Old and full of ghosts.” Hoseok moans. Jimin readjusts the camera and you know that, without a doubt, he’s zooming in on Hoseok’s terrified face. Namjoon’ll have some fun shots to edit later. Jimin is a very capable cameraman, and also unruffled by ghosts/loud noises/etc, but he does love to catch some interesting angles of the two of you. At least Taehyung refrains from doing that, although he does sometimes get too focused on making a shot artistic rather than capturing the abject terror on Hoseok’s face when it would be a good clip for the final video.

“Well, we don’t know that.” You pause. “Maybe we should test it with the spirit box to find out?”

Hoseok’s face twists and you can’t help but laugh.

The supernatural half of the show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Your fans enjoyed his eternal suffering and fear whenever anything remotely spooky was mentioned, so they'd bandied about the idea of a paranormal-themed season and you'd taken the idea on board; the juxtaposition between yourself and your co-host was all the more defined when he was banshee shrieking at some innocuous sound while you stayed calm. You’re open to the concept of the supernatural but have yet to come across any evidence that you find compelling enough to make you a believer, while Hoseok is convinced in the existence of ghosts and finds the idea terrifying.

He doesn’t like the spirit box because of this, but you don’t mind it- although you don't really like the loud static it makes when it’s scanning through radio frequencies, trying to pick up if any spirits or ghouls are trying to talk to you. (They’re not, even if Hoseok insists that the random bursts of sound it spits out are definitely coherent words and sentences, rather than a mish-mash of random rubbish that it just happens to pick from normal radio waves.)

The spirit box, of course, is about as interesting as normal: that is to say, not really at all, though you have a good laugh after you ask for any spirits to give you a name and the only response is ‘pineapple pie’, which makes you feel hungry. Hoseok lets you rummage around in his pocket for a cereal bar, which you end up munching on between shots, as Hoseok swats bugs away from your faces. He attempts to karate chop a mosquito but misses by miles and you almost choke on a mouthful of oats as he makes the world’s most incredulous face and you giggle.

“We should make pineapple pie for a video at some point,” you suggest, and Hoseok is briefly distracted from his fear- he’d given up on the bugs and has been shining his torch over your shoulder at some old generator equipment and casting warped shadows on the walls behind it, dark silhouettes that could admittedly be considered a little spooky. “I’ve never had pineapple pie before.”

“There’s a Filipino bakery near our place that sells it!” Taehyung jumps in before Hoseok can respond, turning away from where he and Jimin have been making shadow puppets on the wall with their own torches. “It’s so good, you should definitely do it.”

Hoseok hums. “Jin-hyung would probably be happy to help out,” he says. You finish the cereal bar and tuck the wrapper back into Hoseok’s pocket, making a mental note to get in touch with the Tasty team member to ask him about it. He’ll leap at the opportunity.

There’s a clattering noise somewhere far in the distance, probably rocks shifting or something, and Hoseok squeaks and crowds even closer to you, as impossible as that is with how he’s already wrapped around your back at this point, the harness for his chest-mounted camera digging into your spine. It’s a familiar sensation by this point. “Please can we get out of here now?”

“Sure,” you say indulgently, stroking Hoseok’s arm where it’s wrapped around your collarbones. “We need to drive down to the mining tunnels now anyway.”

Hoseok keeps hold of your hand as your guide drives you to your location, squeezing your fingers every time the car goes over a bump- which is pretty often on the rocky dirt track. Hoseok’s fairly touchy in general, always holding hands or hugging or kissing people, raining little pecks over their faces, and it had been Very Overwhelming when he’d first turned this attention to you. You’re not, like, not touchy, but back in season 1 you were definitely not used to spending time with someone who loves skinship as much as Hoseok does, and it had taken time for you to stop freezing up every time he casually touched or grabbed you.

It says a lot about how used you are to it now that you don’t even bat an eyelid when he wriggles into your twin bed at the hotel later, curling up around you once he’s finished his meticulous skincare routine. “Your bed is over there, Hobi,” you say, although you immediately snuggle back into him, letting him spoon you. He’s always a lot clingier after you finish filming a supernatural episode- as if you can ward off any ghosts that might have decided to hitch a ride back from wherever you’d come from.

“I know,” Hoseok replies. He hitches a leg over yours, sighing happily when you reach an arm down to rub his calves. He always sleeps better if you massage him.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You dig your fingers into a muscle and Hoseok squirms a little. You huff out a laugh. “Arizona is so hot.”

“You look cute in shorts, though,” Hoseok says. He’s been saying the same thing all day.

“You just like shorts.” He’d been wearing shorts too, pretty much matching his clothes to yours; at this point you’re starting to wonder if he looks through your luggage before he packs his own stuff, because your outfits end up being eerily similar a lot of the time. You think he finds it reassuring, maybe, when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Or maybe it’s because Hoseok’s fashion has influenced your own over the years. You definitely own a lot more bright clothing than you used to, not to mention the matching items you’ve both purchased together anyway.

Now that you think about it, Hoseok really has been a big influence on you, huh.

He falls asleep pretty soon after, going lax and limp as his breaths deepen and he dozes off. He always falls asleep before you do, awake one second and flat out the next; you envy his ability to drop off like that, usually taking a lot longer yourself, but you do find it good that he’s able to sleep so quickly despite his earlier fear. He always crashes at yours after you finish filming an episode when you’re home, too, otherwise he says he’s up all night with the fear- this is all part and parcel of Hoseok being your co-host and partner on the show, and honestly, you don’t mind it at all.

So you're used to this. When Hoseok makes a little noise in his sleep and starts shifting behind you, you lift his hand to your mouth and gently kiss his knuckles, running your thumb down his wrist- he settles immediately, going lax again. You'll chase away any nightmares with soft touches, shuffling around in his grip and holding him tight if you need to, before eventually drifting off yourself, safe and warm in the circle of his arms.

Even though you usually fall asleep after Hoseok, one thing you have over him is the fact you’re a morning person and find it a lot easier to get up with the sun. Despite your late night, you’re awake moments before your phone alarm starts to ring, turning it off before it can rouse Hoseok out of his sleep. When you slide out of the bed he stirs a little, instinctively reaching out for you in his sleep, and you carefully put a pillow in his arms so he can hold onto that instead; he settles down once he has the pillow hugged to his chest, and you take a moment to look at him fondly and gently kiss his forehead before you start to get ready for the day.

You’re pretty much done by the time Hoseok sits up at the sound of his own alarm, blinking blearily in your direction as you turn it off for him. He’s still holding onto the pillow as he sits up.

“Morning, honey,” you chirp. “You want coffee?”

Hoseok stares at you for a second, eyes squinting as he tries to wake up fully. “Morning,” he replies, voice hoarse from sleep, and you smile. “Please.”

When you’d first found out that Hoseok wasn’t a morning person, you’d honestly been gobsmacked. He’s just so bright and energetic that you figured he rolled out of bed like that- it just makes sense- but it actually takes him a surprisingly long time to get fully up to speed with his normal self. He’s a little slower, a little softer, draping himself over your back as you fiddle with the room's coffee machine to try and get some caffeine into him.

“We can always get some more at the airport,” you say conversationally, and Hoseok hums quietly into your hair before dropping a kiss there. “It’s a shame we don’t have time to eat at the breakfast buffet.”

Despite his morning slowness, he’s still ready on time; he’s always punctual, is your Hoseok. You make up for missing breakfast at the hotel by purchasing tons of snacks for the flight to Pennsylvania, munching a pre-wrapped croissant as you read off your phone while Jimin dozes next to you, his head resting against the window. You’re sandwiched between him and Hoseok, who has the aisle seat- he cranes his head at your pastry and you tilt it against his lips so he can take a bite. You end up with a lapful of crumbs, but that’s okay.

“So where are we off to next?” Hoseok asks once he’s done chewing, peering at your phone screen. Across the aisle from you, Taehyung very loudly unwraps a pain au chocolat, much to the irritation of the woman next to him.

“We’re going to an old prison,” you say, and Hoseok meeps. “A penitentiary, to be exact.”

Taehyung shoves the pain au chocolat into his mouth whole so he has his hands free, fumbling for his phone as he starts to film how the colour drains from Hoseok’s face as you give him a brief synopsis of the prison and other places you’ll be going to while in Pennsylvania. This isn’t even for Unsolved; Taehyung just likes to have video evidence and receipts for everything, if his camera reel is anything to go by. Even though you’re vague with your descriptions- you like Hoseok’s reaction on camera to be as unscripted and natural as it can possibly be, when you finally turn up at your locations and then set up so that you can talk about it- once you’re finished, Hoseok is curled up against you, hiding his face in your neck.

“Why can’t we go somewhere nice for once?” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Budget doesn’t cover it, that’s why we have to sleep at haunted hotels. They’re cheaper.” Hoseok meeps again, and you relent, lifting your hand to cup the back of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” you say, stroking his hair as you use your free hand to clumsily scroll through your phone, double checking the details of your planned trip.

“I know.” Hoseok is uncharacteristically quiet against your collarbones. Taehyung gives up filming and rips into another pain au chocolat packet, smiling guiltily at his seat neighbour when she tuts at him. “You never do.”

Despite Hoseok’s fear of a lot of things related to the show, and the fact he jumps and screams at pretty much everything, he’s never asked to bow out or avoid doing something. He even agrees to go into areas alone when the two of you try to ‘make contact’ with spirits, even though he’s obviously terrified- but each and every time before you part, you promise that you’re not going anywhere and you’ll be waiting right outside for him. You would never abandon Hoseok (even though ghosts probably aren’t real and he has nothing to worry about), and he knows that, and takes strength from it. It warms you.

He keeps his head nestled against your neck for a beat longer, and then smacks a loud kiss against your skin, which makes you squeal and slap him away while he laughs.

As fun as it is to jet around the country- especially with Hoseok and the other guys- it's also exhausting, and there’s always something nice about coming home. Even though the increased budget that you’ve been allocated as the show’s been growing in popularity means that you can stay at nicer hotels now, your own bed is still the most comfortable place in the world. (Well, tied with Hoseok’s bed, thinking about it. The two are basically interchangeable at this point anyway, if you consider how often Hoseok ends up sleeping at your apartment and squirreling his way under your blankets as you’re trying to sleep.)

On the other hand, though, in spite of a return to your regular creature comforts, coming home still involves work: there are Q&As to be filmed, footage to edit, later episodes to plan, research to be done. As the original progenitor of Unsolved you take the brunt of the last two parts; Hoseok is the one who reacts to the facts you throw out, he’s not the one who investigates the different things you talk about on the show, but he’s always there to support you and talk to you whenever you need it.

(Your audience knows Hoseok as someone who is cute and bright and cheerful, but he’s also quietly thoughtful and surprisingly serious when he has to be. That’s the side of him that you get to see whenever you stay late at the office, your desk lamp the only one left on in the room, hunched over your keyboard as you trawl through conspiracy threads in the deep bowels of the internet that are discussing who D.B. Cooper is. You love loud Hoseok, of course, but you appreciate this hushed part of him, too- the way he'll deliver you a hot chocolate with a kiss to your forehead before quietly sitting beside you and waiting for you to finish so he can take you home.)

Anyway. Coming home means coming back to the office, means putting in shifts at BigHit headquarters, etc, etc, all that jazz, so here you are, sitting on Hoseok’s lap and scrolling through your tablet as he does something of his own on his PC. The first time this had happened, it had raised eyebrows- not because it was considered inappropriate or anything, as BigHit is the kind of place where people can make out in hallways to ‘test the longevity of this 24 hour lipstick’ for a video and no one bats an eyelash, but because up until this point, you’d been renowned for pretty much being glued to your desk while working. But you like Hoseok and his energy, even when he’s not doing anything, and his lap is comfortable, even if he doesn’t exactly have the world’s thickest thighs. You work better when you’re around him.

You’re scrolling through Instagram comments for questions to answer in this week’s Q&A episode when someone clears their throat. Both you and Hoseok look up in tandem to find Seokjin standing there, looking decidedly more grey-haired than he had the last time you’d seen him. He pulls it off effortlessly, of course.

“What’s up, silver fox?” You let your tablet droop into your lap as Hoseok takes his hands off his mouse and keyboard and secures them around your waist instead, so you don’t slide off his legs. His hands are warm where they splay across your stomach and you can feel the bumps and texture of his bracelets through the material of your shirt. “Liking the new look, by the way.”

“You look really good, Jin-hyung,” Hoseok says from over your shoulder, and you nod in agreement.

“I know.” Jin sounds flippant but he seems pleased. He doesn’t say anything more than that, though, and just looks at the two of you expectantly. You both blink back at him.

“So… did you come over just to be complimented, or?” You slowly start to lift your tablet, acting as if you’re about to start reading off your screen again. “Were the thirsty comments on your latest video not enough for you today?”

Jin raises an eyebrow as he pretends to inspect his nails. “No, no, there were plenty of comments, as always,” he says loftily. Unsurprising, considering his unofficial(/basically official) title of Most Handsome Face in the office as well as the leagues of fans he has. He lets his hand drop as he quickly gives up pretending to be aloof. “So when are you planning to fit making pineapple pie into your schedule?”

“Oh!” Hoseok squeezes you in his excitement and you wiggle a little in his lap. “I almost forgot about that! Did Tae mention it to you?”

“Jimin too. They burst into the kitchen while I was filming and they were both holding a piece of Filipino pineapple pie aloft like they were wielding Excalibur, so, yes, you can say that it was mentioned,” Jin says, and you can’t help but wince. Being interrupted while filming is one thing, but the Tasty studio can be hazardous on top of that (y’know, what with the knives and fire and stuff), so you can only hope that Jin wasn’t using a mandolin or something when they had appeared.

“Oof.” You wiggle your hips again and Hoseok immediately catches your drift, turning his chair so the two of you are facing Jin fully rather than having to turn your heads to look at him. Jin makes a weird expression, something you can’t put a name to, but it slips away too fast for you to catch properly- maybe he just had a sudden chill or something, who knows. “Sorry about them. How about I email you our filming schedule and you can see when you’re free as well? We were going to film a 70th episode retrospective soon and the pineapple pie video might be a nice sort of bonus on top of that.”

Jin agrees easily. You use your tablet to open the Google Calendar that you have with Hoseok, which makes Jin pause when he notices. “You share a GCal?”

“Duh?” You flick a look at Jin through your lashes. You and Hoseok have GCal where you input your work schedules to avoid potential clashes when you need to film together, but you also put in other plans the two of you have outside of work, if it’s ever necessary. “Why wouldn’t we? It makes it easier when we need to plan things for Unsolved.”

“Uh-huh.” Jin sounds sceptical, but you decide not to address it. You miss the look he gives Hoseok as you scroll through your calendar, the two men having a silent exchange as you start to draft an email. Somewhere across the office you hear Yoongi shout out an expletive and two sets of cackling laughter that sound suspiciously like Taehyung and Jungkook; you and Hoseok turn at the sound, but you don’t spot anything from where you’re sat. “Alright, I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jin says, and promptly dips before he gets dragged into whatever’s going on.

Whatever shenanigans Jungkook and Taehyung have gotten up to seem to be pinpointed to one area, so you avoid any fall out, and Hoseok eventually excuses himself to go to the toilet. You take over his chair while he’s gone. Asides from yourself, both computers at this desk are entirely abandoned- Yoongi is still absent, nowhere to be seen- and you’re tapping away at your tablet when all of a sudden you have a camera shoved in your face.

For once it’s not Jimin or Taehyung or Jungkook, and instead when you look up you see Irene and Seulgi, the latter girl beaming at you while Irene holds the camera. Seulgi says your name and points at you with a perfectly manicured nail, and you blink at her, completely caught off guard. Irene zooms in on your bewildered expression.

“Um, hey guys,” you say. “What’s up? Need me for something?”

“We wanted to ask if you wanted to guest star in the next Ladylike video!” Seulgi chirps brightly, and you’re immediately on guard. While the offer seems innocent enough on the surface you can’t help but wonder if the next video is one of their wilder ones (you don’t care if the underwear is silver-infused and apparently wicks away smell and moisture, you flat out refuse to wear the same panties for a whole week). Fortunately your fears are assuaged when Seulgi seems to read your mind and answers your question before you have the chance to ask it. “We’re trying to recreate elaborate Instagram makeup looks with dollar store makeup.”

Irene giggles behind the camera when you visibly relax. “I’m in, that sounds fun,” you say, and both girls seem inordinately pleased. “Um, when are you planning to shoot it?”

“Tomorrow! It won’t take long, we promise,” Seulgi says. “You just need to be free for filming, we’ll do all the editing and stuff.”

You finalise the exact time you need to be available by and by the time Hoseok comes back from the toilet both girls have just gone. You stand up so that he can reclaim his seat, eyes glued to your tablet as you open up your Google Calendar so you can put the Ladylike video filming in, but you’re interrupted when Hoseok grabs you. You squeal in surprise when he tugs you back down rather than letting you sit down yourself, tablet getting sandwiched between the two of you as you end up straddling him in a desperate attempt to catch your balance- but before you can resituate yourself he starts to tickle you and you end up laughing uproariously into his face.

“Cute, cute, my Y/n is so cute,” he sing-songs, and you continue to laugh as you try to bat his hands away.

“Stop, oh my God, Hobi!” There are tears of laughter in the corners of your eyes as you squirm in his lap, trying to get away from his hands but being prevented from doing so by the desk at your back; you’re trapped between it and Hoseok, entirely at his mercy as the two of you giggle at each other.

“You realise other people work here, right?”

Yoongi has finally reappeared. He sounds disgruntled, but you put it down to the fact he has KITTY AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION and a phone number scrawled across his face in what appears to be permanent marker, rather than at the fact that you and Hoseok are making noise. As Hoseok’s deskmate he’s used to this sort of behaviour by now.

“Hey hyung,” Hoseok says, shameless as his fingers continue to dance up and down your sides, although the touches are light enough now that you can turn your attention away from giggling to appreciate Yoongi’s new look. “Did you have a good nap?”

“A cat nap,” you say, and then giggle at the unimpressed look Yoongi throws your way- it’s hard to find him scary with the multi-coloured letters scribbled over his face.

He grunts as he sits down. “I’ll kill those kids,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind his words, and he slumps into his chair with a resigned sigh. “I kept scrubbing at my face but this shit won’t come off.”

You exchange a look with Hoseok, the two of you thinking about the hand sanitiser you keep in your handbag- the alcoholic gel would probably lift the ink off Yoongi’s face, but neither of you offer up this information. “I’m sure it’ll come off by tomorrow,” you say, and Yoongi makes a hopeful noise at the back of this throat. "Any particular reason why you've decided to act as a walking billboard for abandoned cats?"

"Thing 1 and Thing 2 said they were raising awareness for a local cat shelter and asked if I wanted to help. I said yes." Yoongi sounds rueful.

"I feel very aware of it, hyung, so I'd say they did a good job." Hoseok laughs when Yoongi just flips him off.

Hoseok’s hands have gone still by this point. It’s not until Yoongi starts to tap at his keyboard that you remember the position you’re in, straddling Hoseok in his chair, your hands on his shoulders and his hands on your waist as you lean back against his desk- but as questionable and potentially incriminating as this entire situation seems out of context, literally no one is batting an eyelid. People are used to seeing this sort of thing from you two, both comfortable and not awkward with each other at all.

Hoseok's hands are warm and steady where they wrap around your waist. You're struck again by how large they feel- supportive, as always, when he holds you.

"Mind letting me go, cowboy?" You say. "I should go back to my desk to get some work done."

"You're more of a cowboy in this situation," Hoseok says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Seeing as you're the one that's doing the riding."

"Good lord," Yoongi mutters.

You laugh at the expression on his face before Hoseok wheels you both away from the desk so that you have room to swing your legs off him. "That's dirty, Hobi," you say, but it's said with a smile and wink.

After you've disappeared, waving at the two men, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Hoseok. "I know you two are basically married at this point, but can you try and rein in the flirting when I'm trying to work?"

"We weren't flirting," Hoseok protests. Yoongi looks unconvinced, his other eyebrow rising to match the first, and just shakes his head before he resumes Googling ways to get the permanent marker off his face.

Irene’s touch is light as she puts the makeup onto your face, surveying her work critically as she does.

“Alright, that’s the foundation done,” she says, once everything seems to have passed whatever rigorous criteria she has. “So we're onto the concealer next.”

There’s something soothing about having someone else do your makeup. Not to mention that you don’t have to worry at all about the production of the video- with your usual projects, your level of investment means that there’s always something to think about, but right now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty. You do listen and react whenever Irene shows you the products and so on, but otherwise, you are literally just sitting there and letting the other woman put stuff on your face; you can relax and unwind and let her take the lead.

Irene has just finished blending the concealer under your eyes when your phone vibrates in your pocket. While she's rummaging for the next product- setting powder- you quickly check your phone to see if it's anything important. It's Hoseok, asking where you are, because he has a coffee and Danish pastry for you and he can't find you; you realise then that you never put the Ladylike video filming into your calendar, distracted by Hoseok grabbing you, and today you'd just disappeared without telling him where you were going. Oops.

You quickly shoot him a reply before Irene starts to brush the powder across your face and you're both surprised at how well it sets. "Your skin is so nice," Irene says with a smile, sweeping the brush over your cheeks. You try not to laugh when the bristles tickles your face, flattered at her comment.

She's just finished doing your brows when you hear the studio door open and you catch sight of Hoseok. He's staying off camera next to Wendy so he doesn't get in the shot, quiet and unobtrusive, but you can't help but perk up when you see him. Although you stay silent so that it doesn’t interrupt the filming, Irene notices how you brighten and pauses in her motions to look over where Hoseok is standing.

"Hi, Hoseok." Much to your surprise, despite the fact that the cameras are rolling, Irene still greets Hoseok. You thought she'd make him wait until you were done. "You're here for Y/n, I presume?"

"I have a coffee for her," Hoseok says, a little sheepish, holding up an iced macchiato and a paper bag that's got a small grease stain spreading on it, a tantalising glimpse of the deliciousness inside. "I just came to drop it off?"

"I don't deserve you, Hobi," you say, beaming, and he smiles back at you.

Irene gestures for Hoseok to come into the frame. There’s a brief moment where you and Hoseok exchange a small, surprised look- Irene is rummaging through eyeshadow palettes and seems like she’s still going through with the video even though Hoseok is about to walk on set- but he acquiesces and steps into the shot. Irene points at the Instagram photo she has open on her iPad, which is propped on the table so she can use it for reference and zoom in if necessary. “We’re doing this look with dollar store products."

“Woah,” Hoseok says, leaning down to peer at the picture, and he sounds suitably awed. “That’s really nice. You’ve chosen one with all of Y/n’s favourite colours.”

“It’s cute, right?” You’re so excited to see the final product, even if it ends up not looking as good as what you can see on the screen, considering the cheapness of the makeup that Irene is using.

“Not as cute as you,” Hoseok says, and you blow him a kiss before looking at the iced macchiato in his hands meaningfully.

“Coffee, coffee?” You sound hopeful but Irene tuts.

“You’ll need to keep your eyes shut while I do your eyeshadow,” she says.

Before you can begin to feel disappointed, Hoseok comes to the rescue. “Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you.”

And so that’s how you end up with Hoseok holding the straw of your iced coffee up to your lips while Irene applies the different shades and shimmers to your eyelids, your eyes shut as she does so; Hoseok makes appropriate ooh-ing noises, bowled over by how she manages to blend the cheap eyeshadows before doing a cut crease- you have to keep your eyes shut the whole time, letting the concealer dry on your lids so that it doesn’t smudge, gauging how it looks based on Hoseok's reactions.

Every so often Hoseok will make a small noise and then you’ll feel the straw press up against your lips, and you’ll take a sip of your drink while Irene is switching colours or brushes; you feel thoroughly pampered today and you’re enjoying it immensely. She’s been describing the different products and their quality to the camera throughout the whole video, but now that Hoseok’s there, he responds to what she’s saying, making her giggle with how enthusiastic he is despite not recognising all the terminology she’s using. Although your eyes are shut you can't help but smile: that's your Hoseok, always lightening the atmosphere and making people laugh.

“Alright, you can open your eyes,” Irene says after what feels like a lifetime. The liquid eyeliner has dried by the time your eyes flutter open, the stark blackness against the expertly blended eyeshadows the first thing you notice when you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Woah, Irene! This is incredible!" You turn your head from side to side, taking in how different your eyes look after the ministrations of Irene's skilled hands. "Hobi, look at those wings! I wish I could get mine that even.” You don’t often wear liquid liner and when you do it takes you eons to get them to match, making each side bigger as you try to match the other- most of the time you just give up.

“You do look incredible,” Hoseok agrees. You look away from the mirror to smile brightly at him and then take another drink of coffee when he lifts it back up to your lips; the straw makes loud slurping noises as you reach the bottom of the cup and you end up sucking up more air than liquid, much to your disappointment. He chuckles at the look on your face but then coos when you pout.

“I’m not done just yet, you know,” Irene says, unperturbed by your interactions. You wonder how this footage is going to turn out after the edit. “We still have lips and cheeks to do.”

Despite the fact your coffee is finished, Hoseok still remains next to you and watches Irene work. She lines your lips and then paints them a pleasant nude colour, before going in with an extra touch to your contour, and blush, and highlight (you’re genuinely in awe at the selection of makeup you can apparently get for a dollar each). There are so many steps involved in the execution of this look and you wonder how long it would take you to try and do this yourself, before deciding there aren’t enough hours in the day, even if Irene makes it look easy, finishing your face with a flourish.

“Alright, done!”

You pick the mirror up to tilt your head at different angles. You catch the way the highlight shimmers on your cheekbones and cupid’s bow, the way your eyes look after they’ve been shaded with colour and glitter, the sharpness of your brows, the fullness of your lips.

“I can’t believe this was all dollar store makeup,” you say, awestruck. “It’s so much like the photo! I look so good.”

“Irene had an already perfect canvas to work with,” Hoseok says, and you end up smiling so widely your eyes almost squeeze shut.

“Flatterer,” you say.

“You two are so cute.” Seulgi sighs wistfully from behind the cameras and Wendy muffles a quiet cough into her palm.

Irene asks for your opinions on the makeup- you, moreso on how it feels on your face, and Hoseok, if he thinks it looks close to the Instagram photo (he does, but he's clearly biased because you're involved, which he doesn't try to hide). Once the cameras have been cut and everything has been wrapped up, Irene says you can go and so you hop off your chair. Before you can get too far, though, Hoseok stops you, touching his fingers gently under your chin.

“Let me have a proper look.”

You immediately relax and let him tip your head slowly from one side to the other, eyes scanning across your makeup, which feels a lot heavier than you’d expected, but you’re still happy with how nice it is.

“Wah, so beautiful,” Hoseok says, a small smile on his face; it’s one of his softer ones, one that doesn’t show his teeth or his dimples, but rather squeezes his eyes into crescents, his gaze warm. Still blinding but in a different way.

“Irene did a really good job, didn’t she?” You say, enthused. Hoseok pauses, but then his teeth show as the smile grows.

“Yeah, she did.”

"Maybe I should get her to give me makeup lessons so I can look prettier more often." You've never been all too great at the more refined parts of makeup- blending eyeshadow or contouring, for example- but maybe you should add it to your repertoire, you muse.

Hoseok's smile dims as he becomes oddly sombre, hand shifting to cup the bottom of your chin so your face is gently cradled in his hand. "You're gorgeous all the time, makeup or not," he says. "Makeup is fun and you do look great but please don't think you need it to be pretty."

A shy smile plays at your lips. You feel bashful but you can't hide from Hoseok's gaze when he's holding onto you like this, but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. Hoseok knows you well enough to read your moods if you attempt to hide them- but because you trust him you don’t try to.

"Ahh, you're too sweet to me, Hoseok," you murmur. He always compliments you, but the thing with Hoseok is that he always means it, and although you should be used to it, it still catches you off guard every time.

"You deserve it." The soft smile has returned to his face and he lets his fingers drop away from your chin to tangle with yours to lead you out of the studio. “Now come on, you still have your pastry to eat.”

“I totally forgot about that! Oh, but I’ll probably smudge my lipstick.” Your sudden excitement about food dips instantly as you realise this. “I mean, I doubt dollar store stuff has much staying power anyway, but it’ll definitely smear onto the pastry, like, immediately.”

“I’ll cut it up into small pieces for you,” Hoseok says, and you make a noise of happiness as the door to the Ladylike studio shuts behind you both.

Seulgi and Wendy and Irene all look at each other, the two of you all but forgetting that they'd been standing there and had thus witnessed that entire exchange in excruciating detail. Wendy and Seulgi both open their mouths but before they can speak Irene holds up a hand. “I know,” she says. “Trust me. I know.”

Around the office, Jin might be renowned for his silliness, propensity towards dad jokes and loud laughter, but on set- while he’s still very much himself- he’s a professional and takes safety in the kitchen Very Seriously.

“If you damage any of my equipment with your clumsy fingers, I will grate so much parmesan down your throat that you die of cheese asphyxiation.”

“Sounds kinky,” Hoseok laughs, but then he jumps behind you when Jin brandishes a decorative pineapple at him as if he’s about to brain the other man.

“Babe, I’m not about to explain to your family that your final words were, and I quote, ‘sounds kinky’, especially if it was before Jin offed you via fermented dairy products,” you say, although you still shield Hoseok with your body- as if there was any chance you’d be able to stop Jin if he was on the warpath. His shoulders are so broad. Still, you’d fight him for Hoseok if you had to.

“My family love you, I think they’d be okay with it,” Hoseok says from behind you. Jin makes a weird expression with his face before he sets the pineapple back down onto the table next to the rest of your equipment, raising his eyebrows at something; before you can ask what’s up, you’re distracted by the sensation of Hoseok’s hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “It’s okay, Jin, Y/n and I cook together all the time. We won’t mess up.”

“Hobi’s really good at cooking,” you pipe up, and Hoseok affectionately nuzzles at the crown of your head. You cook dinner together at least once a week, trying to use different recipes each time- cooking is a great hobby because you get food at the end of it, and cooking with Hoseok is especially great because you get an excuse to break out the candles and fancy tablecloth your mother had gifted you, even if your food is something simple.

(You never thought you’d learn multiple ways to fold a napkin, but Hoseok is always so excited whenever he sees you start to crimp them into shape, so you like to mix things up for him.)

Jin’s face shifts back into that look that you’re starting to think looks like he’s eaten something that he’s not sure if he likes or not- a little disbelieving, perplexed, resigned. You never get a chance to ask why, though: Jin claps his hands and tells you to put on your aprons so you can start filming, and you eagerly pull it over your head before helping Hoseok tie his behind his back. (Jin makes the face again, but you’re too busy tying a cute bow to notice.)

Jin seems genuinely impressed when it turns out that the two of you have been telling the truth. Of course, the Tasty team member is directing you and giving instructions so it’s not as difficult as it might be otherwise, but he ends up surprisingly uninvolved with the physical part of the process; you and Hoseok hand jobs off to each other and work in tandem to prepare the dough and filling, and once the pie is in the oven you even begin to clean everything up unprompted, moving around each other with an unconscious level of ease.

Jin just ends up sitting on a stool and watching you do his ‘minion work’ although you think he just doesn’t want to get in the way. Hoseok hipchecks you gently and then giggles when you pretend to be pushed back by the strength of the motion and flop dramatically over the sink.

“How often do you two cook together?” Although the question is technically directed at the both of you, for some reason you get the feeling that Jin is aiming this more towards Hoseok, who answers him.

“Usually two or three times a week,” Hoseok says.

“Hmm. I see.” Jin looks thoughtful, and you can’t help but feel like there’s something you’re missing in this simple question and answer exchange. Hoseok has an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before- which you’d thought was impossible, because you know Hoseok inside and out, and it’s confusing. You feel surprisingly unsettled by it.

Your best friend seems like he’s trying to cut whatever tension’s in the air by turning his attention back to tidying up, but he fumbles when he goes to shut a drawer and catches his fingers. He’s barely had time to make a small ow noise before you’re there, lifting his hand and inspecting it carefully. “Stop distracting my boy, Jin, let him focus on cleaning up your messy ass kitchen,” you say.

“Excuse you, my kitchen is a temple, it’s only a mess because you’ve been in here,” Jin says primly.

“Sounds like something a messy person would say.” You would roll your eyes but they’re focused on the reddened skin of Hoseok’s fingers. They just look slightly pinched, nothing major, but still. You’re careful when you touch him. You don’t want him to hurt any further. “Are you okay, baby?”

“No.” He sniffles and his lip wobbles dramatically and you laugh. You do what you always do when Hoseok hurts himself in some small, superficial way- you lift his hand to your lips and gently kiss the fingers he’d gotten caught, inflamed skin already fading back to its usual colour, pain clearly already gone.

“There,” you declare. “All better.”

Hoseok’s expression is warm and tender as he looks at you, his fingers still cradled in yours as you look up from your touching hands, and your gazes lock. There’s a brief moment of stillness, a second that starts to crystallise into something more, and you’d swear his face had just started inching forwards when there’s suddenly an almighty clattering noise from behind you and you both jump, the moment broken.

“Oops,” Jin says blithely. You turn around to discover that all the pineapple related knick-knacks and decor on the table are now scattered on the floor around him, a tangle of paper decorations and plastic fruit that’s rolling across the room. “I seem to have slipped.”

“Weren’t you just going on about how messy we were?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you’ve already turned away from Hoseok to squat down and help Jin tidy up, chasing down an errant pineapple. You don’t see the pointed look that Jin gives Hoseok behind your back, and when you turn around with the over-large pineapple clutched in your arms, both men seem to be acting like normal. “I’m going to pay Namjoon to keep that in the final cut so everyone can see how chaotic you are in the kitchen.”

“Joonie would never betray me like that,” Jin says with completely unearned confidence, just like he does with most things- but the sad thing is, he’s right. Namjoon is too much of a professional to keep unnecessary shots in the video, and besides, Jin seems able to get away with being outrageously chaotic because he’s so charming and pulls it off so well. If the footage of him somehow sending everything to the floor was kept in the video, people would probably love it.

Once the pie is done cooking and has finally cooled enough for Jin to cut it into triangular shapes, you’re so excited to eat it that you’re bouncing up and down on the spot a little. Hoseok is too. Jin humours your excitement with understanding- he loves to eat too- although he raises his eyebrows at the way you and Hoseok lock your arms together before you lean forward to take a bite of the pineapple pie. You let out a muffled little groan into the pastry once it finally touches your tongue, sweet tartness of the pineapple exploding across your tastebuds, pastry buttery and flakey as it melts in your mouth.

“Jin, this is so good,” you say, and Hoseok hums around a mouthful of fruit filling in agreement.

“I think your ghost was onto something,” Jin says. He’s already polished off his slice, while you and Hoseok are barely halfway through your own, disentangling your arms so you can focus on eating properly. Sometimes you wonder if Jin just unhinges his jaw and swallows things whole because you’ve never seen someone who can eat as quickly as he can. “They could see you pining.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know… pining… like a pineapple,” Jin says, before giggling to himself like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok, but then you take another bite of the pie and immediately forget about Jin’s cryptic nonsense.

“This is so good, isn’t it, Hobi?” You ask.

“It’s so sweet and light and delicious,” Hoseok says. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I thought we were talking about the pie, not me, Hoseok,” Jin says, and then lets out peals of squeaky laughter when you roll your eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I think you can get a cream for that,” Jin continues to laugh, before you throw a paper pineapple at him.

There’s still pie left over the next day. Of course, you’ve saved slices for the rest of your crew. Jimin and Taehyung are snacking on slices of pie as they help each other set up the cameras and mics in the studio, making sure the lighting hits you and Hoseok so that you stand out against the room behind you. Today’s the day you’ve set aside to film the 70th episode, and you’re excited for the chance to do an official retrospective of the show so that you can look back at all the places you’ve been to and the things you’ve discussed, as well as plans for the future.

“Did the two of you coordinate your outfits for the video?” Tae says curiously, and you glance down at your clothes. It’s only then you realise that- although your outfit is darker than his- there are flowers on Hoseok’s bomber jacket and your dress is covered in a floral pattern.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice,” you mutter as you pluck at your dress. “Guess we’re just telepathic.”

Hoseok stays silent, strangely enough, but when you hold your hand up for a high five he responds enthusiastically and continues to grip your hand afterwards, which makes you laugh. “That’s friendship,” he says, and you laugh again, squeezing his hand.

The two of you keep laughing as the cameras start to roll, watching the clips from your most popular episodes so far, between answering commonly asked questions from fans- one of the more frequently asked being ‘why did Hoseok agree to be a co-host when he always seems scared during filming and screams all the time?’

You read this question off your list and Hoseok’s answer is immediate. “Y/n is one of the hardest workers I know,” he says. “So I was excited to be invited on board for a show that she had created. And I wouldn’t say that I’m always screaming-”

“Yeah, when you have to pause to breathe,” you interject, and he laughs.

“Sure,” he says indulgently. “But, honestly, when Y/n is there it’s easy to forget that we’re standing in some terrifying old building or haunted tomb or whatever.” You rest your chin on your hand as you watch him continue to speak. “I would honestly be a lot more scared if she wasn’t there. She’s very good at distracting me if I’m getting too worried. She’s very comforting.”

“That’s a nice way of saying that I’m basically a defence mechanism for you.”

“Basically.” Hoseok grins at you so widely, teeth on show, gorgeous.

Now that he mentions it, it’s true that as your friendship has grown, his fear has ebbed; although he still screams as loudly as before, it happens less often, but because sudden noises and jump scares always startle him, it still happens a lot. If you don’t take the time to reflect it’s kind of easy to forget how your friendship has grown over time, which is why it’s another good reason to have this retrospective- for the sake of the series, sure, but your relationship with Hoseok has grown as the show has, too.

When you flip over the final page to read the final question, you’re surprised to see an extra one tacked onto the end- you’d been the one to select them, after all, and this one has been added after the fact, someone’s messy handwriting scratched across the paper. You don’t recognise the writing. Honestly it kind of looks like someone had written it with their non-dominant hand to avoid detection, almost like a child’s writing from a cartoon, all but missing the backward E’s- but the question is pretty innocuous, so you figure you may as well answer it. You can just ask Namjoon to cut the footage later if you don’t like it.

“Y/n: If Hoseok decided to quit being your co-host, who would you want to replace him?” You squint at the paper as you decipher the scrawl, not seeing how Jimin and Taehyung exchange a sly, down-low high five off camera. “Huh.”

“You started the series with Yoongi, right?” Hoseok pipes up. “Would you bring him back?”

You’d chosen Yoongi as your original co-host for Unsolved because you vibed well and had pretty similar opinions when it came to a lot of things, and you’d worked well together in the past, but the truth is that- “No, I wouldn’t,” you say immediately. Hoseok seems genuinely surprised. “Honestly, if you stopped co-hosting with me, that would be the end of Unsolved. Hoseok and I are a package deal at this point and I would never consider filming the show without him.”

Hoseok looks stunned, but you keep going. “The show wouldn’t exist without Hoseok. Yoongi was great for the videos he was in, but- even if he didn’t have other commitments, he couldn’t take over from Hobi. Unsolved isn’t just a show about the supernatural, or crimes, it’s about us dealing with the supernatural or true crimes,” you continue, and then your nose wrinkles as you realise what you’ve said. “Well, we don’t directly deal with true crimes, fortunately. I’d make a terrible detective. My hand isn’t steady enough to draw one of those chalk outlines, y’know? I’d probably just end up drawing someone who looked suspiciously like Kirby. Anyway, Hoseok is my best friend as well as my co-host; if you get one of us, you get both of us, and if you don’t get both of us, you get neither of us.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok says. It’s not the first time he’s said this to you, but you think it’s the first time he’s ever said it on camera, and his tone is strangely earnest. He must be getting really nostalgic about the start of the show if it’s making him sound like that.

“Love you too, Hobi.” You beam at him. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

Behind the cameras, Taehyung makes a weird croaking sound and Jimin hits him hard on the arm.

“Uh, normally when someone's choking you hit them on the back, Minnie,” you say.

“I’m not choking, I’m fine,” Taehyung wheezes. Jimin punches him again.

“Uh-huh.” You raise an eyebrow. “Anyway. What was I saying. Oh! Yeah, referring back to the question- while I would never stop him if he thought it was the right thing to do, I certainly hope that Hobi doesn’t want to quit being a co-host.”

“I would never.” Hoseok’s expression is weirdly intense as he says this and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good! I’m glad we’re both in it for the long haul.”

Taehyung still looks kind of constipated once filming is over, but before you can ask him what’s up, Jimin pulls him to the corner of the room and the two men exchange some quiet words. They seem oddly serious and you purse your lips as you try to work out what’s going on, but then Hoseok’s hand slips into yours and your attention is drawn away from them.

“Celebratory 70th episode filming dinner?”

“I thought we were going to have a celebratory dinner with our minions when the episode actually aired,” you say, tilting your head at Taehyung and Jimin. “Didn’t you put it in the GCal?”

“I meant just you and me,” Hoseok says, squeezing your hand gently. “A co-host only dinner.”

“Ooh, we’re in an exclusive club, are we?” You giggle and squeeze his hand back. “Sure, why not. Can we have pizza? I’m feeling like pizza.”

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Hoseok answers, affection written across all his features. You go all wobbly inside, your insides melting into a puddle of goo at how warm and tender he is. You love your best friend so much. “Let’s leave those two to it, it seems like they’re busy.”

You look back over at your cameramen. Jimin has his cheeks puffed out and Taehyung looks chagrined. You purse your lips again, a little unsure if you should leave them if they’re having some sort of disagreement, but then Hoseok slips his hand out of yours and crouches down in a way that you recognise instantly. You make a noise of happiness and leap up, letting him lift you into a piggyback; you lock your arms around his neck and start to giggle as he bounces you a little, getting his hands comfortable under your calves.

“We’re off!” Hoseok announces. Jimin and Taehyung look away from their discussion to the two of you, their expressions both mirrors of each other as their eyebrows rise in unison when they spot how Hoseok is carrying you. “We’ll leave you to tidy the studio.”

“Enjoy the rest of the pie!” You wiggle your fingers at them in a little wave before squealing when Hoseok hitches you up his back again without warning, tightening your grip on him. “Pizza time, Hobi, let’s go.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh before you bury your head in his hair, stifling your giggles against his scalp. He smells so nice and soft and lovely, familiar, like home.

“Wow, they’re unbelievable,” Jimin whispers behind you, though you don’t hear him, more focused on not bumping your head in the doorway as Hoseok walks you both out of the studio.

You end up going to your favourite pizzeria, sitting at your usual booth in the corner. You’ve been here so many times with Hoseok that you don’t need to look at the menu and just order your usual half-and-half, feeding each other slices of garlic bread and struggling with the gooey, molten cheese that seems to stretch endlessly from your slices of pizza. You feel warm and comfortable, your feet brushing under the small table whenever you shift your legs, laughing each time Hoseok traps your foot under his before letting you go.

“I can’t believe we’ve done 70 episodes,” you say, leaning back against the smooth leather of the booth seat after you’ve stolen a sip of Hoseok’s Sprite. “I never thought we’d get this far. I honestly thought you’d have died of fright by now,” you tease, swinging your leg gently against his.

“If I die, I’ll haunt you from beyond the grave,” Hoseok says, pulling a face at you that’s clearly meant to be ghoulish, and you laugh.

“I’ll take the spirit box home from work so you can talk to me.” You lean your elbow on the table and rest your chin on your palm, still smiling. “Obviously you’d do the same for me, right?”

“As long as you kept other ghosts away from it,” Hoseok says, shivering. “I don’t want to have to talk to them too.”

“I promise. I’ll be the only thing haunting you, don’t worry.”

Hoseok smiles at you, eyes warm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You share a banana split for dessert. You’re pretty full so Hoseok eats the majority of it, which gives you the opportunity to watch him, the way his dimples appear when he chews; you must have watched him eat a thousand times but you’re never any less endeared by the sight.

“I meant what I said, you know,” you say suddenly, and Hoseok looks up, cheeks bulging with ice cream and banana.

“Hmrh?” He makes a noise of questioning around his mouthful of food, and you laugh when you spot a smear of chocolate sauce on his chin. You swipe it away with your thumb before mindlessly sucking it off, too distracted by the sweetness bursting across your tongue to notice how Hoseok stares at the motion with wide eyes. He swallows. “What?”

“When I said that I was glad that we became friends,” you say. “When I first asked you to star in an episode I never thought we’d end up here, you know? But… I’m really happy. And I really do love you a lot, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiles all the time. In fact, you’d say he spends more time smiling than he doesn’t, happiness always radiating from his face like sunlight shining down from the sky, golden and bright- but the smile he gives you right now is softer than that. It’s more like the softness of the sunrise, spilling over you through just-opened curtains, warm and gentle and comforting.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he says. “More than anything.”

You put a hand over your face as you giggle bashfully at the earnest look on his face. “Stop,” you whine. “You’re so cheesy, oh my God.”

“You said it first,” Hoseok points out, but he starts to laugh along with you, before the server comes over to give you your bill and you end up fighting over who pays- Hoseok wins, much to your disappointment, but lets you front the tip as a compromise.

As always he catches the subway with you and holds your hand all the way home, only letting go when you get to the door of your apartment building. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says, and you glance up from where you’ve been rummaging in your bag for your keys.

“Bright and early as always,” you reply, smiling. “I’ll make sure to bring your casserole dish back tomorrow, it’s still on my counter. I’ll make you some lunch to make up for how long I’ve kept it.”

“Okay.” Hoseok watches as you finally unearth your keys, jingling them triumphantly as you do. “Baby?”

“Hm?” You look up from where you’ve been fitting the keys into the lock. “Yes?”

“I meant it when I said it, too.” He looks oddly sombre, none of the usual levity on his face. “I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, stuttering a little at his tone and his expression. He’s told you that he loves you, sure, and you always say it back, but Hoseok’s never said it like this: like there’s more meaning behind his words than normal. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, frozen in place, key still pressed into the lock- but before you can gather your thoughts Hoseok’s face is morphing into his usual smile before he dips forwards and kisses you on the forehead.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t forget the casserole dish!”

And then he’s bouncing down the steps just like he always does, turning momentarily to give you a jaunty wave before walking briskly back in the direction of the subway.

“See you tomorrow,” you echo faintly, feeling off kilter and off balance as you watch him disappear into the distance.

Okay. So. You’ve told yourself on multiple occasions that, nowadays, what you feel for Hoseok is entirely platonic. He’s your best friend, and you love him, and it’s very easy to feel romantically inclined towards your friends sometimes because friendship involves love, and you should be friends with your romantic partners anyway, so there’s a lot of overlap. You may have lingering memories of your crush, yes, but you’re over it.

At least, you could have sworn you were. So why are you projecting onto Hoseok again all of a sudden? When he said he loved you, it wasn’t a romantic confession, despite what your instincts might be telling you. Your brain is screaming at you to look at it logically, and you’re trying your best to tell yourself that, that it Wasn’t Romantic and it was Just Hoseok Being Hoseok, the man who tells all his friends that he loves them on a regular basis, it wasn’t romantic.

“Morning, baby,” Hoseok says, smiling at you, before noticing both the coffees you’re holding. “Ooh, is one of those for me?”

“Hi.” Your voice is weirdly breathless. “Yeah, I got your favourite.”

Hoseok lights up and makes grabby hands at you, and you feel utterly helpless as you hand it over. You feel like Past-Y/n, a previous version of yourself, the one that was still new to BigHit and used to get all in a muddle when Hoseok so much as looked at you. You feel like you’re rediscovering your crush all over again, like some sort of giddy schoolgirl, and you kind of want to slap yourself- but then Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and makes a little noise of pleasure and all that self-hatred turns to static, replaced with nothing but affection for the man holding the door open for you.

You manage to keep it together pretty well, for the most part, you think. It’s not until you leave your computer to speak to Hoseok about something that you nearly lose it. He sees you coming and smiles widely, instinctively wheeling away his desk and patting his lap in invitation. Your brain goes blank as you panic and you abruptly swerve and act like you were walking over to Jungkook the whole time, missing the way Hoseok’s face drops with disappointment.

You’ve been lurking to one side of Jungkook’s desk for a few minutes before the man acknowledges you, looking away from the video he’s apparently editing to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Are you lost? Hobi-hyung is over there.” Jungkook starts to point but then you grab his hand before anyone notices, pushing it back down against his desk.

“I know where Hobi is,” you say through gritted teeth. Jungkook blinks at you as you continue to trap his hand against his desk, tightening your grip when his fingers twitch. “I am having a small crisis and I would appreciate it if you let me pretend to have a conversation with you about work.”

Jungkook looks baffled but doesn’t argue, clearly a little scared of how tightly you’re grasping his fingers. “Um, okay,” he says, slowly. “Do you need to hold my hand at the same time?”

You look down at where your hands are still connected before you release him. He flexes his fingers with a wince. “Wow, you’re a lot stronger than you look.” He sounds impressed. “Have you been working out?”

“I bench press the weight of my stupidity daily,” you sigh. Jungkook lets your words pass without comment, putting his free hand back onto his mouse and resuming his work. You squint at his screen, intrigued. “What are you working on?”

You end up perching on Jungkook’s desk as he talks you through his most recent project, and how he and Tae have almost finished putting together the cat shelter video- you coo at all the footage of the different cats, small kittens to mangy strays, scruffy and cute. You’re too busy laughing at the unflattering shots they have of Yoongi while he’d been sleeping before they’d written across his face and you don’t notice how Hoseok keeps looking over with a mix of confusion and almost hurt flashing across his features.

He doesn't show any of this when you meet him later, though. You’ve recomposed yourself by the time lunch rolls around and you manage to return Hoseok’s casserole dish without fumbling. Despite your inner turmoil last night you’d still made time to pack lunch for the two of you, using the cute lunchboxes that Hoseok’s family had given you last Christmas- he lights up when he sees the dosirak you’ve packed, fluffy rice and other side dishes, all of his favourites.

“You are a blessing,” he says, and you smile as he eagerly dives in. You tackle your own food more slowly, having to approach the kimbap carefully because of how you’d been overzealous with the filling. “Ooh, can I have some of that?”

“Sure,” you say, gesturing at the bite sized slices in the tub in front of you. Instead of taking one of those, however, Hoseok leans forward for the piece of kimbap you’ve already grabbed. You’re frozen in place as you feel his lips around your fingers, teeth lightly grazing your skin as you instinctively surrender the food to his mouth, a light swipe of his tongue over your fingertips to catch the light sheen of sesame oil there, soft and wet against your touch.

Hoseok leans back and chews like nothing is out of the ordinary- and to be fair, you’ve fed finger foods to him before, it’s not out of the ordinary, but right now you feel like you’re on the verge of a meltdown. Your brain keeps replaying the past few seconds, the softness of his lips around your fingers, the wet of his tongue against them, the way his eyelashes had fanned out against his cheek as he’d glanced down at the food in your hand. You are Very Much Not Okay.

Hoseok is still happily chewing his kimbap, swallowing it down and taking a sip of water before he seems to notice that you’ve gone eerily silent. “Y/n?” He blinks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Um. I just remembered that I. Have a thing? I have to? Go do? You can eat the rest, seeyoulaterBYE.”

You can’t let this crush rear its head like this again and make your friendship awkward. The two of you have shared the same bed more times than you can count, for God’s sake, and you’ve even discussed rooming together- the rent in LA isn’t exactly cheap, and if you pooled your resources you could get a pretty nice place- and that had all been okay! That hadn’t made you feel strange at all! But Hoseok eats food from your hand like he has a thousand times and you’re spiralling out of control like this? Why is this happening now?

Ugh. Ughughughugh. Stupid.

Namjoon finds you hidden away in the Unsolved studio later, where you’ve absconded with your tablet to try your best to get some work done with your limited resources, hidden away from everyone; it’s weird being in here when you’re not filming, without Hoseok in the seat next to you, so you’re not really doing a great job. (You’ve spent more time blankly watching Queer Eye on Netflix than you have being productive.)

“Hey, Y/n.” Namjoon’s gentle voice is like a balm to your soul. Hoseok might be your best friend now, but Namjoon was your friend first and the two of you are still close, both in and out of work. He’d made you feel comfortable and welcome when you’d first joined the team and continues to support all your projects. He’s a really great friend and colleague and an even better person.

You smile at him as he shuts the door. You can tell he’s trying to do it quietly but ends up accidentally slamming it loudly, and you stifle a laugh as you notice the guilt that appears on his face.

“Joonie! Come on in.” You beckon at the seat next to you, scooting away a little so he plenty of room to sit. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just wanted to talk to you about some editing stuff but Hobi said you’d disappeared somewhere for a, um, ‘thing’.” Namjoon doesn’t comment on the fact that you still clearly have Queer Eye open on your tablet, Jonathan’s face a blur on the screen from where you’ve paused it during a transitional shot. Instead he sits carefully down next to you and leans back in the chair, adjusting his glasses; he looks particularly cozy today, with his glasses and jumper and cardigan. He pulls off the Hot Academic look really well. “Any particular reason why you’ve squirreled yourself away here?”

You muffle a sigh, looking down at the notebook you have next to your tablet; what little handwriting is on the page is especially messy and disjointed, reflecting your distracted mind. Namjoon has a naturally reassuring presence anyway but his outfit today seems to accentuate that even further, like you could bury your head into the fuzziness of his jumper and find inner peace.

“Oh, okay, I suppose this is happening,” he says.

Yep, the jumper is just as soft as you’d thought, and it smells nice and soft too. Namjoon doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve smooshed your face into his shoulder and instead he angles himself so you’re both more comfortable, and he starts to pat your back soothingly. It’s nice, of course, but you can’t help but compare his touch to Hoseok’s- Namjoon is more methodical and measured, like he’s thinking about each motion, while Hoseok just seems smoother and more natural because he’s always touching you, second nature by now.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ughughughughguhguh,” you say articulately into the weave of Namjoon’s clothing. He chuckles warmly.

“Long day?”

Good old Namjoon. A gentle question, open ended, offering you the opportunity to deflect, or tell him the truth. You turn your head to avoid getting jumper lint in your mouth, but stay leaned against him.

“Kind of,” you say. “It’s just…” You struggle to put it into words, but Namjoon just waits patiently while he continues to pat your back. “It’s Hobi?”

Namjoon’s hand goes still, though you’re not sure if it’s because of your words themselves or the tone of them, the way you pitched it up at the end like a question, like you weren’t too sure yourself. “Did he do something?”

“No! No. Yes? No,” you settle on. “No, no he didn’t. It’s not him, it’s me,” you say. “Ugh.”

You end up pulling away from Namjoon to scrub tiredly at your face, not noticing his expression, which he quickly reschools when you look back at him. “We were just doing our usual thing, you know,” you say, and Namjoon nods as he listens, even though your description is incredibly vague and could mean any number of things. “But then he said he loved me and like- we’re best friends, we say we love each other a lot, it’s not unusual or anything, but… I guess it got to me this time? Like it felt like something more than just friendship? He didn’t mean it like that, of course, but I guess it’s hard to, uh, shake that feeling now that it’s gotten into my head.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Although Namjoon seems a little perplexed he’s still clearly concerned, and your eyes widen.

“What? No, no, it’s fine! I don’t mind it. It’s more that-” You pause. You’ve never actually voiced your less-than-platonic feelings for Hoseok out loud, though you’re certain it must have been obvious to start with- even though no one had ever mentioned it or teased you about it, so maybe they hadn't noticed.

Either way, it sort of feels like once you put the words out into the world then the truth will linger and be unavoidable in a way that you’ve been desperately avoiding so far. But it’s just you, and Namjoon, and you would trust Namjoon with your life, even if you wouldn’t trust him to hold anything fragile or delicate. “It’s not the idea of Hoseok loving me like that that makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t want things to be weird?” Namjoon continues to look levelly at you, waiting patiently for you to get to the point, and you take in a deep breath. “IhaveacrushonHobi,” you rush out. “And I don’t want to ruin the friendship by reading into things too much because I’m being overly hopeful or something.”

Namjoon pauses. He looks thoughtful as he fixes his gaze on you through his glasses. “Y/n.” He sounds solemn, like he’s discussing something of deep importance, like your tiny breakdown over your best friend requires the same level of gravity as the rapid disappearance of bees, or climate change- like it’s something world changing and heavy and important. He’s not doing what you’ve done over the years, as in, desperately tried to minimise your feelings just so you can stay sane. “You sound unhappy about it.”

“I am unhappy about it,” you say, unhappy. “Hobi is my best friend and I do love him a lot, and I’m happy being friends, and I reallyreallyreally don’t want to make things weird. I should be used to this by now, it’s not like what he and I do is anything I’m not used to.”

“Things change when romantic feelings develop,” Namjoon says, ever patient, and you let out a pained little groan.

“It’s not- these feelings aren’t new, Namjoon.” You sigh, and for the first time since you started this conversation, Namjoon looks surprised. Guess your crush on Hoseok hadn’t been obvious in the beginning, then. “I don’t know if I ever told you that I met Hoseok before I even got a job here, technically?”

You’d come out of your BigHit interview feeling unsure. Off balance. You hadn’t known if you’d come across as desperate and too eager to please, rather than a go-getter team player, but all you’d been able to think about was how getting a job at BigHit would mean that you could finally save up enough to move out of the awful shared room you were in with the mould in the corner that kept coming back no matter how many times you cleaned it. The interview had gone on longer than you thought and you barely had time to get to Starbucks before your shift started- if you got a job at BigHit you could finally quit that place- and you’d hurried to leave the building only to discover that it was raining.

“Oh,” you’d said.

You’d stood in the reception area, staring out of the glass windows at the torrential downpour outside; it had been sunny earlier that day, no indication that the heavens were going to open, and you hadn’t brought a coat or umbrella with you. Your one nice interview outfit was going to get drenched, and it was going to stay wet in your locker at Starbucks while you were working, and basically the entire month had been just terrible and after a potentially wasted interview you just kind of wanted to cry.

Before the tears could start to pool in your eyes, however, Hoseok had appeared. Not that you’d known him or his name at the time, of course, but he’d swept into the building like some burst of sunlight that had cut through the clouds despite the rain, shaking an umbrella off before laughing at Yoongi’s disgruntled face at the scattering water. You’d been stunned by the sudden flare of energy in the room and were still standing there when Hoseok’s eyes fell on you, on your stance, the way you were staring at the grey skies outside and the obvious lack of an umbrella in your hands.

And he’d just- he’d just walked up to you like you were friends, like he knew you, and he’d proffered the still damp umbrella, like it was nothing.

“It’s raining pretty heavily out there,” he’d said, and he’d been smiling, and you’d looked at him in shock, and he’d laughed. “You’ll need this.”

“I- what?”

“You clearly need this more than me,” Hoseok had said, bright smile fading into something a little more gentle, and you’d accepted the umbrella with unsteady hands, unable to say no to this sunshine of a man. “Feel free to give it back whenever.”

“I- I don’t work here,” you’d admitted, shamefaced. “I’m just here for an interview.”

“So you can give it back to me once you get the job.” Hoseok had said it like it was a done deal, like there weren’t other people vying for the position you’d applied for, people who were probably infinitely more qualified and better in interviews. “Okay?”

For the first time that month, you’d felt like someone believed in you- because you certainly didn’t believe in yourself. But Hoseok had been smiling at you, with his heart shaped mouth and his bright eyes, and you’d felt like a flower basking in his rays, turning towards him as your petals unfurled in his light, and you’d said- “Sure. Yes. I will.”

Here, now, in the present, you look down at your hands as you finish telling this story. “I just put the umbrella on his desk when he wasn’t around, after I got the job,” you tell Namjoon. “I didn’t talk to Hobi for ages because I didn’t- I didn’t have the strength to look him in the face without, you know. Without making it obvious that I had a raging schoolgirl crush on him. And he never said anything about it- I don't think he even remembered me at all, he'd just given some person his umbrella because they needed it, you know? And then we became friends and my crush died down and everything was okay, but- I guess the crush never really went away after all. Ugh,” you say. “This sucks, Joon. It sucks.”

The way Namjoon looks at you is compassionate and soft. “I know,” he says. “It’s understandable that you’re worried about this, because your friendship with Hoseok is important to you. But I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about, really.”

“You’re just saying that,” you mumble, and Namjoon chuckles.

“No, I’m not,” he says, gently. “I think you need to be more confident in what you and Hoseok have. Even if you admitted your feelings and he didn’t feel the same, you know he loves you too much to throw your friendship away, and it’s strong enough that it can survive whatever’s thrown at it. But, if you’ll forgive me for speaking out of turn, I would wager you’re not the only one with romantic feelings, Y/n.”

“You’re very sweet, Joonie, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” You let out a little self-pitying sigh. “Hobi’s just so lovely to everyone, it probably seems like that because we’re best friends.”

One of Namjoon’s eyebrows rises. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” you say, a little miserable, looking down as you pick at a loose thread in one of your sleeves. “People mistake us as a couple a lot because we’re so close, you know? But Hoseok doesn’t see me like that.”

“Mm.” Namjoon makes a little noise of understanding, giving you a considering look as you continue to unravel your sleeve. “I see.”

He eventually coaxes you out of the studio, and when he discovers that you never finished your lunch he brings you to the café around the corner that all the BigHit employees love; you pick up an iced coffee for Hoseok, just the way he likes it. You feel better after talking to Namjoon and by the time you leave the café you feel pretty much back to normal. Mostly relaxed. You don’t feel weird when Hoseok lights up when he sees you, because he always does, because you’re his best friend, and this is normal. You can be normal.

“Again? It was my turn to get you coffee,” Hoseok says with a pout and you laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.” When you hand Hoseok his drink and your fingers brush, it’s okay. It’s okay. Your friendship with Hoseok is more important than your other feelings for him, and you’ll just focus on that. You’re not sure that’s what Namjoon was trying to communicate to you, with all his listening and gentle words, but you can bottle up these emotions and keep them on lockdown until the weird feeling passes. It’ll work. You’ll be fine.

A few hours later, you realise that you’re not fine.

“Joonie!” You pounce on Namjoon when you find him alone in the break room, filling a glass at the tap. He jumps and sends water sloshing over his hands when he drops his cup, though it fortunately doesn’t break when it clatters into the sink. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m not going to point out that you snuck up on me from behind without making any noise, but, that’s okay,” Namjoon says, ever tolerant. He very carefully puts the glass upright in the middle of the sink before he turns around. “What’s up?”

“I, um, am maybe panicking a little bit,” you admit in a hushed voice, even though there’s no one else in the tiny kitchen with you. “So you know Unsolved has a bigger budget now that we’re more popular? And I’ve been pushing for us to go abroad somewhere on said bigger budget? And they said we could schedule some episodes for Britain because basically every other building in Britain is haunted?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Namjoon says. “I did help you to draft the emails that you sent management.”

“You did, and I’m still eternally grateful,” you say, truthfully. “But I’ve been so caught up in the 70th episode retrospective and my much more recent, uh, Hoseok related stuff, that I totally forgot how soon it was coming up and we fly to London next week?”

Namjoon blinks at you. “You have plenty of time to pack before next week, why are you panicking?”

You muffle a scream into your hands while Namjoon looks on with concern.

“It’s not packing I’m worried about, Joon,” you say once you’ve pulled your face out of your palms. “It’s just that when we’re abroad I’m not going to be able to get away from Hoseok and I’m worried that I’m going to erupt like a volcano and spew all my emotions over him and then I’m going to have to change my name and drop off the grid forever when he inevitably rejects me, and I was always terrible at camping. I could never get the fire to light.”

Namjoon, for all that his patience seems endless and eternal, gives you a look that borders on weary. Like he’s the father to a child who keeps eating glue even after being told that there’s no nutritional value in it and they should be using it for macaroni art anyway, and also why are they eating the glue when it’d make more sense to eat the pasta that’s right there, even if it’s uncooked?

“First of all, you can be off the grid and still have access to ways of heating that don’t require fire,” he says. “And second of all, why are you panicking so much about London?”

“Because Hobi always gets super clingy when we fly anywhere.” You shuffle from foot to foot, feeling awkward. “And that’s when we’re still in the US. I feel like if we’re in a different country it’ll be compounded? Even if I don’t say anything out loud, I feel like my feelings will be obvious just in the way I act?”

Namjoon pauses before he grips your shoulders. His palms feel so big and warm, a steadying presence. “Would that be so terrible? Think about it, Y/n. If that was the case, then it gives Hobi the opportunity to speak out if he notices. If your friendship is entirely platonic to him, then he won’t notice, right? You’ll be okay.”

You open your mouth to take in a breath and respond, but before you can say anything Seokjin comes sauntering into the cramped break area, entirely indifferent to the weird atmosphere he’s walked into. His eyebrows raise as he spots how you and Namjoon are standing. “Ooh, are we gossiping? Is there tea to be spilled? You both look very serious, let me in on it.”

“I was just asking Namjoon if there was any advice he could give me about travelling to Britain,” you lie.

“She didn’t realise that over there lemonade is like soda.” Namjoon lets his hands drop from your shoulders as he plays along with ruse, and your face twists up in confusion.

“It’s what?” You look at him for a second before realising that Jin is staring at you, and you pretend to laugh. “Ohh, yeah, haha! Yeah, that’s crazy, haha. Um, I should get back to my desk for my notebook, I should write this down before I forget,” you say, before scuttling out of the break room.

Once you’ve disappeared, Seokjin gives Namjoon a long look. “I can’t believe you haven’t broken yet,” he says. “I still personally think we should just lock them both in a room together until one of them confesses, but apparently that’s ‘inappropriate workplace behaviour’.” The air quotes he makes are exaggerated and theatrical, as if the entire thing is a farce.

“It is and I’m not going to take that statement back,” Namjoon responds. Seokjin rolls his eyes dramatically but Namjoon ignores him. “It’s better if they come around to it by themselves. I believe in them. Besides, weren’t you the one who intervened when it looked like Hoseok was going to kiss her? I had to edit that footage, I saw how you pushed all those decorations off the table.”

Jin raises his eyebrows. “Can you imagine the chaos if he’d done that without either of them confessing properly first? They’d both pretend like it never happened. I was doing them a favour.” He casts a sideways look at Namjoon, who nods in reluctant agreement. “You know the rest of the office has a pool on how soon one of those idiots actually confesses? Do you want in on it? If either one of us gets it, we can split it 50/50.”

“That’s also grossly inappropriate,” Namjoon says, before he pauses. “Hm. How much is in the pool?”

Turns out you didn’t need to worry so much.

“Oh my God, look at that!” Hoseok has his face pressed up against the glass of the pod, the London Eye giving you the opportunity to look down at the metropolis of the city sprawling out below you; Hoseok’s pointing at a weirdly shaped skyscraper, panels of glass refracting off alternate shades of blue. “That’s so cool!”

“I think it’s called The Gherkin,” you say and he makes a noise of delight. Beside you, Jimin and Taehyung take a selfie with the panorama of London behind them, and you smile.

It’s true that Hoseok has been clingier than usual. The thing is, though, you’ve been clingier too; you’ve had time between filming to do some sightseeing, and neither of you have been to London before, so everything is exciting and fun and new, and you’ve been holding onto each other throughout the journey, familiarity in an unfamiliar place. You’re too busy taking in the sights and travelling from place to place, you and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung cramming close together each time you take the Tube somewhere, or asking people to take photos of you, and you’re having too much fun to worry about anything else.

You even get recognised a few times, which is exciting. You know Unsolved is popular but there’s something gratifying about people an ocean away knowing who you are and enjoying your work- you look on fondly as Hoseok makes your fans laugh, putting the nervous ones at ease, before shuffling together so they can take photos with you. It’s lovely, really, and you’re so glad that you and Hoseok get to experience this together. There’s no one else you’d rather be with.

You’d had a brief moment of panic after filming the first episode, Hoseok sliding into your bed as per usual, but you’d both been so tired and jetlagged that you’d basically fallen asleep the second he’d finished wrapping his arms around you, so it had been okay. You weren’t as jetlagged for the second episode, of course, but there was something soothing about having Hoseok curled around you as he slept; despite how your heart probably should have been racing, it had just gone quiet instead, slipping into a gentle beating rhythm as you’d drifted into sleep.

So on the whole it’s been all been going a lot better than you’d thought. It feels natural to let your head fall onto Hoseok’s shoulder as you both stare out of the train window, watching the fields and villages slip by as you race out of London to your final filming location, only a few days away from jetting home again.

“We should come back,” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice low enough that Jimin and Taehyung aren’t distracted from the card game they’re playing together across the aisle from you.

“For more episodes? We’ll probably have to wait till the next quarter so there’s money in the budget.” You turn away from the view outside to look up at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “We can start looking up other haunted locations when we get home, if you want.”

Hoseok smiles. “I meant we should come back just for a regular holiday,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about rushing from place to place. I know you’re disappointed we didn’t have time to see the Royal Botanic Gardens. I know how much you love flowers.”

Oh. You keep looking up at Hoseok, the way you have such a perfect view of the round apples of his cheeks, the swoop of his nose, the sharp cut of his jaw- you think about walking hand in hand with him past bursting blooms, through delicate arching greenhouses, surrounded by colour and beauty, and you know you’d still think he was the most beautiful flower there.

“I’d like that,” you say quietly. You’re almost drowned out by how loudly Taehyung yells snap! and the subsequent groan Jimin lets out, but you know Hoseok hears you by the way his mouth lifts into a smile. “Is there anything you wanted to see next time?”

Hoseok shrugs, but only with one shoulder, doing a little jiggle with the one you’re not resting your chin on, which makes you smile. “Nothing specific,” he says. “I’m happy as long as I get to see it with you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he says this, words settling deep in your chest, and you turn your head so that your cheek is resting on his shoulder again, shirt soft against your skin. “Love you, Hobi.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond straight away, but then he turns his head and kisses the crown of your head lightly. “Love you too.”

You arrive in Colchester in the late afternoon, and you don’t film until tomorrow, so after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff at your apparently haunted bed and breakfast, you make the group decision to just chill out for the evening and grab a couple of drinks. There’s a pub near your B&B so you and the boys pile into it, claiming a table in the corner so that you’re not in the way of the regulars, although every so often one of you has to venture up to the bar to order your drinks, trying to follow whatever sort of queuing system seems to be going on. (After the lemonade thing you had actually ended up actually asking Namjoon about Britain and the etiquette over here, and he was very insistent on following queues.)

By the time it’s your turn to grab the drinks it seems like it’s starting to get busy, so it’s taking some time for the bartender to get to you, but that’s okay- you lean against the bar and scroll through your phone, taking the opportunity to double check your schedule for tomorrow, when you feel someone tap your arm and you glance up.

“Hi,” the man says. He’s been waiting nearby, lounging against the bar, similar to you. “Are you waiting for a drink? You can go first, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, no!” You shake your head and laugh a little. “You were here before me, that’s okay.”

When he hears your accent his eyes light up. “Oh, are you a tourist? I thought I hadn’t seen you around, because I definitely would have remembered you. How long are you over here for?”

“Uh, just a couple of nights.” You smile at him. “I’m guessing you’re a local?”

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you. “I could show you around, if you’d like.”

You startle at the sudden sensation of hands sliding around your waist, but it only takes you a second to recognise the touch and you relax against Hoseok, your back pressed against his chest as you turn away from the man to glance up at your friend. “Hi, baby,” he says. “Did you make a friend?”

“We’ve only just started talking, actually,” you say, turning back to the guy you have yet to introduce yourself properly to. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“That’s okay. I think my friends are calling me,” he says, and he pushes himself off the bar before brushing himself down and then walking away, giving both of you a polite little nod as he passes.

“He never even ordered his drinks.” You blink with confusion and then shrug. “Oh well, means we’ll get ours sooner. You can go sit back down, Hobi, I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m already here, I may as well stay with you,” he says, tightening his grip around your waist, and you don’t argue. He keeps hold of you as you wait and then helps you carry your drinks to the table before he pulls you onto his lap, keeping you in place with one hand splayed over your stomach while he uses the other to lift his glass to his mouth.

“Fuck chairs, right?” Jimin says. Taehyung elbows him.

“Don’t be jealous because I have the best seat in the house,” you say, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin.

He gives you a mock affronted gasp and clutches his chest and you laugh before settling back against Hoseok, comfortable on your familiar perch atop his thighs. Hoseok might be the world’s biggest lightweight and easily gets tipsy over a single sip of alcohol- but despite this, his hold on you is firm and steady, even when he’s laughing over your shoulder, keeping you safe in his lap. He keeps stealing sips of your drink, dipping his head forwards to capture your straw whenever you’re not paying attention, but you don’t mind. What’s yours is Hoseok’s. (You’ve been taking sips of his beer, too, even if you make a face at the bitterness each time.)

By the time you shuffle back to your B&B, you’re all pleasantly drunk and keep giggling at each other about dumb and inconsequential things, although you’re careful to keep your voices down so that you don’t disturb anyone, trying to keep your footsteps light as you walk up the stairs. Jimin and Taehyung’s room is a little further up the corridor than yours and you clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter when you see Taehyung trying to open the wrong door before Jimin redirects him.

You might not be too much better, but at least you remember which room is yours- you unlock the door on your first try, although it’s a little hard to step inside with how Hoseok is wrapped around your back, trying to time his steps with yours but failing a little with how tipsy he is. You keep laughing whenever he moves his feet forwards at the wrong time, a messy tangle of limbs that keep bumping together as you kick your shoes off, and you end up collapsing onto one of the beds with Hoseok still clinging onto you. He tips over backwards while your back is still pressed to his chest and you let out a little squeal at the sudden falling sensation, but he cushions your fall without complaint and still doesn’t let go, even when you accidentally elbow him in the sternum.

“We should wash up and get in our pyjamas,” you say, but you’re already wriggling into a more comfortable position, turning over so you can look at his face instead of staring up at the ceiling. Hoseok’s head has sunken into one of the fluffy hotel-style pillows, his hair a messy halo around his head, face flushed red from the alcohol. You smile down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t want to move right now.”

“You’re so drunk,” you giggle, but you rest your head on his chest and let your body relax, muscles unwinding as you let out a long, happy sigh. “We can move later, then.”

Even though you’d genuinely meant to get up and do your nightly ritual, you’re so comfortable snuggled with Hoseok in the soft bed that you drift off. For once, you fall asleep before him, eyes fluttering shut as your breaths deepen with sleep; Hoseok keeps stroking a hand down your back, brushing tenderly down the line of your spine with his long fingers in a way he’s done a thousand times. He’s still grateful for the opportunity every time, though- that he gets to see you like this, that he can touch you like this, that you’ve allowed him so deeply into your life and made a home in his, too.

“Goodnight, baby,” Hoseok says, voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. You’re so deeply asleep that you don’t stir, but he’s still careful and gentle when he touches his lips to your forehead with the lightest of pressures, tender. “Sleep well.”

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a long time to come fully to your senses. You feel warm and heavy, surrounded by the smell of fresh sheets and Hoseok, and you don’t want to wake up just yet; you’re in that soft place between waking and sleeping, drifting in wakeful limbo as you slowly start to regain a sense of who you are and where you are.

Your brain flickers on, starting to pull itself together as the sensation of being a singular warm mass starts to dissolve, drawing up a mental map of how your body is slotted against Hoseok’s, where your limbs start and his end. That’s your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That’s his arm around your shoulder, keeping you close even in your sleep. That’s your hand, resting on his hip, fingers hooked in his belt. Those are your legs, tangled around his, your toes pressed to his calf, and that’s-

Your eyes fly open. You’re still wearing your clothes from the night before, thicker denim of your jeans rather than the flimsy cotton of your pyjamas, but you know exactly what’s pressed against your hip bone. You’ve slept in the same bed with Hoseok enough times that this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve woken to his morning wood, but you’ve never been this tangled up before; you normally slide out of bed and pretend you haven’t noticed anything, and by the time Hoseok wakes up it’s normally gone, or he subtly shuffles off to the bathroom to deal with it, thinking that you’re none the wiser.

It’s natural, it’s normal, it’s nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, but right now all you can think of is the hand you have near his hip, how close it is to his arousal, how easy it would be to slip your hand past his belt and jeans and boxers to grasp that hard, heavy heat-

You stiffen. You would never, ever do that, not ever, never take advantage of Hoseok while he was sleeping, and you know it was just a flickering thought in your still sleepy brain, probably still a little drunk, too- but you feel sick. You can’t believe you would even hypothetically consider taking advantage of him like that. If you were more than friends, then, sure, you’d wake Hoseok up with a pleasuring touch- but you’re not. You’re not.

It takes a real feat of slow, drawn out acrobatics, but you manage to extricate yourself from Hoseok’s grasp without waking him. He only wakes up to the sound of the shower rumbling through the wall, blinking as he realises that his arms are empty, even though he should be used to this by now. By the time you walk out of the ensuite, towelling off your hair, Hoseok’s got a cup of tea waiting for you by the kettle, a few scattered milk droplets nearby from the tiny, complimentary pots.

“Morning, baby.” He’s still sleepy and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d turned his head into the pillow, hair ruffled, shirt wrinkled after a night of sleeping in it. “Tea?”

You feel a little better after your hot shower, scrubbing all the dirty thoughts off your skin, but when Hoseok looks so soft and homely like this it’s hard not to want to just eat him whole.

“Ooh, how British,” you say, trying to laugh- Hoseok still seems too heavy-eyed to notice how you’re a little bit off right now, thankfully. “Yes, please.”

Unfortunately, you can’t shake your lingering weirdness and feelings of guilt, and when Hoseok wakes fully, he notices. You’re not due to film at Colchester Castle until it’s night time, shooting the episode when it’s going to be dark, so you’ve organised a day trip to the town’s zoo- Colchester Zoo is huge, full of all sorts of animals and exhibits, and Hoseok’s been excited to visit it from the moment he found out about it.

You’d even looked up the map online so that you could plan out the optimum route and ensure you didn’t miss anything, the two of you crowding around your phone screen and pointing excitedly at the names of the different exhibits, ready and raring to go.

So Hoseok is understandably a little stunned when you apparently seem to want to drag your feet and stay with Jimin and Taehyung instead. Both the boys want to just wander around the zoo willy-nilly, separating off from you and taking it slow- but after a brief, silent discussion between the two of them, eyes flicking at each other and then back to you, they agree to come with you on your planned route.

You send up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who’s listening. You can use the chaotic duo as cushioning and put them between you and Hoseok if you need to.

You know you’re not being especially subtle right now, but every time Hoseok moves closer to you all you can think about is how his choice of outfit today is fraying your already delicate nerves, the loose fabric of his fashionable sweatpants doing nothing to protect the outline of his dick from your wandering gaze. You don’t mean to look, but you can’t help it, even if you’re fairly certain that half the time it’s just a crease in the fabric from how he’s standing and not actually his dick, but-

“I thought it’d be harder than that,” Taehyung says. “It’s so much hairier than I thought it would be.”

You freeze, eyes shooting away from Hoseok’s crotch. Luckily no one seems to be paying you any attention and instead the boys are peering into the armadillo exhibit, watching as the animal snuffles around the ground.

“They don’t call it a large hairy armadillo for nothing,” Jimin giggles. “And it’s still a baby, the armour hasn’t grown in properly yet. It’ll look harder once it’s grown up a bit.”

All the tension rushes out of your body at once. Jesus Christ.

Hoseok notices you slumping a little, glancing up from the map when he hears the sigh of air escape your body. “Are you okay?” He seems concerned.

“Never better,” you lie unconvincingly, giving him a weak smile. “What’s next on the list?”

Hoseok seems concerned about you for the whole day, and even a little hurt when you keep slipping out of his grasp, but the truth is that you need to put some distance between the two of you right now, for the sake of your own heart and sanity. Being desperately head over heels for Hoseok is one thing and you’d just started becoming okay with that again, but this sudden wave of physical yearning (you’re too embarrassed to think of it as horniness) is out of the left field and it’s a lot harder to cover up. You hate seeing sadness on Hoseok’s face, and normally you’d be cooing over him and asking him to tell you what’s wrong- but you know what’s wrong. It’s you.

“Do you think something happened?” Taehyung whispers quietly to Jimin, the two of them watching as you act like you’ve been distracted by the Koi fish and walk away from Hoseok as he’s just about to reach for your hand.

“I think we’re reaching critical mass.” Jimin pretends to read from the zoo map. “We’ve nearly hit the nuclear reaction and one of them is finally going to blow. It might get messy.”

“I hope not,” Taehyung says, watching the way Hoseok stares at the back of your head as you peer into the tank of glittering fish. “I’ve never been good at cleaning up.”

It’s a little easier once the evening finally rolls around and Hoseok replaces those delicious sweatpants with marginally more professional jeans, as ripped as they are. It’s also easier to slip into the natural rhythm and rapport you have when you’re being filmed- it’s not that you’re ever any faker on camera, but it’s just an unthinking response to the sight of them, your body switching from Normal mode to Work mode. Taehyung readjusts the camera rig you have looped around your body while Jimin sorts out Hoseok, night vision lens pointed towards your faces, before letting you go.

“Ready?” You ask, glancing at your co-host. Hoseok seems less enthusiastic than usual, and you internally cringe, contrition shooting through you at how you’ve managed to dampen his mood because you’ve spent the whole day being distant.

“Ready,” Hoseok says, subdued. Your face crumples and you reach out for his hand, squeezing his fingers, trying to communicate a silent apology for something he isn’t even aware of.

“I won’t abandon you, okay?” You keep your fingers tangled with his as you speak and grip them hard. “There’s a lot of scary stuff in this castle and I promise I won’t leave your side.”

Hoseok pauses but then squeezes your hand back, and he seems to brighten, even though he’s still a little dimmed. “I know,” he says. “I know you won’t.”

Even though he says that, he spends less time clinging onto you than normal. It’s probably not noticeable to the average onlooker, and with how most of the footage is going to be cut later, you’re certain your audience won’t notice either- but while Hoseok still screams and jumps at things, he seems to separate from you as soon as the fear has passed. He doesn’t linger or keep hold of you, even when he seems visibly shaken, eyes wide as you ascend the stairs and hear what sounds like singing even though there’s no one else here- it’s probably just wind whistling through the ancient corridors and walls of the castle, but you know that Hoseok is terrified.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” You look over your shoulder and proffer your hand but Hoseok just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He’s clinging onto the banister, both hands white knuckled around the metal railing. “I’m fine.”

Even though you’ve been the one who’s been avoiding touching him all day, it hurts when he says that, as hypocritical as you know you’re being. You draw your hand back to your side and don’t offer again after that, although you still pat him soothingly when he instinctively grabs you later, jumping at a clattering noise in the distance. You’re not easily spooked, but Colchester Castle definitely has some weird vibes, so if you’re feeling like this, Hoseok must feel even more scared than normal.

At one point you walk through a spider web and flinch in surprise when you feel it on your face, jumping backwards and swiping at your face. Hoseok is immediately there, eyes wide as he stares at you, immediately protective despite his fear. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Uh, it was just a spider web,” you admit, chagrined. “I overreacted, sorry.”

Hoseok nods and immediately backs off, giving you room as he turns around. You can’t help the hurt that flashes across your face as soon as he looks away.

“Critical mass,” Jimin mutters to Taehyung, who nods sagely.

The worst and weirdest moment of the night actually happens once the episode is over. Hoseok is oddly quiet as you both get ready for bed, not talking to you through the open bathroom door as he meticulously massages cream into his face like he normally does- and once he flicks the light off, plunging the room into blue tinged darkness, you’re stunned as you watch his silhouette slide into his own bed instead of into yours.

He’s never slept in his own bed after a supernatural filming. Even after your first paranormal themed episode together, when you’d still been mostly strangers. He’d been bashful and hesitant despite how obviously scared he was, asking if he could sleep in your bed, and of course you’d said yes, wanting to do anything you could to soothe him and help him feel safe. So the fact he’s not sleeping in your bed now, it’s- it’s- it’s not right.

The only light in the room is from the tiny, faint red numbers of the digital clock, and you watch as time trickles slowly by- you stay awake for what feels like hours, laying on your side as you stare towards Hoseok’s bed. Your eyes adjust to the near darkness, room painted in low-contrast sfumato, and you can see how Hoseok is turned away from you; he’s unnaturally still and silent, and you know he hasn’t fallen asleep either, too scared and wound up to drift off.

Outside, a vehicle rumbles past, and you can see how Hoseok stiffens at the noise of the loose fan belt, a high squeal that’s admittedly startling after the silence of the night. The shine of the headlights through the drawn curtains is muted but still more than enough to throw the room into brief, sharp relief, the tension in Hoseok’s shoulders screaming out to you- you can’t stand it anymore and you slip out from under your blankets so that you can make your way across the dark room.

Hoseok turns when he hears you stumble over something on the floor- you think it’s a pair of socks- and makes a little noise of surprise when you throw back the corner of his duvet so you can slide in next to him.

“Y/n?” He sounds tired, but still fully awake- you were right, he’s been struggling to sleep.

“Hobi,” you say. “Why are you over here, all alone like this?”

You can barely make out the details of his features, as curved towards each other as you are; you can see the faint darkness where his hollows of his eyes are, his pretty mouth nothing more than an undefined line in the muted room.

“I- I didn’t want to disturb you.” His voice is a quiet, unhappy murmur, and you feel your heart break at the dejection in his tone.

“Oh, Hoseok.” You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks; you can feel the tension in his face, how he must be frowning. You might not be able to see everything all too well, but you’re more than familiar enough with Hoseok’s face to know where the furrow between his brows is, and press a little kiss to it. “My Hobi,” you say, and start to litter kisses over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “My baby. My darling.”

You keep touching your lips to his skin, wanting his unhappiness and fear to fade away, whispering pet names between each kiss. You tilt your lips against his chin, and Hoseok makes a little noise before his hands come up to grasp your wrists, pulling them away from where they’re still cupping his jaw. You go still, eyes widening, even if he can’t see it. “Hoseok?”

“Did I- did I do something wrong?” He sounds unsure. “You were avoiding me all day- I thought you didn’t want- I thought you wanted me to leave you alone,” he says, and you can hear guilt in his voice. “I thought I’d scared you off somehow.”

You make a little, unhappy noise. “No, baby, no,” you say. You shake your head, faces still so close from your kisses that your noses brush, but you don’t pull away- you need him to know that it’s not his fault. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?” His grip slips away from around your wrists to slide his fingers between yours instead, holding your hands. “Tell me.”

You go still. His tone is so imploring: he wants to know what’s wrong, so he can fix it, make it better. “Hoseok.” Your voice is quiet. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok.”

“And you’re mine,” he says, squeezing your hands. Your heart feels small and feeble in your chest, a weak little thing that swells up at Hoseok’s words, but immediately shrinks again in fear. “You can tell me anything.”

“You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you repeat. Hoseok goes silent. “You’re my best friend, and I-” You take a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs, get some oxygen flowing through your terrified heart, taking bellows to a dying ember, trying to grow it into a flame. “Honestly, I’m just selfish, Hoseok,” you say. “I’m just- being your best friend is already everything to me- but I’m so selfish-”

“Y/n.” Hoseok’s voice is a hush.

“I’m in love with you, Hoseok.”

There. You said it.

You can feel how Hoseok stiffens, how his fingers go utterly still in yours as you continue to speak.

“I’m in love with you, and I was just so scared you’d realise how head over heels I’ve always been for you and you’d end our friendship because everything I feel is just so much, and I just needed space today, I needed space to try and get my head straight and not scare you away by making things weird, and I’m sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I never want to hurt you, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

You take in a deep shuddering breath once all the words have spilled out of you, so much air. It’s out in the world, now, and you can’t take it back.

As the seconds tick by, the initial heady rush of terror starts to fade and is instead replaced with resignation, unsurprised at how Hoseok is still frozen against you. He’s deathly silent. He’s probably mentally drafting the nicest way to gently let you down, always so kind and lovely, so wonderful, your Hoseok.

A twinge shoots through your heart as you mentally correct yourself- he’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be. You should have just kept your mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Your voice is a miserable whisper. “You’re just so easy to love.”

You try to pull your hands out of his so you can slink back to your bed and wallow in your misery, but Hoseok just tightens his grip. You tug again, a little more insistent, and this time he lets go- but before you can roll out of his bed he’s grabbing your face, long, beautiful fingers splaying over your cheeks and jaw, locking you in place as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Y/n.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, low. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re-”

You’re cut off when Hoseok presses his mouth to yours. He’s kissed you before, on your forehead, your cheeks, the bare skin of your shoulder when you wear the sundress he likes so much- but you’ve never felt his heart shaped lips against yours, never felt them soft and warm as they catch your own, and it’s so much. He keeps drawing his mouth across yours, catching your lips between his own, tongue pressing out to swipe across them, and you shiver as the kiss slowly turns slick and wet, even as it stays so tender.

His hands wrap around your waist and he rolls over you, pinning you down with his weight as you keep kissing and kissing and kissing. Your hands are in his hair while his cup your face, holding you like you’re something delicate and precious, palms warm against your skin. You don’t separate to breathe, keeping your lips locked as the kisses turn open-mouthed, Hoseok’s tongue gliding against yours, the lingering taste of your shared toothpaste mingling with his saliva- you shiver underneath him when he nips at your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you crane your head forward to press further into his mouth, kisses slow and deep, and by the time you finally separate, you feel dizzy and breathless.

“Hobi,” you breathe out. “Hobi, turn the light on, I want to see you.”

Hoseok leans over you to flick on the bedside lamp, illuminating you both with its bright light- you can see how kiss swollen his gorgeous mouth is, how the sheen of your saliva on his flushed lips glows gold from the lamplight, how his hair is a mess from how you’ve been running your hands through it. He looks like your best friend, and also nothing like that at all, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Hoseok, forever changed by the touch of your lips.

“My baby.” He’s smiling at you, all warmth and fondness, and you squirm underneath him, embarrassed by the weight of his affection for you. “Y/n. I love you too.”

You probably shouldn’t be surprised, considering how Hoseok has just kissed you breathless, but you still feel your heart stutter in your chest. You’re staring up at him with your wide eyes as he bends forward again- he mimics what you did earlier, trailing kisses over your forehead and cheekbones and nose before he kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, then your cupid’s bow, then just under the swell of your bottom lip. “I love you, love you, love you,” he says, punctuating each kiss with the repeated confession, as if each time he says it it’s not punching the air out of your lungs.

“Hoseok?”

“Yes?” He’s still smiling, those warm little creases under his eyes as he looks at you, every inch of him just screaming out happiness. You did that. He’s happy because of you.

“Do you- do you remember when we first met? Years ago?” You don’t want to break the moment, but he’s never mentioned the umbrella thing and you’ve never asked before and you have a burning desire to know if he can recall-

“Do you mean the first time we actually met, or the first time you officially introduced yourself to me? I remember both,” Hoseok says. “I always knew you’d get the job. Besides, if you hadn’t, you would have had to keep the umbrella,” he adds, smile edging into something a little cheeky. “And then there would have been a pretty girl out there thinking about me every time it rained.”

Your eyes widen before you hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed at the idea that Hoseok had thought that you were pretty before he’d even known you; he coos at you and pulls your hands away to reveal your flustered expression, trapping them against the pillow so you can't hide your face again. Hoseok’s smile has faded into something a little more serious, but no less loving, and although you feel open and naked and vulnerable right now, it’s not because you think he’s judging you.

“You never said anything, so I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit. “But from the second you smiled at me as you handed me that umbrella, I knew I was a goner. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Hoseok.”

It’s not often that you see Hoseok look like this, his eyes so serious and deep, but his entire face is still so soft, smiling. “Me, too,” he confesses. “Me too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk our friendship and I love you too much to want to give that up.”

The smile that splits your face is so wide it almost hurts. “I love you,” you say again, for the sheer novelty of hearing it out loud, seeing how Hoseok lights up- the fact you can say it without fear of his reaction, because he loves you, too. He loves you. He’s in love with you. “I love you, Hoseok, I-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing your words of love into his curved mouth, the two of you smiling and laughing as your lips come together again and again- but when he presses his tongue to your lower lip and you part them, he licks into your mouth in a way that’s almost lewd, warm and wet, and you shiver as you think about exactly how long that tongue is.

Hoseok still has his hands around your wrists from before, and you feel how his grip tightens imperceptibly when he feels you tremble underneath him. Your cheeks feel warm when he pulls back and you wonder if your blush is visible, but Hoseok seems intent on other things, dipping his head forward to catch your earlobe between his teeth for a sharp moment, nipping it before licking it with his hot, wet tongue. Your entire body shudders as he starts to kiss down the side of your jaw, and you tilt your head to give him better access, gasping when he draws his tongue over the oversensitive skin of your neck; you can feel how he smiles against your skin before kissing your throat.

“Hobi,” you breathe, and then gasp when he draws the flat of his tongue over the hollow of your neck. Each teasing touch of his tongue and lips is trickling straight to your core, your panties growing wetter and wetter with your arousal. “Hobi, oh.”

“I’m going to worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped, princess,” he murmurs, lips moving against your collarbones as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long." He keeps kissing you between his words, punctuating them with sweeps of his tongue over your skin, and it's so much. "Hold still for me, baby, there you go.”

Hoseok releases your wrists and you flex your fingers but stay in that position, your hands palm up as they rest either side of your head. Hoseok leans back to stare at you underneath him, laid out for his gaze; you’re in an old t-shirt and faded pyjama bottoms, face bare, hair a haphazard mess where it rests against the pillow, but he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re draped in diamonds and gold and silks. He looks at you with reverence and love, like he wants to cherish you- but there’s also something deeper in those half-lidded eyes of his, like he wants to swallow you whole.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. You bite your lip, swallowing down a needy noise at the tone of his voice, hands clenching into fists where they rest beside your head.

“Hobi, please,” you say. “I need you.”

“You have me.” He takes one of his hands and slowly pushes the material of your shirt up, dragging his palm over your skin as he reveals the softness of your stomach. He lets the material bunch just under your breasts, ignoring how your nipples have hardened and stand out through the thin cotton of your old tee, running his fingers over your sides; you buck a little underneath him, sucking in a breath at how his touch is almost ticklish. “So sensitive.”

“You haven’t even touched me properly yet,” you say, a little snarky despite your breathlessness, but then you’re cut off when Hobi’s hands slide under the t-shirt to cup your breasts, palms and fingers cool against your overheated skin. Your pussy clenches when he flicks his thumbs over each of your hardened buds, running the pads of his fingertips over them, and you arch into his touch.

“So sensitive,” he says again, a little smile behind his words as he watches how your chest rises and falls under his hands, sucking in air when he pinches your nipples between his fingers. “Do you like that, baby?”

“Like it when you touch me,” you sigh. Hoseok smiles, flashing his teeth at you before leaning forward to kiss you again. He coaxes you to lift up a little so he can pull off your shirt, smoothing your hair when it gets ruffled by the motion, but before you can smile up at him for his tenderness, he lowers the heat of his mouth over one of your nipples and you gasp.

One of your hands flies up to grasp his hair when he circles the bud with his tongue, and you let out a low moan as he continues to lave attention on it, flattening his tongue and dragging it over the sensitive flesh. He alternates between your breasts, using his hands and fingers on whichever he’s not suckling between his lips; goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you keep biting back whines and gasps each time he does something particularly wicked with his mouth.

You feel so, so wet, arousal pooling between your legs, and you need him to touch you there. But he's slow, taking his time until your chest is heaving and your skin is flushed and your nipples are slick from the wetness of his mouth, his fingers just the right side of rough whenever he pinches the hardened peaks, and you mewl beneath him.

You’re just about to beg Hoseok to give you more when he finally lifts his mouth from your nipple, and you go tense as he starts to trail his lips down the valley of your breasts, across the sensitive skin of your stomach, hands roaming over the rest of you; he slides down the bed until he’s resting between your legs, and all you can think about is how close his mouth is to where you want it to be.

You’re so wet that you’ve soaked right through your panties, a touch of dampness clinging to the flimsy material of your pyjama bottoms too, and you shiver at the way Hoseok seems to drink down the sight before he hooks his fingers into the loose elastic waistband, and starts to inch them down. He’s moving torturously slowly, kissing your bare legs as he reveals your skin, touching his lips to your thighs, your calves, your ankles.

He does the same again with your panties, even more slowly; palms sliding up the side of your legs so he can curl his fingers around the fabric of your underwear and peel it off you. You shiver when your pussy is finally revealed, your inner thighs slick with your arousal and cooling from the touch of the air- Hoseok continues to suck and kiss trails across your legs even as he stares at your naked, weeping core, his gaze heavy as he drinks down the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, running his fingers over your bare skin as you tremble beneath him. “So gorgeous and perfect. Look at you, all laid out, just for me. I love you.”

“Hoseok,” you whimper. He’s still entirely clothed while you’re naked and bare, and you feel utterly debauched in comparison to him, the sheen of his saliva still shining over your body, nipples hard, your pussy lips flushed from arousal, every part of you begging for more- meanwhile he’s still got his surprisingly cute matching pyjama set on. The contrast is making your dizzy. He cups your foot in one of his hands, turning his head to press a kiss to your inner ankle, and your toes curl. “Please, baby, I need you.”

“I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs. He drops one last kiss to your ankle before shifting towards your canting hips; his breath curls out over your core and you shudder, another flood of arousal shooting through you, your cunt clenching as Hoseok stares at it shamelessly. “Look at you,” he says, reverent. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Hobi,” you whine. You bite back a gasp as he hooks your fingers behind your knees and forces your legs apart, spreading you open, entirely helpless underneath his hungry gaze. You watch in wonder as he lets his tongue curl out of his mouth, looking sinfully dirty as he does- but then you let out a whine when he turns his head away from your pussy and licks the inner seam of your thigh instead. Your hips jump at the sensation, your skin so sensitive from the attention that he’s lavishing on you, but it’s not where you want his mouth to be, even if the lingering kisses he’s giving to your inner thighs feel good. “Hoseok, please.”

He hums indulgently, and you’re about to start begging again when he purses his lips and blows out a puff of air over your flushed lower lips; the sudden chill against your damp folds has you tensing, and before you can gather your wits Hoseok drags his hot, wet tongue up the seam of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You cry out from the sudden explosion of sensation when he repeats the motion but presses past your lower lips to tongue at your slit, lapping up the juices at your entrance before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, your spine arching as your hips buck. “Oh, God, Hoseok, yes, right there.”

He slides one of his arms over your stomach, trapping you, holding you down as you try to cant your hips towards his mouth. You sob with pleasure as he continues to drink down your juices, leisurely licking at the most sensitive parts of you, in no rush at all. “Hobi, please,” you beg. “Please, I need more.”

Hoseok turns his head to lightly bite your inner thigh, your leg twitching at the sensation, surprised at how pleasurable it is. “Ssh,” he murmurs. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time. I want to savour it,” he says, and you let out a whine when he dips his head back down and starts to lap at your clit again, his dark eyes watching each of your reactions, the way you writhe and curl your toes each time he dips back down to your entrance, pressing his tongue inside you. “You taste so good, baby. Your pretty little cunt is so perfect.”

You whine at the praise, writhing when each swipe of his tongue over you is fanning the flames of your arousal higher and higher, and you can feel how the coil inside you is tightening, so close to reaching your peak. Hoseok’s still eating you out, nice and slow, and you’ve never felt an orgasm creep up on you like this- you moan as Hoseok finally buries his face in your pussy, tongue sliding from your slit, to your clit, over and over.

It’s so, so good, and then you watch as he slides one of his long fingers inside you and curls it inside you just right- “I’m gonna cum, Hoseok, I’m- oh!”

The intensity of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding from deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl as you cum and cum and cum, Hoseok keeping his mouth on you the whole time, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over you, wetness flooding out of your cunt that he drinks down eagerly.

The build up was slow, and the come down is slow, too, aftershocks rippling through your body for longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and Hoseok keeps licking and sucking you through it all until you’re almost crying out from the overstimulation and you have to push his head away. The aftershocks are still rippling through your body as Hoseok rises, your pussy clenching each time, and you feel boneless and strung out- but you know Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he says. You reach out for him and he comes so easily, fitting himself between your arms. His lips and chin shine with evidence of your arousal and when you pull him in for a kiss you can taste yourself across his tongue, a noise bubbling up at the back of your throat when you feel how slick his lips are against yours.

“Wanna make you cum too,” you say, your voice weak after the strength of that orgasm; you take in a deep breath, willing the oxygen to bring some energy back into your body. “Baby. Hoseok.”

“Mm.” He kisses you again. “You will, baby, don’t worry, you’re always so good for me.”

Your fingers fumble when you try to unbutton his shirt, but when Hoseok laughs, it’s not patronising at all; he just sounds fond. He takes over, deft fingers making quick work of the shirt before he throws it aside, revealing the slim line of his body to you. He’s beautiful and lean, nipples dark, skin golden, with a dark trail of hair that dips down into his pyjama bottoms- your eyes zero in on the way Hoseok’s loose pyjamas do nothing to hide his erection, the hard strain of his cock against the fabric, and you let out a little sigh of happiness that you’re finally getting to see what you’ve been desperately staring at all day. When you reach out for him your fingers barely brush his skin, and you make a greedy little noise, hungry for more.

“Need you,” you say. You want Hobi inside you, splitting you open, as close to each other as you can physically be. “Clothes off now.”

Hobi lets out a loud laugh, and you melt at the utter joy in the sound, how his face is so open and bright.

“God, I love you,” he says, before unceremoniously shedding the offending garments. He wiggles his hips in an entirely unsexy manner, and you end up laughing too when he gets one of his legs caught and has to kick the pyjama bottoms off in an entirely graceless way. You’re still letting out quiet giggles even as Hoseok is finally bare in front of you, beautiful and unabashed in his nakedness, and you love him.

You feel like liquid sunlight, overflowing with happiness; you’ve never laughed like this with anyone before, both naked yet still somehow amused, flipping from all-consuming arousal one second to laughter the next, but it just feels natural. Because it’s Hoseok, and everything feels so easy with him.

“I love you too,” you say, and then, when your eyes drop to his cock, you say: “God, you’re beautiful.”

His cock is gorgeous, curving up towards the ceiling, a drop of precum beaded at the tip; it’s not completely straight, hanging just a little to the left, but it’s Hoseok, so it’s perfect. He wraps his fingers around your hips and you let out a little squeal when he tugs you down the bed towards him so that your legs are dangling off the side and your hips are practically flush; his cock bobs when he moves and you shiver with how close it is to your heated core. Just like the rest of him, it’s long and lean and gorgeous, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Although-

“Don’t I get to taste you?” You can’t help but say this with a pout, and Hoseok’s face splits into a wide smile.

“Next time, baby,” he promises. “Tonight is for you.”

Next time. The realisation that tonight is just one of many, just the start of an entirely new chapter in your life with Hoseok- that you’ll still be friends, best friends, but also more- settles inside you, warm and soft and safe. Your face creases into a smile and you slide your hands up Hoseok’s body, over his stomach and chest, touching all the skin you can, relishing in the fact that you’ll grow familiar with it all in a way that you never could have dreamed of.

“You’re always so good to me,” you say.

“You deserve it, princess,” he replies. You tilt your hips towards him and you see how his eyes darken at the motion, tenderness swallowed by lust, and your body lights up like a livewire in preparation, ready to feel him push inside you. You’re already loose and wet from your first orgasm, but you don’t protest when Hoseok starts to run his fingers over the seam of your thigh; he presses straight in with two fingers, your body opening up for him so easily, and you gasp at how deep they move inside you, so long and pretty.

“There, Hobi, right there.” He’s clearly not trying to bring you to orgasm again but he still listens to your directions, keeping the motions of his hands the same, fingers rubbing over your inner walls so perfectly.

You can hear it, noises slick and dirty before he pulls them out, and you watch as he uses your arousal to slick up his cock, rubbing your juices over his hard length. It’s lewd, how he does it, pumping himself as he spreads it over his cock, wet noises vulgar and obscene, shooting straight to your core; you don’t think you’ve ever seen or heard anything so arousing in your life, the way Hoseok has his lip caught between his teeth as he looks at you, cock stiff between his legs as he runs his fingers over it.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper. “Hoseok, fuck.”

You arch your back when he grips his cock in one hand, guiding himself towards you- but rather than pressing into your entrance he runs his throbbing length back and forth through your lips, gathering even more of the wetness there, the slide so easy and smooth. It’s the most delicious, glancing pressure against your clit, not enough to satisfy, but enough to have you gasping again, the way you can feel the silken heat of his cock against you.

“Hoseok, please.” You don’t attempt to hide the desperation in your voice. “I need you.”

Hoseok lets out a guttural groan at your words; he drinks in how blown your pupils are, the flush from your orgasm still visible over your chest, the way your fingers are clutching the bedsheets, white cotton tangled in your grasp. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, and finally, finally, he grasps his length and tilts it to your entrance. He rests there for a second, the tip barely touching you, and you see how he steels himself as he grasps your hips, before he starts to sink into you.

“Oh!” He fills you so well, inch by torturous inch, your body opening up for him so easily it’s like his cock was made to fill you; once he bottoms out you can feel how snug he is inside you, cockhead pressed against your cervix, and you shiver. “Oh, yes, Hoseok, so good.”

He stays still for one long, drawn out moment, before his hands slip off your waist and he reaches for yours. You entwine your fingers with his, staring up at him as he leans forward and kisses you; the motion has his cock shifting inside you and you whine a little against his lips, before biting off a gasp when he rocks his hips forwards. The motion is fluid and rolling, and Hoseok sets an unhurried pace, languidly filling you up with his cock, over and over and over.

The pleasure that’s growing in you is slow and relaxed. You’re not chasing your orgasms- you’re revelling in the closeness, the connection, the slip of skin against skin, how Hoseok is filling you up, how you’re drawing him in. You end up staring into each other’s eyes, Hoseok’s forehead pressed to yours so there’s nothing in your vision but him; you only break eye contact when one particularly deep roll of his hips sends a shudder through you, your eyes squeezing shut as you gasp.

“Feel so good, baby,” Hoseok murmurs. “So good for me.”

You make a noise of confusion when he lets go of your fingers and leans back, straightening up, but then he hooks his hands under your knees and you lift your hips; you drape your legs over his shoulders, arched towards him, lower body lifting off the mattress. Hoseok drives forward and you immediately gasp at how he hits your sweet spot straight on, the change of angle forcing the head of his cock to brush the top of your inner walls, each drag of the blunt head sending shocks of pleasure shooting through you.

“Wanna feel you cum around my cock, princess,” Hoseok says, and you shudder. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Hobi, yes- faster- oh-”

Hoseok starts to ramp up the pace, snapping his hips into yours with the sound of slapping skin, and you can feel how you’re starting to tighten around him, pussy clenching with each thrust of his hot cock inside you. “Gonna cum for you, Hobi,” you say. “So close, fuck.”

He takes one of his hands off your waist and slides three fingers over your clit, and you cry out with pleasure as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves in tight circles; the added stimulation is just what you need, and you tumble over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Hoseok moans when he feels how your cunt clenches around him, rippling tightness around his cock, and your eyes fall shut as your mouth falls open and you rock your hips into the sensation, grinding against Hoseok to prolong the pleasure, and he continues to snap his hips forward.

You go lax, almost limp, but Hoseok is still hard inside you, so you try your best to keep your back arched towards him; the fluid roll of his thrusts is starting to fall out of rhythm as he approaches his own peak, and although your pussy is crying out at the oversensitivity, you try to match his pace, canting your hips towards Hoseok each time he drives forward.

“Want your cum all over me, Hobi,” you say. “Want you to cum on my tits-”

Hoseok curses, composure slipping entirely for the first time all night, and you feel how he fumbles his rhythm before he catches himself. His thrusts are fast and choppy before he pulls out and drops your hips to the mattress; you whine at the sudden emptiness, but then he’s shuffling his knees onto the bed and he has his hand wrapped around his slick length, jerking himself hard and fast as you arch your back and push your chest towards him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth. “So pretty, baby- fuck!”

He gasps in air before he lets out one long, drawn out moan, and then there’s hot cum splattering across your breasts, whiteness painting itself across your skin. Hoseok continues to pump himself, cock letting out more ropes of cum, and you can’t help but let out a noise of satisfaction at the sight, lifting your hands to run over his hip bones and waist and flexing thighs, watching the way Hoseok’s face draws together as he rides out his own orgasm, until his hand falls away from his cock and he’s slumping forwards over you, panting.

You hum, reaching for him and pulling him down so you can brush your lips against his. “You’re so hot when you cum,” you say. “I could watch you cum all day.”

Hoseok lets out a breathless laugh before he kisses you again, properly this time- you’re content to keep kissing regardless of the cum that’s starting to cool on your chest, but Hoseok is insistent on being a gentleman and excuses himself to the bathroom to get a towel so he can clean you up. When he drags the damp towel over your skin, he’s so soft and gentle, although you still shiver a little when the rough fabric drags over your nipples; he bends down and kisses you in apology.

You feel warm and small and soft, watching as Hoseok walks around the bed, still naked; the paltry lamp light is still more than enough for you to see every line of his beauty, the way each of his muscles shifts under his skin as he walks and moves, bending over to gather some of the discarded clothes from the floor. You sit up and lift your arms so he can help you back into your thin t-shirt, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him with a firm press of your lips, before he shimmies back into his boxers, though you personally don’t think he needs them.

When you finally settle down for the night you both curled up on your bed- because Hoseok’s is rumpled and sweaty from your previous exertions- and nestle up gratefully under the sheets, warm from the weight of the duvet and Hoseok spooning you from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs, nosing at the side of your neck.

“I love you too,” you reply, and then end up giggling a little, stomach jumping under Hoseok’s hand. “I need to buy Namjoon a thank you slash apology gift when we get home, you know,” you say thoughtfully. “He had to put up with me having a meltdown about you, and it turns out he was right.”

Hoseok brushes his nose over your ear. “Jin kept making pretty blasé comments to me about us,” he tells you. “But he does that about most things, so.”

You hum lightly before pressing back further against Hoseok, who tightens his hold around you in response. “I guess they knew before we did,” you say. “We’ve been acting like a couple for a long time, to be fair.” Thinking back on it, it was pretty obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

The next morning, as always, you wake before Hoseok- and this time when you feel the hardness pressed into your ass, you don’t panic. You do what you always do and slide carefully out of Hoseok’s arms, but unlike every other morning, he doesn’t wake up to an empty bed. Instead, he wakes up with a small gasp to the sight of you with your mouth around his cock, your eyes wide and innocent as you stare up at him; you work him up while he’s still half-asleep and slow, swallowing down his cock until he cums down your throat. You litter kisses over his hips and thighs, smiling into his skin as he comes down from his peak, his pupils blown.

“Morning, Hobi,” you say, kissing the divot below his hip bones. “I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, voice still a rasp from his sleep, eyes hungry as he reaches for you.

When the two of you eventually stumble downstairs for breakfast, Jimin and Taehyung are already there; you’re much later than normal but neither of the boys seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, Taehyung asking Hoseok to pass the pepper mill as soon as you’ve sat down.

Taehyung is enthusiastically grinding pepper over his bacon and eggs when Jimin pipes up. “You know, the ghosts in this B&B apparently like to watch the guests while they try to sleep and make noises to keep them up,” he says conversationally. “You didn’t happen to notice anything out of the ordinary in your room, did you? Taehyung and I could have sworn that we heard moaning or something at some point, but I think it must have been a trick of our minds.”

You and Hoseok exchange a quick glance. “Uh, nope, can’t say that we did,” you say, and Hoseok nods emphatically in agreement.

Jimin pauses. He squints at you, before turning to Taehyung and pulling the pepper mill out of his hands to get his attention. “I told you it was going to happen soon,” Jimin says. “They finally hit critical mass and confessed. I knew that moaning wasn’t from ghosts.”

“And there’s no mess to clean up, even if we didn’t win the betting pool.” Taehyung sounds pleased. “Can you pass the salt now please?”

You watch incredulously as both boys continue their business as usual, Taehyung swapping the pepper mill for the salt grinder while Jimin opens a tiny jar of raspberry jam for his toast.

You turn to Hoseok, scandalised at the idea that a) your friends/co-workers heard you last night and b) there’s apparently some sort of office bet about your relationship with Hoseok, only to find that the man in question has a look of alarm on his face.

“Do you think the ghosts were watching us last night?” He has an expression that’s a mix of affronted and also scared. “That’s dirty.”

“No, baby, I don’t think we had ghostly voyeurs in our room,” you say, stroking Hoseok’s hand with reassuring fingers, before you frown and look back at the other two boys. “I hate our friends. You have a betting pool?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Taehyung says. “I’m not sure who’s won the money, I’d have to check the spreadsheet when we get back home.”

“I bet Jin was the one who came up with it, wasn’t he?” Taehyung and Jimin exchange a look, but neither of them say anything, which is more than enough to answer your question. “I’m going to shove a wedge of parmesan down his throat when we get home and see how he likes it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok says.

“I love you too,” you reply, turning your head to accept the kiss he gives you.

“You’re so cute,” Jimin says.

“Why parmesan?” Taehyung asks, before twisting the salt grinder with enough gusto that he pulls the bottom off and salt goes cascading over his breakfast. “Oh, oops. Do you think they’ll let me have more eggs?”

Your thank you/apology gift to Namjoon is a tin of Scottish shortbread that you find in a cute tourist shop, although when you find out he’s actually the proud winner of 50% of the betting pool, you take the shortbread back for yourself and Hoseok instead.

When Yoongi arrives at his desk to the sight of you sitting in Hoseok’s lap and feeding him between kisses, he just rolls his eyes, mutters ‘finally’, and makes no further comments. You laugh into Hoseok’s mouth and allow Jungkook to steal a piece of shortbread on his way past, too busy kissing your boyfriend to care.

“You can have the last bit of shortbread,” you say, and Hoseok grins up at you.

“You’re just saying that because I ate you out this morning,” he says, and you giggle.

“I can’t believe you just made me listen to that with my own two ears. I’m in hell.” Yoongi sounds so tired. “I think I preferred it when the two of you were dancing around each other. Go back to doing that.”

“No can do, Yoongles,” you sing-song. “I love Hoseok and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“I love you too,” Hoseok says, looking up at you with bright eyes, and you giggle before dipping down to kiss him again.

“Everyone else knew before you did,” Yoongi mutters, but neither of you pay him any mind.

#jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jhope smut #bts x reader #jhope fluff #hoseok fluff #bts #jhope #jung hoseok #joy.masterlist

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bellafarallones2 · 3 years ago

Note

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the “kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

#jakehollis #taz hollis #jake coolice #taz barclay #taz keith

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errorsharingiscaring · 2 years ago

Text

Moon Knight System Relationship Analysis + Other Notes + A Lot Of Rambling + A Breakdown (Episode 4)

Jake gone.

System gone.

Life gone

Disclaimer: I do not have DID and to my knowledge have never met a system. I will fix any mistakes that people point out.

TW: Swearing, a lot of caps, MK rep criticism.

You know, when I started typing out my thoughts on episode 5 and then went into a tangent about episode 1 within the first paragraph and then decided “ok fuck it I guess we’re doing this now” and started this entire mess of a long-ass essay, I thought I’d lose interest incredibly quickly and never actually finish all of the episodes, or worse, I’d forget everything I wanted to say about episode 5’s ending (Which is an unfortunately common thing with me, it’s why I wanted to write it down).

But here we are. Episode 4. And the hours I spend rewatching the episodes and typing out my thoughts are the happiest hours of the day! And I’m glad I did it this way, not episode 5 first and then the others because now I’m gonna go into the thing with a whole new perspective. So many things I would have missed if I’d just taken everything at face value!

I love analysis. I genuinely do. It’s fun to see things come together, figure out the themes, understand characters and their motivations, piece together why the scene plays out like it does. But few shows have anything worth mentioning beyond the obvious reasonings and that makes analysis boring and not fun at all to do. So I’m very selective.

Moon Knight is a show that comes once in a decade. And I love every single part of it.

Episode 4. Tomb time!

And instantly we get to see why Marc trusts Layla so much to have his back – I'd put my life in her hands. Without question.

So for most of this episode Marc doesn’t front. It’s like a mirror to episode 3, where Steven fronted only at the end. And both of them had valid reasons for shunning the other, even if pettiness is part of it.

Or, I should say, a large part of it. Marc kept Steven from the front when he should have given it up as soon as he realized he knew nothing about the sarcophagus, so that stung. To be fair to Marc, he had no assurance that Steven was going to give the front back if things got ugly, which had a very high chance of happening in a wide open area where there are tens of armed goons. Eventually he did let him front, but that was in a more peaceful position (as far as they knew), where Steven wasn’t going to get shot at. But ah. Pettiness.

This beginning sequence, Layla talking to Steven, is both of them vocalizing their issues with Marc, who “isn’t there to hear”. And Layla starts with “we’re gonna need Marc”, but as soon as Steven points out that he was being kinda rude to her - “Hadn’t he disappeared from your life already?” it turns into bonding through hate.

As patient as Layla is, it is definitely not the easiest thing sticking by someone who seems to actively get in the way of doing that. Someone who refuses to talk, who just keeps everything to himself, and now he disappeared for months and his only explanation is “welp whatever guess I fucked up now huh I guess we’re not okay now oops”. Steven is everything Marc isn’t, just like Marc is everything Steven isn’t. Steven is honest and forthcoming with his words while Marc is closed off and expresses his affection through actions and small gestures. Marc is usually stoic, single-focused, while Steven goes on a million tangents as soon as anyone mentions anything Egypt-related. After Layla spent however long she did with Marc and got so used to his antics that eventually they’ve become a thing she speaks negatively about when angry, meeting Steven, someone who is the opposite of all those annoying habits, is truly refreshing.

This is not me justifying her kissing Steven. I feel like that’s a more complicated thing than the show allows it to be, and we can’t be certain about why Layla did it or how she felt, we don’t actually know her history with Marc.

But it may be possible that she just misses him?

Yeah she understands the alter thing and that Steven is not Marc, but... “You smell like him”, “you look like him”, and Marc’s most annoying habits are turned opposite, almost endearing because of how genuine Steven is...

All I’m saying is, there is probably a long conversation about this once all the tension dies down. And I hope we get to see it!

And despite everything, Marc still is worried for Steven. Every time Marc demands the front it’s when Steven is getting himself into a situation that Marc could handle better. But that has been this entire “mission” - this is Marc’s expertise, Steven was only really needed for figuring out the code for the sarcophagus. Everything else has been proven to be out of his depth, including handling a fight. So perhaps out of spite – not letting Marc do things the “violent” way, or out of pettiness – giving Marc a taste of his own medicine, not being allowed to front, Steven is not going to let himself be underestimated again. Not like he’s been his entire life, at his job, or by Marc, or Khonshu – Steven is going to get things done his way.

And Marc understands that. He’s been watching Steven be put down, walked over and misnamed for far too long. And maybe there was little guilt in Marc when he gave Steven the front last episode. Maybe he realized he treated Steven the way that all those awful people did. And when Steven put his foot down, declaring that this was now his mission, Marc saw something a little different in Steven.

So while he’s been protecting him this entire time, Marc realized his mistake in underestimating Steven. And when Steven doesn’t even flinch at “If you are gonna go through with this, you gotta be smart. For Layla’s sake”, Marc’s only reply is reassurance - “I’m here [in case you feel outnumbered], you’re not alone”.

(And personally I love how Marc says “I’ll throw us, oFF A CLIFF”. It’s sad that right after he says “I’m here” Steven just bites back with “I’ve got Layla”. Like “I have the trust of someone you fucked up your relationship with, how does that feel?”. It’s an understandable anger from Steven, but... he really does not get the full picture. And I’ve seen Marc’s reaction be called jealousy, which might be a part of it, but the sting of a person he thinks he’s been protecting by distancing himself from being so enamored with what Marc must think of as “his better version”, it’s just...

It hurts. And what hurts me is what if Marc thinks that Steven and Layla together is better for the both of them? What if Marc takes himself out of the picture on purpose, just so he can see the two people he loves the most be happy together, without his involvement, without him “fucking things up”?

… Episode 5 happens though. And even if Marc would try to make this happen, Steven wouldn’t allow it.

(Even now, when it’s just Steven and Layla, and Marc isn’t peeking into their conversation through any reflection, even when Layla is the one that leans into the kiss, Steven backs away with almost a scared look in his eyes and blurts out “Marc is trying to protect you”. Even full of spite and anger and pettiness, Steven almost automatically says “Marc isn’t a shitty guy”, because that’s what he’s slowly starting to realize.

It’s been steadily happening over time. How he reacted to Harrow’s speech about Khonshu, how he gave up the front to Steven mid-fight, how he let Steven do his thing with the sarcophagus map, how he did try to reassure Steven that he’s not alone and Marc is always there if the worst case scenario happens. It’s all the little moments Steven noticed that made him believe the first thing Marc told him – “I am protecting [Layla]”. So Steven tells her what Marc can’t - that he still very deeply cares for her.

So in Steven’s head, the kiss is less to replace Marc and more because they like each other as people. Overall, a decent way out of an impossible situation.

(Even if Marc doesn’t necessarily agree.)

(The fact that pure spite and anger was strong enough to take over just one hand for a single punch is just... Yeah I accept that as the only time in-universe rules are broken.))

And despite that, when Marc appears in a reflection again, he doesn’t seem pissed off. In fact, I think he’s missing a line in the few he says. A “Thank you”.

I feel like I re-say this every episode but Marc truly does not understand words. He does not know how to properly express what he feels in words, that’s why his actions are important, they speak to his inner world. So Steven saying what Marc couldn’t - that he’s protecting Layla and him pushing her away wasn’t because he suddenly decided he “wants his life back” - it’s a meaningful moment to Marc. Someone understanding what he can’t do and then doing that thing for him is probably a first from Steven.

Steven being kind to Marc is a first.

Just... Them <3

And now we get on a depression train that’s not gonna stop for a while, buckle in!

First time Harrow made Layla doubt the whereabouts of her father’s death, she asked Marc about it and he immediately said everything was false. And yes that conversation could count as a fight but it’s nothing they haven’t experienced before – Layla learning something new about Marc and being frustrated about it.

But this time Harrow gave details. That Marc was at the site, that her father was at the site and that scarf that Layla would know he died with. Marc can’t escape with lies again, he can’t say it doesn’t matter because Layla isn’t believing it again. Because even if Marc wasn’t the one that killed her father, “[he] was there”.

Layla is done with the lies, it’s honestly surprising she wasn’t done with them way before, but this is twice now the same lie Marc has been trying to tell her is related to her father. All that time together, marriage, partnership, perhaps even being the only person there for each other – and Marc never mentioned that he knew something about her father’s death. His worst habit, his lying, the thing that she experienced the most of and what caused the two of them the most pain – it comes back, just once more, to make them lose everything.

It hurts, knowing what’s ahead, but it is truly exceptional how much it hurts.

That Marc has to speak, he has to tell exactly how it went down, him sharing secrets is bringing unimaginable pain but he can’t soften the blow, he can’t cut himself off now, he wants to tell Layla “It’s not worth recalling, you don’t need to know”, but he knows her, he knows how much her father means to her, he knows he’s the only one that can say what truly happened and he has to because if he doesn’t do it now he never will.

Layla shoves him and he shifts right back, “You brought a killer right to him”, he can only nod, he can only accept that her hate and her anger and her “You just had a guilty conscience” accusation is the late punishment he is receiving for his actions. He can’t explain that their entire relationship isn’t him just doing penance, that he genuinely loves her and would give her the world, but he can’t give back what he took from her, that he will never forgive himself and will never stop trying to save her more pain than he has already caused her.

He doesn’t even get the chance.

The Sarcophsystem is killed.

(Oh. Oh no I hope I’m wrong.

Why didn’t Jake front to protect the system from death?

There’s definitely the aspect of there being just way too much to handle, that no matter what kind of power you have you couldn’t get out of that situation alive (or not horribly wounded). But there is a mystical power that could manage that.

One that.

Seems.

To come.

As a prerequisite.

To.

Jake.

Lockley.

What if it is exactly that. Yes yes Jake can see what’s happening and he may understand that it’s hopeless but this is not the first “hopeless” situation the system has gotten itself into. Episode 6, how the hell do you recover enough from your soul being sucked out of your body to take out a horde of goons and a person that holds the power of an almighty god? Yes yes Khonshu armor gud, BUT JAKE IS A HUGE PART OF THAT MIRACULOUS FIX. Steven had that armor, Marc had that armor, and yet as soon as Jake took the stage, it apparently didn’t even take that long for the situation to be dealt with. With how Layla reacts when Marc and Steven return, it’s not impossible to think it was just a blink of an eye (CUE THE COMIC ACCURATE WAVY MUMMY STRIP ARMOR THAT REALLY LOOKS LIKE IT COULD TAKE CARE OF A BUNCH OF PEOPLE AT ONCE).

What if Jake can only handle things when he has Khonshu’s armor. Or his protection, encouragement, WHAT IF POST CREDITS SCENE IS MORE THAN JUST KHONSHU TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE SYSTEM. What if the only reason Jake is protecting the system or bothering to is because of a deal he made with Khonshu?

What if the Jake alter appeared because of Khonshu?

Yes I know Khonshu had something to do with Marc’s brother dying, but why the fuck would that stupid bird take notice of a completely ordinary child? IT’S PROBABLY SOMETHING SEASON 2 EXPLAINS BUT COME ON.

If we take all the facts as we have them now, it is hauntingly pointing towards Jake only being there because of Khonshu. Protecting the system because of Khonshu, because of a deal, because of something that prevented Jake from defending the system from death when they didn’t have Khonshu’s power.

You cannot begin to fathom how much I hope I’m wrong. From what I’ve seen of people talking about the comics and Jake he has nothing to do with Khonshu pre-Marc making a deal with him, Jake is another alter like Steven, appearing because of severe childhood trauma and serving a purpose that’s mainly “protecting the system like they weren’t when they were kids”, but what other fricking explanation is there.

Alps was a death situation. THE GUYS HAD GUNS, Jake pops in then, pops in with the car chase, one wrong swerve they were all dead.

Cairo chase was also death, THE GUYS HAD KNIVES, Jake pops in then!

You’re telling me Jake “I’ll take care of this fight for you Steven!” Lockley wasn’t going to even try getting them out of that situation?

You’re telling me Jake “I’ll take the uncomfortable ride through this bumpy car with these people that really want us dead for you Marc!” Lockley wasn’t going to front to at least take the pain of the gunshot?!

You’re telling me Jake “I’ll kill this evil bastard that wants us dead for you guys because I know you’re not gonna do it because you don’t want that on your conscience!” Lockley just-

JUST LET THEM DIE LIKE THAT?!

AND NOW I’M JUST THINKING OF HIM KNOWING HOW TO GET OUT OF THE AFTERLIFE. Like he’s obviously buddy-buddy with Khonshu, you think the birb talked to him more and explained the afterlife and how to come back to life to him?! YOU’RE TELLING ME THE MORE REASONABLE OPTION TO EXPLAIN THIS IS JUST “KHONSHU SAID TO FREE HIM BECAUSE HE AND JAKE KNEW OF A WAY TO DIE AND COME BACK TO LIFE WITH MINIMAL EFFORT BUT IT REQUIRES KHONSHU TO BE NOT BOUND TO STONE”?!

WHY WOULD THE BIRD THEN TAKE THE RISK OF BEING BOUND, WHAT IF SOMEONE SHOT THE SYSTEM AS SOON AS HE WAS A ROCK BIRB?!

DID KHONSHU ALSO KNOW HOW TO APPEAL TO OSIRIS SO HE WOULD LET THEM THROUGH THE GATES?!

HOW MUCH DOES JAKE KNOW OF THE AFTER LIFE!!!!

Oh my LORD.

Okay. Great. Amazing. We have two explanations.

Jake had a deal with Khonshu before Marc even knew he existed. Great. Cool. Jake only protects the system when Khonshu is there to give him immortality armor. Yeah. This sounds really stupid now that I say it out loud.

BUT THE ALTERNATIVE IS THAT KHONSHU TOLD JAKE BASICALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THE ENNEAD AND HOW IT WORKS, HOW TO MANIPULATE TAWERET TO TURN THE BOAT AROUND SO THEY WOULD BE HEADING TOWARDS THE GATES OF OSIRIS, THEN EXPLAINED HOW TO APPEAL TO OSIRIS SO HE LETS THEM BACK INTO LIFE, AND IT ALL HINGED ON KHONSHU NOT BEING BOUND TO STONE SO THE HEALING ARMOR CAN REVIVE THEM – AND THEN THE STONE AGE FUCKING PREHISTORIC DINOSAUR WENT AND GOT HIMSELF TURNED INTO A STUPID PLAGUE DOCTOR STATUE?!

I-

It makes so much sense I hate it.

I hate-

Oh my lord.

Basically:

Khonshu: “If there ever comes a time when you can’t get out of a difficult situation, dying is a valid option!”

Jake: “WhAt.”

I just.

I want a season 2.

I WANT THEM TO EXPLAIN SO MUCH SHIT-

GodDAMMIT.

(AND THE SCALES BALANCE HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO MAKE THE SCALES BALANCE THAT’S NOT SOME SORT OF FORMULA YOU CAN JUST MEMORIZE TO REPEAT IT EASILY WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUU-))

Aight that’s episode 4.

I knooooow the beginning of the hospital is this episode’s end, but I have the intro written already and I wanna start with it so the only thing I can really is the way Steven was screaming inside the sarcophagus seemed really alarmed. This is one of two pieces of evidence towards my “Steven is claustrophobic” theory, and there’s not much beyond it. But I guess it’s just a little bit about Steven, and these little things end up doing the most for characterization, so it’s a win!

And before diving head-first into episode 5, I have to say that for all the love I have for this show, I can’t ignore its worse sides. My focus is the writing, not the matter of whether it’s good representation or not, but scrolling through tumblr it’s inevitable to read people’s reviews.

And just judging it by rep... it’s mixed at best.

They avoided using proper DID terminology, avoided using the actual term itself, characters repeated insults usually thrown at systems that are used to discredit DID, and the show didn’t disprove them (when it should have, adamantly), it used the classic annoyingly unrealistic “alters talk through reflections” thing, they didn’t have a conversation about DID where it was plainly said that systems are people same as otherwise neurodivergent persons are, all really important to hear to a mainstream audience that’s been fed bad and false representation for a long time, now taking the show as high authority in the conversation.

I admire the writing. It fell really short on representation.

So there is room for improvement. And thank fuck there is, if it was an astronomical disaster in every aspect imaginable, it would be a lot more difficult to convince a studio such as Marvel to give it another shot with tweaks that the fans and community suggested. And that would affect their opinion on trying to represent other marginalized groups. (I know a lot of people think that would be a good thing, but there has to be something to balance out the misinformation of media in the past. The stigma has to be rooted out, and Marvel is using their platform like a huge multi-media corporation should. All of their research matched the insane resources they have for it, so they can dedicate even more to get it just right.)

A verdict of good or bad is too final for a show that tackled a long misrepresented topic of an experience that is very different for each person. And looking back on people’s opinions when the announcement of Moon Knight came out...

We all expected much worse, didn’t we?

Like as soon as we saw “MARVEL is making a show about a CHARACTER THAT HAS DID”, we all expected the worst of the worst, that it was going to be such bad representation it would put Split to shame.

So if nothing else, those expectations are shattered. For better, for worse, for somewhere in the middle.

So whatever comes first, season 2 or a movie appearance, let’s hope that they at least start using the terms that any simple tumblrite can find and easily remember within 20 minutes of scrolling.

(Let’s hope)

Episode 5 my friend, my fiend.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #MKSRA #episode 4 #moon knight episode 4 #mk episode 4 #moon knight spoilers #mk spoilers

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amariaamaris · 3 years ago

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Of Changes and Revelations

I got this idea from the other Marvel and TVD crossover that I did, it is going to be (hopefully) very different. I hope it comes out well and that I do it justice... I’m already working on a second part, I felt that this was getting a little to long! Please let me know what you think and if there are any grammar/spelling/punctuation things that need fixing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. This took me forever, there were so many roadblocks and questioning myself on if I actually wanted to write this. Thanks to my sister pushing me and my imagination running wild with promises of what I can do in the future with this... I decided to go through with it... so enjoy!

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

After it’s all said it done; after Esther failing in killing her children, Bonnie’s mother being turned to break the link, Abby bailing (again), Klaus forcing Bonnie to break the spell Esther did... The expulsion of magic that resulted inadvertently saved Finn’s life, knocking out the scooby gang in the process (including most everyone in the town). While also setting fire to anything flammable within the radius of the town (leaving only a select few homes and buildings untouched). It’s safe to say all the white oak is gone... along with multiple buildings.... (oops?) The poor trees are all fried, though luckily they have strong bark, so they’ll survive (it also helps that Bonnie helped to heal them).

All of it coalesces and brings Bonnie to locking herself up in her grams house for as long as she pleases with no acknowledgement of the outside world. She had methodically gone through the house and unplugged the internet, tv’s, shut down her phone, and all other electronics. She just wants to be left alone, Bonnie is exhausted; she’s tired of being used, abused, and taken for granted.

She had found a boundary spell in one of the grimoires to keep those with ill or selfish intent off her property and the fu- away from her (especially certain vampires). In the middle of the week Bonnie left her grams house and went to the school. At the beginning of the week she set up this time to test out of high school.

Bonnie made sure to blend in with the crowd to not be spotted by her “friends”; they may have not seen her, but she definitely saw them. She took the test within three and a half class periods and got the hell out of there. Bonnie drove away like a bat out of hell and made it back to her grams house as fast as she possibly could. She had completely moved into her grams house throughout the one after another of the supernatural shit show that she now calls her life (or rather did call her life). Not like her father was ever around for her to bother staying in his house.

The plus side of testing out of high school is that she can go and get whatever she needs without being worried about being ambushed by her “friends” or the Mikaelson's. Bonnie has also decided that she is going to take all the time that she needs to spend on self-love, working with her magic to learn, and embrace it joyfully. She also has been spending time in meditation and speaking with all of her ancestors. For once in her life, Bonnie Shelia Bennett has finally decided to be selfish and damn the consequences.

Little did she know that her new change would go right along with a huge change that will flip her world on its axis and bring up deeply buried memories.

————

Rudy Bennett knew that this day would come, he knew that eventually they would hunt him down. After all, he did abandon his post, he cut off all contact and went rogue. In doing so, also kept his child away from her culture and her people. He knows that if they find out about her and his lack of parenting, that would sign his fate.

Rudy couldn’t hide his shaking hands as he poured himself a drink and promptly chugged what was in his glass. He did decide that he wouldn’t run or hide, he was going to wait for them to come. He just got done pouring his second one when the lights flickered off; causing a shiver of fear to run down his spine, he could also feel sweat on the back of his neck.

When the lights flickered on, there were two Dora Milaje standing on the other side of his desk. Still as stone holding their vibranium spears, with the king and his cousin standing in between them. Both in different black panther suits (armor?), causing Rudy to gulp. Rudy could feel more sweat break out on his skin as he warily stared at his king.

“D’Kadi Dzube, you’ve been missing a long time.” Rudy or rather D’Kadi watched as both the men tapped on their collars and watched as the mask melted away and showed their faces. Rudy could hear his blood rushing to his ears as he felt himself pale a little. “You were once my father’s most trusted war dog. Then one day, you disappeared without a trace. Just a few months ago we found you... we also found some very interesting information. D’Kadi Dzube you have a daughter that you hid from your people. From my understanding you have been neglecting her as well.”

Rudy could hear ringing in his ears and the blood rushing through his body, he could imagine that he looked white as a sheet. Everything was blurring and before he knew it his eyes were rolling and he fell into darkness.

————

Bonnie could feel something coming to the depths of her bones, it would cause her to pause as her hair would stand up on its ends. Which would lead her to looking out the windows, but there was nothing there. It got to the point where Bonnie decided to add an extra warding to the house rather than the property. Evidently to keep anyone away from the structure of the home, while still being able to enter the yard (only if they pass the wards on the property that is).

Bonnie had started a cute little herbal and vegetable/fruit garden in her backyard, along with some landscaping spanning around the whole house. Along with flowers on both sides of the pathway walking up to the house. Bonnie has never before felt this free and happy. That doesn’t change the fact that she still feels a phantom twinge of pain when she thinks of how her friends haven’t even tried to come visit her. Not. A. Single. One.

Hell! Even Klaus showed up! Not that he could get on the property and it’s not like he was checking up on her... but still! Bonnie lets out an annoyed huff and shakes her head as she focuses back on her plants at the front of the house. She tries to work through her agitation; at her friends, the Mikaelson’s, the Salvatore’s, her parents, her grams for not teaching her from the beginning, at herself for not being smarter and wiser, and Bonnie might as well add the world to the list to.

She very quickly finds herself falling into a flow of taking care of the plants as everything washes away. Bonnie has found that in many instances doing something like this puts her in a meditative trance that helps to center her. Two hours pass with Bonnie working on her plants, when she hears a car drive up and park on the curb.

Bonnie allows herself to slow down in her landscaping work, but doesn’t turn around - even as she hears the car doors open and shut. She can also hear strangely accented voices talking, both male... but she can sense more people with them. Hearing them coming closer makes Bonnie glad that she chose to wear a wide brimmed straw hat that belonged to her grams (she’s rather not have people recognize her before she can tell whether or not they are threats).

“Excuse me? Are you the daughter of Rudy Bennett and Abby Bennett....” She freezes, but gives no answer. Bonnie can already feel her magic gathering, ready to motus the hell out of all of the people behind her. Receiving no answer, the people behind her exchange looks, “Granddaughter to Shelia Bennett?” Bonnie feels her agitation spike, causing her to rip off her dirty gardening gloves and throw them to the ground.

Bonnie turns around to look at them, noticing two men that look like cousins, two bald women that have what look to be tribal tattoos on their heads, and a random white man wearing clothing far heavy for how warm it is. Bonnie can practically feel her magic crackling at her fingertips and through her hair. “That depends on who is asking and why...?”

One of the cousins move to step forward, but upon seeing the look on her face, thinks better of it. Though, that didn’t stop him from kindly smiling at her, “My name is T’Challa, this is my cousin N’Jadaka, these two women are Okoye and Ayo, and this is James Barnes. I would like to speak to you about your father.”

Bonnie studies all of them and then flicks her eyes back to T’Challa, before she can respond with something biting, she hears whispers upon the wind. She allows herself to slightly tilt her head to listen better. After a few seconds Bonnie focuses back on T’Challa and the people he brought with him. “I’m not interested in talking about the sperm donor that calls himself my father. I could care less what type of underground cultish mafia he got himself into. If he owes you anything make Rudy deal with it, his problem’s aren’t mine to deal with.”

Bonnie quickly makes her way onto the porch of the house - without turning her back on them (she doesn’t have a death wish) - already knowing that whoever these people are, they aren’t going to let her off easily. N’Jadaka, the man with weird bumps all over his extremely musc- no! Bonnie quickly mentally shakes herself as he snickers with a smirk on his face. “I don’t think I have ever heard someone call people from Wakanda a cult or mafia. The little kitten does have a point cousin.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, “She should be wary, she knows nothing about her father’s history. “

“N’Jadaka...” T’Challa gives him a sharp warning look, not noticing Bonnie moving to open the front door to slip inside. “Where do you think you’re going kitten? We said we wanted to talk that’s what you’re going to let us do!” He moves to go onto the porch, but feels like he hit a brick wall, N’Jadaka also gets a nasty zap throughout his entire body. Causing him to hiss slightly in pain as the group takes notice of the wind picking up and hissing whispers upon the wind (not that they could make out what they were saying). They do notice how Bonnie seems to understand exactly what is being said upon her head whipping around to face the road. All of them watched as she ripped off her hat and lightly tossed it onto the porch swing, they heard the sharp angry hiss escape from her as her green eyes darkened.

The group from Wakanda evenly spaced themselves out as they turned upon hearing a car door slam, they all watch as a long blonde haired young woman walked around the car and onto the property. “Bonnie! Where have you been? We have all been trying to get a hold of you, you haven’t been at school, you haven’t been answering your phone or showing up to practice! We’ve been worried! Honestly Bonnie Bennett you better have a good reason for completely cutting all of us out of your life... who are these people?!” Bonnie stares at Caroline for a few seconds realizing that her chest no longer hurts when thinking of her ex-friends. In fact Bonnie realizes with sudden clarity that there isn’t pain when she thinks of her friends, only white hot fiery fury and looking at Caroline only makes her annoyance and fury rise at the audacity that she had to show up to her grams house unannounced at her house, at her sanctuary.

“Who they are is none of your business Caroline, in fact they were just leaving, like you will be. I’m not particularly in the mood to talk to people that ruined my perfectly peaceful day by arriving unannounced.” Turning her attention to the curious onlookers Bonnie continues “I don’t care to talk about Rudy and whatever shit show he’s gotten himself into,” looking to Caroline “and I don’t want to be forced to listen to lies! I’m well aware that none of you have noticed my absence up until a couple days ago. I’m also aware that none of you actually care for me, all of you just see me as some weapon to be used. Well I’m done being your sword and shield. I want all of you the hell off of my grams property. Do whatever you want with Rudy, it’s not my problem and I want nothing to do with it. Caroline you and the rest of those assholes can shove your lies and demands up your asses. I’m not going to be your quick fix to problems you brought on yourselves. Grow the fuck up and deal with them yourself! Now get the fuck off of my property!”

The front door slams viciously behind Bonnie, whose screaming voice still echoed in the air with whispers following it, the group from Wakanda all had their eyebrows almost to their hairlines. While Caroline’s jaw was dropped almost to the ground in shock and hurt. “You should leave Care-o-line, you’re no friend of hers.” N’Jadaka’s voice quickly pulls her out of it and brings up her misplaced righteous fury. “Oh, really, I am her friend. Who the hell are you? From the way it was looking none of you are friends of Bonnie’s! I’m her best friend!! You had to have done something to upset her, she would have never said something like that or treated me that way! All of you are the ones who should leave!”

N’Jadaka moves to step forward, but James puts his hidden vibranium arm in front of him and says only one thing in a harsh warning tone. “Erik...” Causing Erik to suck on his teeth for a second then back down. While T’Challa steps forward with his hands up in the universal sign of peace. “Miss...” Caroline huffs out her answer to his silent question, “Caroline Forbes!” He immediately gives a soft smile, “Miss Forbes, I believe all of us need to leave Bonnie alone for the time being. If it makes you feel better we will get into our car first, but we will only be leaving after you drive away. She is important to our people and I will not risk something happening.” Caroline works her jaw as the gogs in her brain slowly turn, her eyes sharpen for a few seconds, but she quickly gives in and slowly, dejectedly nods.

None of them notice the whispers on the wind that one small young Bennett witch listens too as they all drive away, with a contemplating look in her eyes.

————

The next day has Bonnie working in the backyard harvesting the herbs, vegetables, and fruits that she needs. Bonnie gives absolutely no reaction to N’Jadaka’s presence as he walks around the back of the house. “You know it’s seen as extremely rude to not only invite yourself to someone’s house, especially not knocking on the front door.” She has to hide her slight smile upon hearing him huff out a laugh, “I’d love to knock on your front door kitten, the only problem is... I couldn’t seem to get on the first step.” Bonnie can sense the question in his words, but chooses to ignore it and continue her work. She can feel him watching her and gets quickly fed up witch a harsh huff Bonnie stops what she is doing, stands up, and turns to face him.

She has to give herself a few seconds to get accustomed to the height difference between the two of them, to put it simply... he dwarfs her. Not only in height, but in sheer muscle mass, she averts her eyes to try and hide the affect he’s having on her. Bonnie decides to chalk it up to the fact that she hasn’t had any direct human contact for a while. “Look N’Jadaka...” “Erik” His interruption causes her to blink, “What?” Erik let’s out a quiet huff while a smirk plays along his lips. “My colonizer name kitten, is Erik. I’d rather go by it than N’Jadaka... has a lot more pride in it than my other name does.”

Bonnie quietly mouths colonizer with a confused look, but decides that they can come back to that later. “Fine! Erik... just...” Bonnie let’s out breath and frowns as her eyes play across the plains of his face and the outdoors. “I don’t know why... but my ancestors like you and they say that I can trust you. Now I’m going to do something that I never do... I’m going to trust my ancestors.” She allows herself to walk up to him and look him directly in the eyes “and if you ever... and I mean ever break that trust. I will personally find a way to kill you, slowly, painfully, and only when your begging for mercy will I kill you... got it?” While she was talking her finger was poking him in the chest to help emphasize her words with a sickly sweet smile upon her face.

Erik gives a slow smile knowing that he shouldn’t find himself turned on by her threat, but he is. He allows himself to carefully grab the hand she was poking him with and holds onto it. Erik chooses to ignore the quiet gasp that escapes her lips... for the moment “You got it kitten, would you like me to explain what you were very unwilling to talk about yesterday with my cousin?” He watches completely fascinated as her eyelashes shadow her eyes while she thinks it over, when she looks up and focuses back on him, she gives a hesitant nod. “Okay, but your helping me with my garden... if we have to talk about something that I would rather never have to think about again, your going to be useful and help.” Her words pull a sharp laugh out of Erik, as he grins and gives a nod in acceptance.

Once she quickly shows him what do to and what to look for, they start working. As they work he explains everything to her, everything hidden from her, everything that her father has done... everything. It completely shatters her, it obliterates everything she thought she knew about her father and his side of the family, everything she thought she knew and understood about herself; it sends her completely into orbit. She doesn’t even realize that she is crying, nor does she realize that she is raging at Erik and upon his body. Her fists swinging to hit his chest as her magic angrily swirls around them. Bonnie feels as though she is shattered into a trillion shimmering atoms being carried away upon the wind. She can’t tell if she will ever find herself... how can she? Bonnie doesn’t think that she can gather the exploded pieces... how can she find them? They have scattered to the wind getting caught in the trees, falling to the streams of water to be carried and caught elsewhere. Bonnie can’t even feel Erik tightly holding her as he somehow carries her inside of her grans house. And eventually, much later into the night, he helps to pull her back together, but for now. He try’s to help hold together what little is left of Bonnie Shelia Bennett.

As her true name echoes through her entire being...

Ahnika...

————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. The second part is on its way! Peace, love, and joy!

#thevampirediares #black panther #bonnie bennett #rudy bennett #t'challa #n'jadaka #dora milaje #crossover #james buchanan barnes #white wolf #non canon

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leam1983 · 3 years ago

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On History

So, you're looking for a campaign hook as a DM, or you're workshopping a novella or a story concept. The one problem you've got is that the concept you're working on is rooted in things the last few generations tend to be exceedingly vocal about. Try genocide, murder, exploitation, racism, bigotry, homophobia - whatever works, really. Now you're spinning around, trying to keep the cool parts of your concept while excising everything else - and you're hitting a wall. Things, effectively, stop making sense.

As students of History and as writers, what of the most painful lessons we could all strive to pick up is that History is, first of all, written by the victors - and that it's usually written in blood.

Let's say you're looking to really remove yourself from problematic elements and to start afresh. Let's start with, say, a custom Fantasy setting. Orcs and elves, human kingdoms, a Dark Lord or some central conflict for good measure and - oops. You've just added some sense of History in there. Kingdoms don't sprout out of whole cloth without a single soul emerging unbloodied, Dark Lords or rival kingdoms don't form if there aren't sociopolitical tensions or ideological differences.

Okay, let's go for Space Opera, then! Humanity's all wizened and crap, we're set as having evolved past all of our cultural and anthropological hangups and - whoops. Another problem rears its head: if your group of protagonists is defacto agreeable to a fault, where is your pathos or tension going to come from? You might have something planned in the form of a race with a high coefficient of determinism and very little individuality and - aw, crap. Someone's gone ahead and compared that to Stalinist Communism.

Let's try, say, a gumshoe story. You've done your homework, you've got all the tropes between Spillane, Sam Spade or Bogart movies all squared out and ready for dissection, you've reprocessed them for a contemporary setting and - fuck. You need an antagonist, somewhere in there. Someone or something that motivates the investigation that's anchoring your plot. You're going to pigeonhole yourself into mentioning something skeevy at some point, and maybe you're even working up to the point where gun violence or drug trade or prostitution exist in the margins of your story, and -

You get the gist. If all you're shooting for is agreeable coffee shop AUs, then sure, scale conflicts down to some dude just being a bit of a jackass at times. If you're looking to world-build, on the other hand, you can't do so without breaking someone or something's back first. It's the way all of human history was conceived, even in cases where no blood was spilled or respects were effectively paid.

That Fantasy setting? Make sure it roots your antagonist's pursuits, then. Make sure the Dark Lord's forces are accurately represented, between blind devotees and reluctant stragglers secretly looking for a way out. Understand that Hobbits had the same potential for darkness as the Orcs - Gollum is the living embodiment of that fact.

For Space Opera, understand that all that makes us what we are is still lying just underneath Gene Roddenberry's laudable, if rosy ideals. Some people might take to space to further Science or the cause of peace, but you'll always find someone who hasn't gotten the message, who looks at their first aliens as if they were ants to crush or competitors to out-play - even if you imagine your space people were groomed for their tolerance and equanimity. You can't root out or burn away an entire part of what we are, no matter how skeevy it is.

Human history is designed out of people seeking, escaping, repairing or causing conflict. If your campaign concept is having trouble getting off the ground and you're uncomfortable with certain core concepts of your depicted reality, the only course of action is to take a running jump - and to leap headfirst into that darkness.

Root that evil in something tangible. Make it clear that the story sets the pace for a collection of mostly-commendable individuals, but take time to shape the ways in which generations of men and women with less-informed ideals or worldviews might've scarred the land for generations to come.

In my case, and for my concept, I'm actively leveraging this. Humanity has, in fact, left Earth, and the Halcyon Collective has spent generations convincing itself that it's made up of the very best of what Mankind has to offer, both ethically and technically - but greed is a very, very hard thing to stamp out. The same goes for self-righteousness, especially if someone else is sufficiently loathesome as to allow yourself an easy prop-up job as one of the "good guys"...

After all, if the natives basically refer to bioelectrically-powered effects as "magic" and you're out here with ion drives easily refitted into ion cannons - and especially if the first few rounds of talks failed - why not assume that you can take the locals' land by force, out of the misguided assertion that you're better-suited at protecting the locals from a threat they've faced on their own for millennia?

It might seem defeatist, but people learn from their mistakes. Humanity on the whole, however, has always been especially slow on the uptake. It's not ideal and it's especially not rosy, but it roots most settings in ways that make notions of Right and Wrong more nuanced, and more textured.

Otherwise, what's the alternative? Write a Manichean National Epic and you might as well be penning a massive Lord of the Rings fanfic with all the names crossed out.

#on writing #problematic topics #why they're necessary

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oneofyatosfollowers · 3 years ago

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The Tracksuited Vampire

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34228975

Fanfic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13965486/1/The-Tracksuited-Vampire

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Hiyori was never one to break the rules. She’s never stolen anything, ate all her vegetables, and passed all her tests. There was one rule that Hiyori has made a habit of breaking on a daily basis: her curfew. A year ago, the high school student wouldn’t dream of sneaking out of her room at dusk to skip across town and hang out with the undead. But now it was such a habit Hiyori found the daytime to be a little jarring. Thankfully, ‘the undead’ in this case was not zombies or ghosts but with a race that humanity believed to only exist in stories.

“Good evening, Hiyori!” Daikoku greeted as he opened the door. The girl nodded to the undead-human, his complexion looking paler than it’s usual ivory.

“Good evening,” Hiyori gave a short bow, “may I come in?” She didn’t have to ask- she wasn’t the one who couldn’t enter homes without permission- but Hiyori had come to learn it was polite among this type of company.

“Of course,” Daikoku nodded. Moving aside, Daikoku let Hiyori enter the home, her clothes a sharp contrast from the perky, romantic gothic interior decorations the home had. At the pink glass table, shaped like a cross, sat a young woman with curly pink hair and lips painted in blood.

“Hiyori!” Kofuku sat up. No, the creatures that have been living amongst humans- the ones Hiyori made her friends in- were vampires. The kind that sucked blood, transformed, and held special powers unique to their individual. They were also the kind of creature that could transform humans into their servants under the right conditions.

“Aaht! Aaht!” Daikoku chided, “face!” He gestured to the red around the young lady’s mouth. Kofuku let out a giggle and reached for a lacy napkin on the table, slightly embarrassed.

“Oops, sorry!” She said, wiping the blood from her face. Hiyori just smiled and rolled her eyes, already desensitized to such eating habits. She didn’t have to look to know Daikoku sported two fresh puncture wounds on his neck. Such is the trade of being brought back to life by his master. Speaking of master and servant.

“Are Yato and Yukine awake yet? I have Yukine’s homework graded,” Hiyori patted her bag, holding the eternal teen’s assignments.

“They should be gettin up soon. Yukine has training tonight,” Daikoku said.

“Ah that’s right! I’ll go wake them.” Hiyori smiled, putting her things down.

“Oh, you sure you want to do that Hiyori?” Kofuku grinned, “they cleaned up a lot of corrupt souls last night. Yatty will probably wake up hungry.” She intoned, leaning across the table on one elbow. Kofuku’s smile revealed her sharp canines that matched Yato’s, short compared to the length those twin needles could grow. Despite the trust Hiyori had in these people, she still swallowed thickly at the sight, not knowing what it felt like to be pierced.

“Stop that, don’t scare her,” Daikoku huffed, “Yato has Yukine now and he’s hardly the man-eater he used to be.” The servant shrugged. Hiyori gave them a nod before making her way up the stairs to the attic her friends made their home in. She knocked on the door lightly before peeking into the pitch black room. On the floor was a nice futon, empty, so Hiyori forced a little more of her body in. Towards the back of the room was a ramshackle coffin, spray painted black with a gold crown where the cross should be, empty. Taking another step, Hiyori squinted to try and make out if anyone was actually in the room, until a subtle movement caught her eye.

“Goodmorning, Yato,” Hiyori whispered, giving him a wave. Dangling from a wooden beam, a pitch black megabat shuffled its wings. Yato peaked at her with light blue eyes like snow globes, squinting at the hallway light from down a fox-like snout.

“Oh sorry,” Hiyori closed the door as much as she could. She smiled as the bat chirped and squeaked softly, rubbing his wings over his eyes. Leaving the door where it is, Hiyori went to stand under the vampire, footsteps just as quiet as her voice. Bats had such delicate hearing after all.

“I have Yukine’s homework, could you wake him up please?” Hiyori asked softly. Yato blinked at her once then shuffled around again. Eventually his wings unfolded to reveal a tiny blonde bat clinging to his master's stomach, asleep in the black fur.

“Yukine held his transformation while sleeping,” Hiyori gasped quietly, “that’s wonderful!” Her excitement was met with a louder chirp before Yato got to waking Yukine up. His snout nuzzled the smaller one’s head, licking and nipping, until Yukine let out a groggy squawk. The servant was clearly upset with being woken up but Yato quickly clicked to him and explained the situation. Finally, Yukine looked down at her, his bat form having a pushed up nose and large ribbed ears. He gave a chirp in greeting before Hiyori raised the back of her hand. Yukine’s golden eyes narrowed and he tucked his legs and wings under him, body swaying as he judged the distance. Yato was watching him, chirping out orders and suggestions. After a couple of long seconds, Yukine leapt off his master’s stomach and half glided, half struggled his way through the air until he crashed into Hiyori’s hand.

“That was a good try, Yukine,” Hiyori offered, helping him onto her palm. The bat, a puff ball just bigger than her hand, let out a huff of frustration. Now Yato’s chirping was much louder, sounding more like light chastising, which Yukine returned in kind.

“Now, now, Yukine, let’s go over your homework,” Hiyori said. Making her way to the door, the air around Hiyori was suddenly whipped around, blowing her hair across her face and eyes.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted over the loud flapping right next to her ear, “warn me before you use me as a landing perch!” Her pleas were ignored as she felt hooked feet latch onto her shoulder and a weight push her down. Yukine was shouting at Yato while Yato chirped back happily. It occurred to Hiyori that maybe Yato’s previous sounds were directed at her. She sighed as she walked the two bickering bats down the stairs.

“Can’t you walk down the stairs yourself? Lazy bastard, don’t make a highschool girl carry you down!” Daikoku immediately hollered when they entered the room. It took the two bats a couple seconds to adjust to the lights again before Yato just squawked and swooped towards the table.

“Come off it, Daikoku. Hiyori’s a tough girl,” Yato said as he transformed and took a seat at the table. The man was still in his pajamas and Hiyori could only guess Yukine was the same. She sat down and held her hand steady as Yukine climbed onto the table, his movements much more graceful in this form than a month ago.

“Yuki! You stayed in your form this whole time!” Kofuku praised, scratching under Yukine’s chin.

“Nice job kid!” Daikoku chimed in. Yukine thanked them with cute little chirps, shuffling his body so that he was sitting up better.

“Now you just have to shift back,” Kofuku said lightly. The room went quiet as they watched Yukine with supportive smiles. The tiny bat’s body shook as Yukine squeezed his eyes shut.

“Remember your breathing,” Yato offered after a couple seconds of nothing. Yukine let out harsh, rapid breaths from his pig nose that eventually slowed. The transformation was rather slow compared to the others and looked to be painful and required a ton of thought, but eventually a short, blonde teenager was sitting at the table.

“Good job!” Yato smiled.

“That was excellent Yukine! You didn’t pause once!” Kofuku added. The teen was hunched over the table, out of breath and sweaty, but smiling with pride.

“That was good, Yukine,” Hiyori complimented. By now, Daikoku set breakfast on the table, Yato and Kofuku digging in.

“Thanks,” Yukine replied, forking some pancakes onto a plate. Their breakfast continued as Hiyori politely had a bowl of late-night cereal. Her and Yukine went over his homework from that morning. Since Hiyori was out of school for the summer, and vampires were awake from sunset to sun-high, most of Yukine’s work was done right when they woke up. That way Yato and Yukine could train for the rest of the night and go on patrol by sunrise.

“So what are you doing for training today?” Daikoku asked.

“Tower.” Yato stated.

“No,” Yukine slammed his fork down.

“Ooo the tower!” Kofuku gushed, “that’s where I brought Daikoku!”

“And that only worked because I practiced properly beforehand.” Daikoku tacked on with a roll of his eyes.

“Exactly,” Yukine said.

“And you did practice properly beforehand but now it’s time you learned by the tower,” Yato pointed with his fork, “you already know all the flight positions and techniques, you just need to put them into practice.” He insisted. Yukine groaned while the rest of the table gave him sympathetic smiles and shoulder pats.

Hiyori clenched her chopsticks in apprehension as she eyed the terror that was weaved deep into Yukine’s expression. After all, a human could only become a servant to a pure-blooded vampire after certain conditions were met. Condition one was that the vampire had to be willing to tie the human’s life to theirs. The second was that the human had to be on the brink of death but still able to give the tiniest hint of consent. And the third condition- the one that had Hiyori the most uncomfortable- was that the human had to have brought themselves to death's door willingly. There was a reason Yukine feared flying, feared heights when he wasn’t clinging to Yato, and it was from a moment in his life he was at his lowest. In his own words, Yukine said he simply jumped from a place that wasn’t high enough. Yato smelled his blood, heard his dying soul calling out to be saved, and the rest was history.

Even so, a couple hours later, Hiyori followed Yato and Yukine out of town to the middle of nowhere. Apparently ‘the tower’ was an old stone cylinder that reached above the surrounding trees with a single door and a winding staircase. The top was empty with a simple mini fence preventing non-flying people from falling. Since they were in such company, Yato and Yukine walked with Hiyori up the stairs to the top, the blonde reluctant with every step. At the top, Hiyori realized the building was much higher than it looked. The wind tugged at her hair and clothes and Hiyori subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the two with uncertainty.

“Yato, are you sure this is the best thing for flying?” She asked. Back in his ratty tracksuit, Yato waved his hand at her.

“Yes, the adrenaline and gravity are good for learning how to fly. Why do you think birds do it?”

“I am not a baby bird.” Yukine glared over his shoulder. He was leaning over the railing, looking grimmly at the ground. Hiyori came to join him and looked at the very distant, very hard ground below.

“Are you sure this is-?”

“Yes.” Yato suddenly scooped Yukine by his armpits.

“Transform.” Yato held Yukine over the side, meeting his wide eyes steadily. Yukine gulped then transformed slowly. Mid-way Yato released him, sending the kid plummeting through the air.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted in alarm. She ran to the ledge and gripped the railing, leaning over with wide eyes as she watched the tiny body plummet towards the ground. Yukine wings beat at the air frantically, his body spriling, as his screeches echoed throughout the night.

“Yato, save him!” Hiyori looked at her friend. The vampire was beside her, calmly watching his kid fall with an intense gaze.

“Yukine needs this. He already knows how to use spells, which are supposed to come after flight.”

“That’s not the point Yato! What if he gets hurt?”

“He won’t. He knows what to do, the gravity and adrenaline will help him.”

“But this is-!”

“This is how I learned.” Yato stated. Hiyori’s mouth worked uselessly as she tried to gauge Yato’s blank face. His eyes hadn’t left Yukine for a moment, not even to blink, and Hiyori had to look back down. Yukine was much closer to the ground now, righted in a way that had him feet first, but the panicked flapping of his wings was only slowing his fall. His shrieking was more desperate, fearful, and Hiyori’s hands were starting to shake. Her head whipped back to the vampire-ready to toss him off the building herself- and she gasped. Yato was leaning over the railing. The hands grasping the wood were talons that could cut through anything, covered in darkened skin and fur. Behind him, large wings stretched soundlessly from his shoulder blades, reaching up towards the sky and eclipsing the moon. She watched the tip of his nose darken as hair grew up the bridge but Hiyori couldn’t bring herself to breathe his name. His eyes glowed as he continued to lean further over the edge, muscles bunching to jump.

Yato allowed Yukine to fall for two more, excruciately long, seconds before he shot off the tower in a blurr. The vampire was enveloped in shadow for a moment before the magic dissipated, leaving behind a plummeting bat. Yato's wings flapped with controlled purpose as he let gravity do the work, catching up the flailing blonde bat quickly. In one graceful movement, Yato pulled up just above Yukine, using his talons to gently grab the boy and let the momentum swing them back up into the air. Yato flew up high above Hiyori’s head and then slammed on the brakes, flinging Yukine further up into the sky. As the boy continued to panic on his rollercoaster ride, Yato screeched up at him, hovering while Yukine tried again.

“Yukine! Yato!” Hiyori tried calling them. Neither of them paid her mind as Yukine fell once more, this time even slower as his wings started beating in time. Then, once again, Yato gilded towards him in large dives. Picking Yukine up and bringing him higher, then letting him go. For the first couple attempts, it didn’t seem to work too well, but Hiyori continued to hear Yato’s chatter as he gave directions. Yukine quieted down and focused on his progress now that he knew Yato wasn’t going to let him hit the ground. Eventually, Yukine found himself able to hover in one spot and then shifted to copying Yato as they swooped down in large U-shapes. With a smile, Hiyori ran down the stairs as Yukine let the momentum of his falls take him up until he slowed to a hover, then dove back down. By the time she made it off the tower, Yato was transformed again with Yukine flying a foot off the grass.

“Yukine! You did it! Look at you!” Hiyori ran over. The tiny yellow bat squeaked happily as his wings continued to pump frantically.

“Yeah, see? I knew you could do it,” Yato winked down at his kid, “now you just gotta work on changing directions. Especially going up.” At his words Hiyori realized Yukine was stuck at the height he was at and she tried to give him encouragement. He flapped too much and tumbled backwards.

“Lean forward, just like in practice, push the wind down.” Yato reminded. Yukine gave it his best shot but ended up leaning too far forward and went into the grass, tripping on his feet.

“That was a good try, Yukine,” Hiyori bent over to scoop him up. She hardly lifted him past the waist when he scurried off her hand and jumped back into the air. Hiyori yelped and Yato laughed as Yukine only spun once before catching himself. He hovered and started screeching at Yato, the vampire taking his time transforming into a bat and hovering too. Hiyori took a tiny step back as Yato gave quick instructions and demonstrated directions. Together they leaned one way, then the other, then up and down. Eventually Yukine was fluttering around Hiyori as happy as a bumblebee.

“I’d say your beginner's training is just about complete. Congratulations kiddo,” Yato said, back on his two legs. Yukine hovered for a moment, staring at him, before he flew over and fluttered around Yato’s head. At first Hiyori thought Yato was getting scratched again, but Yukine harmlessly bumped against Yato’s head.

“Now you’ll never have to worry about falling again. Proud of you,” Yato muttered quietly, one eye closed while his servant fluttered against his hair.

“Me too,” Hiyori stepped closer and offered a smile. Finally tuckered out, Yukine perched himself on Yato’s shoulder.

“Guess we better head home before we head out for patrol,” Yato sighed as he pat Yukine’s head with his finger.

“What right now?” Hiyori blinked. This was the time they hung out and if they planned on working until noon they would be hunting for several hours. With a sigh, Yato started walking with Hiyori at his side.

“There’s been a spike in corrupt souls lately. That’s normal for the summer time, young pure-bloods tend to be more active in warmer weather. But humans can’t become servants if the conditions aren't met. Forcing it just corrupts them. Not that young bloods know that, nor care.” Yato muttered the last part with disdain.

“I see,” Hiyori looked to the grass, “so they drink the blood of humans and it corrupts them?”

“Not exactly. You can drink the blood of a human and it’ll be fine but young bloods can't control their powers so they accidentally force their will on regular humans which is unnatural. If you force your power on a human it's best to drain them dry, but they’re young and have no control so they don’t properly sedate the victim, or let go too early, or their power just leaks through. There’s countless reasons for these crazy humans running around.” Yato said, “not to worry though. Once the cold season comes back the weaker ones will go into hibernation. Then us old farts devour them, absorb their power, and the cycle continues.” When he noticed Hiyori’s worried face, he immediately backtracked and apologised. She waved him off, too busy sorting through her complicated feelings.

Of course she was naturally opposed to the blood drinking, the manipulation, the corruption. But Hiyori also knew that drinking blood was such a sacred act to vampires. It was eating, sure. Something some did offhandedly to survive, while others were gluttonous, and the rest connoisseurs. An act of bringing food to a party, or as an offering, or having red wine on date. Food was a staple that their culture revolved around with it’s own rules and manners; what families did to be closer. The simple act that could completely change one's mood. Killing humans was taboo for vampires and drinking their blood was seen as distasteful and primal. But everyone knew it happened behind closed doors as a scandalous activity.

Yato was known for ‘sucking humans dry’ as he put it. His previous servants leaving him because he was greedy when it came to blood, rough and relentless when taking it. Like all vampires, his power made it so that it wasn’t painful. But it was the principal. That was why he rarely took blood from his current servant and stuck to the supplements, much to Yukine’s chagrin. The teen insisted he could handle it, that he trusted Yato not to leave him pale and passed out, but Yato was stubborn. Hiyori knew he often went long periods without a servant and therefore without food (he was considerably weaker during those times, small and pale with sunken eyes as he sometimes still got). But still, despite all that, Hiyori couldn’t stand knowing Yato was going hungry every day. Against all her instincts she wanted to offer herself to him.

“Welp! That’s why we have our servants!” Yato patted Yukine again, “human spells are something else! Cleansing corruption as the bridge between our species. Such talent,” Yato said. Yukine chirped at the shameless praise and his friends smiled. Hiyori relaxed at the reminder of Yukine’s other- more wholesome- job. It wasn’t a kind process but the results were worth it.

“Speaking of,” Yato suddenly stopped, tone dark, eyes narrowed. Stumbling to a halt, Hiyori sucked in a breath, looking around the woods. They were so close to the city, the streetlights across the road shining through the trees. It illuminated the silhouette stumbling towards them, gleaming off the knife the man held in his hand. Yato stepped in front of Hiyori, taking Yukine off his shoulder and handing him to her. Yukine shrieked at his master while Hiyori breathed his name.

“Blood. Blood! I need blood,” the man said like a mantra, “I want to see it spill.” He insisted as he swayed closer to them, drunkenly focused on Hiyori.

“Both of us are unarmed. But I’ll hold him off and try to sedate him while Yukine transforms,” Yato looked at him, “I know you’re tired, but do your best. Don’t force it otherwise you’ll cause damage to your body and mind.”

“Let me see it! Let me have it! I’ll spill your blood!” The man roared and started to charge. Yato was much faster and the attacker was only able to take two steps before being knocked back several feet. It wasn’t enough to kill him, Yato promised he would never do that in front of these two, but unless he broke some bones the man would continue to come after Hiyori.

As Yato advanced, Hiyori dropped to her knees and let Yukine down. Yato would be able to handle himself against this person, but a corrupted human was stronger than normal and didn’t care about pain. If they made too much of a commotion, someone would notice, and Yato could only sedate a person a couple times before they built immunity. The vampire wouldn’t take any blood either, so it was impossible to weaken him and strengthen Yato. In the grass, the tiny gold bat was breathing rapidly. Little body rising and falling far too quickly. Yukine’s frantic eyes looked up to her own, ears constantly twitching at the sounds of the scuffle behind him.

“C-calm down, Yukine,” Hiyori parroted Yato, “remember your breathing!” It helped a little. Yukine’s panting shifted to more controlled breathing, in through his upturned nose and out the fanged mouth. It still took several long seconds for Yukine to even begin transforming. The kid had talent, spells and transformation came after long years as a servant, and he was able to do far more than most. But even so, Yukine was still new and inexperienced. His transformation was slow and painful, shadows sliding off him like thick ink in splotches, and leaving him winded and dizzy. When he fell forward, Hiyori was there to catch him.

“Are you okay? Don’t force yourself,” Hiyori said. She looked up just in time to see Yato kneeling over the man. Despite his pointed ears and nails, Yato gave the man a regular punch across the face. The man’s smile remained as his head whipped to the side and his hands continued to claw at Yato’s face. Eventually he kicked Yato’s leg and tried to run, only to be tackled by the vampire, knife slicing Yato’s shoulder. The vampire’s white t-shirt was stained with bright crimson as it dripped down his biceps. The scent of his master’s blood jolted Yukine out of his lull and he sat back up. The sudden movement caused Yukine to sway again and his finger kneaded his head, Hiyori’s hands hovering with concern.

“I can do it,” Yukine grunted, “I can squeeze out one or two spells.” He forced himself to his feet. Hiyori watched him worryingly before her head whipped to the side. Her wide and fearful eyes met the man as he sprinted towards her, one arm twisted and broken while saliva seeped from his smile.

“I smell it! The blood of a pure soul! Give it to me! The priestess's blood!” His hollar caused Hiyori to gasp and for Yukine to remain frozen like a deer in headlight. Something emerged behind him, leaping up into the air with clawed hands poised on either side of their prey’s head. Yato’s eyes, glowing blue like ice in the arctic waters, were the only thing Hiyori could make out in the blurred shadow of his form. The man was sent harshly to the ground, the force of Yato’s pounce cracking the man’s spine. That was enough to cause the man to cry out.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted, fearing permanent paralysis. She was ignored as Yato snarled down at the squirming human.

“You won’t be getting a drop of her blood,” he seethed, fangs bared. At her side, Yukine bit his fore-finger and smeared the blood to the second finger. Pointing them both at the man, Yukine began muttering out a spell. While the man struggled beneath him, Yato opened his mouth wide and worked to reveal the jugular.

“The blood! I need it! The blood of that pure maiden!” The corrupt soul continued to rage. He fought so violently under Yato that the vampire struggled to keep him pinned and reveal his neck. Yato leaned down, teeth bared, but the man suddenly reared back and cracked the back of his skull against his nose.

“Son of a-!” Yato cursed. By now, Yukine’s spell was completed without the help of his master and all the effort was shattered in the air around them. Yukine hissed at the impact and the excretion while Yato clutched his bleeding nose. Ceasing the opportunity, the man lunged with maniacal laughter, mouth open towards Hiyori. The girl fell back and brought her fists up, ready to clock the lunatic. But Yato’s clawed hand wrapped around the man’s face, his nails digging into the man's cheek, holding him just inches from Hiyori.

Through her fear, Hiyori watched Yato’s terrifying slit eyes shoot out from behind the man, the whites of his fangs flashing before they sunk into his flesh. Finally the man’s echolalia was silenced as he choked. The sound of Yato’s fangs sliding through flesh caused Hiyori’s hands to shake. The man went limp and still, his eyes open and glazed. Yato held him there like a predator preparing to snap the neck of its prey, the whites of his eyes turning pitch black. His servant’s fingers were pointed, shaking with fatigue, as Yukine finally casted the spell. Whatever sinister corruption the man carried evaporated and Yato finally released him. Together, the three gave a collected sigh of relief.

“It’s finally over,” Yukine slurred. He was really starting to sway now, just as the corrupt soul had been, only the servant’s eyes were hazy and already starting to close. Yato caught him before he fell too far.

“Yukine!” Hiyori fretted. It’s been a while since Yukine had fainted from exerting too much power.

“He must still be tired from transforming so much in the past couple hours. Then again he’s only able to cast about four spells when he’s at his best.” Yato rolled Yukine over in his arms so the kid was face up. Eyes closed and mouth open, Yukine’s feet dragged on the ground while Yato supported him. The vampire's expression was back to the soft features Hiyori was used to as Yato cut his wrist and pressed the blood against Yukine’s lips. When the kid drank enough, Yato situated Yukine on his back and let Yukine’s head rest on his shoulder.

“We should head back. I don’t think there’s gonna be patrol tonight.” Yato said. Hiyori hummed, following the vampire back to Kofuku’s while the man remained passed out in the grass.

“Is there a reason you’re pushing him so hard?” Hiyori asked after some time. Maybe she was just a human with no idea of vampire timeframes. But Yato always seemed like the type to let Yukine have free reign of his studies and progression. It was out of character for Yato to push Yukine to do something he was so scared of.

“Yukine will always be afraid of falling. It was traumatizing for him. He needed a push, one that I rather give him in a controlled environment. It would be bad if he got tossed during a battle and couldn’t catch himself.”

“Who would throw him?” Hiyori gasped. Yato didn’t answer for a moment, then signed.

“My hibernation is next summer,” Yato muttered.

“What? You?” Hiyori asked just as quietly. It was a taboo secret to talk about a vampires hibernation time.

“All vampires do it. Just depends on how powerful you are. The more servants you have to take blood from, the longer you can run on their power. I sleep every 50-70 years, give or take, Kofuku sleeps about the same if not a little more. Meanwhile Tenjin and Bishamon sleep every century or so,” Yato explained, “normally I go into hiding but Yukine insisted he could handle it. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I don’t want him fighting off other vampires and servants. No matter how strong he thinks he is.” Yato frowned at the ground, shifting the boy on his back. Hiyori looked down too, aware of how much the praise fueled Yukine's confidence. But it was impossible for a servant to go up against a vampire.

“He sleeps in your coffin when you’re gone,” Hiyori spoke with melancholy, “Are you staying at Kofuku’s then?”

“I’m gonna have to. It’s embarrassing but I do trust her not to eat me. And Daikoku to help make sure others stay away. Otherwise Bishamon offered since I’m the last person she’d want blood from. Plus she has more than enough servants to give me my own army. So who knows? I just want to get it over with, the year before my sleep is always so weak and groggy. Doesn’t make being hungry any better.” Yato muttered the last parts but Hiyori only hummed.

“How long, uh,” Hiyori felt a little sad, “how long will you be gone?” She ignored the way Yato looked at her. He nudged her and smiled.

“Just a season!” He chirped.

“What? That’s it?”

“Yep! Three moon cycles! My most vulnerable time,” Yato said, “I just wish I was around to see the cherry blossoms with you. It’s a shame I got Yukine so close to my time.” He mourned. Hiyori placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take pictures.” She promised. Yato beamed, fangs tucked away where they were almost unnoticed.

“Oh! And try not to bother Yukine too much! He’s gonna be a little feral during my hibernation, it’s natural, but don’t push it!” Yato smiled, unaware of Hiyori's balking.

“You’re home early, oh my gosh Yuki!” Kofuku looked over the servant worriedly. She was out of her pajamas and in a black dress with a tiered skirt and lace sleeves. In her hands was a matching fan, a gift from Daikoku, and she dropped it on the table. At the sound of her worry, said man peaked out from the kitchen.

“He used too much energy,” Yato let his hand rest on Yukine’s head, “it was my fault. I pushed him.”

“No ya didn’t,” Daikoku sighed, “and he’d throw a fit if he heard you say that.”

“Yeah, well, he’s already gonna throw a fit when he wakes up,” Yato grumbled, “I’ll put him in my coffin.” He nodded to them and made his way up the stairs. Hiyori took the time to recount everything that happened before following her friend to the attic. Gently, Hiyori pushed open the door just in time to see Yato laying Yukine down into the bed. He shuffled around the kid and pulled out two swords, weapons like Kofuku’s fan made up of the master and servant. It helped attack the corruption inside a human but it could never kill it completely. Standing, Yato left the lid open and made his way towards her.

“You okay?” He asked awkwardly, not able to look her in the eyes but searching her intently for injury.

“It’s okay,” Hiyori smiled, “I’m okay. What about you?” Her eyes drifted to his shoulder and she frowned. Normally vampires regenerated easily from normal weapons but Yato’s wound was still pink, just scabbing. He gave it a courtesy glance before flashing her a grin.

“Yep. I’ll be good as new by moon-high, don’t worry.” His gentle expression was returned and the air warmed around them for a moment. Behind them, Yukine let out a groan and Yato jolted to attention. Placing a cold hand on her shoulder, Yato leaned towards her ear, causing the highschooler’s cheeks to pink and goosebumps to rise.

“Try to keep him there for as long as you can. Don’t let him get up too fast,” Yato gave her a wink and hurried down the stairs just as Yukine started kneading his head. Hiyori rolled her eyes despite the smile on her face and she made her way to the teen. She crouched while Yukine struggled to open his eyes, coaxing him through his grumbling. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked at her with a confused frown then sighed and forced himself to a sitting position. Hiyori helped as he grabbed the sides of the coffin and pushed.

“How do you feel?” Hiyori asked gently.

“Mmm okay. Better actually, wow, I feel really good. Usually I’m sore and achy after exerting mys-” Yukine’s eyes grew wide as his hands jerked from his face. Biting her lip, Hiyori stopped the sigh from bubbling as Yukine’s temper boiled.

“Yato said not to get up too fast,” Hiyori said as Yukine started to shake.

“Who gives a- what that guy,” Yukine growled. Despite his anger, Yukine got out of the coffin carefully, easily finding his energy and stomping down the stairs with Hiyori following.

“You gave me your blood? Are you stupid?” Yukine accused the moment he stepped foot in the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” Daikoku jeered. Yato looked up as calmly as he could from his card game, blinking up at Yukine with innocent eyes. Taking a seat next to him, Hiyori saw his cards were crooked and she imagined him scrambling to grab them once he heard his kid coming.

“I just figured you didn’t want to sleep the night away,” Yato offered weakly. Daikoku coughed out a laugh while Yukine’s eye brows somehow knitted tighter together.

“You barely eat as it is! You can’t afford to give up blood for every little thing!”

“It’s normal for a vampire to heal their servants,” Kofuku tried to help.

“Yeah, heal them. When they need it. For emergencies and injuries,” Yukine glared at Yato, “not when they pass out.” He marched over and sat on the other side of Yato, thrusting his arm towards the vampire.

“Here. Eat.” Yukine commanded. Yato gave his skin a long look before he batted it away.

“It’s not good to take from a servant you just gave to. Besides, if you’re really revving to go we can go back on patrol and I can eat after.” Yato said, looking back at his cards.

“I thought you said my blood was rare! That we’re compatible and it was ‘absolutely brimming with power’! Which, last I checked, was rare for a loner like you!”

“It is! Your blood is scrum-diddly-umptious, I could just eat you up!” Yato cooed. Seeing that his teasing wouldn't distract the teen this time, he straightened out.

“But that’s the problem. You’re a kid and a newbie and taking too much is not the best. Especially after all the spell casting and such. I said I’ll eat later so I will.” Yato said. His kid visibly fumed and Hiyori placed a caring hand on Yato’s arm.

“Maybe you should have some supplements, Yato. You are looking a little pale.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Look at my luscious cheeks,” Kofuku smushed her face to try and brighten the mood but Yukine only scoffed.

“Forget it. The idiot can starve for all I care. Maybe once he’s the one that passes out he’ll learn.” Yukine got up and stomped to the kitchen, taking his apron off the rack and going into the store. They didn’t hear the bell so there couldn’t be any customers in the little butcher shop attached to the house, but Yukine probably just wanted space. Yato watched the door shut and sighed, finally putting his cards down.

“It’s offensive to not drink his blood at all. Just learn some self control.” Daikoku grunted at Yato from over a beer. His words went ignored as Yato stood and wandered into the bathroom. Masters and servants were connected by blood and by soul, so Yato felt all of Yukine’s pain and irritation. Thankfully the sense only went one way, so Yukine wasn’t suffering from Yato’s migraine. He lied to Yukine and Hiyori. Like the scum he was, he took some of that corrupt’s blood, disgusting hand-me-downs of another’s magic, and refused to tell the two closest to him. They’d be so disappointed, hurt, and sickened by his monstrous acts. Even so, that drop of blood only went into the effort it took to sedate the man. His violence was rare and only spurred on by the pure blood Hiyori carried. Eyesight blurry, Yato floated towards the medicine cabinet, shuffling through the bottles until he found one sheet of plastic and aluminum. Pulling the metal back, the plastic indents were empty so Yato tossed it towards the trash, missing.

“I got it,” Yato muttered as he continued looking. Even so, Hiyori picked it up and wordlessly dropped it in the bin. Finally pulling out another sheet, Yato looked at what was left and did calculations in a haze. These supplements were like vitamins, not meant to live off of; even so he tries to have one every other day. But with the energy he's expelled in the past couple hours, Yato was starving for more.

“Yato,” Hiyori mumbled. He ignored her and ripped the package open, filling a glass of water while dumping out three to four pills. Hiyori’s worried gaze made him feel guilty over an activity he did so regularly he didn’t think he could feel bad over it. She tended to have that effect on him. The water continued to run after Yato choked down the handful of supplements. He put the package back and hoped Yukine wouldn’t be too angry with the money it would take to buy more. Maybe Kofuku would spot him again.

There was something dangerous about being around a hungry vampire. Of course Yato was always hungry, but the back of Hiyori’s neck always stood on end when she witnessed his ravenous. It was the same feeling she got when he attacked other humans, a predator that would stop at nothing to eat it’s target alive. But there was also something sad about it. In the LED lighting of the bathroom, illuminated by the white surroundings, Yato was dripping with desperation. Just like Yukine was when Yato found him, but bone-deep. His skin blended in with his surroundings and his eyes were sunken in with dark circles that almost matched his ink hair. She could make out his blue veins and knew his muscles should be more full. She’s seen him at his best, seen him after attacking a deer and after disappearing for some time. He looked so alive, smile the biggest it’s ever been and his childish excitement even bigger. Her doctor family would be so horrified if they knew she excused Yato’s murders during his disappearance. But now, he was weak, dull, and tired. Keeping his promise to Yukine to never eat another human again. She hoped Yukine wasn’t regretting his resolve. The skin of her arm was soft as she rubbed it absentmindedly.

“Yato,” Hiyori said again, this time with more strength. It took a second for Yato to collect himself and he looked at her with such focus and nonchalant that she was almost able to forget how malnourished he truly was. Almost.

“You know Daikoku’s kidding about the steaks right? Of course you can eat them if you’re hungry.” Hiyori quickly veered off what she wanted to say. Her wristed rolled so the pads of her fingers brushed the soft of her arm up and down. If Yato noticed the action, he didn’t glance at it.

“Yeah, don’t worry Hiyori. I said I would eat tonight, and I will.” Yato pushed himself off the sink with a crooked grin. When he stepped towards Hiyori, she didn’t move, clutching her arm.

“Hiyori? What’s wrong?” Yato’s voice softened, “I’m serious, you know, don’t worry about me. I just need some rest and I’ll make it through the night-” His soft crooning choked off violently like a punch to the teeth. His mouth watered on command and Yato’s jaw clicked shut to keep from spilling. He was standing so close to Hiyori he had been able to smell her shampoo but now his senses were on overdrive. The scent of her blood filled the air of the tiny bathroom like a thick fog, the iron sending his heart galloping. He could practically taste it and god it was delicious.

“Stop telling us not to worry about you! That really upsets us. And it hurts to see you starving yourself just to be a better person,” Hiyori spoke to the floor as her fingers tightened, “you can’t just live off of vitamins, it's not healthy! Please, Yato, we care about you and we-” When Hiyori finally looked up to her friend, something deep inside regretted her words. Black and blue eyes stared back at her, the sorrow of someone who’s hurt far too many people flashing before she was slammed against the door behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, gasp overshadowed by the pounding of her heart. The blood from her fingernails dripped down her arm onto the floor and she prayed Kofuku couldn’t smell it. Not that she could think too much of it. Eyes blown wide, Hiyori stared at the ceiling, off in the opposite direction of her friend. She felt the long twin needles hovering just above her pulse as his panting numbed her skin. Fear held her perfectly still. Hiyori trembled as drool dripped onto her collarbone.

Yato loomed over her, one hand pressed against the door above her head as his mouth opened slowly but so, so wide. His other hand remained as far away from her as possible, claws embedded in the frame to keep it that way. Only their heads touched, hair and cheeks just brushing against each other as Yato’s fangs were poised with practiced ease. The two needles pushed to their absolute peak of length and sharpness. She could leave. She had enough room to get away and lord knows if she wanted to bend him into a pretzel she could. But she didn’t. In fact his dear friend seemed just as frozen in this position as he was. No, it wasn’t that Yukine’s blood wasn’t good. It was tasty, like cold water on a hot day mixed with the finest expresso money could buy. Necessary and vital to his day. But Hiyori came from a long line of doctors and priestesses. Humans that were far too in touch with the supernatural yet not tainted in the slightest. There was a reason those old farts like Dracula and Vlad prefered to target young virgin women. Because they were the absolute most delectable. And a virgin priestess? Even humans knew they were a treat worthy of being sacrificed to the gods.

Heart pounding against his ribs like war drums, Yato’s instincts snarled at him to get on with it. Just one mouthful and he would be at top condition for three weeks, draining her would keep him at high power for god knows how long. His hibernation could be pushed off for a while. It was so rare for a priestess to be without some sort of cross or holy protection charm but this human- in all her naive sweetness- had long since removed her grandmother’s gifts. And Hiyori, god Hiyori always smelled so good. It was so tantalizing having something so mouthwatering standing right beside you all the time. But even with knowing all that, Yato could only feel shame and disgust. Despite the physical pain it caused to refuse the offered drops of her blood, Yato couldn’t do it. Because he knew it would change their relationship. It would change everything. She would be tainted by him and he would forever know what paradise felt like. Besides, he knew what he really wanted was her warmth. To feel her heartbeat with his own and let her warmth spread throughout his body. The same warmth that brightened her smile and heated her gentle touches. Yato wanted those things more than anything and taking it just to satisfy his hunger would be selfish and wrong. Eyes fading, he took a deep breath and latched.

“Kyyaahh!” Hiyori yelped. The sound was covered by the raspberry Yato blew into her neck. Her head clocked into his as she tried to move away, the loud, immature sound dissipating the buzzing tension. She shoved him away by his cheeks and berated him for being gross and disgusting, not once commenting on the drool from his hesitating fangs. Yato chuckled weakly at the fuming girl, eyeing the red of her face with a forced smile. He could still hear her heartbeat from here but his was just as loud.

“I don’t believe you! How gross!” Hiyori continued to exclaim, her voice cracking in an odd way. Even so, she sntached the wet towel Yato handed her with shaking hands. By now her little nail prints had cloted but Hiyori wiped the residue away anyway, irritated, hurt, and relieved.

“You shouldn’t really offer yourself up to a young man like that, Hiyori. What would your mother say if she found out how indecent you were being?” Yato teased. This further irritated the girl and Yato knew that if he were any less starving she would have broken his nose by now. A knock sounded on the door behind her.

“Hiyori? You okay? I heard a bang and I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to seduce Yatty?” Kofuku’s joke veiled her very real concern and Yato couldn’t help but grin wider at the glare Hiyori screwed him with. Offended and embarrassed by the vampires and their freaky culture. She spun around without another glance and opened the door.

“I am not!” She huffed. Yato watched her rush from the room with red-tipped ears and waited for Kofuku to follow, only to sigh when she didn’t. The pink-haired vampire held his eyes and Yato looked to the floor where a single, tiny drop of blood stained the tile. He wanted to sink to his knees and laugh or cry, or both. Sitting in the fetal position on the cold hard floor while he fought the urge to lick the red off the ground. Kofuku sighed and walked to him, stopping him from acting out his pathetic daydream.

“Daikoku and I will talk to her. She shouldn’t do things like that, even if she means well.” Kofuku mumbled, hand on his cheek to keep him looking at her.

“She was trying to help,” Yato confessed, “and I almost let her.”

“It’s cruel.” Kofuku said simply, meaning no malice towards the human girl. Yato only hummed, not moving as Kofuku moved her head to the side and tried nudging his head closer.

“You just ate.”

“I know.”

“Daikoku won’t be very happy.”

“He knows.”

“And in the bathroom, Kofuku? My how scandalous,” Yato hummed as he leaned forward.

“Hmm, well, my dear boyfriend, we could take this to the bedroom if that will make you feel better.” Her voice was soft and soothing and Yato found himself following the little lady down the hall.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I really do promise to take from Yukine later.”

“We want you to have your fill. Take from me so you won’t be as bad with Yukine,” Kofuku shrugged. She grabbed his hand and tugged him along as he hesitated, both very aware of the human girl sitting back at the table. What would he do without them? Their support? Yato wanted to cry.

“Thank you.” He said simply as she shut the bedroom door. If it was a bit awkward later, Yato made sure it wasn’t for long. All it took was a couple of funny faces to get Hiyori and Yukine back into their feisty, passionate spirits again. And seeing him suddenly have a bit more life in his steps as they patrolled the city only lifted their spirits further. There was still pain and worry, each of the three friends wanting to give everything they had to help the other. But by the time Hiyori climbed back into her bedroom window, she was smiling from ear to ear. Happy to wave goodbye to the large black vampire bat and his tiny golden bat servant as they easily flew off towards the moon.

#noragami #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction #noragami au #fanfic #fanfiction #yato #yukine #yato noragami #noragami yato #yukine noragami #noragami yukine #hiyori #hiyori iki #iki hiyori #vampire #vampire au

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chibienvychan03 · 4 years ago

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It’s Valentine’s Day?

Pairing: Victor x female MC

Warning: lots of fluff and sassy MC

Summary: Given the amount of work you’ve received, the days blur into each other and you can’t believe you’ve forgotten about Valentine’s Day. You had planned on skipping it, but something changes your mind.

Gift fic for @otome0heart. Happy holidays!

When you arrive at the office, you find the atmosphere has completely changed. Instead of being hectic and chaotic, you see your employees whispering and giggling (mainly the girls), but the mood is definitely better though you still have your assignment to work on. Even though you’re their boss, you hate having to put your foot down hard so you will be able to complete it on time and on schedule.

As you’re about to say something, Kiki rushes over to you, looking like she’s on a caffeine and sugar high which to be honest is her default mode most of the time. “Boss, boss, boss!”

“Yes, yes, yes?”

“Who are you going to give your chocolates to?” Your confusion speaks in volumes. Sighing Kiki gives you that ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look. “Have you forgotten what today is?”

“Eh?”

“Told you so! She totally forgot.” Ah yes, Willow the voice of reason and sometimes the kill joy with reality. It makes you wonder what you forgot.

One glance around the office, you start noticing small things, namely all those red, pink, and white hearts. Then there are a few pictures of what appears to be a baby wearing a diaper while holding a bow and arrow. Isn’t it bad parenting to let a child that age hold a dangerous weapon? This annoys you, being left in the dark.

“What is it I’m forgetting?” You cross your arms over your chest, giving them that stern look, but it has no effect on them. They’re probably used to it by now or don’t care.

“I can’t believe you forgot! Hey, there’s still time to buy some chocolate.” Kiki bounces around you. Why is doing it? You have no clue except you wish she would stop as you’re becoming dizzy with her antics.

“Why is it important I buy chocolate?” What was so special about buying chocolate? It’s just another day. Wait a moment, what is today? Thanks to all the overtime you’ve been putting into this assignment, the days have become blurred. You at least know which day of the week it is, thank you Mister CEO and having to give updates.

“Boss, you have no romantic bone in your body,” Willow sighs a long one as if she’s the one suffering. She swivels in her chair to face the two of you. “Maybe that’s why you don’t have a date for tonight.”

“Date? We’re swamped with work. I can’t believe I’m saying, but we need to concentrate on this assignment.” For once, you’re the one who isn’t losing concentration or having a wandering mind as a certain someone who has a penchant for reminding you appears in your thoughts. You quickly squash those as now isn’t the time.

“Don’t tell me your date is work. Boring.” Kiki makes an exaggerated yawn.

Hearts. A baby wearing a diaper and armed with a bow. Chocolate. Date. What on earth involved all of these? Think. You rack your mind trying to figure out what they’re referring to.

Minor comes to the rescue. “Boss, who are you going to give your Valentine’s Day chocolate to?”

Your train of thought comes to a screeching stop. Wait a moment. It can’t be, can it? You pull out your phone to check the day. Friday the fourteenth of February. Oh shit. You can’t believe you forgot about this day. Then again, you have a habit of forgetting your own birthday. Oops?

All three of your employees are expectantly staring at you, waiting for you to answer their question of who you’re going to give chocolate to. Considering who your boss is and your desire for your company to be successful, you have no choice other than disappointing them.

“No one. I don’t have time for romance.” The truth hurts as many say.

“Boo,” Kiki pouts, but at least, she stops circling you like… a predator? “Why not give Kiro chocolate? He loves eating snacks.”

Err…..

“No way, she’s gonna give bro chocolate,” Minor chimes in. What a major fanboy. It makes you wonder if he’s started a secret fan club.

“Officer Gavin kicks ass,” Willow adds her two cents. “It’s a no brainer there.”

A guy from editing peers over the partition. “The mind is the strongest part of the body. I’m sure boss appreciates someone with a high IQ like Professor Lucien.”

“Kiro’s the same age as Boss.”

You plant your foot on Kiki’s as you do not want your age revealed to everyone. It works as she yelps and is now hopping on one foot, her good one. While you don’t mind them knowing your birthday, you do mind them knowing how old you’ve become. Not that you’re senior citizen old, but still!

“Two years isn’t a huge difference,” Willow points out. She knows you don’t want to reveal your age, but she does have a point about the age gap between you and a certain officer. “Not like four years.”

Minor nods his head in agreement. “And you two have a history together.”

“If you take into consideration, the ages people got married historically,” the editing guy counters. “Four years is nothing. Some of them are twenty years apart!”

“Kiro’s a lot cuter.”

“Bro can protect her,” Minor argues to which Willow agrees with. “He’s awesome with a gun and can take on ten guys at the same time.”

“Professor Lucien has helped with the show many times.”

Why is everyone interested with your love life? Or rather lack of it. Not that you mind as you have your priorities in order. It’s not like Minor or that guy from editing received any chocolate. The last time you checked, neither Kiki or Willow were interested in someone. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You can celebrate all you want. Just leave me out of it… and make sure you finish your work.”

“So if you’re not giving Bro chocolate, then that means I got some and he didn’t.” Hold the phone, someone actually gave Minor chocolate? Who’s desperate enough to give him some?

You turn your attention to Kiki and Willow. “Have you given your chocolate?”

“Of course!” Kiki chirps and then she points to someone you can’t recall his name. The guy blushes when attention is brought onto him. “We’re going on a date tonight!”

Willow just points to Minor. This does not compute. Error. Error. Did she just admit to giving Minor chocolate? Yes, she did. “We’re going on a double date. Someone has to keep the kids in line.”

“Hey!” Kiki sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry.

Reinforcements have arrived! Anna enters the room, carrying the materials needed for your latest assignment. “Back to work.” Yes! It’s nice having someone on your side.

“Awww… it’s Valentine’s Day.” Kiki pouts, however, she reluctantly returns to her desk. “We wanna know who Boss is giving her chocolate to.”

“She should give it to Officer Gavin.”

“Yeah, Bro will be happy to receive anything from you.”

“I’m sure Professor Lucien will appreciate your effort.”

“Kiro’s the best choice.”

“You guys…”

“We can have this discussion during our lunch break.” You nod your head in agreement. Maybe they’ll forget by then. “Since we all know, she’s giving it to CEO Victor.”

“Not you too.”

Lunch happens to take out from your third favorite restaurant. You originally planned to make your meals, thanks to those cooking lessons, but work leaves you with little time and energy. When you arrive home, all you want to do is face plant onto your bed and not wake up for the next eight hours. Thank whatever deity, they have delivery. It saves you time, and you can work up until your midday break.

Back to the battlefield you go. Your employees have other things in mind as they divvy up your portion amongst themselves and start working. You blink several times, wondering what has gotten into them. Were they not complaining about the workload? Why the sudden change of heart? There’s something fishy going on there.

You turn to Anna. “What’s going on?”

“I told them you’re taking the afternoon off.” Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the boss? “Hurry before the shops run out of the good stuff.” She ushers you out the door and then shuts it.

What about your purse? As if reading your mind, the door opens. Someone shoves your purse into your hands before shutting the door again. You attempt to open the door, but it refuses to budge. It can’t be locked as you can turn the knob. No, it’s more like something heavy is preventing the door from moving.

“You don’t want to give Kiro second rate chocolate!”

“Don’t you mean Officer Gavin?”

“Agreed. Bro is the one.”

“What about Professor Lucien?”

“You already know what CEO Victor likes.”

You resist the urge to bang your head on the door or nearest wall. Time to head over to the nearest shop for chocolate. While you’d rather not buy it, no one says you have to actually give it. You can make up a guy to give it to and eat the chocolate yourself. Yeah, that sounds like an excellent plan. You’d give yourself a pat on the back.

And then remember, you need a ride back to your place. Since you don’t want to give them any ideas, you decide to not call any of those guys. You scroll down your phone list and see the number to your classmate, the one Victor was ‘not jealous’ of. Yeah, right. You decide to send him a text, knowing that nothing would happen between the two of you since you’re female, and he swings that way. His quick response startles you.

He’s on his way.

His quick appearance also startles you. “I was in the area. You know dropping off my gift.”

“Aren’t girls supposed to be giving the gifts?” You blink several times, trying to figure out how this same sex thing works. While you don’t mind them, you have no clue about how they interact with each other. Your research lands you straight into the doujinshi area. While they’re entertaining, you doubt they’re completely realistic. Then again fiction tends to exaggerate things.

“Someone has to initiate it, and since he doesn’t have a clue, I have to,” your friend says with a slight shrug. It makes sense to you. “Have you given yours chocolate?” In spite of his helmet, you can tell he’s waggling his eyebrows at you.

“Ugh… Not you too.”

“Oh. Whoops? Sorry.”

You wave him off. “Not your fault. My employees are more interested in the lack of my love life than actually working.” He hands over you the second helmet.

“You gonna head home or buy something for him?”

Good question. While you want to head home, the thought of giving your ‘crush’ chocolate on Valentine’s Day sounds appealing even if it’s store bought. Then again, he does have a very high standard, considering his culinary expertise. By now, you figure all the good stuff is gone. Now the thought of going home sounds appealing.

“You can always make him some. I mean I did for mine.”

You stare at him as if he’s grown a second appendage. It’s something you hadn’t considered. To cover up your inevitable blush due to your friend being too smart for his own good, you shove the helmet onto yourself. “Is there enough time?”

“Unless you take several hours, you’ll be fine. Hey, why don’t I help you? It’ll go faster.”

“But won’t that be kinda like cheating?”

“You’ll be doing most of the work. I’m there to make sure things go smoothly and offer any suggestions.” Technically you’d be making it, but a little advice never hurts, right? Especially when the recipient of that creation happens to be that guy. Mister Critical.

If that’s the case, there’s no need to think about it. “To the nearest supermarket!”

Levi chuckled as he picked up speed without driving recklessly, making you wonder why he doesn’t seem to be the type to drive fast. His personality fits, but then again, looks can be deceiving as you’ve experienced many times, often with you looking like a fool. He pulls up close to the entrance of what appears to be a family owned supermarket.

“Ah, friends of mine own this place,” Levi answers your question before you can even formulate it.

Leaving your helmets, you two make your way through the shelves. You take your time to look at what they have to offer. For being this size, they offer more of a variety than you anticipated. You wonder what you’re going to use in your chocolate. Of course, it will not be too sweet as he isn’t into sweets like you. He says you’re sweet enough for the both of you. Maybe a hint of sweetness. Yeah. That means dark chocolate. You head to where they keep the baking supplies while your friend wanders through the other aisles. Dark chocolate with maybe some accents of… white chocolate?

“How about some flavoring?” He pops up from the next aisle, completely surprising you into an almost heart attack. “Oops? My bad.”

Once you get your breathing and heart rate back to normal, you see what he’s holding. He has a few different flavors in small bottles. They appear small, but you know better. Since they’re concentrated, a few drops will suffice lest the recipient be overwhelmed with the flavor.

Vanilla, rose, strawberry, and mango?

“Can you bring me one of each?” You request. Variety makes things interesting, and if one fails, you’ll have the others as back-ups.

“Sure.” Levi disappears just as quickly and quietly as he appeared. You swear he’s part ninja or something. Maybe he’s a secret agent. You end that train of thought before it takes a surprise journey.

With him not distracting you, you return your attention to the selection of chocolates in front of you. You read the cacao concentration before picking something not too bitter but not sweet either. On second thought, you grab more as you don’t know how many attempts you’ll need before you manage to make a decent chocolate. Having the main ingredient in your basket, you search for the others. Somewhere along the line, Levi takes the basket from you as it’s becoming heavier with your selections. Not that it was impossible to carry. Having a gentleman with you can be useful especially when you know he’s not interested in you other than being a friend and possibly siblings.

At the register, the cashier rings up your purchases. Your friend and she know each other. Yet, why is she attempting to flirt with him? Not that it’s any of your business. You just hate it when people are disappointed. He is either oblivious or doesn’t care like a certain someone in your life. Well make that four guys you know.

“Levi, why didn’t you call?” a middle-aged man appears. “I would have prepared your favorite snack.”

He politely declines. “Spur of the moment decision, and I have urgent business to attend to.”

“What can be that urgent you don’t want to spend time with your old pal?” He notices you’re in the company of his friend. “I see. What a cute girl you’re with. Whose girlfriend is she?”

“Er…” You attempt to answer.

“That’s the urgent business. I’m helping her win her crush over.” He appears to be teasing you, but something in his tone tells you he’s serious about assisting you with your quest to win him over and especially not make a fool of yourself like you normally do.

“He’s not a crush,” you mumble.

“Who took classes on cooking with me?”

You probably could pass off as a human tomato at this point. “That’s different!” You rack your mind trying to dig yourself out of this hole you somehow managed to fall into. Your brain starts waving a white flag, easily surrendering.

Levi chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing you.”

“You took cooking classes?” The cashier gives your male friend those eyes.

“Well yeah. It’s not healthy eating out or pre-made meals.” You wish you could have said that earlier. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. You hate it.

“We’d better get going,” Levi says, prompting her to hurry up ringing you up. “She still needs to cook and then give it to him before the day ends.”

Once you paid for the ingredients, your friend takes it back to his motorcycle before securing it and then you. He hops onto his bike and then heads to your place. You’ve been to each other’s homes so neither of you needs directions.

“Let’s do this!” You’re very much pumped to make these chocolates. And well if they turn out not the greatest, no one said you couldn’t eat them yourself, right? You plan on eating all the fails anyways, but even though you love chocolate, you hope there aren’t too many of them.

Levi smiles while shaking his head. “You’re like the little sister I never had.”

You turn to stare at him. Family? This brings several questions to mind, mainly about his family which he has yet to share anything about. “Only child?”

“No, I had an adopted brother, but that’s about it.” Levi shrugs and carries the bag for you. Good thing, it’s heavy. He doesn’t say anything more so you drop it.

Inside your kitchen, the two of you clean up and start prepping to make the chocolate. He helps with the set up but once you start actually making it, he steps back and let’s you take over with him supervising you. You decide to create four different flavors. Kind of like the saying, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.’ In addition to the flavoring, you have picked up some nuts, because well why not? Sometimes you believe he’s nuts.

Just as you’re about to put the pot with the chocolate on the stove, Levi holds your arm. “You don’t want to put it on direct heat. Use double broiler.” When you stare at him in confusion, he turns off the stove and explains. “Get a larger pot and fill it with water. Then you place this pot in it. Make sure the water doesn’t go into your chocolate.”

“Oh. No wonder why my first attempt ended horribly.” Whoops? You follow his advice and grab a larger pot to fill with water. Once it’s filled, you lug it over to your stove and turn it on. Next you place your pot full of chocolate in it. When it starts melting, you stir it and are thankful it doesn’t burn or turn hard. Wow. You’ll have to remember this for future use. This batch will be the vanilla flavored, some with nuts. Once it’s a nice gooey mess, you take it off the heat before grabbing your already prepared tray. You stir in some nuts and then meticulously pour it into the molds. When you used up what you melted so far, you ask your assistant to place it in the fridge while you start on the second batch.

As it turns out, you have more chocolate than you anticipate. Oh well you did prepare in case of fails, but so far, there haven’t been any as you have a very watchful assistant who keeps reminding you. Maybe you need to improve your concentration and not let your mind wander that often. It’s great for creating programs, not great when you’re trying to do something that requires concentration.

“Why not chocolate covered fruit?” Levi suggests as he rummages through your fridge. He emerges with a pack of strawberries. When did you get those? Oh wait, you went on a grocery run a few days ago. Come to think of it, you wonder why you picked up strawberries as they’re not in season. Maybe they were on sale? Given Valentine’s Day, you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.

“I’ll pick up some whip cream later.” When you bring your gift to him, you plan on grabbing some. That’s until you see your assistant holding a tub of whip cream. “What?”

“I snuck it in while you’re distracted.”

Your eye twitches as you didn’t see him with it at all, but at the same time, you’re thankful. It means no detour. After all, he’s doing you more than a favor by not only driving, but supervising your cooking. This time, you know what to do. You wash the strawberries and have your assistant dry them off with paper towels. With him being busy, you start up the.. you lost count batch of chocolate. You get it to a nice consistency and turn off the stove. Then you realize, you don’t have anywhere to place them. You notice a lined tray ready to receive the strawberries. After thanking him, you begin dipping the strawberries and placing them on the prepped tray.

Minutes later, you’re finished and have a messy kitchen, but it’s worth it to make those home-made chocolate. As to whether, they’d taste good is up in the air. You’ve made a few extra for you two to try before you gift him with it. He gets up to start help with the clean-up, but you push him back down. Levi has done more than his share.

Once they’ve hardened, you take out your tester chocolates and divvy them between the two of you. For your first successful batch, they’re not too bad. It’s not like those sold at candy shops, however, they’re a vast improvement on your first attempt… attempts.

Between the two of you, you manage to find materials to wrap up your gift to him. You also decide to give him some of the chocolate as you’ve made more than you anticipated. A friendly Valentine’s gift. Levi surprisingly accepts it and pats you on the head like some sort of cute pet. Hey!

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Since you know Victor happens to be a workaholic and little romance in his body, you know he won’t take today off. If anything, he may be annoyed with the amount of chocolate he’s receiving from his female (and maybe male) fans. You stare at the gift in your hands, wondering whether or not to give it to him since he’s probably more than irritated. A nudge from behind causes you to stumble a little.

“He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Er… I’m worried he’d find me annoying.”

Levi leans back on his motorcycle. “Why would he find you annoying?”

You wave your hand. “Capitalist CEO. He didn’t become a leading financial institution by being a pushover… or romantic person.”

“I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you.” You blink several times. “You’re a funny, kind, generous, hard working person. How could he not fall for you? If he so much makes you cry, I’m taking him out of the picture.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead you hug him. “Thanks.”

“Now go sweep him off his feet, and remember what I said about making him disappear.” He releases you so you can go to him.

“Right…”

“After all, no one messes with my little sister and gets away with it.”

“I’m not little!” you pout, but the huge grin on your face gives you a comical appearance. You hug him for a second time. “Fine, big bro.” Then it occurs to you if he sees you as his little sister, then oh boy… Victor would be in for a world of hurt should he hurt you. Isn’t that what big brothers do?

“Just don’t kill him. I still need him to sign my paychecks.”

“All right. He’ll be missing a limb or two then.”

You playfully punch him. “I’m serious. He still needs to write.”

“Who ever said it’s those limbs?”

This time your whole face turns red and you smack him with your purse. “You!”

“Feeling nervous?”

Come to think of it, you’re not. He’s distracted you with his shenanigans. “Nope!”

Something falling catches your attention. You see Goldman hastily picking up folders and papers. Having some mercy on him, you decide to help him pick them up. Unfortunately some of them fly too far from either of you and are about to escape when your big brother catches them for you. You thank him for it.

Goldman sounds nervous as he’s trying to warn you of something. It sounds like gibberish. “Slow down and take a deep breath.”

“Later!” Levi waves to you.

“Bye, big bro!”

This time Goldman’s jaw drops. Did he think you two were? Oh boy.

“We’re not in that kind of relationship. More like we adopted each other as siblings… unofficially.”

Goldman lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s a warzone in there.”

“Let me guess. Victor has many admirers giving him unwanted gifts?”

“Ding ding ding. You have won a prize. Yeah, he’s in a very, very sour mood. Please don’t say anything to upset him further.”

You give him that look. “I’m not that bad.”

He returns that look. “Yes, you are. I don’t know how many times you’ve left boss stressed out. I lost count.” Hmph. See if you help him with any of his assignments.

“I guess it’s better I don’t give these.” You hold up your wrapped gift.

“Are those chocolates?” Goldman looks horrified at the thought.

“They’re not sweet! I made sure of it. They’re not the greatest, but I’m getting better at cooking.” You’re proud of what you’ve accomplished and how far you’ve come from being a walking kitchen disaster.

“You made them?” Goldman gulps as if you’ve made Victor his last meal.

You glare at him. “I’m not that bad, and big bro helped me with them.”

Goldman shakes his head. “Good luck in there.”

“What? You’re going home?”

“No. I’m running errands.” He checks his watch. “Oh crap, gotta go before it’s too late. Thanks for your help.” With his papers and folders secured, Goldman wastes no time in leaving you in the dust.

“Bye?”

Might as well be prepared to enter the battlefield, aka LFG. You check your gift for the hundredth time you’d probably stare holes into it. Everything is good to go… except your feet. You mentally shout at your feet to start moving. After several swear words and threats, your feet start moving to the entrance and then inside where everyone looks like there’s a ticking time bomb somewhere.

Come to think of it, there is a literal ticking time bomb who calls himself their boss, aka Victor. The people move skittishly around you as you make your way to their boss’ office. Having given so many reports, you can walk there in your sleep. As you come closer to his office, the people become more stressed out and anxious. You’re tempted to sneak up behind them and yell “BOO!” However, a figure who suspiciously appears to be victor pops up in your mind, telling you that it’s childish behavior.

Even in your mind, Victor is a kill joy.

Just as you’re about to raise your hand and knock, you hear several strange noises coming from behind that wooden barrier. You blink several times before placing your ear against the door. While it’s bad manners to eavesdrop, you’re worried about Victor. Is he hurt? Does he need an ambulance? That’s what you tell yourself when that same figure chastises you about listening on other people’s conversation. From what you hear, it doesn’t sound like someone needs medical assistance. Phew. You take a step back, but being the queen of klutzes, you trip on something invisible (rather yourself) and fall back, landing right on your rear.

“Ow…” Somehow you manage to keep your voice low though it’s not low enough as you hear movement from behind the door.

Glancing around, you scurry over to a place to hide. Why are you hiding when you’re there to see Victor? You have no idea. Impulse perhaps? It’s small. You shove yourself into that little corner, hoping he would not venture further than the doorway to look out.

Victor lets out his sigh which you believe is reserved for you when you’re behaving childishly, looking like a fool, or thinking something he considers stupid. “I know you’re here.” When you don’t move or make any noise, he sounds exasperated. “I’m not mad at you. Promise.”

Since he has never broken any promises, you crawl out of your little hiding place. As soon as you appear in his sights, he seems to be in disbelief. Probably because you’re there or how you managed to cram yourself into that tiny space.

“I heard you went home early,” Victor starts off. He appears like his normal self though you know better. Even if he won’t admit it, he’s worried about your health.

“I’m fine.”

“I can see that.” His posture screams he wants to know why you’re there in the first place.

“Err… I have something for you.” You walk up to him before shoving your gift at him, more like at his broad chest.

Victor turns his attention to the thing you’ve shoved at him. “What’s this?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to open it,” you tease him. Given the wrapping design and theme, it’s not hard to guess you’re giving him a Valentine’s gift.

“I’m not into sweets.”

You puff up your cheeks. “I know that. I made sure they’re not too sweet.”

His long fingers start to meticulously unwrap his gift. “You made these?”

“Yep!” You sound very proud of yourself.

“Shouldn’t you be giving it to your boyfriend?”

EH???

“What boyfriend?” Seriously you don’t recall being into any guy.

“You hugged that guy twice.”

“Oh, what about big bro?”

This stuns Victor into silence for a minute or two. “You don’t have any brothers.”

“Well now I do!” Wait a moment. “You’re jealous of my gay brother again?”

“I’m not jealous of your gay brother… again? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This leaves you in giggling fits. It takes you a few moments and a stern look from him for you to calm yourself enough to talk. “Do you remember the cooking class you substituted for?” Nod of his head. “It’s the same guy. My gay friend turned gay brother.”

You catch a blush appear on his face just as he turns away. “Hopefully they’re edible.”

HEY! “I worked hard on them. Big bro says I’ve improved a lot.”

Victor motions for you to follow him into his office. There are several stacks of papers and folders both on his desk and around it. What’s going on? It’s never this cluttered when you’re there ever. Victor appreciates his space being clean and orderly. You should know as he scolds you for making a mess or for putting away things in the wrong places.

“If now isn’t a good time, I can leave,” you say in an unsure tone.

“I’m almost done.” Victor ambles over to his chair behind his desk. He picks up his glasses and places them on his face. Without looking in your direction, he adds, “I’ve made reservations at that new restaurant you wanted to try.”

What? You rack your mind, trying to think how he heard about it. The only person you told is your now new big brother while you two were making those chocolates.

“You mentioned it in your moments post.”

Oh that. Making those chocolates and then mustering up the courage to give them has pushed that thought way, way far down. “Hehehehe. I forgot about that.” Wait a moment. “I made that post during lunch. How could you get reservations? It’s hard to get them unless you make it days in advance.”

“I have my ways.” Victor shuffles papers around before settling on one. His eyes never leave it as he continues the conversation with you. “It’s called having connections. You can use more of them.”

Ouch… Does he have to be that brutal? Although you know he’s right, you wish he’d tell you in a more gentle way instead of dropping it on you like a bomb. You’ve been working on gathering connections and have invited a few influential people to your show. Had it been a year earlier, they wouldn’t even consider being on your show which indicates how much you’ve grown and learned under his care.

“You’re better than when you started.” Is this a complement? If it isn’t, you decide to take it as one.

“But isn’t it expensive?” You recall the reviews and how they say it’s pricy but definitely worth it for the quality and experience.

“That’s for me to worry about. All you need to worry about is what you want to eat.”

“Okay.” You make you way to one of the chairs when you realize one of the chairs is occupied by a large mountain of gifts. In fact, they’re practically burying the poor furniture. You hadn’t noticed this, however, to be fair, you had several things on your mind. The fact your gift hasn’t joined this enormous pile gives you hope that Victor would try what you’ve made. At least yours has a chance of being opened.

After pulling out your phone, you browse the restaurants website, more specifically their menu. Their prices cause you to wince. It’d take you a week of work to get enough money for one meal, and that’s for yourself alone. As if on cue, Victor tell you to order what you want and ignore the price. He can afford it. According to him, it’s cheap for that kind of restaurant.

Wow… Cheap. The life of the rich and infamous.

You pull out a pen and pad of paper from your purse. When Victor raises a brow, you stick your tongue out at him. “It’s for random ideas.” As soon as he returns to his work, you peruse their menu. There are a lot of things you’d like to try and most likely to overeat, making a fool of yourself in the process. So this time, you’ll come prepared. You will plan what you’re going to eat for future visits so as to not tempt yourself to eat more than your stomach can handle. For a second, you consider telling Victor, however, you squash that thought. He wouldn’t praise you or acknowledge you for something he considers trivial.

By the time you finish selecting your dishes for this visit, Victor has finished cleaning up. “Will you be ordering the entire menu?”

Ouch… “Yes,” you reply with a cheeky grin. “Hope you can afford it!”

Victor stands over you, looking down at you and your notes. His soft snort tells you he’s read them. “Indeed you have ordered everything.” He pauses. “Wise decision to spread it out on multiple visits.”

Oh my. Did he just praise you again? While you’re tempted to request he say it again, you decide it’s better to not push your luck. After all, he’ll be paying for future visits. Unless he increases your salary, you doubt you’d be able to afford it without having to make sacrifices and live off of cup noodles like a certain someone who shall remain nameless.

“Are you going to try your gift?” You ask as you follow him, noticing he’s carrying your gift with him.

“Chocolate is for dessert,” Victor reminds you, causing you to blush. Right.

“Does that mean you’ll try it after dinner?” You bat your eyes even though he can’t see behind him. He doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head or does he? Hm… He has a knack for catching you doing things when he’s not even facing you or looking in your direction.

“Yes.”

His one-word reply causes you to be giddy with delight. You hope he likes it as you’ve put effort into making it…. Even if it’s last minute, but he doesn’t have to know that! What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him for now.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

With it being Valentine’s Day and Friday night, the restaurant is packed with a long line going out the door. If they’re willing to wait outside, then the food must be worth it. You become excited with anticipation. It may not be Victor level cooking, you appreciate good food.

“Victor, I—”

Some heavy set male runs straight into you causing you to lurch forward. Instinctively you brace for an impact that never arrives. Instead you find yourself in the embrace of the man you like a lot… maybe even love? Once Victor helps you back on your feet, you notice two things… Victor glaring and second your high heel is no longer high heel on the left side. You believe he’s glaring at you, however, he’s not looking directly at you, more like over you.

“Why should I apologize? She’s standing in the way,” the guy argues. Where should you stand? It’s not like there is a vacant spot for you to occupy. Now is there?

“You should look where you’re going. Perhaps you need glasses. I can help with that.”

The guy starts turning red. “I can see just fine.”

“Then you should have seen her.” Victor indicates you.

“She’s tiny. Careful someone might sit on her.”

Why you!

Victor stops you from marching straight up to him and giving him a piece of your mind. “On second thought, you’ll need a lawyer.”

“What?”

“You could have given her a concussion, and you broke her shoe.” So Victor did notice your heel-less left shoe. Hard to get anything past him.

“Gentlemen,” the restaurant’s manager speaks up. “There will be no violence in this establishment.”

“Tell that to him,” the rude guy grumbles.

“How is knocking someone over not violent,” you finally explode. “I coulda gotten a concussion.”

“Mister, please leave.” At first you think he’s referring to Victor, but his next words confirm who. “I’m terribly sorry, Mister.” He’s facing Victor. “Your table is this way.”

“Err…” You can walk but awkwardly with uneven shoes.

Victor understands what you’re trying to get at before you can say it. He literally sweeps you off your feet and carries you to your table. On your way there, more than a few customers look in your direction and whisper. Not everyday a guy carries a girl to their table.

Not like you have a choice given your broken footwear. Still it’s embarrassing to be stared at by these strangers. Somehow Victor ignores every single one of them. Of course, he does. He’s the great and mighty Victor. His name is very much appropriate for him.

At your private table, the manager fusses over the two of you, making sure you’re well taken care of before taking his leave. It makes you wonder if this is the usual service for Victor whenever he goes out or if it’s from the earlier incident. Thanks to you having decided what you want to eat before you arrived at the restaurant, you’re able to put in your order. Considering how packed this place is, you wouldn’t be surprised should service be slower than usual. Not that you’ll make a deal out of it.

Now what?

“Are you sure you’re just siblings?”

You groan. Not this again. “I’m sure of it. Unless I become a guy, he’s not interested in me.”

“You sure he isn’t lying?”

Here we go for another round. “I’m sure of it. We both like looking at cute guys and before you say anything, appreciation for nice aesthetics doesn’t mean I’m in love with them. It’s superficial level appreciation.”

Victor appears skeptical, but he doesn’t push it further.

A random thought pops into your mind, causing you to giggle.

“What useless thing are you thinking of this time?”

“All my thoughts aren’t useless. My mind can be creative and imaginative, okay?”

“What is it?”

You prop your head on your hands. “You should be more worried for yourself.”

“Oh?”

“If he’s going to hit on anyone, it’ll be you.”

Victor is stunned into silence. You’re not sure if he’s against same sex couples or tolerates them. Maybe it’s the realization that yes, there are men who would be after him. He probably had not even considered it much less thought about it.

“And if you hurt me, well you know how big brothers are overprotective of their little sisters.” You somehow recall he’s good at martial arts, very good at it. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to put it to use against a certain someone.

“He won’t have a chance.” Oh confident now are we?

Before either of you can say another word, your waiter arrives with a bottle of fine wine. “On the house.” She places it in a prepared container of ice. You peer at it. Oh it sounds good from what you’ve read. Apparently you’re not the only one who read it.

“You can have one glass.” That’s better than nothing. You’ll take it.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Man you’re stuffed. The food is too good, but not as good as a certain restaurant which Victor knows all too well, considering he owns it. You’re thankful you ordered just the right amount. Knowing yourself, you’d still keep eating even if you’re full.

You pull out your phone. “I’m going to give them a five-star review.” In your review, you write about your experience there including the incident before dinner and their heavenly cuisine. If Victor asks where you want to eat and doesn’t feel like cooking, you know what you’re answer will be.

Victor scoffs at this though he seems to be amused and overall in a good mood. When you place down your phone, you notice your gift has been opened.

“So what do you think?”

“Needs improvement.” Your spirits sink. “But you’ve come a long way from when you started. I’ve had my fair share of less than desirable results in the past. No one starts out good or perfect.”

Then Victor must have had some fails when he first started cooking. This somewhat lifts your spirits. Considering he has a huge head start over you, you take it stride. It’s not like Rome was built in a day as they say.

After paying for your meal (minus the wine), Victor once again sweeps you off your feet to carry you to his car. Unlike some big wigs, he doesn’t need a chauffeur to drive him around. He’d probably become too impatient waiting for the poor person.

“Where are we headed?” You ask as soon as you’re safely secured and he’s behind the wheel.

“To the mall.”

“Eh?”

“Your broken shoes.”

Oh. “I can repair them at home.” You don’t want to trouble him more than necessary.

“I’m buying you better ones, sturdier shoes.” In his language, it means more expensive and better quality.

By now you should be celebrating. Free dinner and shoes, but somehow your heart isn’t into it. You’re not sure why.

“Aren’t you going to gloat about getting free shoes?”

You turn your head to face him. “Not in the mood.”

“Is something wrong?” Victor sounds genuinely concerned, given how you love to banter with him.

“It’s… I don’t know. I guess I’m not ready for this to end.”

“Is that so?” Victor takes a few seconds to look at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I’m actually enjoying spending time with you.” Shut up mouth! Why don’t you dig a hole and bury yourself in it?

“Are you sure it’s not the food?”

This time you glare at him. “It’s not always about the food. Believe it or not, good company makes the food taste even better.”

“I see.” No, you don’t.

You puff up your cheeks and stare out the passenger side window. Could this get any more awkward? Scratch that. You don’t want to jinx yourself.

“Why don’t you spend the night at my place?”

Say what?

“A certain someone says she doesn’t want this to end.”

Right. “I don’t have my stuff.”

“Already taken care of.” How in the world? You decide not to question it.

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

At the mall, Victor carries you as he’s not willing to risk you tripping and falling due to your broken shoe. Says that you’re a walking disaster with two good shoes. When he teases you, you can feel the warmth and affection in his voice. He does care in his own way, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. It just wouldn’t be him.

When the sales lady notices you and your predicament, she hurries over to you. “You poor thing. I’ll find a pair of shoes that’ll flatter your figure.” How does she know your size?

After Victor places you on a chair, you take off your shoes and turn one of them over. Oh… Right in the middle is your size. You haven’t worn this pair enough times to wear out the writing. Meanwhile Victor stands guard over you. Not like you’re going to have another person try to shove you to the ground.

The sales lady returns with a dozen pair of shoes. How she managed to carry all of them. You’re not sure nor do you ask. She does have good taste in footwear. You try on all of them, some of them twice. So many nice shoes, but you only need one pair. You don’t feel like owing Victor a lot. After some consideration and thought, you narrow your selection down to two.

“Which looks better? This or that?” You’re wearing one of the pairs.

“We’ll take them both.”

“Um… I need one pair.” Mouth, stop moving and let him buy you the damn shoes.

“Since a certain dummy can’t decide, I’ll buy them both for her.” Victor grabs the box for the shoes you’re wearing and the other pair. He heads over to the cash register.

“You have a nice boyfriend.”

BOYFRIEND?! “Er… we’re good friends.”

“Are you sure about that? The way he looks at you.”

You blink in confusion. “He’s probably annoyed with having to replace my broken shoes.”

She laughs. “No. He looks at you like you’re his most precious person, a treasure he intends to protect.”

“Eh? How do you know it’s that?”

She holds up her left hand. “My husband does that a lot.” Now you notice the ring on her finger. She’s married. “Take my advice, don’t let this one go. He’s a keeper.”

“Right.”

Once he’s paid for the shoes, you insist on taking a stroll through the mall to walk off dinner. Victor isn’t happy though he indulges you, and the two of you take a leisurely walk through the building. Good thing this is an indoor mall so you don’t have to deal with the cold weather. As you pass by the window displays, you take a good look at their merchandise. A pair of rings catches your attention.

“Promise rings.” You didn’t plan to say it out loud. You did anyways.

“Those are for children.”

You roll your eyes at him and point at the price tag. “I don’t think children can afford that on their allowance.”

“Right.”

The cute puppies and kitties catch your attention. You hurry over to look at them and maybe they’ll let you pet them! They’re so adorable. Although you’re tempted to adopt one, you know you don’t have the time or energy to properly look after one. Maybe one of your friends will let you pet sit? You’d be more than willing to look after their furry four-legged family member for a short time. After all, you took care of Pearly while Gavin was away on a mission.

Inside the store, they have more than kitties and puppies. They have fishes, mice, lizards, and birds. You’re not crazy about mice or lizards. The fish are pretty to look at, but they’re kind of boring. It’s not like you can play with them or pet them. A small bird wanders to you and starts whistling. Is it serenading you? You glance around to see if the employees would let you pet the bird. Sadly they’re all busy. You reach in and the bird scoots over to your hand before climbing onto your finger. Then it makes its way up your arm and onto your shoulder. It snuggles against you.

“Oh wow, he’s never been this friendly with anyone.” A store employee appears, startling you and inadvertently the bird too. “Sorry. We normally don’t let people touch him. He tends to be grumpy most of the time.”

You reach up and start petting him. He leans into your touch, chirping in content. “Really? He seems friendly.” If this bird is as how the employee makes him out to be, you’ve found Victor in bird form it seems. Maybe this can be Victor Junior? Thinking about Victor, where is he? You thought he’d follow you into the store.

“Miss?”

“Yes?”

“Please adopt him! I’m begging you.”

What?

“You’re the first person he’s been nice to. I didn’t think he would be attached to anyone.”

“Um… I’m busy so I don’t think I can properly care for him.”

“You’ll do fine. These are great starter birds since they’re not hard to take care of.” The store employee begins telling you the benefits of having a pet and one that’s low maintenance. You find out this is a cockatiel. Thinking about the name causes you to giggle.

Between the store employee and the cute birdy eyes, you break down and decide to adopt this adorable creature. This time, you’re paying for him along with what’s needed to keep him happy and healthy. He’s content to sit on your shoulder the entire time and growls whenever he thinks someone is a threat to you.

Cage, food, toys, perches, feeding dishes, something for water, some basic first aid, and the bird himself.

“What makes you think you can take care of a pet?”

This startles you and causes him to almost fall off your shoulder. “They’re not hard to take care of, and he’s cute.”

“All animals are cute to you.”

“Not all of them.” You glance over to the lizard section. “And he really likes me.”

“Right. Are you sure it’s not some sales gimmick?” Victor folds his arms over his chest, waiting for your answer.

“I’ve seen him interact with others. He isn’t social but he’s friendly with me.” You reach up to pet him, which he happily accepts. “He’s like a bird version of you.”

Victor lets out an exasperated sigh. “Since you’ve already bought him, let’s take the stuff to my car.” Wow, you didn’t think Victor would be on board with you purchasing a pet this quickly. You decide not to point it out.

On the way to his place, the bird is content with being on your lap. You’ll need to name him since you can’t keep calling him the bird or bird.

“Victor Junior or Vic for short.”

“What are you up to this time?”

“He’s just like you.”

“….”

“So I’m naming him after you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

You stick your tongue out at Victor. Victor Junior copies you, much to your amusement. “Our son isn’t ridiculous, are you?” You coo at the little bird.

“Our son?”

“Fine, my son.”

Victor-Victor-Victor-Victor

Victor Junior has picked up quite a vocabulary during his stay at the pet shop. You can’t help but giggle at his antics. Since you’re spending the night there, you’ve set up his cage once human Victor has brought in his supplies. It’s getting late and Victor Junior looks tired. He’s yawning up a storm. You place him in his cage so he can get some sleep.

Since Victor is a gentleman, he insists you sleep in his guest room. It appears while you’re taking care of the bird, he prepared the guest room for you. Before he takes his leave so you can change, he holds out a small box. Is that a ring box? You open it to find one half of the promise ring set.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Victor stutters, attempting to deny it and saying that you’re interested in it.

“Now look who’s being silly.” You pull out the ring and slide it onto your finger before giving a surprised Victor a hug. “Does this answer your question?”

His response? He pulls you in for one passionate kiss.

Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc zen #mlqc MC #birb #otome0heart #mlqcsanta20

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badwolfrunning · 4 years ago

Text

Family & Bonds AU Headcanons

I an dabbling in a couple of AU’s currently. Primarily what I have posted is a Family and Bonds AU titled....Family Bonds. (original. v crafty. wow.) Anyway, lengthy post under the cut.

I shifted the family tree from Bonds in order to accommodate the incredible characters designed by middlewarnersibling in Family to be the Warner trio's parents, and I love that story line for them.

In Bonds, it seemed odd that Bosko would some how not notice his lover's aging or just how she managed to keep all three kids a secret, but I figured, one was totally possible and that one child was Slakko, their father from Family. So it goes like this:

Oswald and Ortensia have a daughter named Odelia.

Odelia has an affair with Bosko Warner

Culminating in middlewarnersibling’s character Slakko Warner. Odelia still never tells Bosko and before the baby arrives, Bosko’s bleeding heart brother, Kokko offers to marry Odelia so the baby at least appears “legit.”

So Kokko becomes the Warner trio’s legal grandfather.

According to Family, Slakko meets Ophelia, a cat toon who sings and dances. They hook up and reluctantly wind up in a shotgun marriage and eventually all three kids are born.

Yakko is approx 5-6 years older than Dot and 3 years older than Wakko, putting him solidly in the middle.

Their birthdays are all in different seasons; I have decided Dot is mid-late June, Wakko is early October and Yakko is January, so their age gap gets all wonky at certain times of the year.

Babs and Buster were actually about 14/15 respectively at the launch of Tiny Toon Adventures which makes them both a couple years Yakko's senior.

I also think it makes for an excellent joke about Yakko always gunning for older women.

(For future reference, yes this makes Buster a solid 7 years older than Dot.)

The rest of the primary Tiny Toons crew is pretty much on par with the exception of Hampton and Dizzy who I headcanon as younger by about a yearish.

(Why yes, Yakko and Dot both have deep seated parental trauma, why do you ask? Wakko does too but it uh....comes out in a different way.)

I headcanon an interesting arch for Slakko which involves something of redemption? In Bonds while Bosko is on the hunt for the Warners he finds this other Warner and decides to see if he has any information. Slakko is living alone in a bit of a shite apartment and mostly keeps to himself and has been ok at staying out of bigger trouble. So when Bosko and his boys arrive at his door he's suspicious and ready to make it a fight if he has to. But there isn't much of a fight; Bosko demands to know where the trio is, Slakko honestly has no idea but Bosko doesn't believe him. The weasels and whomever else Bosko brought as his cronies beat the shit out of him but he holds true to his story.

So Bosko finally believes him. More or less. He doesn't want to have to come back here so he decides to make sure that Slakko can't ever 'see' his children again and has whomever's with him hold him down and burn his eyes with dip. So Slakko's left blinded, injured and probably should be dead but he's not.

Yakko remembers that his folks hardly ever reported an injury or used a hospital unless they absolutely had to. So, close to the end of the show Yakko finds out his father actually used medical services and decides to figure out how to get himself listed as an emergency contact. Not that he intended to ever come to assist but more so that he can make sure to be notified of anything particularly fatal. In Family, he lamented that he never got to say goodbye to their mother and as much as he disagrees with him, Yakko never wants to miss that chance again. So, post Bonds, he ends up finding out about Slakko's sudden blindness and discreetly, not to the knowledge of Slakko or his sibs, decides to help out. Just this once, is Yakko's reasoning.

Um....some cute things I headcanon....

I kept Wakko's diabetes....not cute but like, it's more light hearted than that other stuff tbh

Also not 100% cute: Babs continues to go to therapy to address things like depression and PTSD but it takes some....convincing for Yakko to see someone again. Especially after being made to on the lot. But after a particularly bad night he agrees to give it a shot.

Basically, they coax each other through episodes and have learned to spot when they're each using coping mechanisms in harmful ways and call each other out on it. They make a fantastic team.

They also don’t totally shy away from the conversations with their daughters. They introduce what’s appropriate and with their age gap that can be tricky.

They both also have a very....interesting time being parents early on. Babs is waiting to see if she'll feel what her mother must have felt that made her leave them in a huff and Yakko's struggling to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing wrong with him, his father just never wanted them. Basically they're looking for when another shoe will drop but it won't because they don't just love their kid, they wanted them.

They got to make a choice their parents didn't.

I do have fankids for Babs and Yakko, both girls, both named after powerful women in art and history. Lucille Ophelia and Jacqueline Madeline. (If any of you know the Madeline namesake I will be impressed AF)

Lucille very strictly goes by Lu, call her Lucy and you die (unless you're Wakko. This kid plays favorites and he is it.) and she is a handful of a teenager. Sharp tongued and sharp witted.

Jackqueline, or Jackie, is 5 years younger and is so naive and sweet it hurts and she is Daddy's Girl capital D. Yes, at first they figured she was just masterful at the cuteness game like Dot was but as it turns out, she's got that Wakko style innocence.

Babs jokes that she's clearly actually Wakko's kid. (There is absolutely no possible way for that to be true. Which is why it's funny instead of suspicious.)

They have both watched Animaniacs and Tiny Toon Adventures and just to piss off her dad, Lu says Tiny Toons is her favorite.

Skippy, like Dot, had a dance focus and so, in a few years' time, she's gonna run into him on the set of a music video. That'll be fun!

Babs and Yakko have pissed of more than one director for going off on what appear to be essentially joke tangents but it's actually the two of them attempting to out do each other until there's a clear winner. They are both spotlight hogging, competitive lil shits.

It's Babs' idea for Wakko to try fronting the band he's in and his bandmate get stupidly jealous and steals his girl....oops.

Dot is stupidly beautiful and very much lovable (wow. shocking.) And some poor poor blue bunny is gonna fall face first into a sitcom level affair....and since he can't tell either of his best bros about it he ends up drunkenly calling Babs who just laughs her ass off the whole time.

Yakko can play chess in his head. Like...he doesn't need the board. He can just keep track of the pieces. (Honestly, having to be so damn smart is a complex brought on the physical and verbal abuse from his father.)

Wakko....honestly, as smart as he can be and as righteous as he is, he has that Warner independence streak something bad after touring. He tries a bit much and ends up starting a fight with someone and long story short, he's caught with that twink stuff from Family (unfortunate name tbh basically, think crack.)

Yakko is obviously beside himself and Dot is more or less oblivious as she's at university at this point. Basically, shit hits the fan and the brothers split.

Dot tries to keep in touch with Wakko but he severs the connection from both his sibs.

Wakko does get clean. He also falls in love with a remarkable human toon named Jesse.

He’s also still friends with Foghorn, who is actually a pretty great support in all of this.

I headcanon Wakko as demi homosexual.

Much to her own surprise, Babs LOVES being a mom.

Yakko struggles with partnership. A lot of what goes into being a parent are things he’s already experienced and he has a hard time NOT being a know it all and actually partnering with his wife....it’s a fun dynamic.

Yakko also still has a crush on Max Goof that he SWORE he was over but after seeing him at random very much IS NOT.

It's not just Wakko making horrible choices btw. Sorry this was meant to be the cute stuff....uh....

Both Yakko and Wakko walk with their sister at her wedding (told you things will circle back!)

#animaniacs #family and bonds #family bonds au #is it an au when it's just blended fics?#bonds #family #animaniacs family #animaniacs bonds #Headcanon Time #fanfic #relax #he isn't going to leave his wife for max #pretty sure #lol #none of these kids are het or mono tbh

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gatheringbones · 4 years ago

Note

do you write with an outline or just sit and write? (correction because I forgot the right word in english oops)

both.

spent the first six months sitting and writing on the computer, which quickly turned into writing about writing because all I had was a vague aesthetic and a pairing in mind and that was all I had to go on. I had to talk to myself on the page for months and months just working out who my protagonist was, what she wanted, an arc she could go through, a possible world I could shape around that arc, chasing and circling what I found interesting and compelling and letting everything that bored me slough off unnoticed as the story kept evolving and evolving and evolving until certain things felt like bedrock good sense. in the meantime I identified that a good portion of the reason I was struggling with writing queer fiction was because I had some pretty fucked up ideas about what queer fiction was supposed to look like, so I supplemented my writing with boatloads of gay and trans and anti-racist and anti-capitalist literature and history so I could get out from under the demon of my own stunted fearful preconception of what territories I was allowed to explore and what language I would use to do so. Half of my notes from that period are just pages and pages of me having one quiet conversation after another with myself on “well why does this work. what feels right about this. why doesn’t this work? why don’t I like it?” I wasn’t allowed to be mean or avoidant— if I felt uncomfortable or on the verge of shutting down with shame or disinterest, I had to explore why, kindly. I found that if I poked those feelings a bit and talked about them the answer would appear in my response— a more interesting spin or approach would occur to me just by asking myself “well if this doesn’t feel good for these reasons, how can I use those reasons to point myself towards something that does?” Then I had the beginnings of a story. I kept kicking that can down the road and stuff just started happening. The cast was a big nebulous ??? right up until I started asking them what kinds of energy I wanted my protagonist to be exposed to, what kinds of reactions she would have, and what directions that would point her in from there. I kept track of my thinking. If I read it back over, I would pay careful attention to what made my brain vibrate with interest and pleasure and recognize how much more I would be able to motivate myself to keep writing if I built the story around those things instead of how I thought a proper adult story ought to go. The story got unbearably exciting and weird as a result, and I found that if I trusted that and leaned into that I could keep going and trust that my weird intuitive brain would keep throwing me solutions as long as I kept all meanness out of the equation. And I kept reading. I had so many stories I was pulling from as inspiration, but to keep my brain limber and my shame in check I had to keep feeding my writing with as much radical exciting work I could get my hands on. the cast showed up, and the ragged suggestion of a plot suddenly snapped into focus because I had a clearer idea of the moving pieces I had available, and it’s almost impossible to come up with a character-driven plot based on their specific wants and needs and desires when you don’t know what those are.

then, suddenly, I had a outline. I knew who these people were, and I had a world that was specifically crafted to compel them to interact and transform in very specific ways, and I had my whole hero’s journey from start to finish. My ability to write prose was still busted from years and years of abusive self-talk, but the story was there, for better or worse. turned off my computer and pulled out a notebook and a good pen. It was February of 2020 and my brain was self destructing with terror, and I sat in the bamboo alley next to my house and wrote prose by hand so I couldn’t ctrl-a and delete like I always used to. I started in the beginning and began trying to write prose. If the outlining process was zoomed out, this was zoomed in. I practiced building scenes and immersing myself in the physical act of writing by hand in the outdoors in an attempt to keep from going nuts. Once I finished a section, I’d have another small written-down conversation with myself about what worked and what didn’t, what I wanted to keep or change or discard, and then I would circle those changes and go on to my next attempt at the next scene pretending that these changes had been there since the beginning. The important thing was to keep going and to keep track of my thinking. draft two would go back and put things where they were supposed to go, but draft one was for hammering out scene after scene after scene and taking notes on the process. In the meantime I was still breaking my brain down and building it back up with materials that expanded my idea of what was possible, and taking time to reflect on how sometimes the only reason I thought something wasn’t possible was because of shame or disinformation or blatant propaganda. I identified the pleasure of sinking into the struggle of writing a story that isn’t full of boring unexamined shortcuts that prop up terrible systems— the pleasure of struggle in general.

it’s good to sit with a complicated idea that you have to work and work and work at before you can discover what you’re really trying to say with it and how to express that in a way people can follow. it’s good to think of coded ways to make that process of dragging a reader down a complicated idea into something that feels exciting and heroic, so they feel just as excited as you did when you first came up with it. It’s good to be a body engaged in the act of writing, it’s the best feeling in the world. there’s no such thing as being stuck, there’s just stopping because you don’t think you deserve to continue, and that’s nonsense.

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【千灯如昼】 Xia Yan’s A Thousand Lanterns like Daytime Date/Phonecall Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV13k4y127hd

My new laptop just came in today, so I was finally able to finish the last bit of the translation for this that I was missing out on!

This particular date story is very cute but also really hits you with the angst every so often. It’s hard being a Xia Yan fan, with pain lurking at every corner lmaoo

PART 1

Star Bridge Light Event

A gentle cool wind blew away the scorching summer heat, accompanying the moon-tinted sunset. The curtain formally rose on the Star Bridge Light event tonight.

MC: It’s so lively.

The street vendors on the two sides of the road gave their all in announcing their wares. Tourists were squeezed in everywhere, in high spirits. The crisp sounds of rattle drums and windchimes assimilated with the racket of the crowd, so much that I couldn’t resist feeling the joy myself.

Ever since the incident from when we were young, I’ve never attended a light festival event again. If not for Xia Yan’s invitation this time, I probably wouldn’t have had this chance as well…

[Flashback]

Home

Last Sunday night, I received Xia Yan’s call not long after I had finished eating dinner.

Xia Yan: MC, quick, look outside the window.

He had just spoken when I saw gorgeous colours exploding far away in the night sky through the French windows.

MC: Such beautiful fireworks – what’s being celebrated?

Xia Yan: Did you forget? Today’s the once-a-year summer festival – the opening ceremony for the Star Bridge Light event.

MC: Is that so… looking at the direction of the fireworks, the event this year should be at the quaint block on Stellis River’s shore.

MC: It must be very lively there, right now.

Xia Yan: Yeah, I heard that the hosts started preparing for this event one month in advance.

Xia Yan: Now that I mention it, for related light festivals… have you gone with anyone in the years that I wasn’t here?

MC: I didn’t.

Xia Yan: Really?

MC: Really, I’ve never gone ever since a certain someone nearly got lost at the light festival.

Xia Yan: Ahem – didn’t think that you would still remember…

MC: That’s for sure. After all, we even alerted the police back then.

Xia Yan: Ah, I’m begging you to be magnanimous and forgive me for being young and clueless back then.

Xia Yan: To wash away this dark history, how about… we go again? To make up for it, I’ll cover all the costs for eating, drinking, and playing games.

Xia Yan: And I can take the chance to let Peanut get some fresh air. He hasn’t seen you in a while.

MC: That should be fine…

Xia Yan: Then it’s confirmed!

[Flashback end]

At the end, we agreed to meet on the day of the closing ceremonies. According to Xia Yan, there would be an even more magnificent show then than at the opening ceremonies. Maybe it was because they wanted to catch this final chance, but the Star Bridge Light event was still filled with an endless stream of guests.

Xia Yan: Come closer to me – don’t get squished.

Saying this, Xia Yan blocked my front side, isolating a safe zone for me.

MC: Ah, Xia Yan, you don’t have to help me by blocking them off. With so many people, be careful that you don’t fall.

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, how could I fall? I’m a front-liner, after all. Trust in my skill a little more.

I hadn’t had the time to respond when I suddenly heard him give a muffled grunt, frowning.

Xia Yan: Ngh…

MC: What’s wrong? Were you stepped on?

Xia Yan: Nothing’s up – I was just accidentally poked by the toy in that kid’s hand.

MC: Poked? It must hurt a lot… let me see if there’s a wound.

Xia Yan dexterously dodged my hand, then rubbed his waist, deliberately putting on an embarrassed look.

Xia Yan: It doesn’t hurt – I was just startled. Do you really want to look in a public place with so many people?

MC: Yeah, I shouldn’t look.

Xia Yan: Don’t worry – I’m thick-skinned.

Xia Yan: Since they set up a lot of parent-child events for this light event, lots of parents are bringing their children over.

Xia Yan: Unlike me, you have to be somewhat careful. Though the children aren’t doing it on purpose, it’s hard to prevent them from being reckless or uncareful.

MC: Sure, I’ll be careful.

MC: Although looking at them right now, I keep feeling like I’m looking at us from the past…

MC: Right, Xia Yan, do you still remember what happened when we were little?

The suddenly-addressed Xia Yan startled, like a child who’d done something wrong, and met my gaze with particular sincerity.

Xia Yan: That time when we were little was a special situation. I’m not someone with a bad sense of direction – I definitely won’t get lost again.

He really was ahead of the game with his crisis awareness, but…

MC: I’m not talking about that.

Xia Yan: Huh? Then what is it?

MC: Ever since last week when we brought up that matter about getting lost, I suddenly remembered something that has never been clarified.

Xia Yan: Eh? What thing?

MC: I faintly remember that the reason that you walked off from us back then because you were looking for something.

MC: But at the end, you only said that you couldn’t find it. From start to finish, you never told us exactly what you were looking for…

Xia Yan froze, then immediately made an “ah” sound, as if he’d come to a sudden realization.

Xia Yan: Ah, something like that did happen.

Xia Yan: Though it’s been so long, so I actually don’t really remember.

MC: Is that so…

Though this was pardonable, I couldn’t resist sighing. I’d pestered Xia Yan a lot back then to make the truth clear. I never thought that, with the passing of time, this would be a completely unsolvable mystery. Seeing my disappointed expression Xia Yan immediately began to comfort me, half-soothing and half-persuasion.

Xia Yan: Don’t sigh. Maybe I’ll think of it after walking around soon.

After saying so, he showed an impatient expression, as if he was waiting for me to cheer up. Seeing Xia Yan like this, the disappointment in my heart was swept away in an instant.

MC: Makes sense – since we’re at the light event, then the probability of remembering it all again is very high.

Xia Yan: That’s right. This is a rare opportunity, so let’s go on this light event trip to find those memories.

Xia Yan: Follow the great detective, and let’s head out, my Watson!

Circling in the air, the myna bird Peanut responded in squawks for a few times, thinking that it had heard its own name*. It flew far outwards, following the lights of the converged lanterns. Laughing, Xia Yan whistled to it in response, then walked into the boisterous crowd, leading me by my hand.

I didn’t know if the answer from back then would be hidden at the end of this long road, brightly-lit by lanterns.

TL Note:

* “Peanut” and “Watson” sound nearly identical in Chinese.

PART 2

We followed the river of people forward, doing our best to not pass by a single shop.

Exactly what was Xia Yan looking for when he was little… was it a special snack, or an interesting toy? I tried to find an answer in this year’s light festival, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was being ridiculous.

MC: (In a blink, so many years have passed…)

MC: Xia Yan, have you seen anything you’re particularly interested in?

Xia Yan: About that… I feel like it’s all pretty interesting.

Just then… I heard a stream of loud and clear geese honks.

MC: Geese? Did I imagine that?

Xia Yan: No, I heard it too. It seems like it came from there.

Xia Yan pointed to the nearby stall. After passing through the gaps in the crowd, I could see that there were many big white geese in a fenced area. They extended their long necks, cleverly ducking away from the crowd of people who tossed out rings. Sometimes, they’d even strut around, fanning out their two wings.

MC: So this is a ring toss game? I didn’t think that the light event would keep up with the times. They’ve come up with new tricks…

Xia Yan: It seems pretty interesting.

MC: … If you looked clearly at those rows of jagged teeth in their mouths, you wouldn’t say that.

Xia Yan: Haha, if I remember correctly, didn’t you get chased and bitten by a big goose until you fell in a mud pit when we went to the countryside to visit relatives?

Xia Yan: I think it was me who noticed it first, so I pulled you out.

MC: Stop talking, stop talking – those memories are going to surge out!

Xia Yan: Calm down – it’s about time for us to take our revenge.

Xia Yan: Plus, it looks like the prizes are pretty good!

I hadn’t even had time to look at what the prizes were when Xia Yan directly waved and shouted at the boss.

Xia Yan: Boss, ten rings here.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: Sure!

MC: Xia Yan, you couldn’t be wanting to…

Standing in the established area, as set by the rules, Xia Yan held the rings. After comparing the distance a few times, he directly flung one out. The ring flew straight to its target, and right when it was about to land, the big white goose suddenly extended its long neck, squawking a few “caw caw” sounds at Xia Yan in demonstration.

Xia Yan: Oops.

Because of the height difference, the ring that should’ve been able to land right on the head of the big white goose, hit its neck directly. Following a severe “caw” sound, the big white goose fluttered backwards, staggering several steps before it firmly stabilized itself.

Xia Yan: Hey, are you… okay?

Accompanying Xia Yan’s gradually freezing expression, I noticed that big white goose’s attitude seemed a bit off.

In its two beady eyes… there seemed to be killing intent.

MC: Xia, Xia Yan! I think it’s angry!

Xia Yan: Eh?!

The big white goose stuck out its neck, then rushed towards us. When it reached the fence, it jumped up with a flap of its wings, then descended in a mission-accomplished way. With a cry, the crowd of people dissipated all at once. The big white goose didn’t chase them – it just pinned a death stare on Xia Yan in front of him.

Xia Yan: MC, stay away from me.

Just when he said this, the big white goose twisted its neck as if warming up, and with a “caw caw”, it rushed at Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: Br-brother goose! Let’s discuss this nicely!

The beady eyes of the goose had been completely clouded by anger. It ruthlessly found every opportunity to peck Xia Yan with an iron beak. The boss probably had never seen a goose so intent on revenge, and was shocked silly during then.

Xia Yan: Stop your mouth! Don’t! Don’t bite there!

MC: Xia Yan, hurry and run! Don’t get caught! Or else…

Xia Yan: Don’t talk about it! If an accident happens to me, I’m handing my antiques shop for you to take over!

Xia Yan: In there, I’ve left for you… wait, don’t peck my behind!

MC: Here, there’s a basket! Hurry and trap it!

Maybe it was because the goose had gotten tired of pecking Xia Yan, or maybe it was because my words attracted its anger, but it changed its target and rushed towards me.

MC: Ahhhhhh don’t come over here –

Seeing the direction that the goose had changed to, the aura surrounding Xia Yan immediately changed. He stared at that goose “murderously”, as if the person who cut a sorry figure fleeing just now wasn’t him.

Xia Yan: You better slow down!

I hadn’t even had the chance to escape when Xia Yan seized the goose’s neck from behind, then turned around, sending it straight back into the fence with a fling of his hand. Right then, not just the crowd of people, but even the originally restless goose crowd became still.

MC: !!!

It took me a while to regain my bearings from the shock.

MC: Xia Yan, did you get any pecking injuries on your body? Does it hurt?

Xia Yan: Nothing’s wrong. Though that big white goose looks scary, compared to people, its ability to hurt is limited.

MC: That’s good. I’d originally thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

MC: Didn’t think it would end up being the opposite. Your posture when throwing the goose was just like that “Discobolus” sculpture.

Xia Yan: Hahaha, it wasn’t that exaggerated, right…

Xia Yan: I’d originally wanted to let it peck me so it could let go of its anger, but I didn’t think that it would actually rush at you. Good thing that in the end, it just looked scary without actually being dangerous.

Xia Yan: Otherwise, this goose might have been sent to the dinner table.

Hearing Xia Yan’s last sentence, I couldn’t help but flinch for that goose.

In the end, though we didn’t get a ring on a goose, the boss gave Xia Yan the right to choose a prize for capturing the goose.

Xia Yan: I’ll have this one.

MC: A comb?

I looked at that sandalwood comb, feeling somewhat surprised at his choice.

Xia Yan: Yeah. The craftsmanship of this comb is pretty good – it’s not like those assembly-line-made wholesale ones.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: Young people sure have good eyes for these things. I found this batch of ours from an old craftsman in the village – it was completely handmade.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: This craft has already been passed down through several generations. Legend says that the god of the land used the combs made by his family, before he was granted godhood.

MC: The god of the land?

Ring Toss Stand Boss: That’s right. Young lady, you must not have known that the origin of the Star Bridge Light event has to do with the god of the land.

The boss started chattering, and was just about to unleash a torrent of local knowledge on me when he was cut short by Xia Yan in a timely manner.

Xia Yan: Boss, you should focus on watching over your stall, lest those geese run out again.

As he spoke, Xia Yan stuffed the prize straight into my hand.

Xia Yan: For you.

I held the comb that he had exchanged for the peril he’d faced, and suddenly felt that it had some sort of heavy weightiness.

MC: You’re giving this to me?

Xia Yan: Mm. You said before that recently, you’ve been losing sleep. Aside from chatting with you, there doesn’t seem to be much else that I can help with.

Xia Yan: I consulted a doctor, and he said that lightly combing your hair before sleeping can improve your sleep…

As Xia Yan spoke, his gaze started becoming erratic. Seeing this, the boss on the side laughed.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: Young man, you didn’t need to bother with that.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: The comb is a personal item. Rather than some health benefits, its more important use is…

Xia Yan: Boss! If you talk too much, you’ll affect your profit prospects.

Ring Toss Stand Boss: Alright, I’ll stop talking about it.

Xia Yan turned around with some awkwardness. Though he purposefully blocked his face with his hand, I could still see the slightly-flushed tips of his ears from my angle.

MC: Alright, Xia Yan, the boss was messing with us, don’t take it seriously.

MC: I’ll remember to use it every night to comb my hair. If it works, then I’ll definitely tell you right away!

Xia Yan: …Okay.

After hearing my words, the boss suddenly started laughing even louder. After glaring at him, Xia Yan immediately tugged me away from the stand.

Why did I feel like… he was somewhat in a huff?

Having returned into the crowd, I had a somewhat clear target this time.

MC: Xia Yan, let’s try some events that kids can safely play next time.

MC: I feel like you wouldn’t have provoked a big goose when you were little. Otherwise, if you encountered a situation like just now, I reckon you’d be gone…

Xia Yan: How am I that weak? I was the one who scared off that goose that made you fall into the mud pit back then.

MC: Let this topic go!

Although, it really was as Xia Yan said – he scared off the goose, and afterwards, I never saw it in my vicinity. I even vaguely remembered that, in the few days after, the food on the dinner table were all abnormally sumptuous – and among them, one of the permanent dishes seemed to be…

MC: Eh?! That goose ended up getting eaten?!

Xia Yan: Hm hm? What did you say?

Xia Yan: Ah! There are a lot of kids surrounding that stand – let’s go over and look.

MC: You must be deliberately forcing away the topic, right…

So it turns out that Xia Yan’s threat from just now was for real. If some geese gave chase… they’d end up on the dinner table.

PART 3

Following the joyful cheers of children, Xia Yan and I arrived in front of a shop.

MC: They’ve even got sugar people*!

The boss was a kindly grandpa. Though the hair on his head was white, his hand movements were natural and unforced. With a few movements, he had created a vivid and lifelike phoenix. I couldn’t resist exclaiming along with the children.

MC: Whoa – so amazing!

Xia Yan: Yeah, no wonder he attracted so many little fans.

Xia Yan: Although looking at the situation right now, it seems like he’s a little too busy…

Just as Xia Yan said, the boss had no time whatsoever to consider us. After a hurried glance over, he only had the time to send a greeting in our direction.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: Come, I don’t have time to do it for you, so you two can do it yourselves.

MC: Eh? Was the boss talking to us?

Xia Yan: Eh… seems like it.

The boss’s abnormally familiar attitude as if he knew us from the start, as well as Xia Yan’s unnatural expression, made me feel somewhat strange.

MC: Xia Yan, do you know the boss from before?

Xia Yan: Ah? I’m not familiar with him. Maybe the boss is too busy and just didn’t realize.

Xia Yan: Aiya, let’s not talk about this. Either way, since the boss is letting us do it ourselves, how about we go for it.

With a grin, Xia Yan pointed to the side of the boss where there was a small candy-making stall, eagerly pulling up his sleeves.

MC: Making sugar people is the work of a craftsman – I probably won’t be great at it.

Xia Yan: No problem – I’m here.

Xia Yan: You didn’t get to eat it because of a cavity when we were little – this time, you definitely won’t miss it.

MC: You’ve forgotten your own matters so completely, yet you still remember these little things…

Xia Yan: Because they’re things about you.

After winking at me, he took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, then crouched at the candy-making stall. He held up the steel spoon, scooping out some syrup from the heating stove with familiarity, and smoothly started to draw with seriousness on the steel counter.

Thin threads of sugar meandered off the steel spoon, following his movements to take form, finally converging to become a playful-looking little person.

MC: It’s so cute!

Hearing my praise, Xia Yan waved the cute sugar person he was holding. His smile bloomed from his eyes, bringing a joy as if he was waiting to be praised.

Xia Yan: Here – can you guess who I made?

Looking at it carefully, the sugar person’s hairstyle and hair décor seemed to be quite similar to how I was dressed up today.

MC: Could it be… me?

Xia Yan turned his wrist, holding the sugar person in front of his eye.

Xia Yan: Mm, it’s you.

Through the crystal-clear sugar person, his coral eyes looked like rich honey, mixed with thoughts that had been mulled over for a long time.

Xia Yan: I was thinking of you when I made this sugar person.

Drums sounded from far away, accelerating my frenzied heartbeat.

As he was now, Xia Yan looked like he was doing his best to impress everything into his sight. He didn’t pay attention to the surrounding noise – he just looked at me with a clear gaze, letting the light shine a gentle layer of brilliance on his body.

Little Boy: Big brother! Could you also make one for me?

Little Girl: I want one too!

The surrounding kids eagerly watched the sugar person in Xia Yan’s hands, outdoing each other in squeezing over here.

Xia Yan: Little friends, we’re not selling over here. If you want sugar people, go find the boss over there and buy from him.

Little Boy: Aw – big brother is so stingy.

Little Girl: But I want one that you’ve made…

Xia Yan: Sorry, sorry – I’m only making them for one person today.

Xia Yan apologetically patted the kids’ heads, then walked over to my side proudly.

Xia Yan: How is it – I didn’t disappoint, right?

MC: As expected of Great Detective Xia who knows how to do everything. But with so many longing gazes surrounding us, I’m feeling somewhat embarrassed…

Xia Yan: Being the target of admiration is a good thing.

Xia Yan held the sugar person in his hand in front of me. It was like the honey-coloured gloss and the fragrance of maltose had a sort of magic that could uplift people’s moods.

> Directly taste it > Solemnly accept it

MC: Then I won’t be courteous.

I got close to the sugar person and directly took a bite.

Xia Yan: Eh?!

The clear sweetness of the sugar filled my mouth, and I was immediately filled with happiness.

MC: Hoo… so good.

Xia Yan: Th-the head is almost gone!

As if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, Xia Yan looked at the sugar person that was nearly missing half its head in his hand, then held out his hand to wipe the sugar stains on the side of my mouth.

Xia Yan: … Haha, you really don’t have a single mental burden about this.

MC: Hm? Why would I be burdened?

Xia Yan: It’s nothing. As long as you like it, I’ll make you another if there’s a chance in the future.

> Directly taste it > Solemnly accept it

I carefully took the sugar person, fearing that someone would bump into it and shatter it. Or at least, that’s what I said, but I saw that Xia Yan’s expression was extremely surprised, with a trace of happiness.

MC: This was personally made by Great Detective Xia – it definitely is different from typical sugar people.

MC: Let me think… how should I hang this up when I get back?

Xia Yan: It’s been quite hot recently. How about making a freezing glass display case for it?

MC: Ah… something this troublesome…

Xia Yan: I’m kidding.

Xia Yan: If you like it, I can make it for you again whenever. You don’t need to specially collect and treasure it.

Holding the freshly-made sugar person in my hand, I once again fell into a daze about the next target.

MC: Looks like the thing you were looking for back then wasn’t a sugar person… then what exactly could it be…

Xia Yan: You really are persistent about this. It might not even be anything that’s that big of a deal.

MC: I still want to know.

MC: Back then, I thought you were never going to come back, and I cried while searching for a long time with mom and dad. To me, this matter is just like a knot in my heart.

Xia Yan: A knot in your heart?

MC: That’s right. I keep feeling like if I don’t find out what you were looking for back then, you’ll disappear again…

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Even if I really did disappear, it wouldn’t be your fault anyways.

Xia Yan whispered this sentence almost inaudibly, and it dissipated in the surrounding boisterous holiday atmosphere.

MC: What?

Xia Yan: Nothing. Let’s keep thinking of ways – maybe I’ll be able to remember what it was I was looking for very soon.

Seeming to have become aware of our troubles, the sugar person shop boss on the side started talking to us warmly while making the sugar person he was working on.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: If you're talking about looking for something, could it be that you’re looking for the god of the land?

MC: Eh? Why do you say so?

This was already the second time that I’ve heard of this “god of the land” name. If I wasn’t remembering wrong, it had to do with the legend of the Star Bridge Light event.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: Haha, because in this light event, it most likely has to do with the god of the land if you’re talking about looking for something.

Xia Yan: Mm, it’s because of the legend in the folklore here.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: Look at you – if you know, why not tell the young lady?

As he spoke, the boss drew up a completely new sugar person. Looking at the figure, it was a celestial being in fluttering clothes.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: Legend says that the god of the land will wear a mask and mix with the crowds, on this day in the Star Bridge Light event, to look for the lover he was separated from before he became a god.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: As long as one recognizes him, the wish they hold at the bottom of their heart will definitely become reality.

MC: I didn’t think that the Star Bridge Light event had such a romantic legend – I didn’t know about it before.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: This isn’t your fault, young lady. As time flows on, some things are destined to fade away and be forgotten.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: I also had suddenly remembered the light event back then – there were very many visitors wearing masks, and all the kids would excitedly guess who was the real god of the land.

Sugar Person Shop Boss: Maybe what you were looking for back then was him.

MC: Thank you, boss. I will definitely remember this legend.

As if he saw through my thought process, before I even opened my mouth, Xia Yan rushed to be the first to suggest a direction.

Xia Yan: I just saw a stall nearby that sells masks – let’s go and take a look.

MC: Ah, okay!

At this moment, I suddenly had the strong feeling that what Xia Yan had been searching for back then wasn’t something that could be seen or felt. Instead, it was an opportunity to make his wish a reality.

TL Note:

* You may have seen these before – sugar people (“糖人”, tang ren) use melted sugar to create fragile, edible figures!

PART 4

Maybe it was because they weren’t like the cartoon masks favoured by children, as most of the masks sold at the stand were all wooden masks with traditional features, but compared to the other stands that were busy with many visitors, the front of this mask shop was clearly much more deserted.

MC: So the god of the land wore this kind of mask to hide among the crowds…

Xia Yan: That’s just a legend. There doesn’t actually exist any god of the land.

MC: So you couldn’t find him back then?

Xia Yan: …

Seeming to be surprised by my sudden question, Xia Yan froze for a moment, then finally laughed.

Xia Yan: Haha, didn’t think you would ask about this so suddenly…

Xia Yan: You’re right. I really was looking for the legendary god of the land back then.

Like he was slowly unearthing past memories, Xia Yan’s gaze wandered over the rows and rows of dazzling masks, finally coming to a stop on my face.

Xia Yan: I’m sorry for making you worry back then. Now that I think back, those kinds of thoughts were pretty childish.

MC: No worries. As family members, we should take care of each other, after all.

MC: Plus, I think that believing in legends has nothing to do with whether you’re childish. This is a way to place your hopes on something.

If so, exactly what was it that Xia Yan had placed his hopes on back then? Up till now, he’s never brought up this matter. It must be something that’s hard to say, so he kept it hidden…

MC: Although, being able to remember exactly what you were looking for is already very difficult. The exact wish should be even harder to remember, right?

Xia Yan: About this…

Xia Yan opened his mouth a few times, finally choosing to maintain a tacit mutual understanding with me.

Xia Yan: How about we buy the masks first? Let’s leave the wish matter to think about later.

MC: Okay, prepare to pay up – with such a rare opportunity, I’m going to choose the most expensive to keep.

Xia Yan: Sure – I’ll take it as helping with the boss’s business.

The boss, who was originally swiping on his phone on the side, straightforwardly raised his hands.

Mask Shop Boss: Why so courteous? I just came here to join in on the liveliness. If there’s anything you like, just take it.

MC: … Eh?

MC: (It seems like I’ve just heard this kind of familiar tone.)

Xia Yan: Ahem, boss, you can’t do business like this. If you gave one to everyone, wouldn’t this become a charity?

Right then, I suddenly felt someone squeezing past my back. Though it was just a few seconds, and I hadn’t planned to pay it any attention, but Xia Yan ceased his movements in making payments, frowning at the crowd while asking me.

Xia Yan: MC, hurry and see if you’ve lost something.

MC: Ah? Okay.

I reached into my pocket, and sure enough, I noticed that I’d lost something.

MC: My phone’s gone! Was it that thief just now?

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, he can’t get away. Wait for me for a bit.

After he finished speaking, Xia Yan whistled towards the sky. In response, Peanut arrived, following Xia Yan as they gave chase towards the crowd together.

In a flash, over ten minutes had already passed, and Xia Yan still hadn’t returned. Because I didn’t have my phone, I had no way of contacting him. I could only incessantly look around everywhere, hoping that I’d see his figure in the crowd.

MC: (It couldn’t be that something happened to him, right…)

My mind quickly came up with many similar cases, getting all the more anxious. As if affected by my mood, the visitors coming and going revealed more heavy expressions than before, accompanied by worried whispers.

Visitor A: Husband, the person you were talking about is alright, right…

Visitor B: I’m not sure. I saw blood all over his face, and he was lying there, unable to move. The wounds he got probably weren’t light.

Visitor A: Ah, I hope that his life isn’t at risk.

Visitor B: Yeah, although people nowadays are too quick to act. It was just a little matter, so why bother making a mess of it to this point…

MC: (They couldn’t be talking about Xia Yan, right?!)

When I thought this, I rushed straight out and blocked that couple.

MC: My apologies – the person who was hurt that you just brought up, may I ask for an approximation of what he looked like?

Visitor A: Looked like… because there was blood all over his face, I could only just barely see that it was a fairly young boy.

Visitor B: That’s right, and he was wearing a white shirt, and he didn’t seem to have a companion with him.

MC: Could you tell me approximately where it was?

Visitor B: Right turn at the front. You’ll be able to see it after walking straight for a bit more.

MC: Thank you!

After hurriedly giving my thanks, I forced myself into the mass of people, rushing towards the direction they had indicated.

The heat in the crowd, as well as the dazzling lanterns all around, made me feel abnormally restless in this moment. As I staggered, rushing towards the scene, I suddenly felt a familiar feeling. It seemed like I had been like this when I was little, anxiously looking in all directions for Xia Yan who’d gotten lost…

In the end, the place where we found him was a forest in the corner of the light event.

Xia Yan curled up, burying his head past his shoulders, crouching without a single sound in the corner beside the shrubbery. Sounds of lively mirth came from the light festival not too far away, but all of these seemed to have been isolated outside of this still area, like it had nothing to do with him.

After, only when I walked closer did I hear the quiet sounds of his sobbing.

Back then, I was still young, so I’d always thought that he was terribly scared because he had gotten lost from everyone. But now that I think about it carefully, that didn’t seem to be the case…

Xia Yan has always been very courageous since he was small. He’d even drive away a goose that was taller than him to protect me. If so, how could he have cried to that point just because he had gotten lost? He’s so smart, so he definitely also knew to ask the light event staff for help.

MC: (Could it be that he purposefully hid away back then…)

MC: (Or does it mean…)

MC: (No good, this isn’t the time to think about these. I need to find Xia Yan fast and confirm that he’s safe!)

PART 5

When I found the scene of the accident, everything was already reaching an end. The light event staff had placed warning signs in front of the stall where the conflict had occurred, and were now methodically cleaning up the scene.

Staff Member: Could all visitors please be aware of the shards of glass on the ground. Please aim to take alternate routes where possible.

I paid little attention to the shards scattered all around with traces of blood on them, directly stepping over the warning signs.

Staff Member: Ah, dear visitor, please move back to avoid injury.

MC: My apologies - may I ask if you know about the condition of the one who was injured just now?

Staff Member: I came fairly late, and I’m not too clear on the detailed situation.

Staff Member: I just know that the one who was injured is a young man. Because he thought that the other person, a middle-aged man, had stolen something of his, the two got in a dispute.

Staff Member: During this, he accidentally collided with the adjacent goldfish stall, and his eyes were scratched by the glass. It seems like he lost a lot of blood…

MC: (Stole something… could the one who was injured really be Xia Yan…)

MC: Then has he been sent to the hospital?

Staff Member: Ah, he was just lifted out by the stretcher. Is he your friend? If so, you should be able to make it if you rush over now.

MC: Understood!

After finishing speaking, I immediately ran toward the entrance of the light event.

MC: (I hope nothing happened to Xia Yan… he must not have had anything happen to him…)

Just as I passed through the crowd of people, moving against the current, the loud, clear sound of a birdcall suddenly rang through the air. I lifted my head and saw a black figure anxiously circling around my head.

MC: (Why is Peanut over here? Is it hastening me to hurry to find Xia Yan?)

Thus, I was unable to focus on protecting the sugar person I was holding, as I threaded through the flow of people in front of me with increased anxiety.

Right then, I suddenly heard a familiar sound behind me.

???: Found you.

Hearing this voice, I immediately turned around -

Where…

Is that you, Xia Yan…

Where are you…

The multicoloured lanterns threw my vision into chaos. I felt like I was in a blurred illusion, unable to distinguish between anything…

Until… a warmth wrapped lightly around my wrist.

???: …

The sound of a light laugh directed my vision. I saw a young man…

He lifted the complicatedly-carved mask, revealing a handsome and gentle expression. That moment, reality and fantasy split apart. Between heaven and earth, only you and I are real.

MC: …

It really is you… that really is great…

I looked at him, and all the fear and unease in my heart was completely vanquished and dispersed, right then and there.

Xia Yan: What’s wrong? Staring at me in a daze - were you startled by the mask?

His eyes shone bright, looking like they could dispel all hurt in the shadow behind that brightness.

There was a moment when I felt like I had gotten something wrong… was it him? The god spoken of in legends was him, right? Peeling back a thousand years’ worth of mist, he stepped in the waning lantern light and gradually walked over, solely to find the image of the woman that was branded in his heart.

MC: I was just thinking that… if there really was that god of the land in the light event, he might look like you.

Xia Yan: But the god of the land searched for several hundred years, and still hasn’t found and reunited with the person he loves, even until today. I can’t be like him.

Though it was dialogue that could not get any more mundane, when placed in this moment, it was like a hidden promise, concealing a hard-to-express sentiment. When associating this with his “Found you” just now, my cheeks started to gradually heat up.

But Xia Yan continued to gaze at me, never once shifting his vision away. The hot air grew steadily warmer. Only until I lowered my head in embarrassment did he laugh and change the topic.

Xia Yan: Although, if I hypothetically really was him, do you have any wishes you’d like to make a reality?

Xia Yan: Do you want to recover a certain thing that was forgotten?

He raised the phone in his hand and winked at me, brimming with anticipation.

MC: I don’t…

Xia Yan: Eh?! Why?

MC: It’s alright as long as you’re fine. Just now, I’d thought the one who was hurt was you…

Xia Yan: It’s no big deal - just catching a thief. I definitely won’t let myself get caught in danger.

Xia Yan: You’re still waiting for me, after all.

MC: Xia Yan, your body is yours. Even if I wasn’t waiting for you, you have to be careful.

After listening to me, Xia Yan froze slightly, then immediately revealed a smile that was even more dazzling than before.

Xia Yan: Mm, you’re right. Here - your phone.

There was still some of his residual warmth left on the phone, and it was slightly hot. It was only then did I suddenly realize that it wasn’t that he wasn’t anxious - he was just pretending to be calm, and hadn’t shown his panicked expression.

MC: Sorry, Xia Yan, I was too reckless just now… I didn’t carefully think before running around, making you search for that long…

Xia Yan: Don’t apologize, this isn’t your fault.

He’d just dealt with an issue just now with skill and ease, but seeing me apologize, Xia Yan was immediately in a fluster.

Xia Yan: It’s actually all my fault. After getting delayed by that accident, I didn’t get Peanut to contact you immediately.

Xia Yan: You didn’t have your phone at the time, and you must have been very anxious. I’m sorry, I didn’t give enough consideration to this…

MC: It’s no problem. Something that delays you must be something that’s very important.

MC: Wait, the accident you mentioned - could it be… the accident where someone collided into the goldfish stall and got their eyes scratched?

Xia Yan: You saw it too?

MC: To be honest… I thought that person was you…

Xia Yan: Then haven’t you underestimated my strength a little too much?

Xia Yan: Although, I was on scene at the time. I somewhat helped the person who got hurt to apply some emergency blood-staunching measures. Otherwise, his eyes would be in danger.

MC: So amazing - I didn’t think that you also had professional first aid knowledge!

Xia Yan: I’m just alright - preventative measures and all.

Seeming somewhat embarrassed, Xia Yan scratched his head, then directly changed the topic.

Xia Yan: All in all, if something happens like this next time, I definitely won’t let you worry about me like today.

MC: Wrong! Even if it makes me worry, you should do what you want to do first.

MC: Saving people is the most important, right?

Xia Yan: Mm. As expected, this is something that you’d say.

Xia Yan’s always like this. He’s used to putting himself last, placing priority on considering my feelings first. Ever since we were young, up till now, he’s always been careful like this. Looking at his smiling expression right now, I suddenly had a strong hunch that the reason why he had hid away back then might also have to do with me…

MC: Actually, the process of finding you this time wasn’t a bad thing to me.

MC: It let me remember things that happened at the light event when we were little…

Xia Yan: Does… it have to do with me?

MC: Mm, I suddenly remembered that I found you in the corner of the woods, after that time when you got lost.

MC: Back then, you didn’t ask other people for help. Was it because I did something that made you unhappy, so you deliberately hid away…

Xia Yan: No, it had nothing to do with you! Wait, that’s wrong… I can’t really say that it had nothing to do with you…

MC: Look - sure enough, it has to do with me!

MC: I’m sorry, Xia Yan… it’s all my fault…

Xia Yan: Wait wait! Don’t rush to apologize yet! That thing really wasn’t your fault!

MC: Then exactly why was it that…

Seeing me cover my face, maybe Xia Yan thought I was crying. He hurried to take out a paper napkin and edged over to look over my expression as if trying to curry favour. Only after seeing that I was just bluffing did he release a breath, as if he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

Xia Yan: Alright alright, I’ll talk. I really can’t deal with you.

Xia Yan: Actually… back then, I really did think about not going back, but it wasn’t your fault.

Xia Yan: I had heard and believed some of the rumours and slanders from relatives back then, and I felt that I had snatched away the attention and affection that uncle and auntie gave to you.

Xia Yan: So I wanted to return these to you… looking at it now, it really is very childish, right?

MC: It’s beyond childish! It’s simply stupid!

Xia Yan: I know, so that’s why I was too embarrassed to tell you the whole time…

After my shock gradually faded, I suddenly felt a sort of hard-to-explain anguish in my heart. I never thought that Xia Yan would have had these kinds of thoughts. It was ironic that I, who had been with him morning and night, never noticed the slightest bit of this…

MC: So… the wish you wanted to make by finding the god of the land also has to do with these thoughts?

Xia Yan: Mm, I hoped that he could make me completely disappear - from this world, and from everyone’s memories.

Xia Yan: Although, good thing I didn’t find him. Otherwise, I definitely would’ve regretted it a lot.

MC: It’s all my fault… if I had noticed this earlier, you wouldn’t have had it so hard.

Xia Yan: Alright alright, I’ve said this already - this isn’t your fault.

Smiling, Xia Yan patted my head. Looking at his face right now, I couldn’t see the slightest bit of his past haze.

Xia Yan: It’s the opposite - I should thank you.

MC: Thank me?

Xia Yan: Mm. Though I didn’t find the god of the land, you found me.

Xia Yan: Starting from then, I made a decision.

Xia Yan: I will return several times over the attention and affection that was split for me to you, using my methods.

MC: Xia Yan…

Right then, innumerable fireworks suddenly burst in the sky, enveloping everything in gorgeous colours.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s almost time.

PART 6

Following the nonstop fireworks sounds, Xia Yan brought me over to the river shore beside the light event.

MC: Whoa—

I couldn’t help exclaiming in admiration. On the water surface that reflected the fireworks, innumerable river lanterns floated and drifted. Right at that moment, they looked like specks of stars shining in the Milky Way, far away in the sky.

Xia Yan: How is it? We didn’t come here this time for nothing, right?

MC: Mm! It’s way too gorgeous. Were these river lanterns prepared specifically for the closing ceremony?

Xia Yan: That’s right, I set them up specifically for today.

MC: Eh?! You did this?

Xia Yan: Why so surprised? My hands-on ability is more than enough for these kinds of things.

MC: But there are so many of them. You must have spent a lot of time…

Xia Yan: It was alright. Placing river lanterns is one of the customs of the Star Bridge Light event, after all. It also indirectly promotes traditional culture.

Following the slight breeze, some of the river lanterns slowly drifted back to shore, stopping by my foot. If I looked carefully, it seemed like a row of words was written on each lamp. I crouched down and randomly took one of the lamps, and noticed that “Hope her work goes smoothly and that she wins every case” was written on it. Another lantern had “Hope that she will be healthy, and that she won’t be infected by all illnesses” written on it. There were even more lanterns like these, but the blessings written on each lantern were all different.

MC: Xia Yan, were the blessings on them also written by you?

Xia Yan: Mm, they were all written for you.

Xia Yan: I brought you here because I wanted to have you believe that the wish from when we were little no longer counts. These are my real wishes now.

MC: But…

I looked at the numerous lanterns and couldn’t help wrinkling my brows.

MC: Why are all these blessings for me? Are there none for you?

Xia Yan: Because I…

He forcibly swallowed back the words he had opened his mouth to say. With the change in topic, his tone deemphasized the matter at hand.

Xia Yan: There’s actually no reason. Back at the beginning, when I was preparing the river lights, I racked my brains for a long while because I didn’t know what to write.

Xia Yan: After, I thought about you, and I ended up writing on all of them without realizing it. I even felt like I hadn’t made enough river lanterns.

Xia Yan: It’s a pity that there weren’t enough materials already, so I could only make do with those.

But, even if there were enough materials, he probably never intended to write some blessings for himself. There were clearly so many river lanterns, but he didn’t leave a single one for himself… now that I thought about it, I suddenly felt very upset.

MC: Xia Yan, wait for me here for a bit!

Xia Yan: Eh? Where are you going?

MC: I’m going to borrow something - I’ll be back immediately!

After finishing speaking, I ran towards the mask shop. If I hadn’t remembered wrong, there would be what I needed there.

—

Seeing me from far away, the boss waved to me, greeting me warmly.

Mask Shop Boss: Eh, young lady, why did you return on your own? Did that young man not bring you to see the river lanterns?

MC: That young man… do you mean Xia Yan? Boss, how did you know about it?

Mask Shop Boss: This isn’t some secret - all the shops around here know that that young man was going to bring his girlfriend here today.

MC: Girl-girlfriend?!

Mask Shop Boss: Ayo, looking at the young lady’s reaction, you haven’t gotten together yet.

MC: We actually don’t have that kind of relation between us…

Mask Shop Boss: Regardless of how it is, let me speak some fair words - that young man really is a good person.

Mask Shop Boss: To convince the light event host to rent the space out and let him set up the river lanterns, he worked for us for several days. That’s not some average-level conviction.

MC: So this was also the case… thank you for telling me these things, boss.

If not for this accidental occurrence, I probably would have never known about the effort he had put in behind the scenes.

MC: Right, boss, can I borrow a writing brush from you? I promise I will return it immediately after using it.

Mask Shop Boss: No problem, take it as you please. Remember to bring the pigment with you. Although this is what I use to paint the masks - I’m just afraid that you might not be used to using it.

MC: Thank you, boss!

Holding the tools I had borrowed from the boss, I jogged back towards the shore.

—

Xia Yan: What did you bring these for?

Under Xia Yan’s dubious gaze, I held up a river lantern.

MC: To write blessings.

MC: Look, the river lanterns have so many sides, so I can still write a lot of words.

As I spoke, I lifted the writing brush, writing on the empty side of a river lantern - “Hope Xia Yan will be healthy, as well as happy”.

Xia Yan: Eh? Are you writing this for me?

MC: Of course. You’ve busied yourself for so long for these river lanterns, so they must have your name!

MC: Didn’t you ask me earlier about what wishes I wanted to make into reality? More than finding my phone back, this is my actual wish.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan looked at those two rows of simple, short wishes on the river lantern, sinking in a short moment of silent contemplation. Right after, he took the brush from my hand, also writing a few rows of words.

MC: What are you writing? Why’d you even cross out a row - let me see.

Xia Yan: No can do - if it’s seen, it won’t come true.

MC: Eh?! Then does that mean that the ones I saw just now won’t come true?

Xia Yan: It won’t be a problem. Either way, there are so many of them, so some of them have got to come true.

MC: That’s true… then I’ll write a few more for you as well!

Xia Yan: No need - this one is enough for me.

He winked at me, then immediately placed the river lantern lightly, back into the water. Right then, magnificent fireworks burst successively in the sky, radiantly breaking apart the darkness, as if to draw all sceneries into an enchanting dream. Following the current, the lanterns drifted further and further away, gradually bringing the wishes to the distant horizon.

“Rather than the excessive wish of being able to always stay by her side, I hope more to protect her as she peacefully, prosperously lives her life - regardless whether I’m there, and regardless of in what way.”

PHONE CALL

Sorry, I was just feeding Peanut and couldn’t respond to your message in time.

I’m also just like you - I’m feeling very reminiscent about the taste of sugar people. The sugar prepared by that boss really was unique.

You liked it because I made it? Hehe, you’re probably saying this to make me happy.

Right, if you like eating it, how about I go find the boss tomorrow to borrow his equipment and make you another one?

Other sugar people shapes… about this, it might have to wait for some time. I have to practice.

You also know that I’ve never been good at drawing since I was small. I’d drift off each class and the teacher would always use my works to make everyone laugh.

The reason why the sugar person I gave you was made well, was because I made it according to you.

During the time when I went away, I would think of you often. Over time, you became branded deep in my head.

I got caught… I didn’t agree to those kids back then because I only knew to make one kind of sugar people. I can’t just casually give “you” away to other people.

You’re talking about working for the stalls? I was just in charge of working the cash register and hawking the wares - the sugar person I gave you was my first official work.

As long as you like it. I’m willing to try anything you like.

How about we make a big sugar person family next time, with uncle and auntie, and me and you.

In fact… this is, by far, not the only thing I want to do with you. I want to make more memories with you.

I will make up for those lost eight years’ worth of time.

#weiding shijian bu #tot translation #tears of themis #xia yan #未定事件簿 #夏彦 #the first time i was setting up the tumblr post #the page froze when i was almost done all the formatting #wanted to just yeet myself off somewhere then #mihoyo

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