#this is so self indulgent and. because it’s my birthday I’m not going to apologise !

[plugnuts]

Birthday present for myself this Valentine’s Day!!

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[tojivu]

a/n hq boys love language ?? i guess idk what this is really… ;(

warnings/tags includes atsumu sakusa kuroo oikawa (my favs basically LOL). sorry atsumu brainrot nowadaysssss :p. sloppy writing. gn!reader. fluff, comfort. maybe a bit of self projection. timeskip. grammar mistakes + not proofread

ATSUMU MIYA loves it when you tell him you love him after a tiring day. he’s the last person you thought you would’ve fell for, his love language is words of affirmation, as mean as he can be—he’s got a sweet side behind that tough act. his ears go red and so do his cheeks when you tell him that you’re not going to leave him; he feels safe and warm with you. he holds your hand through crowded spaces because he’s afraid you’ll disappear; he’s terrified of losing you. you reassure him every time he’s worried, telling him that you’re not gonna vanish out of his arms—and he loves you more than he can say for it.

“i’m here, ‘tsumu. don’t worry.” you hold his hand as you both walk through the bustling streets, passing huge crowds and groups of people—and you feel his grip on your hand loosen and the worried look on his face ease;

then he replies, “i know.”

SAKUSA KIYOOMI loves doing the chores for you when you’re too tired to get up from bed on sunday mornings. he wakes up early to do the morning chores and was moments away from waking you up too, but he sees your sleeping face and he can’t help but indulge you. kiyoomi is happy when you’re happy, so he does all the cleaning and grocery shopping before you wake up. acts of service like this are how he shows that he loves you and cares about you, and knowing you’d wake up that morning to a perfectly clean house and a refrigerator full of your favourite snacks—the smile on your face is much more rewarding to kiyoomi than anything else.

“you have no idea how much i love you, omi.” you smiled as you opened the refrigerator door to see your favourite chocolates.

“oh, i know.” he replies back smugly, happy that you’re smiling first thing in the morning—and that he gets to witness it.

KUROO TETSUROU holds you close every time he gets the chance to. his touch is almost calming, and you find yourselves cuddling on the couch more often than not. tetsurou loves it when you fall asleep in his arms, knowing that you feel safe and comfortable enough with him to fall asleep in his hugs makes him go red at the ears. he shows you that he loves you by having his hands on you, how he doesn’t want to let you go and instead keep you closest to him. kuroo would hold you in bed when you have a nightmare, soothing you to sleep again; and when you’re upset with him, the first thing he’d do is apologise and hug you tight.

��bad dream?” he asks, and you nod. you both should’ve never watched the ring at 12 in the morning, because now you’re at the brink of tears and kuroo is worried. he brings you closer to him, cuddling you back to sleep and it’s as if the world is melting away—it’s just you and him.

OIKAWA TOORU knows it’s a little overboard, but every afternoon on the way home from practise—he buys something for you. he’s not very good with his words, often appearing conceited and not caring about anyone but himself; so he shows you he loves you by getting gifts. plushies, albums you’ve been wanting, food, he’s always coming up with something. tooru would go all out, especially on your birthday. you would come home to a dark house and you’ll assume he’s sleeping with how tiring training has been for him, and you’d feel a bit disappointed (because how are you going to celebrate with a sleeping boyfriend?). the next thing you know, you hear party poppers and have confetti all over you. piles of gifts, all from mostly one person—along with other small ones from your friends.

“this is so lame. i’m not 12, tooru.” you laughed as you dusted the confetti off your shirt and hair, but he disagrees. “you look so cute with confetti in your hair.”

oikawa folds his arms, “and you don’t think it’s lame. you’re smiling.”

he was right, anyway.

i got a little sloppy at oikawa’s and spent wayyy too long on atsumu’s. i did them no justice lol — 220622

[mendesbhraanth]

Reader x Shawn where they are secretly married and the secret relationship gets exposed when they play a truth or dare game with friends

Hey!! This is my first imagine based on this request and thank you so much for requesting! I apologise for the grammatical and other stuff👉👈🥺

Pairing : Shawn X y/n

Warnings: language?

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

"Truth or dare??" Brian asked holding up an empty champagne bottle in the air.

Currently you and shawn are at that birthday party you all threw for Connor because isn't he a sweetie!? It was a lit party with a lot of people who Connor really really enjoyed spending time with which was basically the crew and his fam and friends ofcourse. The kid was not expecting it and y'all did a pretty good job with the whole surprise thing.

It was like 3 am and most of the crowd had already left so it was just Connor, Shawn, Brian, Luna, Geoff, Teddy and you. Y'all were not like...'Wasteddd!!!' And drunk but y'all had consumed enough alcohol to make your self feel very tIpSy...

You and shawn who were literally staring at each other like your life depended on it, and weren't intending to or let's say didn't want to indulge in anything but eachother, basically didn't even know Brian was making sound.

"I said 'TRUTH OR DARE??" Brian repeated his words, this time even louder because no one responded at all when he said it before.

"Awww is Brian still in highschool to play truth or dare??!" Mike said in baby voice making fun of him. That guy had crossed the border of tipsy and was now officially a bit drunk.

"Nah bruh it's just us!! We can play an adult version of it like last time ya know?" Brain said, a dramatic smirk on his face and Mike dramatically mimicked puking to match with it and mouthed a "horny mofo" at Brian And the whole crew started laughing exept for you both.

All of this was going on..you both were lost in what was behind the other person's eyes. There was of course a solid 2 meter distance form you both as y'all were sitting in a circle on the floor and shawn was sitting opposite to you but you both have experienced so much distance in your 3 year relationship that now, distance is just a bunch of physics stuff for you.

You both have known each other for about forever. You were quick to become friends with shawn, Brian, Luna and Geoff when you moved towns from Scarborough to Pickering. You guys met at school and even though the four of you are literally the LIFE, shawn and you have always been the closest and had a much more deeper connection with each other.

And 3 years ago he confessed his feelings for you and you returned it back in the same energy that was "I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME STAY AND LOVE ME BACK" type of shit.

Talking about what's happening right now, is that all were gathered in a circle and we're planning to play truth or dare as Brian finally got his demand accepted.

He spinned the champage bottle that was inplaced in the middle and after 9 curious seconds, it landed on teddy and Connor, The mouth of the bottle pointed at him.

Teddy looked at him with a evil smile planted on her glamed face.

"Okay!! Truth or dare?"

"Dare?" Connor replied unsure of the words.

Teddy rubbed both of her hands together and paired with that smile, it looked like she had something very very good planned for the Birthday boy.

"Okay I don't know how but make y/n give you a lap dance"

The whole crew cracked into laugher at the situation of the poor boy. Execpt for you and shawn.. and Connor as well. He gave you a awkward confused look.

You looked at Shawn who was still processing the words.

"Of course not!!" You voiced your unwillingness! How the hell can you give him a lap dance when your fiance was sitting right across from you?!? Even if he wasn't, why the hell would you give someone else a lap dance?!?! Yeah why? But the thing is...no one knew about you and shawn. Hell!! No body is even slightly aware of the fact that y'all have been dating. That too for 3 years!!! Not even your bestest of best friends!!

"I AM NOT GIVING ANYONE ANYTHING!!" You said loud and clear.

"Oh! Well...last time Brian brought up this silly game you were asked to give shawn a lap dance and you did not hesitate!" Luna challenged jokingly and smirked at you and a chill ran down your spine.

That's when you knew it's either spilling the real tea or dancing on Connor's lap and creating the most awkwardest situation ever and risk your relationship and possibly break up. Nah I'm kidding haha. But you could never ever do such a thing. No matter what.

You didn't know what to do and you looked at Shawn and he seemed much calmer than you. What the fuck was that dude thinking??

"I think it's time we tell them" shawn said and your eyes widened.

"Tell us what?" Geoff asked. Now all the attention pointed to shawn and only shawn because no one even had the slightest bit of clue that the "we" meant you and shawn.

Shawn was always super shy and so were you. Shawn seemed like he wasn't ready let people know about your relationship because he really wasn't until now. Hell you thought they'll only find out when you get your first baby and you kinda dreaded it but you didn't want to pressurise shawn at all.

Shawn looked at you and you gave him a small nod because you were having kind of a panic attack inside your head thinking about how your friends would react. It was sure that they would get offended.

"So...me and y/n are dating..." Shawn started off and all 5 of them widened their eyes so big that you already regretted everything. Luna and Brian were pretty chill though..you thought they were gonna reach for both of your throats..

Nobody said anything so shawn continued. "And we're kinda engaged..." That's when they flipped!

Connor's eyes widened so big that it actually scared you. You was ready to hear all the "Why didn't you tell me?!?!?" Type of shit but instead you heard the familiar sound of palms colliding with each other.

They all were clapping and Teddy had a few tears running down her face.

The 5 of them stood up and so did you and shawn and now we're engulfing you both in a group hug.

"Congrats!!!" Geoff screamed.

"Didn't I tell you bruh..they had something fishy going on?" Brian said nudging Luna's side and she laughed at him with a very non angry look on her face. This is not what you expected.

"You both are cute together ya know" Connor said smirking at shawn and me.

"My besties are in LOVE!! And they never told me" luna said dramatically falling on her knees.

"I'm so happy for you both!! I low-key shipped you both" Teddy said smiling at us.

"You both are excused for now but you gotta make it upto us for not telling us that you both have been dating for what? like...3 years" Brian said and you looked at Shawn weird. It was time for you to widen you eyes now.

"How did you know it's been 3 years?"

The whole group laughed at you both.

"Aww come on!! y'all aren't that sleek. I mean.. we've noticed some stuff like how shawn takes 'extra' care of you and always brings you stuff even if you don't ask when that man is known for always forgetting stuff even if we remind him a 1000 times!!" Geoff said and you both of you blushed like little toddlers and you mentally faced palmed yourself for thinking you were being sly.

"So tell us the details! We deserve that!" Luna said pulling both of us to sit on the couch while the others stood. The truth or dare long forgotten. The relief you felt was endless! You looked at Shawn and he looked at you with flushed cheeks and took your hand in his and looked at the ring that symbolised that you were gonna get him last name soon. Aahhhh!! You were so happy right now.

You had him and now that everyone knew you didn't have to hold back so you didn't and pulled him in for a sweet kiss which earned many 'aawww!!' s and some "ewww!!'s from your friends. He kissed you back with the same amount of passion and it gave you a lovely whiplash like it always did. You were not a fan of PDA but you wanted to freely kiss him right there.

"I love you so much" shawn said when you pulled away and for a moment you forgot y'alls friends were there.

"Aye! First up you don't tell us and now y'all are showing it in our face!? No fair!"

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Nagito Komaeda x Reader - Proposal

I needed some things to write! So i approached some folks for suggestions and the lovely @legendarytreasurerhighway​ asked for some fluffy domestic stuff, so here is what i came up with! 

Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

Your boyfriend is planning something. Whenever he is organising a special date for the two of you, or trying to hide a gift in the house somewhere, his luck always starts going haywire, and this is the worst it's ever been.

“Are you sure you're okay, Nagito?” You ask, you're in the middle of cleaning a mixture of blood and milk from his face. It’s all swirled together into a pale pink as it drips down his cheek.

He laughs, waving your concern away with a hand, “I’m fine! And you're doing such a wonderful job taking care of me, so I feel even better!”

You smile softly at him, wiping the last bit of milk from his chin, “You didn't get any shards stuck in your face did you?”

“Not at all!” 

It’s good that he has mellowed out a little, a few years ago the shattered milk jug would have resulted in an hour spent talking him back down from a self deprecating spiral. You knew what you were getting into when you asked him out, you knew that it would be hard work, but you have never been happier than you are with him. Your eyebrows pull tight as you trace the angry red cut on his cheekbone. It must have taken some seriously bad luck for a small mishap with a milk jug to result in such a deep cut. Luck this bad, means he got lucky somewhere else. 

Very lucky if the accident he had with the vacuum the night before is anything to go by.

“Thank you so much for taking the time to look after me, love.” Komaeda breathes, his eyes aglow with happiness, “I know it must feel like a waste of time to clean up after-” he stiffens and shakes his head a little, “-Sorry. Thank you.”

You cup his cheek in your hand, “You don't need to apologise. You're allowed to slip up every now and again.” You press a kiss to his forehead, “I love looking after you, Nagito. I love any time I get to spend with you.”

“Do you want to go out tonight?” 

“Oh.” You say, suddenly a little jittery. You didn't realise that whatever big thing he was planning would happen tonight, “Sure! Do you just want to go to the Italian place we like, or do you have something else planned?”

He definitely has something else planned. You heard him on the phone yesterday afternoon, talking animatedly to someone on the other end. From what you could hear, there was a stroke of luck (the cause of that is quite obvious) and whatever he was waiting on had been made available early. Maybe the luck he experienced there resulted in the bad luck of you overhearing. Either way, you aren't going to tell him that you know he is up to something.

“I have a few more things i need to do around the house today, but i was thinking we could try somewhere new.” He slips a hair tie from his wrist and starts gathering his mess of white hair into a bun, “I’ll look some places up online and let you know what i find, okay?”

This is suspicious, but you are too busy watching his long fingers contending with his hair. It’s been years and yet his hands have never stopped being mesmerising, “Sure. That sounds good.” 

He beams at you, “I’m glad. I’ve got a few things to pick up from the store so I’ll head off for now, do you need anything?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay. Just don’t be too long or I'll miss you.”

“Hah, we couldn't have that could we?” He stands up from his chair and wraps an arm around your shoulders before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’ll be back soon.”

*

You can see his hands shaking on the steering wheel. The sun has almost completely set outside the car and the moon is out in full, he doesn't usually drive. Something is definitely suspicious. After a day of him cleaning up around the house and you pouring over some work on your laptop, he told you that he finally picked somewhere to go eat, and that he would drive. He claimed that it was “kind of hard to find”, but you suspect he just didn't want you to punch the address into your GPS and ruin the surprise. Still, he usually hated driving. 

“We’re almost there.” He says, eyes flitting over to you and then back to the road. 

He’s wearing a pair of brown slacks and a green button-up that you bought him for his last birthday and his hair is in a tidy half ponytail, though a lot of it has still escaped at the front and is hanging in his eyes. He looks nice, really nice. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive, Nagito?” You can see a bead of sweat running down his forehead, but you can't tell if he is nervous about driving or something else, “You can give me directions.”

He shakes his head, “I’m okay, It’s just up here.” 

You are taken aback when he rounds the corner, and instead of seeing what you were assuming would be a restaurant, the car pulls up at a grassy lookout point. Nagito pulls the keys from the ignition and lets out a sigh of relief, glad that there weren't any luck related incidents on the way over. The sound of the ocean pricks your ears up and you open your door. It’s windy outside, but the summer air is still warm. The smell of the salt hits you and you close your eyes, breathing in the fresh air.

You hear the sound of Nagito closing his door and turn to look at him, he looks ethereal in the moonlight, the pale light is dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters, “So, no dinner?”

He laughs, “Yes, dinner. Come with me.” he takes your hand in his and starts leading you further down the lookout point, the grass is a little uneven but he is very careful in guiding you, “Are you cold?”

“No, the breeze is nice actually. I’m fine.” You smirk at him, “Looks like we had some good luck with the weather.”

It’s dark, but you can still see him turn a little pink. You don't have much time to indulge in his embarrassed expression though, because when he leads you through a small thicket of trees and bushes, you gasp and cover your mouth with a hand when you see exactly what he had been working on.

“Nagito…” You whisper, “You did all this?”

There’s a large red picnic rug laid out on the grass, surrounded by empty bottles filled with candles or flowers. To the right of it you can see a picnic basket and to the left, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket with two glasses standing beside it. When did he have time to set this up? You were working almost all day, he must have been driving all the way up here on his own to get everything ready. 

But this still doesn't explain the phone call, the picnic set up is elaborate, but clearly still organised by Nagito himself. You wonder what other surprises he has waiting for you.

“Is it okay? I know you don’t really like big fancy restaurants so i thought something more personal might be better…” He trails off into a nervous laugh.

“No, it’s wonderful! I just-” You look up at him, the moonlight catches in his hair, “-is there some sort of occasion or?”

He smiles, “Not at all! You’ve just been working very hard this past week and i thought it might be nice for us to have a real date.” he pauses, “not that i don't love our staple italian restaurant.”

You giggle, “This is much nicer than the italian restaurant. Thank you.”

He takes your hand again and starts leading you down to the picnic rug. You carefully toe off your shoes and curl your feet under yourself as you sit down. He managed to find the perfect spot to set up, you can see almost the whole coastline, the waves going out and coming in, a few boats dotting the horizon and the stars. They’re the most amazing part. 

You don't notice as you stare up at the sky, that Nagito only has eyes for you. He watches the gentle way you smile at the stars, and the way they dance in your eyes. He is fingering something in his right pocket, you definitely don't notice. 

There’s a fizz, then a pop and the sky lights up with an explosion of red and yellow fireworks.

You gasp, looking up at the sky before turning to Nagito, “Did you do that?” 

He is looking nervous, “I didn’t plan for it. No.” He sighs, disappointed, “I was hoping to save my luck for this next part…” 

His hands are shaking as he slowly reaches into his pocket, his eyes never leaving yours. He swallows, “You are...wonderful. I- uh, I mean, you know that I can sometimes be, hm…” his eyes turn from you as he fishes around for a word that isn't too negative. He eventually settles on, “complicated…”

You smile gently, “So can I. Remember when i couldn't put together my new desk chair so i cried on the floor for over an hour?”

“That was cute!” He says almost sternly, “I like when you get worried about things like desk chairs, or sad snails or, well, i guess me. You care about things a great deal and the fact that extends to someone like myself is just…” he takes a deep breath, “I am honoured every moment I get to spend with you, truly.” 

You feel your heart do a somersault in your chest, as the reality of what is happening starts setting in, “Nagito…” you breathe, covering your mouth with a hand. 

He smiles, “Ah. You’ve figured it out. I know you heard me on the phone yesterday afternoon, well they uh...they called to tell me that this was ready early.”

His hands are shaking when he pulls a ring out from his pocket. You start crying, you can't help it, “You thought you needed luck for this?” you whisper, “Nagito...you could have proposed to me at the kitchen table, or in the garage, or on the couch. The answer is always going to be yes.”

He laughs breathily, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen, “I haven't even asked yet.”

“You don't need to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He is crying now too, he brings an arm up to wipe his eyes on the back of his hand, “Do i...just put this on you, then?”

You can't stop smiling when you hold out your shaking left hand, “Yes! Please.”

When he slips the ring on your finger, his hands are trembling so much that it looks like he might drop it, but he doesn't, it slides on like it was always meant to be there. Like you were always meant to marry him. You cup his tear streaked face in your hand and kiss him with as much gusto as you can muster, your heart soaring with love of him, and then. It starts to rain. 

You’re laughing now, holding his face in your hands as the sky opens up above you. All of the food and the picnic blanket is drenched in moments. You’re cold and shivering but you’re happier than ever, “I guess your luck ran out, huh?”

He’s still smiling when he shakes his head, leaning in to press his lips to your cold cheek, “No. I’ve never been luckier.”

[darkerdeariegold]

I have a sudden urge to know any food related headcanons you have for rumple.

Ooooooh thank you for this ask, I am EXCITED to get in to it.

I apologise now for how long winded this is going to be but you know I love my man and I have feelings about him and his story.

So I’m gonna do food and drink because they’re linked.

Food

As a boy, money was tight thanks to the way Malcolm managed their lives. It seems clear that he wasn’t starving as a boy, but he was a skinny kid. I think that as a child his diet mostly consisted of cheap and easily accessible foods. Things like flat breads (usually a little hard and unpleasant but filling), root vegetables like potatoes and whatever fruits were in season. Especially if they were small enough to fit in to a pocket so things like apples, berries and pears. 

It’s that start that means he’s not fussy when it comes to food. Even when he became the Dark One and had the ability to produce a feast out of thin air - and he did, wanting to make sure Bae never went with an empty belly like he had - he didn’t look down on any sort of food. Food is survival, and survival is what he’s good at, despite any odds against him.

When he began to live with the Spinsters - and did so until his adulthood - he learned what a good meat pie was and that rapidly became his favourite food. It was cheap cuts of meat - because as spinsters they had enough to live a comfortable but never affluent life - but the way it was cooked, slow and low for hours just made the meat fall apart and become the juiciest, most tender cut. 

He always asked for a meat pie for dinner, and because they loved him, they indulged him a few times a week if they could, at least once if not. (They would go without for him and he only realised that when an adult himself).

Vegetables were always a staple of his diet simply because if you could grow it, you could eat it and it cost barely anything to maintain. He likes stews and soups, easy food that you can put any combinations of vegetable in. His favourite is the humble potato, because he knows just how much you can get out of it and how filling it can be. He learned how to bake them on the fire and always finds comfort in that.

He learned that he has a sweet tooth when he was able to begin to conjure food. He already knew he did from his love of strawberries growing up - always his favourite berry to pick and eat - but when desserts like sweet rolls and cakes became a staple of his life, he was a little addicted.

He does, after all, have an addictive personality.

Not that he’d never had cake before - the spinsters liked to make him one for his birthday but a shortage of sugar usually meant it wasn’t as full of sweetness as it could be. Still good, and always appreciated.

Until Zelena’s abuse of him for a year a meat pie was his favourite food, along with a hamburger. Something he only discovered in Storybrooke, as well as pickles. Now, he can’t even think of it. The abuse has tainted what once had been a comfort to him. Now he feels physically sick whenever a meat pie is near him. 

Thanks, Zelena.

He’s definitely not a snob about food; he’ll eat anything really, except for those meat pies now. He likes sour food, he likes sweet desserts. He isn’t one for too much spice (he just doesn’t have the tolerance for it) and the first time he bit in to a chilli pepper his entire face felt like it were on fire). He’s been seen to eat apples, ready noodles and hamburgers on the show to name just a few foods that it’s canon he is fond of, or at the very least will eat.

Though he’s a meat eater he’s used to having a diet rich in vegetables and genuinely enjoys those. Simple roasting of them is perfection.

So his favourite foods are;

Hamburger (he loves the bread in this world, how much more taste it has)

Pickles (he likes sour food, used to that flavour because of the absence of sugar in his diet when younger)

Strawberries and other sweet fruits.

Desserts in general; he has a sweet tooth but has to limit himself.

Bacon and eggs. 

Potatoes, especially baked with butter.

Meat pies USED to be. Eventually he’ll work through that trauma and be able to enjoy a good pie again. He just needs to focus on the initial positive thoughts he had surrounding it.

He loves a good condiment - ketchup, mustard (mild) and ranch. Not a huge fan of mayo in anything more than a small quantity. 

Drinks

Tea is a little different here than it was in the Enchanted Forest, but it’s certainly his favourite drink. He especially loves the way Belle makes his tea; a dash of milk, no sugar and brewed to perfection. Even he can’t make a cup taste quite as well as she does.

He doesn’t have a lot of milk in there, and he never has sugar; mostly because he was a tea drinker before he was the Dark One, and so he was a tea drinker when he couldn’t really afford the luxury of sugar. 

Coffee was a revelation in Storybrooke and, when cursed and needing to sleep each night he found a cup of black coffee in the morning before his breakfast was the perfect set up. He still likes a cup of black coffee every now and then. 

Also likes a hot cocoa- that was always a treat when a lad, and he loved the nights he would be tucked up in to bed with a small cup of it. Leaving him - and his belly - feeling warm enough to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

He doesn’t like fizzy drinks. Doesn’t understand the need for them. As sweet as his tooth is, most carbonated drinks are too sugary for him. The kind of sugar that sticks to your teeth isn’t pleasant to him.

Alcohol is a strange little bedfellow that he has a very difficult relationship with. He grew up seeing the negative effect it has on his Papa and it’s a drink that genuinely scares him. But it also helps to numb things. Numb the pain, numb the guilt. He has a small flask of scotch or whiskey hidden in his shop, a bottle too - always the finest stuff when it comes to drink - for those moments when he is feeling that he needs a support. 

Why the finest? Because psychologically, even if he can just conjure a bottle when he wants, it feels like a luxury. Something to not rely on consistently. If he drank cheap whisky or spirits he recognises that his addictive personality could lead him down a path as dark as his Papa. 

You only ever see him with alcohol when he’s struggling with something, namely guilt or a decision that he’s afraid of. We see him with a flask in the Enchanted Forest after losing Belle. We see him with alcohol in the Underworld. We also see him drink in Hyperion Heights when he’s clearly going through the pain of grief. If it numbs the pain, even for a moment, it’s alright. A small moment of respite is better than nothing. 

His favourite drinks;

Tea, dash of milk and no sugar

Black coffee

Iced tea, either with or without sweetener. 

IF he’s self medicating, expensive whiskey or scotch. 

[merryfortune]

Day 5 / Awkward Hugs

Social Interactionism 2021

Event: @hugsaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Ship: Wisteriashipping | Spectre/Yusaku

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Developing Relationship, Bittersweet, Fluff with a Sad Ending

AN: since today’s Hugsaku prompt overlaps with my birthday, it was only natural for me to write Spectre/Yusaku as a birthday treat to myself (hence why, no spoilers), they can hug twice in this fic as a treat

  Yusaku’s plan, like they usually did, involved three steps. There might be more steps or issues within those three, broad ideas but so be it. That’s also how it usually was.

  One. He would apologise to Spectre.

  Two. He would find the Earth Ignis.

  Three. He would reunite Spectre and the Earth Ignis.

  He wasn’t sure if the steps to his plan were in descending order or difficulty or not, but he would abide by these three steps to the best of his ability. Of course, coaxing Spectre out into the open, one on one, was going to be difficult and it was part of step one. Yusaku could have just sent a letter addressed for Spectre or even an e-mail but he thought that was impersonal. He wanted it to mean something big and something dear because when he wanted to apologise, he wanted to do something more than just create a clean slate between them. He wanted to earn Spectre’s trust and maybe even affection as the third step in Yusaku’s plan would likely hinge on that.

  However, Yusaku thought that Spectre was even more hermetic than him which was saying something. Yet for all that agonising, just sending a summons for Spectre and Spectre alone at the usual spot for his and his team’s encounters with the Knights of Hanoi, though mainly Ryoken, was enough.

  Quite honestly, Yusaku was expecting to be stood up when he waited by the Stardust Road. He stood with his hands laced over the rail and he stared out to sea. All around him, dusk descended with orange skies and indigo clouds; it dyed the sea that lapped at the rocks and cement below a very, very dark colour and just as Yusaku thought that Spectre might not appear, a familiar stranger dejectedly stood beside him, leaning over the rail with him.

  “I didn’t even hear you.” Yusaku murmured.

  Spectre snickered. “Most people usually don’t. If I’m not careful, if I’m not making a fuss, most people won’t notice me at all.”

  “But Ryoken does?” Yusaku guessed.

  “Yes.” Spectre replied with a bitter smile.

  There was a moment of silence between them. It was uneasy but not necessarily uncompanionable. It was just there to acclimatize them between greetings and the actual conversation, of which, Yusaku initiated it and very boldly at that.

  “I’m sorry.” he said.

  Spectre harrumphed. “Whatever for?”

  “For tricking you into destroying your field when we duelled. That was a cruel thing to do.” Yusaku said. “I can tell you have a very genuine affection for your Sunavalon cards. So, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s water under the bridge,” Spectre said, “but thank you. I appreciate the sentiments.”

  “I’m glad. Because, well, I felt bad about that.” Yusaku stated.

  “You shouldn’t though… I goaded you into, remember, I wanted you to do something cruel and I ought to be impressed that you exceeded expectations.” Spectre replied.

  “Well, now I’m trying to do kind things.” Yusaku said.

  Spectre’s pupils dilated at that – and Yusaku noticed even if it was a small quirk of his body language.

  “No, don’t tell me…” Spectre said, realising where this conversation was going, he had thought it was strange that Yusaku would call him out of the blue like this but he figured he would indulge it, he was his master’s servant after all, so he assumed – hoped – it was eventually going to funnel to him.

  “Yeah,” Yusaku murmured, “I am. I want to bring back the Earth Ignis, or just, um, Earth as he’s called.”

  Spectre shook his head. He wanted to chastise Yusaku, but he couldn’t find his words. He just looked stiff instead.

  “I was hoping you would help but I don’t want to force you.” Yusaku added.

  “I’ll allow it to happen,” Spectre elected to reply, “but I won’t help.”

  “Thank you.” Yusaku said.

  Yusaku was expecting the conversation to end there. He was right. It did. But not how he thought it would. Spectre, slovenly, pushed himself off the railing, ready to return to the marina and retire to the yacht for the night because dealing with Yusaku was exhausting but not quite.

  Yusaku was somewhat surprised as Spectre gave him an unexpected hug. He blinked and he felt Spectre’s arms surge around him. His hug was tight and Yusaku wasn’t sure what to do as he felt Spectre’s head beneath the crook of his chin and his arms on his waist. Yusaku swallowed and he half-heartedly tried to push Spectre off him. He didn’t feel in danger, even if Spectre was a peculiar and oftentimes unpleasant person, but he did feel… Awkward being hugged by him.

  “What are you doing…?” Yusaku asked, blushing.

  Spectre got the hint that now was the time to stop and it seemed he didn’t appreciate being rejected like that. He straightened up his coat and looked mildly annoyed. His brows furrowed and his eyes fixated on some weedy flower growing between the pavers on the ground.

  “I thought it was appropriate. It’s a kind thing, isn’t it?” Spectre asked. “You apologised and now you have yet another channel for your sense of justice so. I thought it was the least I could do.”

  “O-oh, well then,” Yusaku murmured, “thank you.”

  “Well, good luck, I might not want to be involved in whatever it is you plan to do to bring back my Other Self but good luck. I will make sure we don’t… intervene on whatever basis we can find to prevent further resurrections of the Ignis.” Spectre said.

  Yusaku hazarded a small smile. He appreciated it but he didn’t know how to say it beyond words. He figured there were other actions that he could take – and he did take them.

  Steadily over the next few weeks, Yusaku with the help of Kusanagi and Ai, he began to piece together the data belonging to Earth. It was getting much, much easier after all the practice that he had gotten with Ai and then applied that to bring Flame back to Takeru and Aqua back to both Miyu and Aoi. Though, that didn’t make the finding of the pieces all that easier, just the putting them back together and Earth was in plenty of pieces but as Playmaker, Yusaku found them all.

  He restored Earth back to form and Earth was overjoyed to see his good friend Ai once more. They had a hug or two with Ai crying and screaming that he was so glad that yet another of his friends was back; just two more to go. Playmaker was fond as he watched Ai jump and down with Earth in his arms, it was quite the sight to behold given the fact that Earth was much bigger and much heavier than Ai.

  But in the midst of that jubilation, Earth looked up with sorrowful eyes at Playmaker. It seemed he knew where this was heading. Even if he and Spectre hadn’t been all that close previously, there was a disappointment to what Earth had in mind for if he came back.

  “I didn’t remember Aqua first,” Earth began to explain as Playmaker, atop his D-Board, made a beeline for where he could hope to find Spectre, either alone or with Revolver, “I remembered him.”

  Ai nodded. It had been the same for him. He had remembered his dear Yusaku before he remembered anything else or any of the others. It was bittersweet.

  “There he is.” Playmaker commented quietly and he saw Spectre on his lonesome.

  He was standing in the shade of a tree. It was wiry with white bark; its beet purple foliage moved slowly on the breeze. That appeared to be the most natural place for him to reside, he was staring out into the distance of the sort of asteroid field-like area on the hinterlands of the Neo Link VRAINS. The roots of the were spilling out the bottom of the rock platform that it and Spectre was planted on.

  Playmaker drew in closer and Spectre looked up at him. He had a morose look on his face. He took a breath.

  “You fulfilled your goal, I presume?” Spectre asked.

  Playmaker nodded and he made a hand gesture. He allowed Earth to follow through on it and Spectre’s eyes widened. For a moment, he looked completely and utterly happy. Childishly happy. But then he flinched.

  Earth lifted his hand and he didn’t know what to say.

  So, Spectre decided to say it for him.

  “It is good to meet you,” he said, “but I don’t believe our continued meeting is advised.”

  Playmaker inhaled sharply. He was surprised – almost offended – to hear that.

  Spectre came closer to the edge, came closer to Earth and he reached up to where Earth floated against gravity. Gingerly, Spectre pet the top of Earth’s head and he liked how the Ignis’s skin felt on his fingertip. There was a muted joy to Spectre’s expression.

  “I did my best,” Spectre said, recalling the Incident, “for my Mother, she would want me happy and proud, so I duelled my best for you. But when I was told, the new goal of the Hanoi was to destroy the Ignis, I accepted that whole-heartedly. So, I did my best. I endeavoured to eliminate the Ignis if it meant I was useful. I – I don’t believe I can go over the past ten years of that goal so easily, to say nothing of the others, Revolver-sama and the Lieutenants, and even if we are neutral, trying to atone. I want to be my best self for you, Earth. Until then, I don’t believe it to be advisable for you to remain with me.”

  Ai made a strange expression, but it was the same that Playmaker was making. A certain defensiveness which had become unguarded as Spectre explained himself.

  Earth nodded. “That makes sense. I can accept that decision, Partner, but when you are ready, I will be too.”

  “Thank you.” Spectre said and he turned to Playmaker. “Can I ask something selfish of you?”

  “I think I know what it is, but it��s not selfish, Spectre.” Playmaker replied.

  “Can you please home him, please? Keep him safe?” Spectre asked.

  Playmaker nodded. “I can do that for you, yes.”

  “Thank you.” Spectre said.

  Playmaker let his D-Board drop a few more levels and once they were at a mismatched but even height, Spectre hugged him again. Playmaker stiffened but this time, he hugged back as he felt one of Spectre’s hands close to his neck and the other round his waist. Gratitude emanated from Spectre’s hug and though Playmaker felt awkward, he wasn’t a hugger, he didn’t think himself good at it, he still tried to return Spectre’s sentiments. He mimicked back and he could hear a repressed sob in Spectre’s breathing as they held each other in this embrace.

[nautiscarader]

Calm yo’ tits - a present fic for ZekkKiray

Rating: E, ladynoir/Adrinette (post-reveal), 9143 words (by notepad++ count, 8886 according to Ao3, so one of you is LYING)

Read on Ao3

 contains breastfeeding, lactation and mooificated large breasts.

Now, if you look at the tags (and the word count), and you know me, you might be understandably confused and worried that I might have been possessed, hacked by a Russian bot, or simply gone mad. The last part is very likely, but it is not the reason of this fic's existence.

The fic you are about to read is a present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, a vastly superior fic writer, who on one occasion quoted my works as inspiration for his, which solves once and for all the age-old philosophical dilemma, proving that something can indeed come from nothing.

I knew, to some extent, what his favourite kinks are, which sadly, were not exactly compatible with mine. So I needed to find a fandom we both like, and where I wouldn't have to worry too much about silly things like logic or common sense.

Enter "Miraculous Ladybug".

To put it simply, this fic is a bit of crack, I tried working some elements from my personal headcanons, and it doesn't break, assuming you don't push it too hard. More importantly, though, it's a birthday crack. Happy birthday, pal!

Also, this takes place after S3 finale.

================================

Sitting tensely in her chaise-longue, Marinette eyed her tutor and a temporary enemy with a keen eye. She has taken many exams in her young adult life, but this one might have been the most important so far. She concentrated on the small, levitating creature that flew that past her head, and when Tikki revealed a card, Marinette instantly replied.

- Zaggu, gnu kwami, the hero is Ram-page, and has ability to shapeshift terrain. Strong, but not too agile. Best pair with Pegasus for optimum efficiency. - she spoke quickly. - Yes! That's the last one! - Tikki cheered, flying to nuzzle Marinette's cheek.

For the past few days, Marinette has been extensively trying to fill in the shoes of Master Fu, as the new Miraculous guardian, and she has passed her self-imposed exam with flying colours, guessing each and every Kwami Tikki has tested her with.

- Well, if there are any challenging akumas, you will surely be able to know how to dispose of them! - Tikki cheered. - I sure hope so. - Marinette smiled - But now I have to study for actual exams, Tikki.

Marinette walked to her desk, took her college textbooks and opened them, her other hand already deep in the bowl of fruit snacks she prepared beforehand, knowing of the revision session ahead of her.  

- Don't you want to study with Adrien? - Tikki flew by her head - Last time you said he's helped you a lot. - I wish. - Marinette sighed dreamily at the sound of her boyfriend's name - And he did, but...

Her cheeks suddenly became slightly deeper shade of burgundy, and she shied away from her Kwami. The mere thought of her boyfriend made her instantly forget about her duties, both as a college student and as a protector of Paris. She let herself indulge in a fantasy of what could happen if the two were put together in her room, and were given a choice between studying for a very boring exam, or doing anything else... However, Marinette had to exert some self-control, and with her friend acting like a second moral compass flying next to her, she had to abandon of her daydream.

- You know, this is quite an important exam, I don't want to be easily distracted and-Adrien!

She let out a gasp when her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it to answer at once. Tikki smiled, watching as her friend melts in her chair at the sound of Adrien's voice. Something told her she's not gonna do any revisions today.

===================

In his dark lair, Hakwmoth was listening. With closed eyes, he concentrated his powers to filter out hundreds of voices, trying to find the loudest and angriest, speaking with pure rage and despair.

He heard squabbling teenagers and forgot about them at once.

He heard depressed, neglected workers and didn't give them a second chance.

He heard a man crying, pitiful and heartbroken, because of his beloved pigeo-NO, NOT HIM AGAIN, THIRD SODDING TIME THIS MONTH.

Gabriel sighed and closed the aperture overlooking Paris. Finding a good source for akuma was sometimes surprisingly difficult. So many voices, so many possible candidates. And yet, again and again, he has failed.

Gabriel stepped down into the staircase that brought him down to his office, and was not surprised to find Nathalie waiting for him.

- Anything new for me, Nathalie? - he corrected his glasses - Just one call from the office of Coco Marocco. They asked for a call-back... - Nathalie paused and dropped her formal attitude - Gabriel, is everything alright?

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, and his body twitched in an instinct to brush it off. But he restrained himself, paused and took another deep breath.

- It's sometimes so... difficult. To find a good one... - I know.

He looked back at her and gave her a rare smile, saying much more than he could have at the time.

- I'll make the call, thank you.

Nathalie left his office, never taking her eye from him as she closed the door. Gabriel sat in his chair, leaned back and dialled the number.

"Hi there! You have reached the office of Coco Marocco, the finest brand of clothing this side of the equator. For English, press One. Für Deutsch drücken Sie bitte..."

Gabriel sighed and let the voice machine continue its job.

"... for business inquiries, press 7".

Gabriel quickly pressed the number, and was welcomed with the same, lifeless, mechanical voice.

"To access your account, please input the number..."

Without thinking, Gabriel typed the eleven-digit number on the tone dial, and waited for the next step.

"We apologise. In order to access your account, you need to speak the numbers", the voicemail said.

A small vein twitched on Gabriel's forehead. He spoke each digit, loud and clear, hoping beyond hope it registered properly.

"We apologise, please say the number again."

It took him two more tries to reach the next step, and he finally heard the familiar waiting music. The second it stopped, he started speaking, but he was met with even more disappointing reality.

"Hi there! Thank you for your patience. Your call is incredibly important to us. Your number in the waiting queue is... FOURTEEN".

The mobile phone crashed and broke into dozens of pieces when Gabriel tossed it across the room, careful not to destroy the painting of his wife that hid the entrance to his observatory.  

- Why does it have to be so difficult? - he grumbled - Bunch of incompetent buffoons, making the easiest of things so much more difficult-

And then, a sudden burst of inspiration, privileged only to visionaries of his calibre, has dawned on him. He quickly got up and dashed to the elevator, not noticing that the crash alerted Nathalie to peek into his room, as he was too eager to bring his plan into motion as soon as possible.

When he stepped into his lair, he was Hawkmoth again, and he knew exactly what to listen for.  

=====================

The glorious weather outside taunted Nino to end his revisions early and go to the nearest park to bathe in the warm sunshine, but alas, he had to spend his day in the near-empty university library. Unable to concentrate, he took his phone and launched the app to check if the last paper has been graded, but was left with a disappointing, never-ending loading screen. He looked at the only other person in the room, sitting by the computer in the corner, and decided to break the ear-splitting silence.

- Hey dude, are the uni servers down, or something? - And when were they not? - the chubby student replied - The app constantly crashes, we can't even check anything, so I'm just loafing around.

Nino gave him - or rather his large neck -  a curious look and decided to end the conversation swiftly.

- Well, at least tumblog works... - If only - his interlocutor replied, much to Nino's chagrin, without even taking his headset off - Ugh, why did they change the colour of the background again? - You okay, dude? - he looked at his freckled face, and the man gave him a contemptuous look. - Yeah. But you seem to be okay with using this sub-par version - he glanced at his phone.

Nino raised his eyebrow and glanced at his phone.

- What's wrong with that?

The man groaned.

- Ugh, where do I start? The app also never works, they haven't implemented half the features of the desktop version, they still show sponsored messages, I mean, not for me, I hacked them myself away, and the options, can you believe they dared to change the font, it's so unreadable now...

He took a sip of a drink he definitely shouldn't have been allowed to bring into the library.

- But the site is so full of idiots now, it's not even worth going there anymore. Can you believe there are people defending the new Flunkies game? They've added cut content DLCs now! All of them sheep, they will buy whatever you throw at them, and...

The guy continued to complain into what was now a Nino-shaped void, as he left quietly a minute earlier, slightly afraid that arrogance might be catching.  

And he wouldn't be exactly wrong...

If Nino stayed, he would have noticed that the same window that finally tempted him to walk outside with its glorious view, became also a gateway for a dark-purple moth that landed on the student's headset, turning it into equally sinister shade.

Suddenly, the student's complaints, spoken into nothingness, fell on listening ears, and a voice spoke in his head.

- Anton, I am Hakwmoth. I have heard your eloquent delivery, and I must say, you are quite right. - I know I am - Anton replied, without missing a beat. - There are so many little things wrong with this world, and only you know how to fix them... - Yes, I wrote it all on my blog, but now they changed the tagging system, and they don't even filter by the- - The point is - Hakwmoth interrupted him - As all geniuses in history, you are underestimated. Like the Cassandra of the Greek myths, people do not believe you, despite you speaking the truth. But I can change that.

For the first time in rather long time, Anton listened, instead of talking.

- I can give you a platform to speak your wisdom, better than any social media would ever offer. I can give you the voice, and I can give you the chance to make others hear you... And to sway their views at once... - You-you can do that? - Anton asked excitedly, though remaining in his slumped pose. - Oh, yes. - Hakwmoth replied with an oily, greedy voice - All I need in return is for you to bring me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi. They are wrong anyway, so they don't deserve them... Embrace my akuma, and rise-

Gabriel paused. He expected to feel something by now, but instead, he heard a quiet tapping.

- Are-are you typing? - Well, duh, someone is wrong on the Internet. - I was going to give you powers to do all of that a hundred times faster... - Gabriel spoke, unable to believe what he heard. - Okay, I'm done. - Anton spoke - What were you saying?

Stopping the urge to find a new herald of his will, Hakwmoth stomped in place and let the power flow through him and into his new apprentice, transforming his somewhat shaggy clothes into regal, red-and-golden attire. The chair he was sitting in merged into his body, becoming a golden, ornamented throne. And finally, the device around his head became a golden, conical-shaped object, perfectly suited for his new puppet, already fitting well in his hand.

- As I was saying... Rise, Echo Chamberlain, and correct the world, for only you know how. - I will! - the new villain spoke into his megaphone and flew out the library in his levitating chair, smashing the window to pieces.

========================

- Adrien!

Marinette jumped the last few stairs of her house and nearly tripped, but fortunately for her, she landed exactly where she wanted - in the arms of her boyfriend, meeting his lips a minute or so earlier than she planned. She smelled his trademark cologne, singed with his name, and she positively melted against his chest, blissfully forgetting about everything around her, until her mother's grunt brought her back to reality.

She jumped to her feet, fixed her hair and waved her parents goodbye, as the two walked outside for a stroll on the sunny day, with just a chance of studying in the park, in between kissing.

- How was the journey? - Marinette asked, eager to learn all about his latest business trip. - Well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I mean, for me. - he quickly added, afraid he sounded too immodest - I wish I could have brought you with me. - No biggie. I know how strict your father can be... - she leaned against his shoulder. - Hey, look, we should get some ice-cream!

Marinette eagerly pulled Adrien towards the famous André's ice-cream stand that now was parked underneath an old arch, and, predictably, has already amassed a small crowd, hungry for some cold refreshment. But as the two approached them, they heard an angry voice, dissonating with the rest.

- What do you mean you don't have chocolate chips? What kind of ice cream vendor are you? - a young woman was arguing with the poor ice-cream maker, who reacted to her anger with his usual jovial, kind behaviour. - Ah, but mademoiselle, I have other toppings, perfect for you! Brandied cherries! Candied walnuts! Peanut brittle! Or even... - he paused, before saying the next word with less enthusiasm in his voice - Sprinkles... - But I want my chocolate chips! - Excuse me. - Marinette gently addressed the angry woman - Don't you think you act a bit selfish? I'm certain André has been working so hard to bring us these phenomenal treats, it's not his fault he ran out of some of the ingredients... - Yeah - Adrien added quickly - And I think you will find some of these are as good as the one you crave, I can attest to that. - Plus, there are a lot of people waiting...

A shared murmur spread behind her, with people nodding, agreeing to Marinette and Adrien's polite reasoning. The woman sighed, and was about to accept the lesser version of her favourite dessert, but the next words she spoke left her mouth with a volume of hundreds of people.

- I WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

Adrien and Marinette instinctively put their hands over the ears, and as they watched in horror, they might have just saved their sanity. Thre eyes of the people surrounding them glew with red tint, and the same people that a moment ago scoffed at the picky woman, now shouted with her.

- WE WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

The two shared a concerned look, and they frantically looked around, knowing full-well it was a work of an akuma. Adrien spotted him first, a bizarre, red-and-gold man flying in his throne above their heads. They gave each other a nod and ran as far away from the crowd.

- André, run, it's an akuma! - Marinette cried, but it was too late.

The kind man now was roaring with them, demanding his own ice cream booth to give him chocolate chips, smashing it with his bare hands. Adrien and Marinette hid in an alleyway, and as soon as they could catch breath, their Kwami escaped their pockets, ready to transform them.

Two bright flashes of light later, Ladybug and Chat Noir escaped the same alleyway, following new source of cries and shouts. Ladybug shoot her yo-yo to climb onto the nearest rooftop, while Chat accompanied her onto his magical baton that propelled him into the air, so they could level with Hawkmoth's new puppet.

- You there! - Marinette shouted, gaining his attention - What are you doing to these innocent people? - And whatever it is, we are here to stop you!

The akumatised man laughed and rolled in the air in his throne.

- I am the Echo Chamberlain, and I have done nothing to them! I merely gave them the same voice I have. How dare these ice cream makers don't have the perfect ice-cream I want!

He grabbed his megaphone and spoke into it, emitting once more a deafening cry that reverberated amongst the buildings.

- People of Paris! Throw away your chains! Go to the barricades! And demand the ice-cream you want! Ha-ha-ha!

At once, the people beneath them, scared and cowering, stood up and rushed to the shops, big and small alike, chanting the same familiar phrase for their now-beloved condiment.  

- You fool! - a sudden voice rang in Anton's head - I gave you the voice so you can get me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi! - Oh, right. - he took his megaphone again - But before that, get me Ladybug and Chat Noir! They took all the chocolate chips!

Echo Chamberlain flew onto his throne, leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir with the horde of people, that now began surrounding them with his single command. The two thought that they were safe on the rooftop of the building, but the angry people began climbing each other, forming human ladders, and in matter of seconds, the two had to escape in the same way they got there to begin with.

- He's using some sort of mind control! - Ladybug spoke, when they landed on slightly taller building, though they've already heard the clatter of broken glass beneath them. - The akuma must be in his megaphone. - Chat added - Also, I never thought people like chocolate chips so much. - I don't think they do. I think he likes it, and so he makes other people like the same thing.

Ladybug took a cautious look down, spotting some people rushing away from the angry mob.

- And I think he needs to target like-minded people. Or at least those that share some form of opinion with him... - she pondered. - Great observation, but may I add one? Duck!

Chat Noir pressed Ladybug's head down as a carton full of ice-cream cones flew right through the space once occupied by her head. The two rushed to their feet again, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, escaping the swarm of zombiefied people.

- Maybe there will be fewer of them here... - Chat spoke, but he was immediately proven wrong by a sudden voice behind him. - Oh, do you think ice-cream toppings is the only thing that makes people angry?

Echo Chamberlain arose from behind the building, already aiming his megaphone at the ventilation shaft.

- How about... Mobile chargers! Don't you hate how they always get lost and get tangled?

The powerful sound wave reverberated throughout the building, and the small rooftop door quaked when a small mob of residents rushed to the top, with said chargers in their hands, ready to strangle the two. Ladybug tried sniping a few of them with precise shots of her yo-yo, but the crowd was too dense.

- My lady!

Chat Noir grabbed her and propelled themselves off the building, landing in the vicinity of the same park they were meant to not-study in. But as they landed, they were already surrounded by more hypnotised civilians, this time complaining en-masse about mosquitoes.

- There's too many of them! - Ladybug shouted, jumping onto the nearby lamp post and then onto the tree. - I mean, they aren't exactly wrong, mosquitoes are horrible... - Chat! - Ladybug scolded him - That's the problem, he is making these people aware of all those small, insignificant problems of their lives. - But everyone has those!

Chat Noir's statement suddenly sounded ominously, as the sea of multicoloured people of every race, size and age surrounded them. Each person beneath them complained about something, creating a powerful choir of cacophony.

- We need... we need something to calm them down all at once...

Marinette looked around, and suddenly, as she spotted André's destroyed ice-cream stand, she saw the bell he would rang to alert Parisians of his presence, and a smile appeared on her face.

- I know what to do! - she cheered - Follow me!

The two escaped the tree just as if it was bout to be uprooted, and the two traversed the Paris to land on an even more familiar balcony.

- Don't peek, I'm gonna change my clothes. - she gave him a quick peck as she opened the hatch door to her apartment. - I'd never think of doing that. - Chat grinned, prepared his baton and jumped to the ground to defend the Dupain-Cheng bakery from the horde of people.

Once she was inside, Marinette quickly opened her supplies cabinet. Under the multitude of sewing accessories lied the hidden, oval-shaped red-and-black object that once looked like an ancient music box. The new guardian took it and gently tapped the black spots on the Miraculous Box, and under her touch, the small drawers began opening, one by one, like petals of a flower, revealing the multitude of Miraculi inside. Each of the intricate jewels glowed with a magical light of its own, as if to invite Marinette to try them, but she already knew which one to pick.

She took a small, circular Miraculous and spoke its Kwami name, illuminating her room with calming, white light, as the small, furry creature appeared in front of her.

- There's no time to explain, I need your help. Tikki, unify!

=====================

Meanwhile, Chat was getting more and more surrounded, forcing him to jump higher and higher, hoping the crowd would follow him and not Ladybug, trying his might to defend himself with his baton from the hypnotised masses, chanting their many inconsequential complaints that made them so strong.

- The prequels suck! - The sequels suck too! - Everything sucks!

As the mob was about to grab Chat, suddenly, he felt a familiar grip around his torso and his stomach did a somersault when he was dragged upwards, away from the crowd, as Ladybug reeled him on her yo-yo as if he was a fish.

- Thanks Ladybug, your timing is impecca-

Words got stuck in Adrien's mouth as he turned his head to meet his rescuer. At first, he wasn't sure it was Ladybug, but he recognised her yo-yo and her charming smile, though they were the only familiar element of her looks that remained. Only half of her original red could be found on her new costume, and the tidy, trademark polka-dots merged into black blots against white-brown rest of her costume. But it was the accessories she was wearing that truly befuddled Chat and forced him to pursue his curiosity, even if he was to be proverbially killed for it.

- My lady...! - Adrien stopped mid-way, taking another long look at Marinette - You... Your choice of fighting style is always impawssible to predict, but... Really, a cow? - What?

Marinette looked at herself, turning in place, as if to check if she's made a mistake choosing a Kwami to merge with, but once she ascertained herself, she shot him with a stern look.

- I'm not a cow. - she spoke quickly - The Kwami, whose powers I'm borrowing, is a yak! From Tibet! - Er, my lady - Chat raised his hands in defence, trying not to stare too long at the horns that adorned her head now - With all the respect, half of your costume is white with black spots, you have a ring in your nose, and you wear a cowbell around your neck... - IT'S NOT A COWBELL! - Marinette stomped in place - It's a Tibetan singing bowl, used for meditation. The Kwami told me so. - And what was its name?

With some hesitation, Marinette looked at Chat, whose lips curled into a sly smile, somehow foreseeing the answer and using every ounce of his intelligence to prepare a comeback.  

- Lhamuu... - she whispered. - Lha...MOO - Chat articulated, his smug grin becoming unbearable to look at. - Oh, shut up! - Marinette yelled - We have an Akuma to defeat. - You're right, we should get mooving.

The superheroes nodded and jumped once more into the crowd of people under the super-villain's control, a plan already forming in their heads.

===========

- What's this?

In his observatory, Hawkmoth looked through his puppet's eyes at a sight he most certainly didn't expect.

- Ladybug... is a cow. - he muttered, unable to believe his borrowed sight. - Actually, it's a yak, you can tell by the horns, they are quite common in Asia and- - Never mind that! - Hawkmoth interrupted him - Ladybug has acquired a new power! That means she's wearing two Miraculi! Get them at once! - Is it "Miraculi" or "Miraculouses"? Or does this word even have plural form? - Anton pondered - I think there was a thread on Ladyblog about it, and- - THEY CAN BE CALLED "CROISSANTS" FOR WHAT I CARE, JUST GRAB THE JEWELS! - On it.

==========

Anton's throne flew closer to the two superheroes, who kept fighting the overwhelming crowd of people. Though banking on disappointment from recent block-busters wasn't unreasonable, he decided to play on even more delicate strings. He took his megaphone and spoke one word that electrified the masses and angered them all.

- Don't you just hate... CAPTCHA?... yes, it's because of Ladybug and Chat Noir you have to solve those stupid riddles, finding fire hydrants and whatnot! Destroy them!

At once, the mass of people acting, ironically, like radio-controlled robots, roared with pure hatred and began swarming towards them climbing onto balconies, just so they can get to them. Chat took a step backwards, knowing the crowd there was equally dense. But just as he was about to secure Ladybug, she did something utterly unpredictable.

With grace and skill only she possessed, SHE jumped off the rooftop, right into the horde of people, ready to tear her apart.

- My lady!

From the rooftop, Chat watched as Ladybug landed on the plaza, and let the crowd of people encircle and approach her from every side. And though he was afraid, he also had faith in her, strengthen only by her charming smile and a wink she sent him, while the shouting mob surrounded her.

- It's time to use... The Bell of Clarity!

Marinette touched the bowl affixed to her neck, enveloping herself in a delicate, yellow light, grabbed what looked like a ring in her nose and swiftly pulled it, revealing it to have two small balls on each side, and twirled around, ending with a stylish, victorious pose. With her new weapon in hands, she reached it, and gently stroke the bowl with the metallic ring, letting its vibration travel towards their target.

A powerful sound wave surrounded her, spreading in all directions, engulfing more and more of space, finally reaching the ears of the hypnotised people. When the note rang in their minds, they stopped, appearing confused and disoriented, as they suddenly lost the connection to their master's words.

- No, no, get them, you idiots! - Echo Chamberlain shouted through his megaphone.

Marinette stroke the bowl a second time, producing a more melodious tune. The crowd of like-minded zombies became even less coordinated, much to the supervillain's anger. And when she gently began moving the ornamented metal ring across the bowl's edge, instead of producing a single note, it began singing, its soothing melody finally dispelling the charm put on the people.

- No! You have to listen to me! I am right! - Anton took his megaphone and began speaking into it again - The games now suck! The-there are micro-transactions everywhere! The-the toilet paper! It's never turned the right way around! There is product placement in movies!

But no matter how many annoying details about life - or rather lack of it - he spoke of, the crowd remained calm and peaceful, unified with the sound of Ladybug's bell, that spread across the city each time she hit it.

And just when he was about to think of some new annoyance, something hit him from behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Chat Noir, wrestling with him, his baton already locking his arms from reaching his tool of control.

- It's time to dethrone your highness! Now, Ladybug!

At once, Ladybug shoot the yo-yo, grabbing the megaphone, while Chat and Echo Chamberlain wobbled in the air, each trying to overpower the other. But as soon as Ladybug got her hands onto his prized tool of control, it was over. She broke it in half, releasing the purple akuma, she then gracefully caught with the same yo-yo.

- By bye, little butterfly... - she spoke to the purified Akuma, watching it, as it flew away. - Miraculous Ladybug!

A storm of light, radiating from her engulfed the city, repairing the damages caused by the entitled mobs. As for the Echo Chamberlain, he found himself in his regular, not-levitating chair, and only thanks to Chat Noir's strength he didn't hit the ground.

- I believe it was yours. - Ladybug handed him the headset. - Y-yeah... - Anton stuttered. - Uh, Ladybug, I... - That's okay, Anton. - she spoke calmly - We all get upset sometimes, and we all think we have all the answers. - But maybe it's better to walk outside every once in a while, and, say, have some ice cream? Regardless of toppings? - Chat Noir added, giving him equally warm smile. - Y-yeah...

The two watched as the man waddled away, pondering what his behaviour has done. Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other and bumped their fist with a cheerful "Pound it!".

- So, the Bell of Clarity, eh? - Chat Noir leaned against the wall, watching as his partner affixes her new accessory once more to her collar. - Jealous of my new toy, kitty? - Ladybug shot him with a mischievous grin - It has quite powerful properties, I should tell you about that some time, since I've been studying all the Kwamis and... - Nah, I was just pondering the name...

Marinette eyed him suspiciously, noticing the familiar smirk appearing on his face, about to turn into a full, unashamed grin, but when she did that, it was too late, as words already left his mouth.

- It's "Bell of Clarity"...or Clara-bell, if you will.

The Tibetan singing bowl made one last, long, pronounced note as Marinette struck Chat's head with it, putting an end to his jokes and another successful mission.

===========================

Another tune, this one of pure sorrow filled the air, as Hawkmoth roared in anger, his voice echoing in his evil lair atop the Agreste mansion.

- Preposterous! I have been defeated by a superheroine dressed like a cow! - I think she was a yak, Gabriel. - Nathalie added - SHE HAD A RING IN HER NOSE! - he yelled, slamming his fists against the floor, as he collapsed onto his knees - I HAVE A HEADACHE!

==================

Far away from Hawkmoth's prying eyes, as well as many security cameras they've learned to evade, two superheroes were celebrating another victory in a way that became almost a tradition for them. There was a time when Marinette would be utterly shocked at the mere thought of kissing in public, let alone exposing herself there, but the years of serving as a protector of Paris has changed her mind. At some point, she started treating entirety of Paris as her home, with every dark alleyway and rows of chimney that hid them from the rest of the world, and with that notion came the desire to express herself and her love in the open air. And it certainly helped that her boyfriend was a horny tomcat.

Though she would have preferred if Chat pushed her against her soft bed, she didn't mind the cold, sturdy surface of a building they were kissing against. With his relentless, but delicate caresses, there was no place on Earth where they wouldn't be feeling comfortable, and something told her she would be soon melting in his arms or underneath his body.

And Chat was especially meticulous today, as he wanted to make sure that he'd cover every millimetre of her new costume and find out if her new alter-ego changed something with her preferences regarding making love.

- Chat... - Marinette moaned and curled her toes, tightening her legs' grip around his body. - I've had you as a Ladybug...

Chat pressed her against the wall, his hand already on her crotch, and his fingers dug through the latex costume that parted underneath his gentle, yet steady caresses.

- ...then as a mouse...

She let out a short squeak, almost mimicking her timid, Multimouse persona, as he continued undressing her using his claws and teeth.

- Then as a Rena Rouge... do you remember that? - How-How could I forget? - Marinette gasped, her hands sliding up and down his slim, but muscular body - Especially since Alya was filming us...

Chat let out a deep purr of approval, letting his lips and tongue take action, as he leaned against the skin on her neck. And while he was busy peppering her skin with kisses, Marinette decided to continue diving into their memories, perhaps just so she won't have to moan in anticipation of her lover's next, carefully planned move.

- And-And do you remember when Mister Bug used Lady Noire's face? I've never thought he would be so rough... - Mhm, most certainly... - Chat purred, nibbling on her ear, both actions making Marinette's skin shiver - Turned out white goes very well with your the black mask... And, well, rest of the costume too... - Naughty kitten... - And now, I'm gonna be with you as a... - Chat paused, looking up at his lover - ...a yak. - It's fine, you can say I'm a cow. - Marinette rolled her eyes, leaning in for a kiss. - And how should I call you? - Figured you would kiss first and ask names second...

She spoke those words in somewhat croaky voice, after Chat's kiss successfully left her breathless. She tightened her grip on him and looked him in the eye, seeing the familiar, fiery spark of lust that could lead them on a predictable route.

- Yin Yak - she answered - That's the name of that-that superheroine... - Marinette paused, trying to silence herself from another surge of pleasure building up in her loins. - So, would you be Lady-yak? - Chat kissed her breasts through her costume, yearning to feel her costume splitting apart - Or Yin-bug? I have to say, I am purrplexed and confused...

Marinette cupped his face and brought his face millimetres away from hers, just so her next words could firmly root themselves into his mind.

- I will tell you how I want to be called. - she paused and without losing a bit answered - Yours.

With her words acting like a spell, Chat Noir smiled and in a single move tossed her into the air, and caught her with his arms again, letting her legs spread. And as he did so, a rip in her costume appeared, under Chat's most delicate of touches, as a final proof of Marinette's consent and her yearning for her lover. Marinette yelped when his fingers brushed the now-exposed skin underneath her partially-torn costume. In response, she yanked his bell and slid it down, finally laying her eyes on his naked, alluring body.

- It's so much easier for you... - Are you complaining about an incredibly minor inconvenience? - Chat paused - Be careful, or you're gonna get akumatised too...

They giggled and closed their eyes, preparing for a kiss, but as their lips were about to meet, Chat found that something began pushing them away. And when the two looked down, they couldn't help but gasp at the sudden development happening right in front of them.  

- What the-?!

Both Adrien and Marinette stared at her chest, or more precisely, her breasts that sprung from beneath her costume, ripping it completely and showing properly how enlarged they've become. And neither of them could tell which one was more surprised of the sight that greeted them. Her usually perky, medium-sized breasts now felt like two balloons that became inflated the moment Chat parted the way of her costume, though despite their size they seemed to defy laws of physics, never truly succumbing to gravity. As if in disbelief, Chat gently cupped them, and only under his touch, Marinette could feel how much they have grown, and that they were in fact still parts of her caresses-starved body.

- They-they are huge! - Marinette gasped, stating the obvious. - Indeed they are... - Adrien licked his lips - I have to admit, I am enjoying your new superhero form more and more...

Marinette gasped when she felt Chat's breath around her nipple, even more sensitive than usual, as his lips closed around the nub, a lot bigger and more pronounced now. And while his tongue lapped around her areola, his left hand caressed her other breast, exploring the new, vast territory he was going to conquer.

As Marinette whimpered under Chat's caresses, he moved from left side of her enlarged bosom to the other, finally taking a dive between them, licking the alluring valley between the voluptuous,breasts on both sides of his face. He looked up, meeting Ladybug's widened eyes, seeing the mixture of pleasure and lingering shock in them. He gave her one final kiss, and asked sheepishly.

- My lady, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? - Can you hear me complain? - Marinette smirked - I have no idea what happened, but keep your mouth busy, kitty.

She gently pushed his head back between her huge bosom that almost engulfed Chat's head. Suddenly, she felt his kisses everywhere across her sensitive skin, causing her to moan without any care. They were still hidden, at least partially, since she fully expected her breasts might now expand like a portable raft and take the entire space of the rooftop.

Of course, she knew why this happened. Though Chat was joking, her Kwami certainly had a few bovine traits, and her arousal must have accentuated those even more, just like Chat's claws could tear through her otherwise indestructible suit as if it was papier-mâché when his animalistic needs got over him.

As her kisses became more and more ravenous, her legs slowly gave up, and that gave Chat a chance to sneak his arms underneath her back and raise her leg up, just so his access to her dripping sex could be easier. With her left leg on his shoulder, his fingers continued the delicate dance against her pussy, while his tongue lapped at the skin around her nipples.

- Cha-Chat!

Marinette threw her head back, hoping her lover would bring her to her climax soon, and when Chat closed his lips around her nipple once more, just to contain his scream, she felt something new. An exhilarating, electrifying surge rushed through her, and at the same moment as Chat's eyes opened wide, while his fingering slowed down, though with his new discovery, she didn't exactly blame him.

Once he understood what was happening, Chat smiled and doubled his efforts, suckling on her teat, just so he could taste the delicious, sweet milk she began producing.

- My lady, you are... full of surprises... - he spoke, once he took a healthy gulp of her essence, watching as it dripped onto her large breasts.

To her bewilderment, when Chat brought his lips back to her nipple and continued suckling her milk, she felt the pleasure rising again, and with the newly found source of enjoyment, Marinette realised she couldn't think straight, especially when Chat resumed the moves of his hand again, spreading her folds.

But this time, as his muscular body came in contact with hers, it became obvious he was eager for more than simple finger play. He moved his hips in tune of her moans, sliding his exposed cock along her folds, eager to her her begging. And sure enough, once his name left her lips, he dived between her wet, soaking folds, just like his head dived into the valley of her breasts, equally leaking from anticipation.

Marinette let out another prolonged moan. Chat often made love to her this way, pressing her against walls, often just meters away from busy streets, but never before has her body changed. And now, to each of Chat's thrusts, her enlarged breasts reacted accordingly, bouncing up and down around Chat's face, though every once in a while her lover's thirst for her milk caused one of her mounds - or rather mountains - to remain in place, while he feasted on the liquid ambrosia she kept producing.

Adrien thought that he might have  harder time keeping his lover up, and bouncing her with the extra baggage, but it turned out that the opposite was true. She felt lighter, giving him chance to exert a bit more pressure and dominance over his lover, much to her enjoyment. Ladybug dug her fingernails into Chat's shoulders, pushing him against the cushions of her bosom, letting his entire face stimulate her much larger and more sensitive area.

With each kiss Chat placed around her nipples came another deep thrust, reaching further and further into her yearning sex that coated his cock with her juices, only helping his cause of sliding as far as possible. And with that storm of sensation, it came as no surprise to Marinette that her mind slowly started going blank, and she began chanting Chat's name like a mantra, begging him to help her reach the peak he promised her, hearing only his grunts in return.

Their shared orgasm made their joined bodies shudder; at the same time, walls of Marinette's pussy contracted, desperate to contain Chat inside her, coating his crotch with more and more of her juices; then the torrential jets of his warm seed shot up her sex, right against her womb, filling her to the brim. And then, just when she thought she was finished, she felt a new form of warmth on her chest, when milk began spurted from her breasts, though the stream quickly found its way to Chat's mouth.

With each of Chat's final, weakening thrusts, the effects began anew, forcing her lover to switch suckling on her nipples, thirsty for her nectar, as if to use it to replenish his essence he kept flooding her with. But as their juices were leaking out, so was their strength, and even Chat's muscles had to give up at some point.

The two collapsed on the rooftop, still hidden by the shadows of the construction scaffolding, though at this point, Marinette truly didn't care if their love making has been heard, or observed by anyone; with her enormous breasts people might think it's some sort of stunt anyway. Her lips found Chat's and she tasted a new flavour, a sweet one that sent shivers down her spine, when she realised what it was, and she understood at once why Chat was so desperate to milk her.

The same flurry of kisses that drove her to her peak didn't stop, as Chat made sure to pepper her breasts with as many of those as possible, at the same time giving her ample time to recover from her equally explosive orgasm.

And as her mind, hazed by pleasure, slowly returned to reality, a new plan formed in her head, and with a quick, but difficult to pull off maneuver - a drawback of the new addition to her body - she rolled and pinned Chat to the ground, much to his surprise.

- My lady?

Chat's ears perked up when he saw her move along his naked body, leaving a trail of kisses as well as her milk along it. And when she reached her destination, she shot him with a mischievous, sly smirk that would have turn his legs to jelly if he wasn't downed already.

Her delicate fingers closed around his half-lips cock, bringing his sensitive tip to her mouth, and as her lips brushed his skin, it twitched satisfyingly in her hand, signalling he was ready again.

- You just lay there, kitty, and let me take care of you...

Marinette's soft, velvety voice, spiked with just a trace of lust worked its magic on Chat right away. Though Marinette might have been surprised by the sudden changes to her body, the superheroine adapted to them at once and decided to put them to good use. Her voluptuous, wobbly breasts engulfed Chat's hard cock, as Marinette proceeded to give her first tit-job of her life, given that now she had proper equipment for it.

As Chat got lost in her ample bosom, he threw his head back, filling the air around them with low purr of delight, followed by prolonged moan when Ladybug's mouth met with his cock's head upon her first bob. it was equally fascinating for Marinette to watch as Chat's length is enveloped by her breasts, and how she can now stimulate far more of him than when her mounds were small an perky.

She had to keep an eye on his legs that twitched with every few seconds in response to her caresses. Chat's claws closed around the nearest edges, after frantically trying to find one to push away his oncoming climax, and his slim, but muscular torso arched from time to time, in sync with Marinette pushing her massive breasts up and down.

To make things a bit varied, she slowed down her moves, replacing them with a bit of her tongue-work, much to Chat's delight. Marinette could distinguish her name being muttered by her lover, begging her to finish her love torture, but the superheroine had none of that. While she was certain Chat would love nothing more than jump to his knees and face-fuck her, she wanted to prolong his pleasure as much as she could, knowing full well of the building and boiling climax in his loins.

As her tongue ran around his head, Marinette had to steer away to taste her own body, still covered with traces of milk she was leaking, and when the same tongue returned to his tool, Chat moaned again, feeling the liquid she was mixing with his pre-cum, almost as if he could taste it again. Once more he was privileged to see how the once-shy superheroine pushed her limit of perversion with a kink neither of them expected to enjoy an hour earlier.

And it was that knowledge (combined with her dedication to bring Chat to climax, as she started bobbing her breasts up and down again), that drove Chat to his edge, turning his moans incomprehensible begging only Marinette could understand and reply to. She waited until Chat's eyes would meet her again, and spoke to him taking breaks from kissing his swollen tip ready to burst.

- You, kitty - she started - You like my milk... But I...

She pressed her hands against her breasts, wanting to completely envelop Chat's cock between her massive breasts.

- ...I prefer cream.

A loud, yet weak cry of defeat escaped Chat's lips at the same time as first rope of cum flew from his swollen tip, landing straight across Ladybug's face, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily, though she opened them a second later, just so she can marvel at Chat's virility.

Just as second rope of cum was about to decorate her face, Marinette opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, inviting Chat to change his aim, though with his cock still engulfed by her breasts, she was much in control of the trajectory, and with some difficulties, she has managed to fill her mouth with the thick, sticky seed, getting the first sniff of the pungent and aggressive, but alluring taste and smell of her lover.

Three more streams of his cum landed in Marinette's lips, before her treatment has emptied Chat's balls, and the heroine could swallow the veritable pool of Chat's cream sitting in her mouth. She did it without breaking the eye contact with him, making sure he'd hear the guttural, gulping noises as his essence travelled down her throat, his warmth, taste and smell lingering far longer thanks to its consistency. He must have been saving for days...

But that wasn't complete end of Chat's climax; long after he stopped supplying Marinette with his seed, he withdrew from between the heavenly trap of her breasts, and another strands of his seed adorned them, prompting Marinette to perform action she wasn't able before, due to how much bigger and more supple her breasts have become. She pushed her breasts just up enough so she can lick off each and every drop of cum Chat left, as if it was the most delicious meal she wouldn't let go to waste. And the sight of expression on Chat's face was a reward already, aside of the familiar, musky aftertaste that reminded Marinette who has just marked her as his. Not to mention that as she squeezed her breast, Chat's essence mixed with her milk, adding a new taste of sweetness to his salty one.

Marinette revelled in the overwhelming storm of tastes that filled her mouth, and that indulgence gave Chat opportunity to counter-attack. Though he was pressed to the ground by her body and her breasts that now were a significant part of it, the superhero easily rolled her to her back, his head already back between her mounds, licking the milk that has managed to leak during his climax.

- I'd say that's a tie, my lady. - Of course you'd say that. - Marinette chuckled - You just want to get comfy and drink milk, and I just happen to have what you need...

In response, Chat let out a soft purr, as he nuzzled himself into Marinette's breasts, never taking eyes from his lover. Marinette reached and toyed with his untidy golden hair, and her charming smile managed to lure him from between her breasts for another long-needed kiss.

And just when she thought she would be given some time to relax, Chat Noir yanked her legs upwards, pressing them against her body, trapping her enlarged breasts between them, squishing them even more, which made them appear even larger.

- Sorry, Ladybug, but you are just too appetising to not ravish...

Marinette yelped when Chat's hard cock entered her again, and she felt Chat's delicious weight on top of her. She knew her new form would drag a very primal string in his masculine mind, and she did not object when he jumped to his feet and pushed her into a mating press, ready to engage in deeply animalistic form of love making.

His hips worked twice as hard than previously, wanting to reach as far into her throbbing, needy sex as possible, and while he was leaning over her, he was given once more chance to taste her delicious milk, each time he plunged himself inside her.

Ladybug's legs dangled above their heads, in sync of his ravenous thrusts, and as Marinette met his eyes, she had no doubts what drove him into his frenzied state. She knew that her kwami chose to make her look like a perfect mating partner, and that Chat was making sure there was enough milk for his kittens...

Their frantic bucking lasted shorter than they expected, but the same, wild thought they shared pushed them over the edge at the same time. Chat grabbed her thick thighs, buried his face between her breasts that erupted with milk, and in turn flooded her once more with his virile seed, bringing their shared fantasy to completion.

Chat collapsed on top of her, landing his head across Laybug's vast breasts, once more basking in their sweet glory. When their lips met again, they could both taste it, and the two lovers fell into a tight embrace.

The two were blissfully unaware that in the mean time the sun has gone down, but that only meant there will be less light for onlookers to catch them.

=====================

Standing by the kitchen counter, Marinette concentrated on making another batch of freshly baked sweets, so then they can be ready in an hour or so when the bakery opens. It was the quiet before the storm, but Marinette enjoyed those early morning hours... especially when she had someone to help her.

Adrien sneaked up behind his girlfriend, peppering her exposed neck with kisses, while his hands gently travelled up and down her waist, though once he saw what she's been making this whole time, his caresses stopped,and he let out a satisfying purr. On the counter lay several, hemispherical pastries, glazed in white marzipan, each adorned with a candied cherry on top, and the longer Adrien stared at them, the more he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

- Well, our adventure has certainly given you some inspiration, Marinette. Your original design? - I wish. - Marinette snickered - Those are called Saint Agatha's breasts, it's an old, Italian treat.

She handed him one, watching as his fingers dance on the shiny surface.

- It does remind me of what happened yesterday, though... - Adrien smiled, before taking a bite of the sugary coating. - I might have double-glazed them just like you did me.

Marinette brought her finger to his mouth to collect a small crumble of marzipan stuck to his lips, and predictably, her boyfriend wasn't just ravenous for sweets, as he quickly licked her finger clean too.

- Adrien! - Marinette pulled back and rushed to the sink - Warn me next time... - Okay, here's a warning..

Adrien chuckled, closing his arms around her belly once more. He sneaked his mouth to her neck, while his arms separated, each travelling closely to one of her erogenous zones. His left hand dived underneath her apron and tried getting into her panties, while the right one caressed her perky breasts, and as soon as his fingers began toying around her nipples, Marinette addressed something that has been on her mind.

- You miss them, don't you? - You know that I love you exactly the way you are... - Adrien answered tactfully   - Don't lie, kitty - Marinette interrupted him. - You are, alas, only a man, therefore, I know you liked when my rack was three times the size of my current one. - Fine, if you want to, then I will say it - he kissed her neck - But just because I had more of you to love. Is it okay if I admit that I do slightly miss them? - If you'll keep finishing inside me, like yesterday, then I can assure you, you'll get them back very soon...

Marinette yelped, when his hands travelled back to her hips and spun her around in place, but once she met his face, she closed her arms behind his neck without missing a beat, just in time for his comeback.

- Is that a warning, or an invitation?

Adrien raised his brow, watching as her face reddened.

- Tell you what, I'm gonna finish in five minutes, and we might find out. - If you'll wear this apron then I will finish in five minutes... - Adrien!

[astaralys]

Of Nowhere in Particular, an icebros oneshot

Kristoff doesn't understand hair braiding. Or his sister-in-law, for that matter. In one lesson, Elsa demystifies both for him. A post-Frozen 2 icebros oneshot.

(a.k.a that one scene from ch. 6 of The Next Unknown that wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d given it another 2793 words...)

Can also be read on: FF.net || AO3

Thank you for reading!

-----

This was ridiculous. He could dig a snow anchor in his sleep. He could fasten knots so secure that the sled wouldn't budge an inch in a snowstorm. He understood stuff like this.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"You're not helping, Sven."

"You should just ask Anna to teach you."

"She showed me once when she was half-asleep. I've got this. Hold still."

"Kristoff?"

Yelping, Kristoff whirled around in time to see the ropes that had flown out of his hands land conveniently in Elsa's.

"Sorry for scaring you," she said sheepishly.

"Oh my god." Kristoff clutched his chest. "I thought you were Anna."

Elsa's brow furrowed in concern. "Did the two of you have a fight?"

"No! No, we're good—great. Seriously. It's just… I'm kinda trying to surprise her with something and you know Anna; never know when she's going to pop up. Or where. One time, she gave me, like, half a second's warning before she jumped out a second-storey window and I had to drop everything to catch her."

Nice one, Bjorgman. Now she'll think you're enabling her sister's recklessness.

"… Never mind. Did you, uh, need me for something?"

Elsa's lips curved. "Anna and I wondered if you might be free to join us for lunch." She raised the rope, which she had wound into a neat coil. "But now I'm wondering if I walked in on you putting Sven in a hogtie. He doesn't look very happy."

"We're just practicing some knots before our next trip into the mountains. Right, boy? Ow! Hey!" Sven had snorted and butted him.

Elsa arched a fine eyebrow.

Rubbing his back, Kristoff muttered, "Braiding."

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that."

"Hair."

"Her?"

"Braiding her hair!"

Too late, Kristoff realised he'd practically yelled at Elsa. Anna's sister. His sister-in-law. Queen of ice and snow. Crap.

But she only stepped forward with mirth in her eyes. "May I?"

Dumbly, he nodded.

Sven held perfectly still for Elsa, allowing her to loop the ropes over his antlers. "You have way too many ropes. It isn't as complicated as it looks; most braids require only three strands." She looked over her shoulder to where Kristoff still stood, dazed. Her smile broadened in amusement. "Come closer. I have no intention of strangling you."

He reluctantly drew up to her side, shooting Sven a hapless look. His best friend ignored him and let out a snuff of pleasure as Elsa scratched his chin. Traitor.

"This is a French braid." Elsa's fingers wove through the ropes in an entirely different kind of magic. "Dutch braid. Pull-through braid. Waterfall braid. The varieties are endless. The symmetry of Anna's pigtails would be difficult for a beginner; I suggest you start with a simple three-strand braid."

Kristoff's eyes felt crossed just from watching. He latched onto the word 'simple'. "Is that the kind of braid you usually have?"

"Yes. It was the first style I taught Anna, too." She fastened the spare ropes to Sven's other antler. "Here, hold your fingers like this. Try to follow along, and tell me if you need me to slow down. Ready?"

He wasn't. How on earth did women do this every day? He'd once seen Anna and Elsa take turns braiding each other's hair at games night, shouting guesses at Olaf's enactments without once looking down at their hands. Utterly terrifying.

But Elsa had once terrified him, too. And now she was laughing as she leaned over to free his clumsy fingers from the dead knot he'd somehow created, her voice warm with patience. "I know it's difficult, but it does get easier. Let's try again. Left… cross—no, the other way. Yes. Now right… and cross again… that's it. You're getting it."

His hair had flopped over his eyes. His left leg was itchy. He wanted to sneeze. But Kristoff dared not take his hands or eyes off the braid, which looked nothing like Elsa's. If he squinted hard enough, though, he could just see it starting to take shape.

There was a rhythm to it, too, just like ice harvesting. Saw, clamp, lift, load… left, cross, right, cross…

Suddenly, Elsa clapped her hands together. "You did it!"

"I did?" Kristoff blinked, looking down. He stared. "Holy carrots—I did it!"

He repeated it to prove that he could. Then again. When he finally managed to do it without Elsa guiding him, Kristoff punched the air and turned to her with both hands held high.

She tilted her head quizzically.

"Hi-ten," he told her. "Two hi-fives."

"Oh. Yes, of course." After slapping palms, she added, "You have very large hands."

"Doesn't help with the braiding, trust me."

"But it does mean you'll be able to catch Anna when she falls." Before Kristoff could think of how to respond to that, Elsa asked, "Would you like to try for real now?"

"Catching Anna? Kinda did that a hundred times already."

"Braiding hair, Kristoff."

"Right. Uh… sure." He sweated at the thought of Anna wearing his ugly braid for the rest of the day, because he already knew she would refuse to take it out. Sometimes Kristoff still wondered how someone like her had ended up so irrevocably taking over the heart of someone like him.

Elsa twirled her hand, and a stool of ice rose from the ground. Then she sat down with her back to him, clasping her hands in her lap.

That was when it hit Kristoff that she meant for him to practice on her. "Are you sure? I mean, I'd like to. May I—I mean we me… wait, what?"

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Elsa chuckled. "You may."

"O-Okay... it's just, um, this is a lot. For me."

Even as he said it, Kristoff realised that it was a lot more for Elsa than it was for him. He knew her well enough by now to tell that she wasn't as relaxed as she tried to portray. They were two ends of the same chain, clicking together only when Anna was their connecting clasp. And they both knew that.

"I'm definitely going to mess up. My stupid salami fingers might yank out your hair."

"That's fine. When we were little, Anna used to pull my braid and pretend I was a racehorse."

It took a moment. Then Kristoff burst into laughter. "You're kidding me."

"Oh no, I am deadly serious. I was Elsa the Swift, proudly bearing Anna the Fearless-Viking-and-Sometimes-Dragonslayer into many vicious battles."

The strangest part was Kristoff could actually picture it. Not Elsa as a horse, but as a child zipping down the halls to indulge her rambunctious baby sister. Elsa with the chest of satin gloves Anna had told him about. Elsa withdrawing from others the same way Kristoff had—except she had been driven away by the horror of hurting them, and he had distanced himself out of fear of being hurt by them.

Then there was Elsa wiping a smudge of paint off of his cheek on Anna's perfect birthday. Elsa being the only one to understand that he'd been acting out 'alone' at last week's charades. Elsa opening her arms and hugging him back for a fraction longer each time she returned from the Enchanted Forest.

Elsa conjuring a second stool for him so he could sit down and braid her hair.

Kristoff gazed at the stool's flawless crystalline structure, as fine and strong and brittle as the silky hair in his hands, and wanted to say I love your ice.

Instead, he blurted out: "I love you."

Elsa spun around. Their wide eyes locked together.

"Ice!" Kristoff said hastily. He could hear Sven laughing behind him. "I love your ice! I mean, I don't not love—I do like you…"

Elsa's lips twitched. "Kristoff?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I also don't not love you."

Kristoff opened and closed his mouth. "That is very confusing."

"Double negatives usually are," she replied, turning back around. "But the meaning remains the same, no matter how complicated it seems."

Kristoff blinked, then sat down. Slowly, carefully, he combed a hand through Elsa's hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You really have nothing to apologise for."

"No, I meant… I'm sorry I wasn't there. When you and Anna found your parents' ship. And when you… you know. In Ahtohallan."

He couldn't see her face, and Elsa always sat with such poise that it was hard to tell, but Kristoff sensed her whole body go still.

He divided her hair into three strands. "I wish I'd been there. I should have been there."

"No one but me could have safely crossed the Dark Sea—"

"I know that. I know there was probably nothing I could have done. And I'm not saying you and Anna need my protection but…" Kristoff let out a frustrated sigh. "I was raised by trolls, Elsa."

She sounded confused. "I know…?"

"Trolls have very long lives." The rhythm of braiding lulled him into forcing the words out. "Reindeers are better than people, because people beat you and cheat you. And leave you."

Things had been so much simpler when it had just been him and Sven. Before Kristoff had learned how dangerous it was to care for someone. Before the only two people he trusted froze to death one after the other.

Left, cross, right, cross.

The braid slid out of his hands as Elsa turned around. "I'm sorry, too," she said softly. "For leaving you behind and…"

"Dying? Yeah, it'd be great if you could refrain from doing that again."

"You realise it must happen at least one more time, don't you?"

"You realise it would have sounded a lot more reassuring if you hadn't said 'at least', right?"

"Well," Elsa said with a bashful smile, "it wasn't like the first time was intentional. I thought it best to be safe."

"Safe," Kristoff retorted. "Please. You and Anna have no sense of self-preservation. Can you please develop some before I end up having to rule Arendelle? That would be tragic for all involved."

"'King Kristoff' does have a nice ring to it."

"So does Kristoff Bjorgman of Nowhere in Particular."

People like him were not meant to be called Your Highness. They did not marry queens and live in castles. They had no business gelling their hair, or learning how to braid their wife's at night so she wouldn't wake up with shocking bed hair.

People like him were never meant to have so much to lose.

"I've always envied people like you."

Kristoff blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

Elsa's smile was distant. "This will sound conceited and ungrateful… but I spent most of my life wishing I could be of Nowhere in Particular, too."

Oh.

Sven shot him a baleful, look-what-you've-done look.

Kristoff swallowed. "I think I was there that night."

"I'm sorry?"

There was no way he could do this face to face, so he twirled his finger. Despite being clearly confused, Elsa still turned back around. If only Anna was as compliant.

Unravelling the half-braid that remained, Kristoff said, "I'd snuck out of the orphanage to hang out with the ice harvesters, and I got separated from them when your parents rode past me in the woods. You left behind a trail of ice; it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. So Sven and I followed it to the trolls. I didn't know it was you and Anna until way later, when I saw your ice palace and made the connection. I mean; I've seen a lot of ice, but none of it comes close to yours. I never forgot it—because that night, I remember thinking that I wanted to be you."

Elsa sucked in an audible breath. "You shouldn't have. It was the worst day of my life. I hurt Anna and I… I lost a lot of things that night, Kristoff."

"Yeah, but I didn't know that. I was a scruffy orphan feeling sorry for himself. All I saw was that you had parents who obviously loved you, a sibling to play with, and ice magic to boot. Everything I didn't have, and wanted. But then Bulda adopted me. I went from Kristoff of Nowhere in Particular to Kristoff of the Valley of the Living Rock—and now I'm supposedly Prince Kristoff of Arendelle."

He began the braid again, his fingers steadier this time. "I'm sorry that you were scared that night. If I could go back, I'd jump out of the bushes and tell Pabbie to leave Anna's memories alone, and to save those visions for when you were older. But I'm not sorry that you are you, Elsa, because… well—let's just say that the worst day of your life set into motion the best of mine. You're the reason I have a family."

Anna falling quiet usually meant something was wrong, but Elsa's silence was a part of her; a bridge as much as a barrier. When he'd first started staying in the castle, Kristoff had instinctively hid himself whenever servants or guards approached, unable to shake off the feeling that someone would tell him he wasn't supposed to be there. He'd discovered many broom closets this way.

Every now and then, though, he'd slip into a random sitting room and stumble across Elsa tucked away, reading. There was always a startled, wary edge in her expression when she looked up, but Kristoff had also learned to expect the subtle relief when Elsa recognised that it was just him. She'd offer a smile and sometimes tilt her head or raise an eyebrow. Then she would usually return to her book without saying anything, leaving only an indescribable warmth in the silence; assuring him, without words, that he was welcome to stay.

Sometimes they sat and talked. Sometimes she read and he napped, and they'd both jump out of their skins when Anna inevitably banged into the room with leaves in her hair, ducklings in her hands, and sunshine in her eyes. Sometimes Kristoff would slip out of a busy ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, and she'd already be there catching a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, they'd wordlessly share a flute of champagne one of them had brought out, and he would understand in her tired smile that Elsa of Arendelle and Kristoff of Nowhere in Particular were not so different after all. Two fixer-uppers guided by the same landmark.

Elsa's voice sounded raw as she said, "May I change your life a second time?"

"It'll at least be the fifth time, but sure."

"If you give Anna a pillow to hug and use a hot water bottle to warm up the bed near her feet on cold nights, she won't kick you in her sleep."

"… Are you serious?"

"Yes. Although I do advise wearing an extra layer. I haven't found a way to stop her from stealing the blanket."

"What about the snoring? Any tricks for that?"

"Mother had a way of simply closing her mouth, but I also have not figured that out yet."

He finished the braid and held it over her shoulder. "If I can, do I get a prize?"

Elsa secured her hair with a touch of ice, and smiled back at him. Her eyelashes were heavy with unfallen tears, but her eyes shone with warmth. "I hope you're not expecting another medal and sled. I've already given you my whole world."

She had. She'd given him the gift of summer, wrapped in laughter and strawberry blonde hair.

Who they could now hear calling their names.

Kristoff and Elsa looked at each other.

"Bucket," he predicted, as they both stood up.

Elsa shook her head. "Dress."

Standing at the door, they watched Anna's face light up as she spotted them. She flounced across the courtyard, evading buckets of soap water left behind by the cleaning staff and even remembering to lift her dress as she ran. There was hope.

Then they saw her shoes. "Heels," Kristoff muttered, as Elsa sighed, "Oh dear."

"There you guys are! Are we having lunch or ho-whoooaa!"

The Queen of Arendelle landed face first in a fluffy mound of snow.

Elsa lowered her hand and gave Kristoff a pointed look. "Your wife."

"Your sister."

A snowball exploded on the doorframe above, showering both of them in white.

Anna giggled in the background.

Kristoff shook the cold out of his hair and began to roll up his sleeves. "Our idiot?" he suggested.

"Queen of Poor Decisions," Elsa agreed, calmly brushing herself off as a winter breeze swirled at her feet.

Anna was already running, her laughter floating up into the sky.

Reindeers were better than people; Kristoff knew that was true.

For all except two.

[ladykeane]

Bertie and Reg dress up for Halloween at Dahlia's!! and the party!!!

To the lovely Nonny who sent this, I profusely apologise if you’re not the massive weeb/animation geek that I am. But this idea stuck, and I couldn’t help myself!

Fair warning, it’s quite silly, most definitely cracky, and completely self indulgent…

There was a lesson given to me by my drama teacher at school, Mrs Irving, that has always stayed with me. The gist of her teaching was that a good actor must have a sort of dual consciousness. I suppose what she meant was that a chap should have the power to transform his mindset into that of the character he plays - and then just as easily slip back into his usual mental space, once the curtain falls. There must co-exist a Bertie-the-Wooster and Bertie-the-Prince-Hal within a single animal. Well, I suppose I have put this lesson to good use in my adult life, as I can attest that Bertie-the-Drone, Bertie-the-obedient-nephew and Bertie-the-seducer-of-certain-Jeeveses manage to be conjured at the drop of a whatsit.

A particularly surprising example of this dual consciousness wheeze occurred just recently, on the night of Aunt Dahlia’s annual Halloween bash. I suppose the lifted veil to the spirit world aided this shift of the Wooster disposish. (Well, the costume probably helped too, not to mention my dear auntie’s insistence that her party guests never drop out of character for the whole of the evening. That can make certain things a tad awkward, such as bathroom ablutions. One must ask: does Superman use the lavatory at all?)

I was given the scoop on the event by my ancestor over the phone, as I sat digesting a fourth-or-fifth slice of Reg’s birthday cake. (This year he had requested a Black Forest, and I have to say that I outdid myself. The leftover kirsch was also a boon.)

‘Super-groups?’ I asked. ‘You mean like the Travelling Wilburys?’‘No, young clot, I mean super-groups like the Avengers, Justice League, and their lycra-clad ilk. The group with the best costumes and most convincing delivery will receive a prize from your Uncle Tom and myself.’‘Ooh! And what is that?’‘For one, a cooking lesson with Anatole. Apparently he owed Reg a favour, and your man generously donated said favour to me.’I glanced an appreciative glance at my beloved, who sat perusing the W.H. Auden anthology I had given him.‘Secondly, a near-pristine Nintendo Gamecube, complete with controllers and a collection of best-selling game cartridges.’‘You mean the one you confiscated from Angela and myself? I still think that was an unfair punishment.’‘I say, it was entirely fair! Do you forget that I got stuck with the bill to clean your old headmaster’s office!? I am told that the stench of baked beans can still be detected throughout the school halls, to this very day! Anyway, I would advise you to get cracking. The competition will be stiff, I hear Angela’s little friends have been working on their costumes since August. Perhaps you and Reg could go as Batman and Robin!’‘Perhaps, auntie.’‘Well, pip-pip then. I’ve got many a fake tombstone and skeleton to haul down from the attic.’

As I hung up, Reg raised his head from his book. ‘I believe Mrs Travers has briefed you on this year’s Halloween festivities?’‘Indeed. She’s never offered a prize for the guests before. They’re real plums, at that. I reckon it would be well worth the splurge to get some first-rate togs.’‘May I ask what this year’s theme is?’‘Super-groups. By which I mean, groups of superheroes. She suggested we go as Batman and Robin! We’re already quite the dynamic duo, anyway. What d’you think?’

As I uttered these words, the Jeevesian brow began sinking south, until the look on his face chilled the lukewarm cup of tea sitting at my elbow.‘I should say not, Bertram.’‘Oh. Well… what about Danger Mouse and Penfold? You could be DM, of course.’‘I regret that I shall be unable to attend this year’s festivities. I have much to do to complete the Earl of Rowcester’s living will.’

Of all the paper-thin excuses! ‘Oh, don’t give me that Reg! What is it? You don’t care to be in the same room as all that brightly-coloured spandex? You fared just fine at last year’s “Stranger Things” soiree, and we were surrounded by a multitude of eighties fashion, at that!’(He made quite the dashing Steve Harrington, actually. Aunt Dahlia cast this Bertram as Dustin, so while I was able to tag after him all night there was an unfortunate dearth of snogging.)‘I am afraid I must insist. I do not care to be dressed in the bright, garish apparel that is requisite of superheroes.’

Given that it was the lowly rotter’s birthday, I held on to the flames that should have escaped from my nostrils. ‘Oh, very well, Reg. Have it your way.’ To ensure that none of my internal invective against him slipped past the Wooster lips, I left the flat for a sullen trudge about Mayfair.

***

That very evening, Bingo Little summoned self and several other Drones to dinner. He was in town with his husband Randy, to look for a property where they could spend their Winters. While the reports given indicated that all was spiffy within their NYC townhouse, Randy wanted to ensure that his paramour did not lose touch with his British roots. And I think I remembered him saying that his next novel was to be set in South Kensington, inspired by the likes of Richard Curtis and Hugh Grant. All rather convenient, no?

‘That Gamecube and cooking lesson with Anatole is as good as ours, lads. I have the perfect idea for our super-group.’ Here Bingo took a long sip of tea, leaving us in a state of eye-boggling suspense.‘Christ and his disciples?’ suggested Stinker.‘The Bloomsbury Group?’ queried Boko.‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?’ asked Gussie.

‘Better,’ Bingo finally replied, a rivulet of tea dribbling down his chin. ‘Do you know “Sailor Moon”?’

‘Sparkly schoolgirl with the pigtails? Yes, I recall watching the English language version with Angela sometimes. Quite a cheesy romp, that.’‘Oh, you ought to read the original manga ,’ said Boko. ‘A perfect blend of costumed superhero action and romantic high fantasy!’

For the next half hour, we were subject to Boko and Bingo giving us a full synopsis of the dratted space opera, complete with character studies, mythological references, and feminist overtones. Now, I have known my fellow Drones to sometimes possess hidden depths, but I was unsure whether this encyclopedic grasp of a Japanese super-girl-group was more of a mild pathology instead.

‘So,’ Bingo announced, ‘I believe I’ve figured out the perfect casting for each of us. I shall be Sailor Venus, of course, the soldier of love. Randy does call me his golden love god, after all.’ (Pause here for requisite retching.) ‘Gussie can be Sailor Mercury, given his general… wateriness. Boko’s love of house plants is perfect for Sailor Jupiter. And due to his spiritual calling, Stinker will be Sailor Mars, the shrine-maiden.’

I was trying to picture each of my chums kitted out in a colour coded schoolgirl costume. Perhaps we would score points for comedic effect, if nothing else.‘And what about me?’ I asked.‘Well, you’ll be our Sailor Moon, naturally.’‘Golly! I must say, Bingo, I’m quite chuffed to be given the starring role. I assume that it’s due to my former experience with drag, not to mention my theatrical prowess and general heroic gravitas.’‘Well… I suppose. It’s also because Sailor Moon is supposed to be a ditzy blonde crybaby.’‘Ah.’The judicious nods that the others gave were a tad insulting.

‘Does this mean that I’ll have to wax? ’ asked Gussie.

***

Now, if you’ve ever seen the much-celebrated cartoon, you’ll know that one of the highlights of every episode is the spangly transformation sequences, where each heroine morphs from humdrum schoolgirl into celestial warrioress. Our first go at donning the famous fuku was much less glamorous.

Boko knew a chap who knew a lass who worked at a highly-regarded fancy dress company. Apparently, many a masquerade-goer and cosplayer has raved about their beautifully crafted goods. As we trundled our way out their HQ on the tube, we were all in high hopes of scoring the perfect outfits. As it happens, the fitting session that followed made me appreciate just how inadequate the standard sizing of womens’ apparel really is.

Bingo and I had the best luck, but the costumes closest to fitting us were narrow in the shoulders and wide in the hips. Gussie managed to squeeze into one of the larger sizes, but resembled more of a wrinkly chicken sausage than a cute superheroine. (The skirt was appallingly short on him, and when he bent over to grab his phone from his bag I was quite traumatised.) Stinker, who is built akin to a silverback gorilla, utterly utterly destroyed the costume he attempted to yank on. I offered to foot the bill for that one, as a vicar’s salary can only cover so many breakages per month.

‘It’s no good, boys,’ sighed the seamstress who had patiently assisted us, ‘you’ll need to get these custom-made.’‘And how long will that take?’ asked Bingo.She put on a brave face. ‘I’ll do my best to get them ready for Halloween, but bear in mind I’ve already got a backlog of orders to finish.’‘Chin up!’ I replied. ‘I can probably ask a favour of the drag queen who did my costuming for “Legally Blonde” - Reg cut her a sweet deal with a new agent at the time. I’ll ask if she can source the shoes and wigs and things.’

A level of relief washed on to the girl’s face at this. I’d feel the same, if I were freed from the task of cobbling a pair of Stinker Pinker-sized red pumps.‘Even so, we’ll be cutting it close with this order. I doubt I’ll be done before the morning of the 31st.’‘Send me the bill for your energy drinks,’ I offered.‘It’s a deal.’

***

Time ticked on, and All Hallows Eve drew near. While I did my best not to harbour any full-on wrath against Reg at his blowing-off of the party, I couldn’t help but act a tad pipped towards him. Were lurid leotards and shiny accessories really so horrid?When he snuggled close to me on the sofa, I scooched away. When he dropped a kiss upon my map, my only response was tight-lipped disinterest. The blighter refused to compromise, so wherefore should this Wooster succumb to his entreaties? I took a lot of cold showers that week.

The big day came, and still nary a costume was yet received.‘5pm, she said,’ Boko told me, ‘and we’ll have to go and pick them up ourselves.’‘Hm, that is cutting it close. Well, bear up, old fruits! Leather Smalls will be along this arvo to do our make-up and hair.’‘Leather Smalls?’‘Didn’t I tell you? She’s part of an all-drag M People tribute act.’

If I can impart to you the experience of tubing it across suburban London in a long blonde, pigtailed wig, a full face of makeup, and masculine civvies, accompanied by four other similarly styled blokes, you probably wouldn’t doubt my claim that it was one of the more surreal experiences in my life. Halloween is not quite the big deal here that it is across the pond, so we got quite the share of wolf whistles, disapproving auntly glares, and ‘yaaaas, queen’s from our fellow travellers.

At last, at last, we arrived at Brinkley Court, freshly finished costumes in hand. The coloured lights, costumed crowd, and strains of ‘Monster Mash’ from within indicated a party already in full swing.As we entered the front door, I grabbed for the first bowl of sweets I could find, given my lowered blood sugar.‘That’s it!? Gawd, Bertie, you could have at least made an effort!’

Angela had grabbed one of the sweets from my hand and popped it in her mouth. I wasn’t quite sure who she was supposed to be, but her costume was really quite the thing.She was caked head-to-toe in light purple body paint, with a long wig in a paler shade of the same colour. A brilliant gem was affixed to her chest, and she wielded a long double-headed whip. I did not feel inclined to backtalk her.‘So who’ve you come as?’‘One of the Crystal Gems, obvs. Anyway, you need to go easy on those. Mum says that some neighbourhood bullies have been stealing sweets from the trick-or-treating kids, and she’s promised to recompense them.’‘What!?’My blood was now boiling - what lowly cad felt the need to scam helpless rugrats out of their jelly babies and smarties?

‘Oh, it’s awful,’ said Aunt Dahlia, swiping the remaining sweets from my hand and depositing them back in their bag. ‘I just saw Captain America crying his poor little eyes out, being comforted by Bucky Barnes. A whole evening’s worth of trick-or-treating swag, stolen from them by three nasty teenagers!’‘She means Thos and Edwin,’ Angela translated.‘What teenagers?’ asked Stinker.‘Some of the nastier upperclassmen from Eton, apparently. Captain America tells me that they have a reputation for bullying even the house masters and head teachers. Great brutes.’‘Rum,’ I said. ‘But, Aunt Dahlia-’‘Who?’I took in my auntie’s costume.‘But, Catwoman, hasn’t anyone tried to pull them up for it?’‘They’ve been too wily. I was told that they also egged the Emsworths’ place, running off onto Ham Common before anyone could catch them.’‘Travesty!’ cried Boko. ‘They can’t get away with this!’‘Too right!’ I said.‘Well? You lot are supposed to be the Sailor Senshi, aren’t you? You fight for love and justice, yes?’‘Er…?’‘You must transform, and thwart the damned villains!’

The Drones and I shared a look askance. ‘Um.’‘May I remind you, Sailor Moon, of the video games and French cuisine that are up for grabs for the group who best embodies their chosen superheroes?’‘Right ho. Moon Prism Power Make Up, then!’

***

We stampeded upstairs, bottlenecking on the landing, and Stinker stumbled noisily upon the top step. Into my old bedroom, and our everyday trappings were cast off in favour of our splendid, sparkly sailor ensembles.It was a bit of a muddle - the others needed help donning their padded brassieres, not to mention adjusting their skirts to preserve modesty. But after a few fumbling minutes, we were ready to go, as resplendent a team of magical girls as Brinkley Court had ever seen.

I allowed myself an indulgent linger before the full-length mirror. I really did look cute. The big pink bow was quite flattering to my proportions, and the blue skirt and collar set off my eyes nicely.‘Come on, Sailor Moon! We’ve got a contest to win!’With a flick of my pigtails, I was off.

Bursting out of Brinkley’s front door again, we charged into the gloaming. The place looks directly out over Ham Common, and on the great stretch of lawn, it did not take us long to spot the perps.

A juvenile, quivering Wallace and Gromit were surrounded by three of the largest, most grotesque teenage boys that I’d ever beheld. Though a good decade younger than myself, they looked to be twice my height and about four times my body weight. Most ghastly of all were their choices of costume: the ringleader was dressed as Pennywise the Clown, with his two lieutenants cast as Thanos and a zombie version of Napoleon Dynamite. I admit that the hint of rotten green brain showing through his blonde afro was an impressive use of make-up, but it did turn my stomach a tad.

Just before they could rip the trick-or-treat bags from the youngsters, I put a solid, heeled boot forward.‘Leave those beloved icons of childrens’ entertainment alone!’‘Hurrr,’ slurred Thanos, ‘check out the anime drag queens.’‘Wanna come party with us, girls?’ said Pennywise. ‘We got heaps of sweeties for the sweeties!’I puffed out my padded chest. ‘Never! I stand for love and justice! And… by the Code of the Woosters, I shall punish you!’

And so it began. We swooped upon them. Wallace and Gromit scarpered, and we were met with a barrage of large humbugs. When thrown with enough velocity, those things can leave a bruise.

Behind me, Gussie boldly came up bearing a large garden hose. He turned the nozzle on the head, but instead of dousing the monsters, the force of the spray was a bit too much for him, and he clung on for dear life as the hose thrashed about in his arms. He quickly went down in a self-inflicted mud puddle.

Stinker managed to plant a shiner of a right hook on Thanos. The brute staggered away, doubled over in pain. He threw off his plastic infinity gauntlet, upon which Stinker tripped magnificently, going pumps over skirt into the turf as well.

Boko fearlessly leapt upon Napoleon’s back, wrapping his noodly arms about an equally noodly neck. Napoleon bucked about like a bronco with a bad itch. Boko did his best to hang on, but the slippery satin gloves ultimately betrayed him, and the poor soul was flung off into a nearby rose bush.

The three monsters continued running from us. It was just me and Bingo now. We exchanged a silent glance of Sailor Senshi solidarity, as we pursued them towards a clump of oak trees.With a well aimed stomp, Bingo got Pennywise right in the oversized foot, with the heel of his pump. However, before I could back him up, the two lieutenants grabbed my chum and snatched his wig by its red ribbon, hurling it up into the branches of one of the trees.‘NOT MY VENUS WIG!’Abandoning the skirmish, Bingo pathetically began clambering up the branches to try and retrieve the thing. (I mean, it was a nice wig. And if it came back damaged, I would be owing Leather Smalls big time.)

And so, the beasts turned their attention to me. Three cruel grins bore down upon me like vultures on a dying wildebeeste. They looked like they could easily pummel me into a boneless mush, and not even feel it the next day. I’m not too proud to admit that I quivered in my heeled boots.‘What was that about punishing us, sweetie?’‘Let’s hang her from the branches by those stupid pigtails!’‘Yeah! And then we’ll-’

All of a sudden, something sleek and sharp came whistling through the night air. It popped Pennywise’s balloon, and struck Thanos right between the cheeks of his ample bum.‘Ow!’‘What the…’It was a fine, thin blade, attached to a deep red rose.

The four of us whipped our heads towards the source of the floral projectile. Imagine my total astonishment to perceive, perched upon a high stone wall before the radiant moon, none other than Tuxedo Mask. Gosh, he was splendid, with his billowing black cape and aura of general rakishness.‘How dare you blackguards steal from innocent children and assault these brave soldiers. Sailor Moon, I know you can defeat them.’‘But how, dash it!?’

He tossed me a bright pink plastic object. It took me a moment to discern that it was an external hard drive. It bore a little decal of one of those colourful cartoon pony characters.I looked back at the monsters, to find Pennywise agog.‘Wh… WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!?’‘Uhm…’‘Dude… is that what I think it is?’ said Napoleon.‘GIVE IT BACK!’ cried Pennywise.

Tuxedo Mask and I shared a single silent, meaningful glance, and I dropped the thing to the grass, raising my heeled boot above it, primed to smash.‘Well… I might, if you agree to apologise to every last child you terrorised, AND return their sweeties.’‘But we already ate some,’ said Thanos.‘Alright… maybe just give them a few quid, in that case. AND you’ll be cleaning the egg off Mrs Emsworth’s front stoop.’‘Anything, ANYTHING!’ begged Pennywise. ‘Please just give me back my-’‘NIGEL!!!’

A robust, sour-faced Jean Grey was stomping across the grass, her fiery gaze fixed on Pennywise.‘You have a lot of explaining to do, young man!’‘But Mum-’‘I should confiscate your little pony stories this instant!’‘No! Please…’‘Instead, you will do exactly as Sailor Moon says, and apologise to all the people whose Halloween you have ruined! You too, Cyril, Edgar! Don’t think I won’t be telling your mothers what you’ve done!’

The clown was dragged off by his ear to begin his penance, but not before he could snatch up his pink hard drive. Now that the leader had fallen, his two henchmen slunk along in his wake.

The Sailor Senshi had regrouped, and Angela, Thos, and Edwin (sorry, Amethyst, Captain America, and Bucky) had also dashed up to join us.‘You know who that was?’ said Angela, ‘Little Nigel Belfry. I went to St George’s with his big sister Diedre. Rotten little punk. One of the worst trolls in the online “My Little Pony” fandom too.’‘He bullies us all the time,’ said Thos.‘Well, dangle the name “Eulalie” in front of him. That’s his username on all the major MLP forums. Not sure he’d like that info getting out at Eton.’ Here she thumped me on the back. ‘Well done, Sailor Moon, you gave him the punishment that he sorely needed.’‘Oh, but I couldn’t have done it without…’I turned towards the stone wall. Of course, Tuxedo Mask had already biffed off. Probably to go hunt down the Silver Imperium Crystal or something.

***

Now that the drama had wound down, we finally had a chance to mingle. I got to take in the costumes of Angela’s group: Honoria was some sort of giant magenta woman with sunglasses and boxing gloves; Florence looked lovely and delicate in a gossamer tutu, and gleefully swung about a rather frightening spear; while Madeline was surprisingly dressed in drag - some charming little chap by the name of Steven, I think. The craftwork of their outfits was simply matchless, and they were clearly the ones to beat for the contest.

After Time-Warping and Thriller-ing and Caramelldansen-ing the night away, as well as quaffing some questionable looking cocktails with names like Chemical X and Radioactive Sludge, it was time to announce the winners of the costume competition.Uncle Tom (sorry, the 4th Doctor) killed the music, and tapped a fork against his glass of Chemical X to call for silence.Dahlia-or-Catwoman hopped up on the coffee table, to better survey the throng. ‘The door prize goes to Winnie the Pooh, who clearly misunderstood the assignment.’Spode-the-Pooh shuffled up to grab his bag of humbugs, and Madeline-or-Steven applauded wildly.

‘The runners-up are Wario and Waluigi, who regrettably stayed true to their despicable characters all evening!’Claude and Eustace collected their swag of Quality Street and Jack Daniels, fighting over who would get to carry them.

Angela and I exchanged a tense side eye. Could one of us really have been left out?

‘And the first prize… is a joint win, between the Crystal Gems and the Sailor Senshi! Come on down, ladies!’Well, everyone pooh-poohs nepotism until they benefit from it. Angela and I joined hands, and led our respective groups to their shared moment of glory. (And after a little bartering, we agreed to let the girls take the cooking lesson, while we scored the Gamecube. I know that Angela has long been an avid fan of Anatole’s show ‘Cuisine Inferno’.)

***

After a little more merrymaking, the music changed from novelty festive monster songs to the cheesy fodder of slow dancing. As couples began to pair off and pitch woo, a thought occurred to me: where the devil had Tuxedo Mask gone?

At the very least, I wished to thank the fellow. It was anyone’s guess as to how he had picked up on Nigel-or-Pennywise’s little secret, but he had truly been my saviour.

I squeezed through the waves of slow dancers, trying to keep my eyes peeled for a top hat or a black cape. Alas, the only capes I could spy were of bright and garish hues.

I escaped to the quiet of Brinkley’s large, rambling back yard, in the hopes of getting a little air. As I ankled along the gravelled drive in my heeled boots, I couldn’t help but let a little melancholy sink in. Despite my search for Tuxedo Mask, I well knew who I really wanted to spend this night with.I reached the fountain, ornamented by Aunt Dahlia’s favoured statue of Artemis, and plonked my sorry self down upon its edge.‘Sailor Moon… we meet again.’

He emerged from behind the shadow of the trees, and I leapt right up.‘Tuxedo Mask! Ah… I really did want to thank you for your help back there. Awful solid of you, old chap.’

He did not come closer. ‘You are most welcome. I had been charged with organising the family affairs of the Earl of Rowcester. I encountered his youngest son, who proved to possess a most malicious and scheming temperament. I felt the temporary acquisition of the lad’s most prized digital information would prove a useful bargaining chip at some juncture.’‘And right you were, Tuxedo Mask! What a bally stroke of genius you…’

He stepped forward, and removed his eyemask.

‘Bertram, I am sorry that I was so intractable about tonight.’‘Oh… Good Lord… Reg, I hoped so dearly that it was you!’

I flew to his arms. And Angela, the sneaky brat, managed to get a good number of happy snaps of Sailor Bertie and Tuxedo Reg locked in a passionate embrace.

‘Reg?’‘Yes, my moonbeam?’‘Keep the cape.’

[halflingdeath]

✩? {{Pick a pairing of your choice!}}

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Tomi Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Tomi - he’s bluffing Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Dhana, maybe, if Tomi takes it too far Who trashes the house? Tomi Do either of them get physical? Nope How often do they argue/disagree? Arguing is an easy way to pass the time among henchmen so pretty often, I feel Who is the first to apologise? Probably Tomi, once he misses getting on Dhana’s nerves

Sex:

Who is on top? Tomi, probably Who is on the bottom? Dhana Who has the strangest desires? Tomi Any kinks? I can see them being into playing roles tbh Who’s dominant in bed? Probably Dhana, because it’s just so fun to see Tomi squirm :P Is head ever in the equation? Occasionally, but I don’t see Tomi to be the kind of guy to often reciprocate If so, who is better at performing it? Absolutely Dhana Ever had sex in public? Does a bear poop in the woods? Who moans the most? Tomi Who leaves the most marks? Definitely Dhana if they get a little too playful Who screams the loudest? ABSOLUTELY TOMI Who is the more experienced of the two? I can see Tomi getting around pretty often before they become a thing Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? With this pair? They definitely fuck Rough or soft? Rough at first, but then he’s in danger of finishing too quickly if they keep it up for long How long do they usually last? Anywhere from 20 minutes to 30 minutes Is protection used? ...Tomi uses protection? O: (But in all seriousness Dhana would have to make him use protection) Does it ever get boring? Never. In fact I can see them having a giggle every now and then - sex is not always meant to be taken seriously Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Probably a hayloft

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? NOPE If so, how many children do your muses want/have? None Who is the favorite parent? In the scenario that they do have kids, Tomi is the favorite parent. Who is the authoritative parent? Tomi tries, but it’s really hard to yell at a kid taller than you. That leaves Dhana as the truly authoritative parent. Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Tomi Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? TOMI Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Dhana Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Dhana’s a more respectable sort Who changes the diapers? Tomi, by threat of NO MORE ‘COOKIE’ UNTIL YOU DO. Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Dhana Who spends the most time with the children? Tomi, to the point where he’s practically another child among them. Who packs their lunch boxes? Dhana and Tomi Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Don’t let Tomi give them the talk. They’ll know probably way too much afterwards. Better let Dhana Who cleans up after the kids? They split it with Dhana getting the general stuff and Tomi going for the hard to reach places Who worries the most? Probably Dhana Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Eenie, meenie, miney, moe...

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Tomi acts like a famous ladies man, but he’s a pup-dog and loves general affection. Who is the little spoon? Tomi, in that he’s the little everything. Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Tomi Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Tomi How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Depends on how often they change cuddle positions Who gives the most kisses? Dhana What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Probably singing ridiculous songs while doing chores together Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Probably in bed Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Tomi tries, but with his reach his options are rather limited. Dhana’s more likely to be successful. How often do they get time to themselves? Whenever they’re not up to any zany shenanigans!

Sleeping:

Who snores? Both? Or if not both, then Tomi If both do, who snores the loudest? Tomi Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They’d share a bed If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up Who talks in their sleep? Tomi What do they wear to bed? their BIRTHDAY SUITS Are either of your muses insomniacs? I’m not sure about this one Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? More likely Dhana Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? I’m not sure how the first option would be possible so side by side would be a lot easier Who wakes up with bed hair? Tomi, he’s got perpetual bed hair Who wakes up first? Dhana Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Tomi might, as a peace-offering. Or he’d attempt to cook breakfast anyways What is their favourite sleeping position? Any way that Tomi gets a faceful :P Who hogs the sheets? Dhana Do they set an alarm each night?  Can a television be found in their bedroom? Who has nightmares? Dhana Who has ridiculous dreams? Tomi Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Dhana Who makes the bed? Dhana What time is bed time? Any time Any routines/rituals before bed? Regular hygiene Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Dhana

Work:

Who is the busiest? Tomi, he’s always on the run from someone or something Who rakes in the highest income? Tomi, by mysterious means Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope Who takes the most sick days? Neither I think Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither Who sucks up to their boss? Tomi, out of self-preservation What are their jobs? Adventuring, henching, roguing, and sorcering Who stresses the most? Dhana Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? I can see them both enjoying what they do Are your muses financially stable? Yes

Home:

Who does the washing? Tomi Who takes out the trash? With Tomi’s stature he’ll find it somewhat difficult, so the task would fall to Dhana Who does the ironing? Who does the cooking? Dhana Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Tomi Who is messier? Tomi Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Tomi Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Tomi Who forgets to flush the toilet? NEITHER Who is the prankster around the house? Tomi Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Who mows the lawn? Who answers the telephone? Who does the vacuuming? Who does the groceries? Both Who takes the longest to shower? Dhana Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Tomi, he’s gotta get his hair just messy enough

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? With a rogue in the house? Never. How many cars do they own? Do they own their home or do they rent? Probably rent Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Countryside Do they live in the city or in the country? City Do they enjoy their surroundings? Somewhat likely What’s their song? I can’t think of anything off the top of my head so I think I might go with One Week by Barenaked Ladies xD What do they do when they’re away from each other? Probably what they normally do, but I might not be imaginative :P Where did they first meet? Waterdeep, in the Yawning Portal Inn How did they first meet? There was a crew gathered to explore Undermountain that they were part of Who spends the most money when out shopping? Tomi’s more likely to steal it than spend money, so Dhana Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Probably Tomi, out of a need to brag Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? They’d both laugh at each other for tripping Any mental issues? Tomi’s a kleptomaniac and I can see some PTSD from Dhana Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither? Who kills the spiders around the house? I can see Dhana coming up with all sorts of creative ways to kill them Their favourite place? I’m not sure about this one Who pays the bills? Dhana, because it’s only so often Tomi could go “Bills? What bills? ....Ohhhhh, THOSE bills! Nevermind that, it’ll be taken care of--” and doesn’t do a thing about them. Do they have any fears for their future? Probably the possibility of dying Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Dhana - Tomi would surprise her with fancy burnt crisps. Who uses up all of the hot water? Tomi, but it’s easy when Dhana can always just make more Who’s the tallest? Is this a trick question? :P Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Tomi Who wanders around in their underwear? Tomi Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Radios don’t exist, but Tomi will always sing the loudest when he’s singing with Dhana What do they tease each other about? What DON’T they tease each other about? Other than obviously tender subjects Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? That’s a good question and I’m not sure I have the answer Do they have mutual friends? They have some mutual friends in their adventuring crew Who crushed first? Maybe Dhana? Tomi’s just got that effect on people. Any alcohol or substance related problems? Tomi’s more likely to be an alcoholic Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Tomi Who swears the most? *spins the wheel* uhhhhhhh..... BOTH

[seekthemist]

47 "were you just masturbating?" Ronan & Adam pretti plz :))))

“Were you just masturbating?” 

I’m back to my bullshit, rising to the occasion to also wish happy (slightly belated) birthday to @cosmiccluck, literally the coolest fucking nerd in the burgh. I love you darling, I hope you had a great time and you will continue to!

This has a bit of buildup and some “you should learn how to knock” type of shenanigans, but also TheFeels©. Alternative canon scene. Kind of explicit and long, I apologise for the fact that Tumblr mobile won’t cut this properly, most likely.

Other Raven Cycle fills: Ronsey #29 ; Pynch #21 ; Adansey #11 ; Pynch #42+50, Roah #39+91

From this prompt list!

September was a good month, for the way it lifted the heavy cloak of summer humidity off Henrietta. It was still warm enough to be pleasant, but the cooler air started to slide off the mountains and roam the streets, threatening the leaves of the trees with their imminent downfall. Breathing was easier, everything looked a bit sharper. Regardless of the supernatural slippery slope accelerating around them, Ronan liked it.

September was also a terrible month, for the way the school was back at full rhythm, a rhythm to which Ronan found himself more and more virulently opposed to. The more Ronan resisted, the more Declan nagged, his brotherly crusade unperturbed by having transferred for college. Fighting had burnt most of their Sunday after mass, even with Matthew well-meaning presence between them, and then Ronan had driven, hard and fast and tormented, until even the streets felt dull.

The sun had already set and his skin was actually cooling in the breeze, a clear sign of autumn around the corner. Ronan stopped the BMW at the end of the same turn that had brought him back inside of the ground of St Agnes, and barely bothered to lock the car before sneaking in through the backdoor.

He climbed the stairs two by two, marching to the only place where Declan would not be able to reach anyone’s phone. To the only place Ronan could sleep in, in the current mood.

He would not ask if he could come over, because that harboured the possibility of a rejection and Ronan did not want to deal with the way his own brain would propagate it to mean everything and nothing. Adam, marvellous and uncompromising, would never ask Ronan to ask, and would simply deal with any change of his plans by directing Ronan around and engaging in the snarking until he settled, like a disrupting poppy crammed down in a vase to sit around for a night.

That did not necessarily mean that Ronan wanted to be completely inconsiderate, not with Adam’s tendency to sport deep purple bags under his eyes, his gaze dropping around restless if he was too exhausted. School was very likely the one to blame for that as well, or at least it had been until Ronan’s dream-forest insisted to share the responsibility.

Slotted tight between his needs and his willingness to care, the only compromise that Ronan begrudgingly found with himself involved standing a minute or so on the third to last step of the stairs. From that angle, he could see the slither of light coming from the bottom of the mismatching door, or the lack thereof. If the light was off, Adam was generally sleeping. If it was on, he was generally exhausting himself with something, or collapsing under the weight of his self-imposed burdens. With the light on, Ronan could enter, even just to turn it off and leave Adam to sleep in peace.

The light was on now.

Ronan really hoped for this not to be a collapsed-Adam-false-alarm, because he really needed someone to verbally chew on the frustration growing out of his back like spikes, and no one could do it better than Adam, ever.

The door swung open and Ronan started to talk as soon as he got a glimpse of Adam, sitting on the floor with his back to the bed and not collapsed over any textbook.

“Parrish, apparently if I don’t find the timetable for next week yesterday Declan is gonna smash it in my face, which I think means you have not to give it to me, like, ever.”

The door slammed closed behind Ronan’s back, following his impetus.

Ronan looked down at Adam, Adam looked up at him, and silence followed, unavoidable.

Adam was awake, and he was sitting next to his own rundown bed. He also had his trousers and boxers lowered to halfway across his thighs and his t-shirt folded inwards, neatly out of the way of making a mess of his few material possessions. One leg was slightly lifted, ironically putting his hand wrapped around his cock more in display, God forbid Ronan was left with something to doubt about.

It was a nice cock, fully hard and slender like the rest of him. There was silence in Ronan’s head, blissful and disoriented, as he stared at it and at how Adam’s fingers were slightly spread so that his grip encompassed the whole length of it.

Ronan stared, and then caught himself staring and snapped his eyes up, back to Adam’s face. The flush softened the cutting line of those high cheekbones. Their gazes crossed, and the flush expanded. There was no helping the thought that the tip of Adam’s cock had been red as well, and if Adam had been flushing now Ronan could feel his cheeks burning as well.

“I…uh…” Ronan stuttered.

Eyes up, a voice with more self-restraint than he currently felt kept whispering. Eyes up.

“You, I mean…” Ronan went on, when no reply managed to break free from Adam’s frozen silence. “Were you…just…”

Masturbating. Adam was just masturbating.

Ronan swallowed thick and dry, and his throat jumped once more when Adam followed the movement.

There were more or less two choices left, at the moment, and only one of them was sensible and obvious and promised to leave everything relatively unscarred: Ronan should quietly take the door and go back the way he came, reminding himself for next time he wanted to crash on Adam’s floor that there were more things a person could do apart from studying and sleep, for how improbable that might sound when applied to Adam Parrish.

And then there was the other option, one that hung blurred and undefined and coiled with nervousness in Ronan’s belly.

His eyes dropped again, because two seconds of mental debate were enough to distract Ronan from the voice of reason that insisted they had to stay up.

Adam was still hard.

The room was so crowded, keeping them claustrophobically close, and Ronan’s blood was rushing very far away from his brain.

It was Adam that swallowed, next. The most subtle breaking of the frozen stillness that brought a heaving breath in his lungs, his chest rising with it.

Ronan could not think, could not speak, could not argue.

The light around them made everything too real, and that was the only thing he found a clear solution to.

With one rushed motion, Ronan slapped his hand on the switch. The too-bright light bulb that dangled from Adam’s ceiling went off leaving only the faintest halo behind.

Comforted by the darkness, Ronan stepped forward.

The long exhale that quivered in the space between he and Adam - getting shorter by the second - told Ronan that he wasn’t the only one more at ease in the change of scenery.

His eyes got used to the darkness and Adam was little more than a silhouette, every colour flattened into the indistinct blue-grey coming from the narrow window.

Ronan kneeled on the floor with the same abandon he had knelt on the pews of the church - just a few hours earlier, just some meters down, and yet it felt like a universe apart.

He had lain on this same patch of worn out wood, sleeping or not sleeping, for weeks and months, but this too was a different universe.

“Ronan…”

A whisper, maybe a warning, maybe a plea.

This was not something either of them could discuss. It just was.

Ronan heard himself gulping, with a little whine to close, and it could not be more blatantly taken than this. He dropped his forehead on Adam’s shoulder, the protruding bone nudging at his own skin, and they both shivered at the contact.

The edge of the mattress jumped behind him when Adam dropped the back of his head against it.

No light, no words, no discussion.

Adam’s arm shifted subtly, pressed against Ronan’s body. Once, twice.

A broken sigh followed and Ronan’s brain caught fire in the evidence that Adam had resumed touching himself.

Looking down only returned an impression of movement, the most subtle brushing of fabric and an undeniable feeling of skin sliding against skin.

Ronan knew Adam’s schedule already, through that not-so-concealed necessity of being able to click with it at a whim. So he knew Adam had been at Boyd’s for the best part of the last five hours, but even if he hadn’t he would have guessed. Adam smelled like gasoline and engine oil, enough to make Ronan’s head spin as if he stood in the middle of a leakage, just before an explosive collapse. He inhaled once, then once more, and Adam dropped his cheek to press against the crown of Ronan’s head, with a throaty sound.

Pressing a kiss on the fabric of Adam’s t-shirt was like giving up and giving in, the line between the two blurred by the insistent pulse of his own erection in the constraint of his jeans.

“Ah…”

Adam’s hand picked up rhythm under the slow brush of Ronan’s nose just at the edge of his collar, and the unthinking sound of pleasure didn’t count as speaking - which would have surely disrupted this whole bubble.

Adam was so bad with self-indulgence, and yet this was nothing but a lazy abandon, no pain and no long term gain. Ronan wanted him to have it - and to be part of it at the same time. He undid his own buttons at the sound of it, humming softly when the sudden release of pressure made his cock jump even more boldly in his boxers.

The rush of movements made Adam’s t-shirt unfold, sliding along his stomach. It made the stroking halt, between surprise and hindrance, and Ronan wouldn’t have it. He slid his hand under Adam’s arm before he could think better of it. The skin of Adam’s lips was so soft, so warm and lively under Ronan’s touch, that he almost drew his hand back - but then the fabric was there, and the shiver that ran through Adam was tactile, and Ronan really, really couldn’t help it.

He creased the fabric up, Adam’s stomach taut and jumping under the flat of Ronan’s palm. So close to Ronan’s face, Adam swallowed again, and resumed stroking himself in earnest as Ronan tucked the hem of the shirt into the collar. This was all he had wanted to do, the first instinct of it, but Adam was gasping and jerking off under his touch, so he couldn’t stop. He spread his fingers and draw another caress down Adam’s chest - encouraging, he just wanted to him to feel good, and if it also appeased the fire that burned inside him so what?

“Oh…F-…”

Adam’s voice broke in a stutter as Ronan pressed another kiss, so close to Adam’s skin now he could feel it on his upper lip. He spread his legs wider, rocking up against his own hand, and his thigh pressed sideways against Ronan. Too tempting to resist, not when Ronan’s own cock was hard and bucking against Adam’s legs felt so heady. The tip of Ronan’s fingers dug and dragged, a bit harsh, along Adam’s chest.

“Fuck.”

There was something about Adam’s swearing that never ceased to get to Ronan on a visceral level. It was so rare, saved for special occasions. Special brands of madness, usually. He wasn’t sure how this moment counted, with the swear crashing directly with Ronan’s buzz-cut hair and Adam’s cheek brushing against it is a little mindless moving. What he was sure of was that Adam’s back was arching, the ground felt like it was spinning, and Ronan was ready to snap if Adam just breathed on him funny once more.

At the end, Adam did much more than just breathing.

He curled onto his side, crowding Ronan against the bed, and Ronan could do nothing more than jump forward - once, twice, hectic and urgent as the fabric of his underwear rubbed between the tip of his cock and Adam’s naked thigh.

Rushed by the insistence, Ronan grabbed onto Adam’s opposite side and pressed them close - so close that he felt Adam’s quivering surrender as if it was his own. At the brink of pleasure, Adam was unsurprisingly silent, with a growling, choked sound rumbling along his throat. And if Ronan had his face just there, tucked close at the bend of Adam’s neck by all the flinching around, who could really blame him?

He closed his eyes against the darkness, letting Adam’s shivers of pleasure wash over him. High, and higher, and then breaking, and then lingering on Adam’s orgasm as he stroked himself persistently. It was Ronan that moaned at it, when Adam’s free hand flashed up and dug in Ronan’s biceps, keeping him close even though Ronan had no intention whatsoever of going anywhere.

And then Adam relaxed, which was in itself a marvellous thing to feel - even more so with a long sigh of bone-deep satisfaction shaking against Ronan’s forehead. Ronan’s blood, by contrast, was still thundering in his ears, and that was the only thing he could blame for the way he reached forward and snatched Adam’s hand away by the wrist before he could retract it from his cock completely.

Adam was warm, scorching, and his hand was wet with come, and in the darkness there was nothing but the raw, overwhelming way Ronan wanted him.

Rocking mindlessly against Adam’s side, Ronan brought the hand to his mouth.

He licked along the palm before he could think better of it, and then Adam’s well-loved, capable fingers were just in his face and Ronan thought very little of anything in general.

He dropped his mouth open, and sucked them into his mouth, swallowing his own spit, and Adam’s come, thick on his tongue like the wine of the eucharisty never was.

“Oh my God,” Adam gasped, quite appropriately, and for some marvellous concession of the universe he didn’t snatch his hand away. He let Ronan have it - have this - and kept him close to his side even though Ronan’s boxers were getting sticky against his skin.

With two fingers deep in his mouth, and only the taste of Adam’s skin left to suck on, Ronan trembled and twitched, eyes closed and mind perfectly silent as he came, and came.

There was still silence when they flopped back beside each other, their backs to the bed and staring through the darkness at the ceiling.

Ronan let Adam’s hand slip away from his mouth very begrudgingly, but he could almost swear Adam had caressed his face with a trail of messy spit while drawing back.

For as much as a part of Ronan wanted to claim he was going to leave, the reality was that he was going to stay. He would wash himself in Adam’s shitty bathroom and let Adam settle into bed before coming back to lie on the floor beside him. And then there would be morning and they would not need to talk about it in plain daylight. Maybe Ronan could tell him about the plans for his birthday, not what the didn’t have it in him to be pissed of with Declan, and everything would be just the same.

But he kept thinking about Adam grasping at him.

Maybe they could actually talk, at some point, another time.

[midnightmarev]

Once Upon A Time... Not Chapter 2: Memories and Moving Trucks

Chapter summary: Virgil has a nasty flashback induced nightmare and Anastacia goes into protective mode. The moving truck arrives and off we go to America.

Notes: Hey, would you look at that? It's my 18th birthday! What better way to celebrate than to give you guys a new chapter? Oh yeah, and hey again. I had a panic attack last Saturday. At first, I thought it was my first one, but thinking about it, it's happened to me before, just this time I could put into words what it was. Alright, enough about me. This starts out pretty dark/angsty, so you are warned.

Trigger Warnings: Flashback, nightmare, past suicide, negative thinking, self-depreciation, anxiety, hyperventilation, sleeping with a binder on. Think that was it. If I missed any, please do not hesitate to let me know.

Please take care of yourselves.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter   -   Chapter 3

Word count: 2852

Chapter 2: Memories and Moving Trucks

Knock knock knock. Who’s knocking on my door? “Who’s there?” I ask. Wait, I spoke. Without any trouble. That’s weird.

“It’s me, honey. Can I come in? Anastacia told me some boys at school were picking on you for your binder. I would just like to talk to you a bit if that’s alright?” Who is that? They sound familiar. Sound just like her. But that’s not possible. And where’s Ann anyway?

“You sure?” I hear myself saying. “You really want to see your child who can’t even figure out what gender they are?” I continue. Not even a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“I’m positive, honey. I love you more than you’ll ever know. I don’t care what gender you are. You are my child. I’ll love you no matter what,” she says softly. I resign myself to my fate. Unconditional love. “Can I?”

I sigh. “Sure.” The door opens to reveal my mother. How is that possible? Was her dying maybe just a dream? Well, a nightmare more like.

I am sitting at my drawing desk when she enters. Strange. I thought I was on my bed. Mother crouches down beside me and looks me seriously in the eyes. I wanna look away, or at least down, but she’s locked me in my place with her gaze. “You have to come tell me these things, Virgil. This is the third time this week I’ve had to hear it from your sister. I know it might feel embarrassing, but I will not love you any less. It’s not something that should be taken lightly. And what they’re saying to you? They have no respect. And it’s not true in the slightest. You are perfect, just the way you are.”

I feel tears well up in my eyes. Before I know it, I launch myself at Mother, hugging her tightly. “I know, Mother. And I’m so sorry. Sorry that I’m such a mess. I just- I just can’t help it. It hurts. It hurts so bad. I just want it to end,” I sniffle. Mother stiffens. I look up. “Mother?”

“No, you don’t. Because then you’ll end up like me.” What? What does she mean? “You deserve the happy ending I didn’t get to have.” She pulls away. I freeze. She has blood running down her mouth. Eyes lifeless. Her hair’s a mess. And around her neck! Rope marks! I try to move away, but she grips my wrists. “Look at me, Virgil! Is this what you want? Do you want to disappoint me and step into my footsteps?! Then I’ll happily indulge you!” Her tone is harsh now. She’s screaming. Or is it me? I don’t know anymore. I want to get away from here, but I can’t! I’m frozen in place!

“Mother, please. You’re hurting me!” I beg. “I- I’m sorry, okay? Just, please! It really hurts!”

I’m suddenly in her old room. In the corner. Hidden away. Mother is in the middle of the room. I try to speak, but suddenly can’t again. Pill bottles are laying on the floor. Anti-depressants and the like. A rope is hanging from the ceiling, right above a chair. Mother stands up on the chair and puts the rope around her neck. I know what she’s about to do. I saw her the first time. I want to stop her, let her know I’m here, but I can’t move. I’m frozen in place. Please, Mother. Don’t do it! I need you! Please!

She jumps off the chair. All I can do is sit there and watch in horror. Once she’s stopped moving, and all is quiet, the door opens and reveals my father. He doesn’t look at Mother. He looks at me. “You could’ve stopped her. If you had just been normal, none of this would’ve ever happened. You are not my child!” he says, before closing the door again, leaving me alone with Mother’s lifeless body hanging from the ceiling.

I gasp as I sit up, almost drowning in sweat. It’s not the first time I’ve had that nightmare, but this time was so much worse than it has ever been. I can’t breathe. Great. It’s pitch black as well, so that doesn’t help, either. What do I do? What do I do?

Anastacia. Anastacia’ll know! She always does. But where is she? I’ll blackout from lack of air before I find her.

AAHHH! Something moved beside me! What is that? What’s going on? Am I still dreaming? I can’t be. Can I?

“Virge?” someone slurs. It sounds like Mother! That means I’m still dreaming. No, please. I wanna wake up! I don’t wanna relive it again!

Oh, I’m hyperventilating. That’s not good. What did Ann say to do when I’m hyperventilating? I can’t remember! Please!

“Wow, Virgil! It’s me, Anastacia. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. Feel my breathing, please. I’m putting your hand on my chest. Try and match my breathing, okay?”

Anastacia? Oh, it’s Anastacia. Oh yeah, that’s right. We went to bed together in my bed. I had a panic attack last night.

I can feel her hand on mine. She’s leading it to her chest, just like she said. Her heartbeat is so calm. What I wouldn’t give to be able to control my heartbeat like her. I’m so lucky to have her as my sister.

I try my best to match her breathing but fails many times. After what feels like hours, I finally get control over my breathing again. I look at the clock. 4.48 am. Great. Got like, maybe four hours of sleep, if we consider that my attacks usually last a few hours, depending on what they are about and what triggered me. Not going to be able to sleep any more.

“Hey,” Ann says, nudging my shoulder with hers. “It was just a dream. And I’m right here, should you need me again. Think you can go back to sleep?” she asks after a moment's hesitation. I shake my head ‘no’. “Okay, how about we watch some Steven Universe then?”

A distraction. Classic move. I nod. Soon enough we’re laying down on my bed again watching Steven Universe on Ann’s phone.

Before I know it, it’s 8 am. Father knocks on my door. “Hey, kiddo. Time to get up. The truck will be here in thirty minutes.”

Ann looks at me, silently asking if she can answer for me. I nod. “We’ll be ready by then, Father. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, you’re in there Anastacia? Well, good. We’ll be leaving shortly after the truck. We don’t have to worry about furniture. Our new house in Florida already has furniture, so we won't have to pay extra for moving ours. And I probably already told you kiddos…” he trails off.

Ann and I share an amused look before we hear him walk away.

“Well, you heard Father. Time to get up and do something with the day,” she says, playfully batting my arm.

I shove her right back. Two can play this game. I winch slightly. Shit, I forgot to take off my binder! It hurts like hell!

Aaand, of course, Ann sees it. “Virgil? What’s wrong?” She looks me up and down. Then realisation seems to dawn on her. “You’re still wearing your binder! I thought you had taken it off after dinner! You know it’s not healthy sleeping with your binder on!”

‘I know, I know! I forgot, alright? Sheez, you’re starting to sound like Mother!’ I sign. Then freeze once I realise what I actually said. And then crumble into a little ball of pure agony. I scramble to apologise. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! I- please don’t hate me! I’m sorry.’ My signing is fast, and my breathing is starting to pick up again. Bollocks!

“No, no, it’s alright, Virgil. And nothing you could do would ever make me hate you! Please breathe with me. That’s it, you’re doing great!” she interrupts my rambling apology. She starts breathing the 4-7-8 exercise exaggeratingly, and I follow, getting control over my breathing again.

“Let’s get ready, kay? We just need to get your art stuff and fidget cube packed in a bag and get the moving box closed, and we’re good to go.” She gets up and starts shuffling around the room.

I slowly start to follow, eyeing Mother’s box warily, and find a bag. I tap Ann’s shoulder to get her attention and show her the bag with a small smile.

“Great. Now, here are your pencils and sketchbook. I can’t find your fidget cube, though. And it might be a good idea if you get your headphones as well.” I hold the bag open as she talks. She puts the pencils and my sketchbook in it, but when she mentions my fidget cube, I tense up a little. “What is it, Vee?”

I put the bag on the floor. Well, I guess I should tell her what a mess of a person her twin brother really is. ‘My fidget cube fell under my bed, and when I went to get it…’ I have to stop for a minute to collect myself. ‘When I went to get it, I found that box,’ I point at it, ‘and I might’ve sort of opened it. And sent myself into a panic attack in the process.’ I add sheepishly.

She gives me a look of sympathy before moving to hug me. That’s nice. This is nice. Hugging her. Oh, she gives me a light kiss in my hair. That’s actually comforting. Then it’s over. She moves back but doesn’t quite let go of me. “How about I go and get it, and you can find your headphones? Sound like a plan?” I nod.

She then lets go of me and ventures over to my bed. I set out to find my headphones, trying not to think about what she might think about me and the box. Soon enough, she gives me my fidget cube, and I show her my headphones. Both end up in the bag. The moving box is closed, so we’re all done. Except for one thing.

“Off with it. Now. I’ll help.” My binder. I groan. Right. Forgot about that. Again. And she won't let me go anywhere until I’m no longer in pain. So that’s how I find myself being undressed by my twin sister. Oh, shut up! Not like that! We’ve done this a million times, her helping me with my binder.

“You have to be more careful, Vee. You could seriously hurt yourself with this thing. Aaand, there!” she exclaims when she finally managed to get it off me. I love wearing a binder, but it is so difficult to get it off most of the time. She throws a t-shirt at me. “Catch. And put on your hoodie as well.”

I do as she says. When she is in protective mode, you best do what she tells you to.

Knock knock knock.

I flinch. Three knocks. Just like in my nightmare! Yeah, if you couldn’t tell, I’m a little jumpy right now and have excessive anxiety to burn of. Ann notices, of course. “I’ll get it,” she says before moving to my door. Luckily, it’s the front door someone’s knocking at, not mine. Annoyed, I put on my hoodie and follow.

“Hello there, young lady. Is your father home?” someone asks. A male voice I’ve never heard before. Instantly my anxiety causes me to be on high alert. Bloody calm down! It’s probably just the movers that are coming for the boxes. Like Father said. Still, I keep out of sight.

“Yeah, I’ll go get him. There are some boxes in the living room if you could load them into your truck?” Ann says. It is the movers. Phew. Ann passes me and gives my shoulder a soft squeeze, and mouths ‘keep breathing’ to me, before getting Father.

I do as she says. Deep breath before slowly going into the living room to the movers. Just to get a look at them, if we should be wary of them or not, and to get one last look at the bare living room in the house I grew up in. My heart starts to ache at that thought. I’ll never see this place ever again.

“Hey there, kid.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice. Haven’t that guy learnt never to startle an anxious teen? Right. He doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know I have anxiety. And it was also kinda my fault he surprised me as severely as he did; I was stuck in my mind and that. He sounds nice, though. The guy winches at my flinch. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, mate. There’s also absolutely no reason to be scared of him. Or me, for that matter,” the other man chuckles. I send a small smile their way, just to acknowledge that it was alright. He beams at me, clearly proud of himself. “I’m Phil, by the way. That’s Dan,” he says, pointing to his partner. He looks at me like he’s expecting me to tell him my name now.

I don’t respond. Just stare. Chances are they don’t know sign language, and I’m not up to talking right now, not even to tell them my name; and I’m most definitely not up for a game of charades. So what do I do? Nod at the two movers, Dan and Phil. God, I must look so pathetic right now.

They continue with whatever they were doing before, just like that. What? They seem to have just accepted that I didn’t give them my name. Well, that’s new. Aaand cue awkward silence with me just standing in the doorway staring, fiddling with my hoodie sleeves. At least they didn’t press on with the name thing. They seem really nice.

“Sorry for taking so long; had to make breakfast for these two with nothing in the fridge.” Father to the rescue! Thank goodness. He’s smiling down to me, a look of pity in his eyes. “Anastacia’s in the kitchen, Virgil. You go ahead and join your sister, and I’ll talk with these gentlemen in the meantime.” I nod.

As I walk away, I hear Father start up a conversation with the movers. I think I hear him say my name. Probably telling them, I’m shy and have anxiety or something like that. Which is true, mind you, it’s just annoying that it has to be adverted like that.

“Hey, Vee. How you feeling?” Ann asks as she sees me entering the kitchen. Have I mentioned how much I love my sister? Because I really love her. I don’t think I would’ve survived the past three months without her. She’s not like dad. He doesn’t know how to really help, and he sends pitying looks and whatnot. Not what I need. Ann’s different. She knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t ever pity me. She hates it just as much as I do. Oh yeah, she has anxiety too, only not as bad as me. So she knows what she’s doing.

‘I’m alright, I think. What’s for breakfast?’ I sign. I already know what, but I wanna be sure.

“Take a wild guess,” she smirks.

‘Hmmm, it wouldn’t happen to be oatmeal, would it?’

“Ding ding ding! And we have a winner, folks. Virgil Blake!  Give him a hand, everybody,” she laughs. We’ve been getting oatmeal for breakfast the past few weeks. I laugh with her, though mine is soundless. So basically, just puffs of air with an accompanying smile. “But seriously though, we’re gonna be okay. America’s school system isn’t that different from England’s. And I’m sure folks in Gainesville, Florida are nice.”

Serious tone. This is the first time she’s voiced these concerns. I’ve always known they were there, ever since Father announced we were moving to America, but she’s never mentioned anything. I could tell they were there, though I don’t think she knows if you know what I mean.

‘I hope so, though we won’t be getting the same schedule. Which means we won’t always be together in school. And I can take care of myself,’ I sign to her, hoping she’ll believe me. She looks at me with a resigned look as I sit down after grabbing a recyclable plastic breakfast bowl and.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about my twin brother; wanting to protect him from potential bullies.” She gives a small smile, pouring oatmeal into my bowl. “And knowing he will do the very same thing.”

“Alright kiddos,” Father interrupts. “Dan and Phil are getting the boxes moved to their truck. We just give the word when we’re ready to say goodbye to the house.”

And so, an hour or so later, we’re sitting in the car on our way to the airport. The moving truck behind us as well as all the memories. Goodbye Mother. I’m just glad we remembered to bye pills for me for the plane ride. Anastacia didn’t let me put on another binder though.

End notes: So, you got through it. I've never experienced anything that would warrent flashback induced nightmares, so I might have been a bit off with how it works.

Please like, comment, and reblog, telling me what you thought, what could have been better, just to say hi, or keysmashes. Don't be shy. I'll live for it.

Until next time. Take it easy guys, gal, and non-binary pals. See ya.

[elizabethrobertajones]

14x04 watching notes

Happy Birthday, Davy!

-

Mittens just ominously warned me to warm up this notepad while I waited for the episode to finish downloading.

The nice guy from the phone provider has recently restored our internet after 4 days of radio silence from me, but it's only about 4'o clock on friday, so really some good timing!

Expectations: pre-mittens warning, Davy back on his nonsense with the scary episodes and expected nonsense of sinking back into MotW after mytharc but in capable hands because, you know, new writing team is aces and all.

post-mittens warning: idk but I should get a stuffed toy?

-

That's a suspicious amount of ghost lore.

Has Heaven started dumping the spirits out now and if it really IS a ghost it's not going to behave properly?

-

Oh my god it's a Hell Hazers poster.

There was something I would have talked about pre-episode but had no internet so didn't, but the focus on Dean and nerds and the expectation that this episode would be about a comic book store, did remind me of 9x07 and the action figure which was all "i clobber evil!" and was a strong Dean mirror, including that he needlessly burned it on the stove to try and get rid of the ghost of the mom but it turned out she needed to be talked into letting her son let her go in a scene which has all sorts of shades of Dean vs Mary in 12x22 now and also Dean's entire mark of cain arc was in the self-destruction of his self as an action figure that clobbered evil. A reminder that Dean is this figure seems fairly timely with him coming down from being possessed, as of course he has been used as an action figure. And his willingness to turn himself into one in 13x23 was very much turning himself into the Michael Sword, which in this cosmos is practically like the rarest collectible action figure of the universe. This harks back all the way to the first season and Dean's issues with John's control and the whole blunt little instrument arc, also something that fed directly into demon!Dean, and is being reflected this season in Nick, who murdered a guy with a hammer, after his family was murdered by a hammer, and said yes to Lucifer because of all that angst about hammer murder. Subtle.

Anyway, this is sort of the emotional background to me for action figures in the show.

A Hell Hazers poster also reminds us that Dean is a horror fan, his own connections to the genre, a CLASSIC episode, and a time when he was living his best life briefly.

You know, before he sold his soul for *waves at previous big paragraph* reasons

Fitting for how season 13 ended with Dean this close to happy world peace retirement living his best life :P

-

Awww the fake movie the MotW comes from is called All Saints Day. Davyyy :')

People I know who are born on like October SECOND consider themselves extra spooky halloween people. I can only imagine what it does, as a 23rd Oct. birthday person, to the psyche to actually be born ON it.

This episode's subtitle is just "Lol I have the best birthday, fuckers"

-

ACTUAL CLIP FROM 2x18!

And the fucking racist truck >.> Which in-universe was teased as another different movie using the footage in the trailer for Hell Hazers II.

-

My mum has that exact Wonder Woman figure

-

This guy is wearing a trenchcoat-featured jacket with a maroon t-shirt under it. I could not tell you what he represents but the trenchcoat part is amusing.

I can't *actually* start saying everything is party!Cas symbolism though so I'll just shush

-

Er this rando that people were saying was dressed like Sam from the promo images literally is called Sam, and she's wearing a very very loud checkered shirt, of course featuring a lot of orange. I'm guessing with that info it's next to impossible to say she ISN'T in some way a Sam parallel :P

Comic Book Guy is possibly caught in the middle of stealing an action figure, and I can't work out if he is just nervous about that or has a crush on Sam because his behaviour was so suspect, but from the promo scene where he looks a lil worse for the wear he talks about breaking up with his goth gf, and Sam is very clearly a nerd, not a goth.

(Goth nerds are things. The media will get there one day :P)

-

Oh okay after a few lines of the exchange, yeah this guy is a dick, I have NO clue why he's wearing that coat symbolism wise, and Sam really ought to fire him because wow, uncool and also he seems to be a stereotypical nerdbro gatekeeper who would literally rather scare off customers but be right than just enjoy what they all enjoy together.

-

Then he apologises for getting angry for saying he just gets spun out sometimes. Honestly, this seems to be crossing over into Dean territory considering the last thing from the recap was Dean being told he was like Michael by Bad Kaia and being really angry when he said he was nothing like him... He also used "spun out" about himself in 12x20 but in rather more tragic lost-Cas circumstances but obviously this parallel has a different lesson to tell than just making them equivalent. This guy is so awful and is using his anger in a petty way over things that don't really matter. He's getting spun out over made up battles rather than real angst, and whether he has his own underlying trauma that makes him behave that way or not, the straight white nerd is one of the secondary main villains of the century so far after the literal alt right, with some overlap of course. Think Kylo Ren as one of the dominant critiques of this behaviour :P Compared to the open of 8x11 for example, where the nerds were harmless weirdoes despite also being straight white and obsessive, the aggression and obsession are played not just as a harmless trait of people who like LARPing and collecting toys, but gatekeep, yell at kids over superman facts, and refuse to have their own dominance challenged.

Thinking he could fight superman might actually explain the Cas like jacket - it's too short to be a coat - that he idealises these heroes, is wearing Batman (who in pop culture most recently was around "v superman") and Cas of course has all his superman comparisons from both 6x20, and his rebirth in 12x01 where he came back to earth as a fiery comet and was immediately mistaken for a spaceman. There's some dark idolisation/mirroring here, that he's debating how to fight the guy (krytonite gloves = the BMoL knuckledusters) and at the same time mirroring the show's Superman in his dress. Only much, much lesser. More subtextual mockery about his weakness and how he doesn't really measure up.

I think in a lot of ways the discourse about nerds in pop culture is moving on now to  make this difference clear, that the ones who will be mocked are the ones who deserve it for being too cruel to respect, while in many other ways the mainstreaming of nerd culture into pop culture, meaning a large amount of it is no longer mockable, that everyone had at least SOME nerdy indulgences, means that in general nerdom is more accepted and exalted than ever. SPN obviously having its own deep roots into nerd culture has some direct room for commentary here, and this is also a way of reminding its own fans to be cool and not to be this guy.

-

Oh, huh, he safely exited the shop. I did not see that coming.

-

LOL he has batman bedding on a fold out bed in either a shed, garage or basement where he lives.

(This detail was tragic in Attack the Block but it's quite clear in this case the guy is fully grown and is being used as a detail to show his forward progression in life)

-

Wow, you really have some rage issues here. Especially trying to wrangle free pizza i mean dude. Talk about a line that personifies him 100 different ways in one go :P Who shouts at their pizza delivery place?? They remember your number! This is how to get extra toppings.

-

Oh my god please get beaten to death by this lil guy

(I know I know he survives he's in the promo)

Is this like... haunted kidney episode... but better?

Actually, Fallen Idols plus Mannequin episode but better.

-

You know how we saw in the last new year? Watching Small Soldiers for the first time since like the 90s or whenever it came out

-

The show's animation is so much better

Than Small Soldiers and itself from past years

-

Oh DEAN

-

I mean he totally deserves a day off.

-

I can't believe he owns these socks. Who got them for him for Christmas?

Okay, well first we have to work out which was the last Christmas they had where they were not in prison or in an alternate dimension or dead or -

-

Cas. It was Cas.

-

He literally had no idea this wasn't just a cute commentary on how much Chinese take out Dean eats

-

Anyway as far as I can tell Dean is living out the bisexualdemondean header just to spite Michael for defiling his temple. He's filling it with noods and pizza (and I am sure he didn't yell at the delivery guy, but tipped him well instead for making drop offs at a shady street corner miles from where anyone lives)

-

Honestly it's been 12 years since Hell Hazers II... What took them so long

-

Dean's drunk a full thing of Margiekugle mom beer, which is a lil worrying just in terms of him using it instead of comfort from her like in 12x02, now that she's back.

-

God I want Dean to meet the asshole from the comic shop and for him to get into a dick measuring contest about Hell Hazers II and Dean to be like uh I WORKED on it you ass

-

Er, does that vending machine contain the nougat of choice of your consumptive son on the other side of the wall?

(who may be out with Cas concealing his consumption on a case so not bothered by all this TV noise)

-

God I love and have missed Dean, my trashy guy who is sitting hugging a pillow like a teen girl at a sleepover to watch his hatchetman slasher to celebrate being back to himself and get the much-needed R&R, since, you know, last time we saw him he threatened to "break" Kaia and was in a very very bad place (lol)

-

This guy about to get murdered for trying to snatch a nougat bar is dressed like the unfortunate bandmate (Tommy?) to Vincifer. Is this an oblique Ladyheart reference to set up a weird scenario where Hatchetman is punishing a Lucifer-adjacent asshole for trying to steal Nougat?

-

I can't believe there's a red exit sign behind him which means Wanek is Waneking in multiple dimensions at once

-

"Mint Condition" flashes up over Dean indulging in his pizza, saying, hey look it's our guy back in shape. Or, you know, ironically so. Either because Dean being Dean means eating junk food and wallowing because his husband has wandered off with the kid and isn't home to snuggle him while he does this mandatory bedrest, or because, of course, Dean is not Mint Condition at all. He's literally and emotionally scarred.

-

I am pretty sure this shirt that Sam has on is 12 years old.

-

Statistically, they're gonna get murdered in each and every one of their original Kripke era shirts until none of them are available to be murdered in later.

I say for no particular reason.

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Leave Sam alone. He doesn't shave you mock him, he does shave, you... also mock him. He was doing really well while you were gone! No one got even slightly stabbed who didn't deserve it! This is an all-time record. A beard is a price to pay for that.

-

Honestly I think Dean is stoned but they're not going to say so but I am treating this scene like it is.

-

"I wanted to check up on you," Sam says, pulling over a chair. This is so like how he was in 14x01 when he was powering around the Bunker being the boss, and given Dean's been on bedrest, again, much-needed, Sam is treating him like another one of his charges, and once more is in a position of authority... But now, despite shaving to act like nothing has changed a bit more, he is the one in charge of Dean as one of his wards. Everything has changed. Your dynamic is actually wobbling in a weird way.

In season 10 when Dean was laid up with the Mark blues especially around 10x12, which this intro also reminds me of, re: Dean spending a week in his room and Sam popping in to check on him, Sam was still keeping a very wary eye on Dean more that he was a bomb that may explode, and that while he needed to be managed, the power dynamic was extremely, extremely horrifying in that if Sam messed up Dean would murder him. Not an ongoing implicit threat between them, but the knowledge that Dean could become a demon again and demon!Dean would attempt to kill Sam, and so Sam had better do his utmost to keep Dean in a good place. Even if it eventually meant a series of convoluted secrets to try and fix him against his wishes.

Obviously, things are different here. Sam has developed a LOT since then, with season 11 beginning a recovery of his character in tentative little steps which actually kicked off in season 12, and, specifically, in 12x04 under Davy Perez in American Nightmare heralding the new era of Sam focus and lovingly stroking his hair and lavishing him with Sam-sculpted episodes the like of which we hadn't seen all through Carver era.

Now when Sam comes into Dean's room and pulls up a chair and sits down to check up on him, he actually radiates a comfortable, competent authority to do so.

... however he is doing it in that pink shirt which I honestly love the concept of but just wish that I couldn't see Sam in 2x06 showing up in it for the first time, like, my brain is just screaming at him to go get a bunch more pink shirts and refresh his wardrobe

I'm so certain of it but now I have to check because 12 years is such a long time but

http://www.homeofthenutty.com/supernatural/screencaps/albums/SPN2x06/SPN_0060.jpg

Mittens yelled "OH MY GOD" when I sent her the link so I think I'm right

Like, conceptually in every way it's great because it's this long pink shirt that fits him well, fuck toxic masculinity, blah blah action heroes in pink shirts, love it love it love it, but also: it's another fucking plaid shirt Sam has owned since he was a gap-toothed child six years younger than Jack presents as

-

Dean is lacking his second bedside table, as he has been for seasons, but I'm just staring at him lying sideways on his bed, wondering about his set up, and if this is in any way similar to how he watched all those cowboy movies with Cas, since Davy, of course, was the one to suggest that they had been watching movies together.

-

"And... not that I'm complaining... House is full of strangers"

Yeah, we know you hate it, Dean. God, it's tragic. In a wonderful way. Sam's built this little empire for himself and it's on top of Dean's old nesting spot. Dean's been forced into his room not just to hide away because he's ashamed but because he doesn't want to be seen and there's too many strange eyes out there. However this resolves, it's going to force some growth. Honestly, as much as Dean loves this room and it means to us, it's also a bleak lonely spot and in the like 7 years they've had the Bunker, Dean's never hooked up in that bed, while it has come to be very much like, well... The bed of an angry nerd living in a basement still using Batman sheets. Again, dark parallels, but of Dean in a dark place.

I'd love if he moved out and got a house in the suburbs.

I mean.

Cas has a house in the suburbs.

(Re: long-running Lizzy watching notes in-jokes about where he stashes a bunch of stuff like demon tablets, first blades, metatron's grace, etc etc)

But yeah, no. I like the idea of Dean nesting, of course. But aside from the obvious conveniences, the Dean Cave, etc, there's no reason it HAS to be here except that this is their inheritance and it's safe. But as I constantly talk about with the library abutting the war room, the work/life balance is always in question and filling the Bunker with strangers is a great way to shove all the life balance out, and leave the only spot left of that to Dean in this room.

If the AU peeps don't all get sent home but remain at least in part a hunter community and maybe even network and grow as the Winchesters finally open up the Bunker's resources and share them and stop being all isolated like Carver era fiercely protected... Dean might have no choice but to move his nesting down the road to somewhere with a sofa where he can park his car out front, and choose to commute in to work.

-

Awww they have the "our lives are a scary movie" argument again, in a well-worn way. So well-worn this is repeating dialogue from somewhere or other... 2x18? 4x07? God I don't know, implicit in Sam's eyerolling at Halloween in 1x01? All of the above? I am not looking that up. But anyway their stances haven't moved, possibly because this is something that has never really been challenged before. If Sam didn't hate scary movies already, watching 18 hours of Hell Hazers II dailies probably did in any remaining sympathy he would have had towards them, while Dean thrived there.

I guess he may finally have had time to watch it?

And of course stay for the credits to see his name.

Anyway Dean has historically cited movies as research or job adjacent, or vicariously enjoyed watching monsters at work from the safe remove of a screen, while Sam throws it all in to that box where of course it goes to 1x01 where he's running away from ALL of it and has his oddly specific choices to avoid halloween in his day to day as Lawboy. He's struggled to indulge in the weird as a hobby, likes serial killers as, as far as we can diagnose, an outlet of darkness but purely human, and keeps the work/life balance in a rather unhealthy way of denial and boxing things away, because so much of his early seasons arcs were about resisting the life and refusing the call. This harks back to their literal first episode characterisations of Dean being all in and Sam being all out and it's interesting to have us back here in season 14, in a period of such deep reflection, when Sam has finally sort of accepted the life, found a niche in the work that suits him as the boss, and Dean is struggling now with retirement questions, and taking a week off, not liking his home full of strangers, etc etc.

-

"More Michael Monsters?" Dean asks immediately quick fire when Sam says he has a case.

He may have taken a week off to indulge in pizza but that obsession lurks under his skin. He's in no way done, though I think perhaps better prepared to enter this case than he had been, though of course he's billed as still struggling.

-

Dean also instantly recognises the Thundercats name, and I'm afraid it's something I'm just not familiar with, that I clearly missed some wave of it when I was younger and it hasn't come back around as an adult... I can't wait to read stuff by people who know more about it and say tragic things about Dean's connection to it. But the important thing here is the dark mirror to the guy who got beat up by the toy, because Dean is being shown as also an enthusiastic nerd who knows the franchise and is excited by this concept and is leaping into a case about it with a "strippers, Sammy. Finally!" level of enthusiasm.

Healthy nerds and unhealthy nerds. But at the same time, Dean might be a better nerd, but his anger last episode is still being examined through this guy.

-

I love that for Sam and Dean, dressing up for Halloween is dressing up like total nerds in a totally different pop culture way - the old appearance of geeks which is wildly outdated but damned if they aren't putting on pocket protectors anyway. It's a caricature but it's one that is at total odds with who they are as people... More of a traditional halloween thing where normally Sam and Dean are really scary people with weapons, so when you make them dress all topsy turvy, they dress like this instead. They ARE halloween costumes, in their day to day.

-

Dean continues watching in the shop, Sam eyes up the Red Hood.

I watched that a million years ago with no idea that Jensen was in it, though I had watched the first couple of seasons at that point. I think it was during my "aww the show was cancelled" phase where it was completely off my radar. It's hilarious to me now, because I don't think I COULD watch it, now I know Jensen's voice so disproportionately well. It would be so off-putting.

-

"She's like your twin."

Sam and Sam both tuck their hair behind their ears at the same moment.

"What are you talking about?"

So. This is going to be extremely subtle.

I hope New Sam survives the episode D:

-

Sam points out the other guy who people were saying based off the promo pics would be the Dean to this girl's Sam with no idea what was to come. He and Dean in this case are both eating lollipops purloined from the halloween candy.

I guess this guy in the All Saints Day t-shirt shares Dean's love of the same franchise, and seems to represent the bizarre venn diagram with Dean on one side and Andrew Dabb on the other. Their nerdy overlap.

-

I feel like Sam is just pointing out this character mirror to be an annoying sibling and wow do I love seeing them like this.

I also feel like there is no way Davy would do this if he wasn't about to troll the fuck out of us with these parallels in some terrifying meta way and pointing out that character parallels are a thing this blatantly is about to be Awful somehow.

-

The Red Hood is staring disapprovingly at them through all of this

-

Anyway of course Dean Parallel immediately recognises Dean's enthusiasm for Hatchetman and encourages him to press the button, which Dean does with glee. I CLOBBER EVIL. Wait no.

Sometimes we do bad things.

Oh dear.

Oh deeeeeeeeeeear.

Yeah, Hatchetman is like... idk, michael!Dean or something. Or some dark part of Dean where all his violence is and this twisted version is almost like the burned result of the I Clobber Evil hero being melted by Dean and - too meta, I am in pain.

-

"Vintage hot wheels!"

I know what you want because I have a smol 67 impala on my shelf. Nyoom.

-

He has an eeny weenie mystery machiney so he can make them race.

-

Okay guy who got beat up by a toy is called Stuart (I am so bad at names, honestly.)

Of course he got kicked out by his roomie for being insufferable about something as pointless as subs vs dubs, and Sam is already apologising for him before they even go meet him.

Considering there's 3 people working at the shop and Stuart had a trenchcoat, but is also being mirrored to Dean, darkly, I feel like there might be some serious shuffling going on here that surface level, Stuart had that Cas marker, but... yeah

-

Heeee Dean stealing the Flash mug and making Sam have the one with the cats all over it. One mug representing Stuart, one representing his mum.

I mean it is Sam's turn to have a relationship with THEIR mom this season. Idk if the mugs are actually symbolic over anything other than Dean living his best geek life right now.

I mean he's added the glasses to his ensemble, he's really living it up.

I hope he's still wearing Send Noods under this

-

Awww it's hot apple cider. What a good mom. This is a perfect halloween drink.

-

*Stuart Rage Sounds from below*

Wow this is subtle that he has some rage issues.

-

"Campbell and sons insurance" Hey remember when I said that this whole season's emotional set up with Sam's ownership of the AU peeps reminded me of season 6 and the Campbells? They also literally are the sons of Mary Campbell, so.

No lies, at least, with some serious stretching of the truth.

-

God, the detail that Dean has played Zelda.

He's being nerdy out loud constantly, and without much fear of judgement. It's wonderful. I guess he's been jostled up enough by Michael that he doesn't really care to hide this random pointless thing that in the grand scheme why should he be ashamed, and also he feels so much worse about other things that this is just an escape to have fun. It also reminds me of last season when he was mourning Cas except that this indulgence Sam is allowing him is co-sponsored by Dean and he's throwing himself into enjoying the smaller things and being more openly Dean-ish than he has in a while. Like, I don't think character comparisons to 8x11 for the nerds is the only way the episodes link :P

-

In 8x11 Dean's initial reaction to LARPing is that it looks awesome, then he corrects at a look from Sam to being more judgy. In 9x04 as scripted, Sam is surprised that Dean want to read Game of Thrones. So idk if that's just Robbie character interpretations since my 2 surface level examples are from his episodes or if that's just been where open nerdery has lived in past years, but anyway. Sam isn't stopping Dean from indulging in the same way - it seems he also recognises Dean's nerdiness and is less threatened by it than before, in the sense that he doesn't feel like Dean isn't acting himself, but now accepts the nerdiness is a part of Dean.

-

"Who needs goth girl drama" dude you are the most awful over-dramatic asshole on the show now Lucifer is dead

-

LOL he's trying to lie about being attacked by a toy now, and Dean points out that he got whooped so thoroughly he was beaten on the back and genitals - so yeah we look at his face and wiiiiince

-

"Lady you wasn't kidding."

-

"Big Bang in there..."

Goodness are we calling out the Big Bang theory for its toxic nerdery? Love it.

-

Sam and Dean halloween costumed as total nerds, still driving around in the Impala. The reverse of someone rolling up in a boring old modern car and, like, a bunch of Draculas get out.

-

Sam can shave off the beard but it can't stop him Bobby-ing

Dean side-eyes this

-

"Yeah, it was Riley, he'll be fine."

"I don't know who Riley is, but cool."

God, I am so into this whole dynamic.

Tell me more, Davy.

-

"So seriously, what is your deal with halloween?"

"I don't like it"

Dean, I am watching this episode on November 2nd, just so you know.

Anyway. This is literally. 1x01's opening adult Sam moment. But Dean's going back to poke Sam about it since he's someone Sam won't lie to in the same way that Sam was concealing his entire being from Jess. I mean this isn't subtle - in 1x01 Dean calls Sam out for doing this. But then, Sam doesn't exactly develop beyond it - in season 8 he does this with Amelia.

Because obviously if Sam is going to move forward and develop there's still things which are not addressed. And if Dean is having his idea of home and work challenged, and his nest disrupted until perhaps he will fly it... Sam has never ever actually addressed his work/life balance in the meaningful way where... like... this was how his difference was introduced when we first ever meet lil babby Sam smiling innocently at us on screen as a kid who has the whole future ahead of him and no idea what torment he's gonna go through. 14 years later, if he's ever going to be a grown up who can handle himself in a relationship and know what is work and what is life and how he can watch halloween movies and not feel personally offended by them but enjoy them as a fantasy and a way of boxing off their world into a safe place they don't have personal responsibility for...

Maybe he might just get a girlfriend who he can tell he is a hunter. Like. Dude. Dean was past that step before the show ever STARTED thanks to his time with Cassie.

-

Sam, also, metaphorically is an angry guy living in his mom's basement, but perhaps in a more metaphorical way where it's to do with living his whole life under the shadow of his mom horrifically dying as a result of the supernatural and being brought up feeling like a freak and just wanting to be normal and all

wheeee

-

Anyway Dean is probing for actual answers so I assume Davy will give us a solution to this this episode, but this is my take on it before we get into it properly.

-

Alternative hypothesis: Davy is personally offended that Sam doesn't like halloween despite it being the best holiday, is determined to fix that and fuck canon, characters can change even 14 years later.

-

"Don't give me this 'every day is halloween' crap because one it aint, we don't eat that much candy"

I have missed Dean and I love him with every fibre of my being, brb I need to vibrate out of existence at the sheer joy of knowing him

-

That was the worst "we aren't here staking out your house" move I have ever seen.

You are professionals who have been doing this together for 14 years

why was that so laughably bad?

-

The youtube comments are so cutting and a bunch of them are unfortunately true. It's self-awareness of using the loser nerd trope but also, cutting in a way because of course Stuart is coming across so much as someone who deserves it - and we're starting to see his mom is sweet and doesn't seem to have caused any trauma in a surface read, and that he was the one who dumped his online gf, and he starts other fights at work or with roomies, so this is getting more and more into territory where he seems fully to blame for his own situation, and therefore you CAN mock him for living in mom's basement, because he PUT himself there, and is single because he chose to be, and so on. The pervading sense that if he was a nicer person, none of this would be happening to him, right down to him stealing the toy in the first place.

-

Oh boy, the bloody handprint on the wall... We are back in handprint territory, and, you know, maybe because SOMEONE walking past it has been scarred on the wrong shoulder by the actions of an angel or something

-

There's a chinese take out carton on the shelf in this basement. I doubt it's a collectible.

Send noods.

-

Okay, that's sort of weird.

-

If the mom is in costume I don't get the reference. I hope someone else has handled that.

-

We're going to get her POV on her loser son now, I guess.

-

"Everything's fine :)" *leaves the room* "everything is not fine!"

Are we calling them out for using "fine" so loosely again too huh?

(Side note: Jack saying he's fine while consumptive, and yeah I am still upset about that. What are you doing to the boy????)

-

Dean and Sam split up and as Sam walks off a nurse eyes him up and smiles. No idea how intentional that was but I mean, can you blame her? :P

-

You know, I don't know anything about this franchise, but Sam just jumped to see a toy of a guy who looks weirdly similar to the vampires that ATE HIM a few weeks ago.

He checks over his shoulder in case Dean manifested at his side just in time to see that

-

Awww Dean and New Dean meet. "he must have awesome insurance"

He calls Stuart's mom "Babs" which is hilarious. They seem close.

New Dean has issues with his dad and Stuart lets him crash with him no questions asked. I suppose Dean isn't going to think too hard about how Sam's choice for his parallel has issues with his dad.

This forgiveness for Stuart's behaviour because he's kind to his own people is a very TFW trait, which makes New Dean more like Sam or Cas forgiving Dean his outbursts, as he's by far the ragiest of them, with Cas trailing in second and Sam the zen fucking master.

-

Lol Dean and New Dean are both dragged into the room to watch All Saints Day 3 like they're being pulled in on a line

-

Oh dear, they're bonding.

Davy isn't usually on top of these things but he's channeling a lot of Edlund today and Edlund always had these sort of guys like Andy or Aaron who are so Dean's type in a harmless shared interests and getting stoned together way. This is a bit extreme with the guy's tininess and scruffiness but you know, we'll see how this develops, if it's an accidental twins or a missed connections soulmate dealio.

... You're taking to someone who's still bitter that Andy and Dean would have been perfect together, so.

-

Also this New Dean guy is demonstrating how to be a Good Fan - he may be as intensely nerdy as Stuart, but he and Dean can compare movies and even though they don't share a favourite, agree that the whole series is great and can see the merits both in each other's favourites, and in another movie that isn't either of their favourites but could be if they happened to be inclined that way.

So healthy :')

-

"It was always nice to check out. I like watching movies where I KNOW the bad guy's going to lose"

Ow ow ow. But yeah, there's Dean's pro-Halloween rationale, that the tropeyness of the genre has its comforts that every ridiculous horror thing is entirely safe and no one is ACTUALLY going to get eaten by any of these things. Which is also how normal people enjoy horror but at the metaphorical remove of being scared by things we may not literally meet but still represent anxieties we might have in our real lives.

Catharsis, yo

-

Sam barges in on New Sam to ask her the usual series of increasingly weird questions which get the "are you really insurance?" eyebrows.

"Downtown Salem" - are they in Salem as in the witch hunt one?

-

I kinda love how New Sam is talking with a speech bubble beside her. So meta.

-

I think New Dean is called Dirk.

-

Oops Stuart wasn't one of the co-owners because he kept getting fired for stealing D: Stuart, dude.

-

"And you hired Stuart back?" "he's my friend"

I think there is commentary appearing here about not just Stuart's unhealthy explosive rage, but that the people around him enable it - even Jordan fired him TWICE rather than banish him forever. The cycle of coddling him without encouraging him to change... Again, this speaks rather more of season 10 and a critique of Sam n Cas from there rather than much currently ongoing with Dean. Sam was complicit in originally abducting Kaia and he and Jody didn't move to stop Dean with Bad Kaia, so though it's in the focus as a critique on Dean's reactions, I feel like the real bad cycles were in Carver era. Though the behaviour still somewhat exists in Dabb era, the overall unhealthiness has declined so much, there isn't a constant oppresive blanket of it as there is here in this shop with Stuart being so awful to everyone and self-destructive.

(It's probably also not a coincidence that this thing has latched onto Dean as well, a la 4x06 I'd guess... Sam got no ghost vibes in the basement, Dean did, and was attacked... To me this is seeming to suggest that his current state has picked up the ghost's ire in the same way in 4x06 he was vulnerable. Loops and loops of things going on so I'll unpick that later if it does turn out to be the case clearly.)

Anyway. This seems to be more about destructive cycles and abusive dynamics, and I would hope a nudge for Dean, though his exile at the start of this episode also suggests to me he knew full well after threatening Kaia that he'd overreacted and needed to take 5, even if there was also a layer of sulking until news of Michael. Her call out was clear enough to make him self-reflect. So I would hope that this episode is here to try and steer Dean's reaction through various pathways, ideally to keep him from falling into anything too awful, as a reminder of where this may lead?

-

Sam sees the glass case freeze over, and pulls out the EMF, playing it off and being like "nothing... carbon monoxide detector" even as New Sam is understandably a little freaked.

Is this messing with Sam's refusal to tell Jess about monsters by having him keep the truth from New Sam until she's physically endangered?

-

I mean, carbon monoxide in enough quantities to make the blatantly homemade gadget go "WHEEE" and light up every single LED is a good enough reason to flee the room

-

"I think you're in danger -" Sam is smacked around the head by Hatchetman because he delayed too long and now he has been knocked out

-

"Samantha?" Sam determined not to let New Sam out-Sam him

-

I mean if she is you then she has been knocked out

-

How does this keep happening to you

how much head trauma has Cas healed over the years?

This is why they have to keep him an angel...

-

"Is this expensive?" "Wha - no don't!" *BOING* *silence* "yeeeah it's shatterproof glass"

HA

-

If Jordan really just wants to kill Stuart for getting them a 1 star Yelp review then this also has a weird shade of 11x07 where the ghost was getting revenge and took a few attempts to kill that one guy, eventually succeeding as the clown.

Except the clown was tuned to freak Sam out

and Dean's probably gonna be thrilled to fight Hatchetman

-

Dean having movie night with new Dean (probably stoned but we can't see it) with comatose Stuart in the middle

incredible

-

2 dudes watching horror movies 5 feet apart with a comatose guy in the middle because they aren't gay

-

Dean is thrilled to fight Hatchetman

I feel like this can't last

-

Davy throws in a gratuitous Halloween moment of Hatchetman walking through the park which is just bedecked in Halloween nonsense

no one cares about him wandering around because it's Halloween

It does make you wonder just HOW much nonsense happening on Halloween really is monsters and stuff out there enjoying themselves because it's expected, which, again, like Sam n Dean dressing up as nerds for this whole episode, having monsters mixing with regular folk and being treated as equals is literally the whole Halloween thing. There's less threat than in 4x07 because we're assuming at this point in the episode that the ghost does have a pretty one-track mind about killing Stuart because with all the characterising nonsense filling the episode the actual plot has been pretty sparse considering we're getting to the final 10 minute run now. So, yeah. This Hatchetman ghost is just out there being a part of the festivities, because that's what happens on Halloween, man

-

LOL And like Sam not telling his double until it was too late, Dean gets this call and is really open in answering in front of new Dean, and now he's filling in New Dean on everything instead of trying to get him to leave or protect him not just from the monster but from knowing about it at all.

-

Davy like, hey, remember when ghosts used to do loads of freaky stuff on this show just to be scary? And maybe it seemed like you all were getting bored of it or something, but hey this guy has no idea after 14 years that he shouldn't leave the salt line when everything starts thumping in the room despite having been warned the ghost is coming...

-

Hehehe Dean gets an axe... The moment of him going to smash it then not and checking if it's open... Whether that was improv or not, it's a good character thing in the sense that Dean is being encouraged not to smash first and ask questions later by the meta plot of the episode

-

Omg New Dean is as brave as our Dean in some ways... He sees Babs in trouble, and immediately is like "HEY" and starts confronting Jordon in Hatchetman

-

"He's MY friend. He's OUR friend." That's an interesting take on my/our, because that statement works on both levels - both that Dirk is protective of Stuart because he cares about him, but also that Jordan has his own investment in not killing Stuart that he should remember. In terms of emotional appeal, the first is confrontational while the second is the deep appeal to the ghost.

Filed in the deep deep deep deep deep flips of the crypt scenes, this moment demonstrates about 3 different kinds of flips, while still holding true to possessing thing out of its right mind confronting loved one

-

Omg the hospital security guards watching the Hatchetman chase a damsel through the hospital while New Dean is chased through THEIR hospital. Talk about dramatic irony and a whole commentary on the metaness of Dabb era in the story reversals and extractions to new levels and repurposing of scenes and narratives...

-

And despite it playing out scene by scene, the guards are laughing at the bad dialogue and pointing out how Hatchetman is so slow, so how can he even catch them, while the damsel slows herself down and badly fakes a trip so that he can catch up to her...

-

"We killed you! You're dead!" "We all do bad things sometimes"

And there we get the context for the cool quote the Hatchetman model can recite - just as how in fandom often things are quoted out of context as lines which seem emotional or special but are actually awful. Just for starters, all the Sam n Dean fans using "there aint no me if there aint no you" when Dean didn't even SAY that. Now we see the context of this line, we see that while Hatchetman really isn't deep, he's at least not just saying it to sound cool and talk about himself, he's judging the protagonist for her behaviour, as well as invoking relative morality. Which brings up some interesting ideas about what Hatchetman considers good and evil, in regards to seeming to have a concept of it but not including kill himself as a good thing to do. Obviously completely wild in context but in the philosophical language of the show, the nature of monsters and all is one huge question, along with if Sam and Dean are murderers themselves, and of course how they have done bad things for good reasons and vice versa.

-

Also I think Sam is about to blow up the door?

-

"I had a messed up childhood" he says, about to blow up a vintage SCOOBY DOO lunchbox to freedom.

SAMMY. Stop destroying symbols of childhood.

At least he's talking freely to New Sam about himself, which is probably already more than he ever let on to Jess. He really wanted to pretend to be well-adjusted to her, that he probably, like, would have rather waited for a locksmith with her than just pick the door to their apartment if they were locked out, you know?

-

RIP Scooby Doo.

-

"Cool" they both say, and share a smile.

It's probably weird to ship Sam and Sam just because the shipname is Sam

-

Dirk went to hide in the fucking Morgue

well done

-

Okay I need the security guards back to comment on how the fuck Hatchetman knew New Dean would come to the morgue with enough time to beat him there AND cover himself in a sheet and play dead.

-

Also before that happened Dean grabbed New Dean by the correct shoulder, and made him jump but aw don't worry it's just your new best friend.

-

Ghost Jordan is still a fucking nerd even in death because rather than talk to them, he presses the button to summon a catchphrase

It's good to know some things never change even when you are a murderous shell of your former self.

-

UGH SIGH DAVY ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO DO THIS TO ME?

(The director might also be to blame)

So now they are cobbling together a fake trailer for Hatchetman, using footage from the show

That is to say, Hatchetman is set on Oct. 31st, 1983, or, of course, 2 days before Azazel ruined everything.

I'm not sure if this shot is from the show because we have so few Halloween episodes that an exterior shot with Halloween elements would have to be faked up, but the house looks very much like the old Winchester house, but with a bigger porch and more dramatic features. It does, however, strongly feature the tree branch shadows over the appropriate wall to make it look exactly like the opening shot of their story, while this is the opening shot of the Hatchetman story.

"David Jaeger was an honest man making an honest living" *generic shot of something being worked on*

*shot of the back of John Winchester's head walking into his garage in 5x13 to discover his boss out cold because Anna is about to attempt to murder him, said boss hilariously visible in the shot if you know he's there*

So. That happened :P Hatchetman is John. That ain't subtle if you recognise the back of his head in a split second. Even if you don't they're casting him as a car mechanic which is of course directly connected to Dean and John.

"Until one night when a practical joke turned deadly"

*footage of the wife spectre-rage killing her husband in the cold open of 8x06 because she was still pissed he slept with someone else on prom night*

I think the burning vehicle was the car from 10x13 that Sam and Dean burned early in the episode, where it was violently reminiscent of them burning the memory of John for some meta reason I can't remember at the time, but definitely inspired a lot of frantic fandom typing.

Of course the ghost in that episode was the classic ragey vengeance ghost which was blatantly paralleled to the path Dean was on with the Mark of Cain, complete with being crypt scened out of it by a trenchcoat-wearing widow.

They're implying he was then burned alive and left for dead and I don't recognise the footage of the burned feet but I assume they're from some episode or another.

Anyway then they go to more new footage from the "actual" hatchetman movies. This one is set on Nov. 1st so it's not even a "Halloween" movie but ACTUALLY All Saint's Day (All Hallow's Eve being what Hallowe'en is a corruption of), Nov. 1 being of course a meta nod to the fact the episode is not even airing on Halloween but Davy just really really really really wanted his halloween episode so shut up and enjoy it :P

Oh, it's All Saints Day III The Reckoning. Because of course it's a reckoning. That's all that happens in Dabb era, reckonings.

-

I am so upset.... I made a joke about 5x05 waaay back, and now it's true because of the whole random thing about Dean's random Axe that was John's that Paris Hilton was going to use to Reckoning him but then Sam murderered her before she could. Now Dean's being reckoned.

-

Okay Dean is a lil dark right now but his come at me bro of "I was hoping you'd say that" and the preceding speech is incredible. I can't believe this show has Jensen except that I CAN believe that with Jensen we go 14 seasons because FUCK he's scary and intense when he wants to be.

-

But he delivered that chilling speech and then had the ghost use a red button to talk to him and then was badass at it

I mean

he can put the terror into ANY situation

-

I am a hysterical laugher, I could not have stood where Dean stood in that moment and taken Hatchetman seriously, even under threat of mortal peril. I once nearly got expelled for hysterical laughing over an untied shoelace that started a rapidly spiralling incident.

-

I love the new fight guy

I love how Dean is spoiling for a fight, and really enjoying how he can push back against this ghost, in a really, really scary way. But in a cold way, not the red hot Mark of Cain way he was dark last time. He's grinning and enjoying this nerdy ass fight, but it's got a vicious streak.

-

I especially love the choreography of Dean smashing Hatchetman around the head with clashes in time to the music followed by an elevator ding as Sam and New Sam emerge in the next scene.

Poetic cinema

-

New Sam guesses the key thing for ghost attachment and Old Sam is impressed.

Careful buddy, they're lining you up for replacement.

-

Dean seems not to have won this fight with the Hatchetman. I bet if Stuart was awake he'd have some useful advice for how anyone could beat him in a fight but especially Stuart, if they knew the correct thing to do.

-

New Dean saved Old Dean! Maybe we can teamwork distract the Hatchetman and win together. Possibly this is a metaphor for... working with yourself...

Is it foreshadowing for a fight later in the season of plot significance, just like in 11x07 Sam got beat up by a clown in a cage, as a not too subtle metaphor for Lucifer? I'd love an in Dean's head kinda nonsense with Mikey.

-

"Dean, key chain!"

TEAMWORK BROS ARE THE BEST BROS

-

New Sam chips in for her part with fuel for the fire.

Everyone high five the Sam or Dean/Dirk to your left

-

Oh, COOL effect of a ghostly spirit burning out of a model Hatchetman, who is unscatched by the ordeal

-

I mean, good, he's probably a really expensive collectible

-

He falls over with a thud, and goes out on a warbling "time to slice and diiiiiiiii" much like "I clobber evil" died on the fire with a last gutteral noise.

Hopefully bookending each other in terms of models with representations in their voices that haunt Dean and all.

-

Dean, unprompted, thanks Sam for getting him out of his funk and giving him an easy ghost hunt to win. I guess what 13x05 was supposed to be is what this actually turned out to be.

(Honestly, giving Davy episodes post-drama to let us all unwind is turning out to be an extremely good idea with 13x06 as well)

-

I am MAJORLY concerned about the time stamp on this episode. It better end in a few seconds and go to a full 3 minute trailer for Hell Hazers III or else.

-

"It was awesome!" "it wasn't really," says Sam, who burst into the room in time to see his brother pinned and choking

-

Sam moves on to confronting Dean with the concept of not just hiding in his room when they get back.

He gives Dean the "OI, CHEER UP" talk we've all been yelling at the screen. Good. Good Sammy.

Dean turns to the camera. "I'm never going to get over it. I'm just not."

Look, Sam, just because Dean stabbed Lucifer for you, and now you are sleeping without fear, doesn't mean everyone has that luxury :P

-"

elizabethrobertajones Oh dear, there's still 4 minutes left er I guess I keep watching .... *grimaces nervously*

mittensmorgul :D just watch it in context with the rest of the episode

elizabethrobertajones um what I didn't get far enough into what happens next to know what you mean so that's super ominous Sam is still psychoanalysing Dean in car NOW yo uhave me REALLY worried.

Hey, remember how I started this episode with a vague warning from Mittens? Why am I now getting the feeling that I still haven't watched whatever that was about?

-

"I'm not doing any good cooped up in my room. So whatever you need, I'm there." ("Chief"?)

-

"Alright, Chief?"

Oh, man. I'm turning into Dean.

-

Also Dean appears to have, finally, ceded power over to Sam. Again, the reversals of season 10 - Sam was put in this position of power he just was not ready to cope with and not with the stakes that were laid against him. But here, Dean might be driving the car but he's putting all the real power into Sam's hands.

-

elizabethrobertajones Is it why Sam hates Halloween because Dean turns out to have set an alarm on his watch to remind him to bug Sam about it again the intrigue you have spun is starting to get to me more than actually watching the episode :P

mittensmorgul oh gosh, I should've just kept my mouth shut. It was seriously just an innocent comment for a nice BM scene :P

-

I am more horrified about the concept of Sam telling an embarrassing story than I am about any amount of slasher and gore. Look, I can Not handle social squickiness and I love Sam and that is going to make this extremely hard to hear.

Dean's gonna love it though, I can tell.

-

Please. Protect. Sammy.

-

"It was soooo bad" he says with a haunted look of a man who has been tortured by the devil

-

Andrea's party got there first

-

"Next year, we're doing halloween right"

Oh no, don't you dare start talking like you're going to be alive and ready for a party next year, Dean Winchester. I will perish in your place to make it happen.

-

BAHAHA Dean coming up with matching outfits and suggests Bert and Ernie, before rejecting that one as too weird.

Yeah, you might not remember but we do

We are never going to let you live it down, in fact.

-

Also, listen, his mouth runs miles ahead of his brain, that was not suggestive until he realised it was and backtracked

-

You also can't go as Shaggy and Scooby unless you go to a party WITH them and they go as you and Sam

-

Thelma and Louise... Dean, stop.

Okay it's hilarious that Davy managed to get both Bert and Ernie and Thelma and Louise into this like... somewhere riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deep down Dean's consciousness is putting things together. It doesn't remember half the shit he says, but like. Hey. Why ARE those two sets of on screen pairs connected, huh, Dean?

-

Oh, whatever, he's just trying to annoy Sam now

-

Nyoooom

-

IT'S THE SECURITY GUARD

RUN, MAN, RUN

-

Ew, I left it playing to type that and it told me to watch Legacies

-

Well that was the one wrong note in this whole episode so I suppose something had to happen like that :P

[army-author]

written on our veins (pt.1)

↳ next part

❝ You and Hoseok are sick of spending the holidays soulmate-less while your friends enjoy Christmas as couples... tired of waiting for fate to make a move, you decide to take matters into your own hands. ❞

➳ prompts: “Wake me up when winter’s over.” + “We’re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won’t allow that!”

➳ pairing: hoseok x reader

➳ word count: 19.4k

➳ genre: fluff, angst, soulmate au

➳ warnings: implied smut, mentions of alcohol

➳ part of the ‘cold days, warm hearts’ collab

➳ author’s note: sorry that this took so long to be posted... and sorry that it’s completely self-indulgent... merry Christmas!

Jung Hoseok greets everyone with a kiss. Just to make sure they aren’t the one. While others might go in with a handshake, Hoseok prefers to tug strangers in for a press of his lips, only to pull back and check for the writing on the wrist that indicates you’ve discovered your soulmate.

You, on the other hand, have never kissed anyone. Not even Hoseok.

He did try to kiss you when you first met, your best friend, Mina, introducing him as a friend of her soulmate. You had stepped towards him to say hello with your hand outstretched, and he took that as an open invitation for his ‘soulmate check’, pulling you past the small distance that anyone with a sense of personal space would know to leave free. You only just managed to duck out of his way, leaving his lips to graze your cheek. He had quickly apologised after that, and tried to explain that it was just his way of speeding up destiny’s swirling indecision – keeping the soulmate-less waiting, hoping life would be merciful to them, and drop a lover into their open arms. But that doesn’t seem to be how the world works. There must be some secret that you’re missing. Do you have to slip a bribe to fate under the table of the universe, praying it’ll match you with someone nice?

It certainly seems that way. With all of your friends already paired off, the name of their soulmate gleaming bright on their skin, their eyes shining brighter still as they gaze lovingly at each other, you can’t help but wonder what you and Hoseok are doing wrong, why neither of you have found your soulmates yet. It would probably have been a good idea to give up a long time ago, resolving yourself to the fact that fate doesn’t want you to be happy, not like the couples you see everywhere you go. You’re getting older and older, and with each year that passes, the idea of someone coming into your life to love you, dictated by destiny before you could decide, seems more and more bizarre. You begin to wonder… do you even deserve love in the first place? Or is there a reason that the hand of fate holds away all the shining goodies of a fulfilled life with a soulmate?

This feeling only gets worse around Christmas time. With the holiday marketed towards soulmates, the whole world shouting out in one voice that December 25th is a day to spend time with the one you love most – although lost somewhere in the background you’re sure there was meant to be something about a baby born in a manger… The shops are filled with cards spouting cheesy love poems, couples Christmas sweaters are displayed in the windows of shops, and the ads on TV proclaim that you should be buying your soulmate what they really want this year - their newest product of course! All the restaurants and cafes are filled with couples, ogling each other over mince pies and gingerbread lattes, and all the events in town are planned with soulmates in mind, ending with the Christmas festival, strictly for those lucky enough to have someone else’s name on their skin, while the soulmate-less are left beyond the lights and colours, told to wait their turn. It’s all there to remind you that you’re alone – rubbing it in your face, stinging like salt on an ice road. No matter how much you try to smile, and tell your friends that you don’t mind being excluded while they go off on dates, the truth is clear – you mind a lot.

And no matter how hard your friends try to include you in their plans, there are some things that the soulmate-less simply can’t do.

“Oh, we should definitely try baking Christmas cookies together!” Mina says over a mug of hot chocolate, pointing down at the ever-growing list sitting in the middle of the coffee table in her living room, with the heading ‘ideas for Christmas’ scrawled across the top in red and green pen.

Your friends do this every year, taking a day where you meet up to decide what you’ll do with the free weeks you have over Christmas break before you have to go back to the dull reality of work, attempting to make the most of the bubble of candy canes and sherbet snowflakes before it pops apart. It’s always fun planning all you can do, helping you get in the Christmas spirit. But this year, you’re filled with a nibbling apprehension, stinging just below your skin. You know this Christmas will be worse than the ones before it.

As you sip of the hot chocolate Mina made, her own secret recipe - although you know that all she does is add peppermint syrup to the cream - your eyes flicker to the reason for your worry this year: your friend Soomi with her arm around her newly-found soulmate, Namjoon. Soomi and Namjoon used to be a part of the no soulmate club, proud members along with you and Hoseok, but now they’ve crashed together, leaving you and Hoseok as the sole soulmate-less friends. Your eyes flicker around the rest of the group, Mina poking Yoongi with her Christmas-socked foot to encourage him to write ‘cookie baking’ down on the list, and even though Yoongi grumbles, you know he’ll obey her, because despite surface facades, he’s completely enamoured with your best friend. Her name in black on his white wrist, printed in her cursive hand, is enough to expose him.

Seeing your friends with their soulmates, you couldn’t be happier for them, but a part of you, a selfish part, wishes you could go back to the time when it was only you and Mina and Soomi in high school, fresh-faced and ready to take on the world together, hoping your soulmates would show up along the way.

Your hand self-consciously slides to your own wrist, bare of any name, marking you out as one of the poor, lonely souls without a lover prescribed by fate. On the other side of the coffee table, where Hoseok’s loud red hair is a constant distraction for your eyes, you see his gaze flicker to where your hand is rubbing at your wrist, and he offers a small smile as consolation. You manage to return the gesture, before focusing in on the conversation again, hearing Yoongi complain to Mina, telling her that he’d rather not go the Christmas festival this year, since it’s always so crowded.

“But it’s a tradition to attend,” Mina pouts, eyebrows furrowing under her thick rimmed glasses.

Yoongi huffs a sigh, before finally adding it to the list, “Fine. Fine.”

Namjoon laughs. “Are you sure you two are actually soulmates? Your bickering makes me think that fate made a mistake.”

Mina and Yoongi snap their attention to Namjoon, and answer in one voice, “Of course,” while holding up their wrists as proof, before glancing at each other with a smile, surprised by their own synchronization.

Beside Namjoon, Soomi sighs, “The story of how you two figured out you were each other’s soulmates is so cute! Can you tell it again?” Her eyes shine bright, always eager to hear about other people’s romances.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, muttering, “We really don’t need to hear this again,” while Mina happily complies, launching into the story you’ve heard a hundred times before, and forcing a smile on Yoongi’s face, despite himself.

“It was… two years ago. Two years, right Yoongi?”

He nods.

“Yeah, and we both knew each other because we were working extra shifts together at the coffee shop. And every time a song came on that we liked, I would end up singing along while I washed dishes. And Yoongi would start humming as well.”

Yoongi blushes at this, but doesn’t dispute it.

“It turned out that we had the same tastes in music,” Mina continues, “We ended up bonding over that. It was like we had this secret chord extending between us, pulled taught every time the music played, and in the end Yoongi managed to work up the courage to ask me out. I kind of knew he was the one before he kissed me, and when he finally did, it was like fireworks going off inside my chest. Then I felt this odd stinging at my wrist, and when we looked down, we saw our names engraved on each other. But I didn’t need to see that to know we were soulmates,” she concludes, “Although it is nice to have the marks to prove it.”

Soomi leans her head against Namjoon’s shoulder as she smiles, “How romantic.”

Mina dips her head, short hair bobbing, “Your story with Namjoon is pretty cute too!”

At this, the attention shifts to the newest couple, only having realised they were soulmates a few months ago, when they both got drunk and ended up kissing each other at Namjoon’s birthday party.

Namjoon glances around the group, cheeks heating up as your friends grin back, still laughing at the couple who had claimed they would never need or want a soulmate. Quickly, before the teasing can start, Namjoon says, “Don’t you think we’re being a little unfair on our soulmate-less friends.”

At once, the attention snaps to you and Hoseok, as Mina says, “Oh yeah! Now’s the perfect time for you guys to find your soulmates! Imagine discovering who you’re destined to be with on Christmas. How romantic would that be?”

Under his breath, Yoongi grumbles, “Sorry I didn’t show up during Christmas,” to which she reaches out a hand to rub his shoulder, “I didn’t mean it that way, baby! I’m just saying that these guys are lucky because they still have their love story to look forward to. I mean look at us, we’ve been together two years - we’re practically an old married couple at this point!”

Despite Mina’s words, you don’t feel very lucky. You just feel alone and useless - the one that fate forgot. You don’t have anyone to kiss, no one to connect with, and with no affection being showered your way, there’s no chance of a soulmate mark appearing on your body.

On the other side of the room, Hoseok’s eyes dart your way, and your see his discomfort, a mirror of what you feel. Not one for wasting time, he’s kissed everyone he’s met, and still, his wrist remains blank like your own.

This is why you hate Christmas. Every year, when December rolls around, you’re forced to put on a brave face, pretending you’re still excited by the prospect of meeting your soulmate, like you were at the age of sixteen, with your friends all soulmate-less as well.

Mina seems to pick up on the awkwardness stretching out between you and Hoseok, as you share a second of embarrassment with all the attention focused on you. “Why don’t you guys try blind dating?” she suggests. “A lot of soulmate-less people do it this time of year, and you sometimes hear of couples who really hit it off, and end up finding their soulmate that way.”

“I don’t know…” you mumble, uncomfortable with the suggestion. To you, blind dating is only an option for the soulmate-less who have grown desperate, needing something to keep them entertained over Christmas. It seems as if December only has two options for people like you: blind dating, or helping out at a nursing home or soup kitchen, making yourself useful while the more fortunate side of the population is rendered useless in the arms of a lover. You don’t want either of those things for your Christmas, both options seem too close to admitting defeat.

“Come on,” Soomi says, “You won’t find your soulmate if you don’t put yourself out there!”

But what if there’s no soulmate to be found? The idea of going through the trouble of dating, only to kiss and find your wrist still bare, seems too much for you. You’d rather cut yourself off from disappointment before it can happen.

Instead of explaining this, you only mumble, “I’ll think about it,” fiddling with the cuffs of your sleeve, covering up your nameless wrist.

Sensing your embarrassment, Hoseok leaps in, “Speaking of things we should be doing this time of year, don’t we need to decorate?”

Mina surveys the room, still lacking a tree and ornaments, before turning to Yoongi, “We should have a house decorating party! Write that down on the list.”

With that, the conversation shifts back to Christmas activities you can do together, and you mouth a “Thank you!” to Hoseok while the others aren’t looking. In response, Hoseok rolls his eyes, and pulls a face, making you bite down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing – he makes the prospect of the next few weeks bearable. But even with Hoseok, you know that until the 25th passes, you’re going to be living in Hell. Forget joy to the world and peace on Earth, you’ll be glad if you’re still alive and breathing by the end of it all.

♡♡♡

With Mina and Yoongi waving you off from their house, you make your way down the icy drive, breathing clouds of fog as you call goodbye.

With them closing the door to you, going back to their blissful life, warm and happy, you make your way down the street to your own house, Hoseok by your side, his home in the same direction as yours. As you walk, Hoseok bumps his shoulder against yours gently. “Tonight was pretty intense. Are you okay?”

You turn your gaze his way, then as you feel your soles sliding on the icy pavement, you return your attention back to where you’re placing your feet. “It was fine…” You’re not convinced by your own tone, and you know Hoseok isn’t either.

As a friend of Yoongi’s, he came into your life two years ago, at the same time that Mina discovered her soulmate, and as the months stretched on, and your other friends slipped away, too busy with their new found loves, you’ve gotten to know Hoseok well. You can’t hide how you’re feeling from him, especially when you know he feels the exact same way. Looking back up to him, you see the disbelief you expected resonating in his pupils, reflecting the Christmas lights from the houses you pass.

“Okay… so it wasn’t fine.”

“Yeah…” Hoseok tousles his hair with his fingers, and huffs a cloud of white steam, “This time of year’s pretty tough.” It’s odd to see him this way. He’s normally loud and optimistic, full of hope that someday the person that he kisses will be the one to fill up the empty space on his wrist and in his chest. But it seems that this time of year has gotten to him as well.

“What do you think of blind dating?” you ask, as you round the street corner, where Hoseok’s house approaches ahead of you.

He stops and raises his eyes to the clear night’s sky – bright stars promising frost for the next day. “To be honest, I hate it,” he sighs, returning his eyes to yours with a wistful look, “That’s why I kiss everyone I meet, so I know right way what they are for me… so I’m not wasting anyone’s time, going on dates with them when we’re never meant to be.”

“Right…” you mumble, “I… I just don’t want to disappoint Mina, and the others. I know they only want us to be happy over Christmas.”

“I would be happy if they didn’t rub our singleness in our face!” Hoseok cries at this, voice raising in the cold night air, “Why does the world need to make Christmas a thing for soulmates?” His question seems directed to the space around him, his words echoing off the bare trees of the gardens, strung up with fairy lights to make their dead branches look more festive.

Caught up in his frustration, you mutter to the frozen wind, “Yeah world, what’s up with that? Don’t you want us to be happy?”

Hoseok grins, and then raises his voice a little louder, face pointing up to the sky, “Hey, fate, if you want to send my soulmate my way sometime soon, that’d be great!”

You laugh at him, and he continues on with his act, railing at the heavens, that wink back their stars, silent to his anger – “Fate, I’m ready whenever you are! Send a cute soulmate soon!”

His voice get louder, reverberating through your bones with words you wish you could shout as well, but instead, you grab onto his coat sleeve, lowering your tone, “Hoseok, not so loud. It’s late and people are trying to sleep.”

His eyes glitter and he takes a deep breath, shouting louder than before, just to annoy you, “If my soulmate would like to show up at any time, that’d be great!”

Shaking your head, but laughing yourself, you pull him towards his house. It has become a tradition that the two of you will end up together after spending time with your other friends, both of you bonding over your singleness, now that you’re the only ones left without soulmates. You don’t even need to ask if you’re invited inside as Hoseok fumbles for his keys with gloved hands, and pulls you through the door.

“Would you like some eggnog?” he asks as you shrug off your coat.

“I’d prefer something stronger...”

Hoseok chuckles at this, “Right.” You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he splashes out rum for you. “I think we need this,” he laughs, and you reach across the table to grab a glass and hold it up to him:

“To singleness.”

“To hopefully meeting our soulmates,” he corrects, and you curl your lips, before taking a gulp and letting the burning alcohol slide down your throat to warm your stomach.

“This time of year is the worst,” you moan as you set down your empty glass. Not being able to handle your liquor well, it automatically makes you moody, before it’ll push you over into tipsiness. You beckon for Hoseok to pour another glass and speed up the process, continuing, “I wish I could just sleep through this season. Do you want to wake me up when winter’s over and all this celebrating soulmate crap is done with?”

Hoseok’s lips quirk up, dimples showing in a half-smile. “Aren’t you excited for all Christmas has to offer?”

“It doesn’t have anything for me!” you complain, “It’s only fun if you have a soulmate! I mean, come on! Did you see the list of Christmas activities our friends have planned this year? It’s filled with things only couples can do! You can’t even get into the Christmas festival if you don’t have a date, and the restaurants and cafes are all too expensive without the soulmates’ discounts.”

At this, Hoseok’s smile recedes, dimples deepening as he presses his lips together. “Yeah… almost makes me want to go blind dating, just so I can get into all the benefits of having a soulmate. I want to at least see the Christmas festival…”

“This will be the worst Christmas yet,” you groan, “Why did Soomi and Namjoon have to get together, and leave us in our singleness?”

“Well, hey! At least we still have each other!” Hoseok makes his way around the table, until he can tackle your back in a bear hug. He collapses all his weight against you, like his legs have given up on holding him, in the same way that he’s given up on holding his positivity. It makes you feel special, knowing you’re one of the few people he’ll show this side around, dropping his bright smile for you. Your hand goes up to find his head, where he rests his chin on your shoulder, and you run a hand through his hair:

“Yeah, at least we have each other. Just promise me, Hoseok…”

He hums to you, you feel his chest rumbling.

“Just promise me that you won’t find your soulmate until I find mine. I don’t want one of us to be left single on our own.”

“Okay, I promise,” he murmurs, chin digging into you as he speaks.

“Good. Good.” You pat him on the head, while he takes your cup from your hand, and sets it by the sink, a hint that maybe you shouldn’t drink anymore, which you find mildly offensive. You’re barely tipsy, mind only slightly mushy, like you haven’t slept enough. Still you can’t find the strength to complain, and ask for another glass. Maybe you are tipsier than you realised.

“Wouldn’t it be good if we were soulmates?” Hoseok grins, returning his hold to you, the alcohol making him all the clingier.

You pout your lips, “That certainly would be an easy way to tie up all our problems.”

“Hey…” Hoseok drags out your name in a wheedling tone, “You never did let me kiss you…”

You turn to face him properly, hands on his shoulders, partly to steady yourself, and partly because you need someone to hold onto while Christmas drills your loneliness into your heart. In the low lights of his kitchen, Hoseok’s lips look warm and pink - a welcome escape from all the cold, and his offer is tempting, but you stop yourself:

“I want my first kiss to be with my soulmate…”

“But you’ll never know if they’re your soulmate till you kiss them.” He raises his eyebrows, as he points out the flaw in your logic, talking around a giggle. Maybe he’s more drunk than you realised. Or maybe he’s totally sober. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Hoseok. “You’re the only friend I haven’t kissed. Don’t you feel a little left out?”

You roll your eyes. “If I really am your soulmate, I’ll be angry that you’ve been going around kissing all your friends before you reached me.”

“Would you be jealous?”

You nod your head. “Of course. I want my soulmate’s kiss with me to be their first.”

This makes Hoseok laugh. “You have very high standards for your poor soulmate! That’s probably why they haven’t shown up yet… they’re too scared.”

“Ouch,” you clutch at your chest, feigning pain, “You’re making me seem so cold and heartless, Hoseok!”

“It’s okay… I know you’re not. In the end, you just want love.”

As he talks, his lips get closer, closer. Whether that was your decision, or his you’re not really sure…

“Don’t we all want love?” you ask, so close now, breathing the same air as him. Maybe you should let him kiss you, just to be sure. Cross the space between the two of you, and give up your resolve for the physical comfort he offers.

But then he’s pushing you away, snapping you from your daze as he cries, “Ah, you’re making us sound so pathetic! This just won’t do!” He takes a few paces from you, then a few paces back, all while worrying his hair with restless fingers. “We ‘re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won’t allow it!”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” You throw your hands up, mirroring his dramatic performance, over exaggerating all your emotions as he begins to bounce up and down on his toes.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He punctuates each sentence with a bounce. Watching him moving around in frustration is making you feel slightly motion sick. “We’ve just got to do something fun! Get our friends off our backs for the holidays…” He stops bouncing suddenly, and in his silence, you see an idea sliding into his head, eyes illuminating from the inside, like Christmas lights.

You have a bad feeling about this. “What?”

He stays unnaturally still, and you watch him with increasing curiosity, not to mention a sense of dread prickling along your skin. “Hoseok. What is it?” You poke him in the shoulder, and his eyes finally focus back on you.

He grins widely, mouth stretching into the shape of a heart as he grabs you by the shoulders, and spins you around. “I’ve got it!”

“Got what?”

“If fate is too lazy to try and tie up our endings neatly, then we’ll just write our own story.”

Your brows furrow at his words, until he grabs a sharpie pen lying on his table, and tugs at your arm, pulling up the sleeve of your jumper to expose the bare skin beneath. With his tongue poking out in concentration, he carefully writes his name on your skin, and you finally understand.

“There,” he pulls back to admire his handiwork, “Do you think that will keep our friends happy for a while?”

This has bad idea written all over it, as bold and sloppy as Hoseok’s writing. And yet… the thought of spending the holidays with him, being able to take part in all the Christmas couple’s activities that are closed off to you, having someone to hold in the cold - it seems nice. But even in your slightly groggy, alcohol-fogged state you can spot the flaws.

“What will we tell our friends after Christmas? What will happen if our soulmates actually show up? What if…”

He presses a finger to your lips. “After Christmas we just tell our friends that the names faded… It’s happened before. People sometimes have such intense feelings for someone that a name will appear temporarily on their wrist, only to disappear when the crush dies away, and they discover their true soulmate. And as for our real soulmates… well… fate has a funny way of working, right? It won’t let love get away from us just because we’re a little impatient. So trust it. And trust me. We’re going to enjoy the holidays, okay?”

You think it through, aware that you shouldn’t do this, but desperate enough to try it. So, despite all the warnings ringing in your head, you give in, and murmur, “Okay.”

And at that, Hoseok grins, and leans in to press his lips to your own.

Before you can even register the feeling of his warm mouth against yours, he’s pulling away, laughing at your flushed face.

“Sorry, just had to check before we go through with this.” He hands you the sharpie before pulling up his own sleeve, and holding out his wrist, still blank, “Would you do me the honours?”

Shaking your head at him, and swearing you’ll get your revenge for stealing your first kiss, which you saved for your soulmate, you carefully write your own name on his skin, just above the veins flowing back to his heart – a supposed reminder that soulmates will forever be what your heart longs for.

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed that nothing showed up on your skin when he kissed you. Fate really isn’t that kind, and you know once Christmas is over, and you and Hoseok let go of your shared lie, Hoseok is going to end up kissing a stranger and have their name show up on his skin, and you’ll be left alone. No matter how much your friends promise they won’t forget you, being caught up in their own love lives keeps them distracted, distancing themselves after the name of their soulmate burns into their skin. It’s nice to have Hoseok to yourself, just for the few weeks leading up to Christmas. You should make the most of it, before fate takes him from you.

Letting go of his hand, you admire your handiwork while he holds it out to look at, and then smiles wistfully. “It’s kind of nice…” he says, “You know… to have someone else’s mark on me.”

Your both stare at the ink on his wrist – a cheap attempt to create the marking that appears embedded on the bodies of those with true soulmates, under the skin, a part of the fabric that makes them. All you can give Hoseok is a surface level stain. For now, it will do.

♡♡���

You wake up, cosy in your own bed, extra blankets draped around you to fight off the December cold, and stretch your arms up to the ceiling, moaning into a yawn before you pull your hand down again to rub the sleep from your eyes, and notice the black ink on your wrist.

You sit up, and stare down at the name printed on your skin, wondering if you’re still dreaming, until the cogs of your brain kick into gear and you remember all that happened last night, noticing Hoseok’s messy penmanship, and how the ink is already rubbing off. So no soulmate, just a mate who’s intent on stealing your soul as he leads you into his lie, dragging you down by encouraging you that the worst ideas are the best. He could probably lead you into Hell and you’d let him, if he kept on smiling while doing it, bright and cheery.

Still foggy with sleep, you stand up and drag yourself to the bathroom, hoping a shower will clear your head and get you fresh and ready for the day ahead. After planning with Mina and the rest of your friends, the whole week leading up to Christmas is packed, all of you wanting to make the most of your free days before work rears its ugly head again. As the warm water floods over you, and your nose fills with the scent of strawberry shampoo, you try to remember what your friends had planned for today: in the morning it’s decorating Mina’s house for the party later in the week, and then the evening is set out for a meal at a restaurant. You grin to yourself as you remember that you and Hoseok will finally be able to get into the discounted soulmate suite for dinner. You’ve only ever heard of it from your friends, but it’s supposed to be very fancy, not to mention romantic, set out as a place for couples who’ve already found each other, while the soulmate-less are left still searching.

Stepping out of the shower, you check your wrist again to see that the ink has started bleeding away. Drying yourself off and throwing on jeans and a sweater, you search your room for a pen, and carefully go over the letters Hoseok lined out for you last night in black ink. Stretching out your arm, wrist extended, you check your handiwork. As long as no one looks closely, it could certainly pass for a soulmate mark. You’ll just have to make sure that your friends don’t examine it too carefully.

By your bedside, your phone vibrates, and you dart across to read the latest message.

It’s Hoseok, writing: “So are we telling our friends the good news today, or what?” followed by a long string of emojis, laughing, crying, looking shocked, and then a lot of hearts. He has a habit of throwing all possible emotions into a message until you have no idea what he’s actually feeling. You’ve got used to his odd style of texting by now, so rather than asking if he sat on his phone before sending, you simply reply with: “I don’t see why not? We’ll be able to get into the soulmate suite in the restaurant tonight this way!”

You wait while the three dots appear, showing he’s replying, before another string of emojis appears, and then in all caps, “OH YEAH! YOUR RIGHT! IM SO EXCITED TO SEE IT!!!”

You fight the urge to correct his ‘your’ to ‘you’re’, and answer, “Yeah! I’m leaving now, so I’ll see you there!”

Hoseok then proceeds to spam your chat with stickers, and you head out the door with your phone still vibrating in your pocket. You should mute him at this rate. But the smile playing on your lips tells you that you won’t.

♡♡♡

You arrive at Mina’s house at the same time Hoseok does, and he laughs a cloud of frozen fog when he sees you. “Great timing! It’s almost like we planned it!” He finger guns at you, and you can’t help but grin, before asking:

“So, how do we go about breaking the news?”

He purses his lips, dimples deepening as he thinks, “I don’t really know. How would we respond if this was actually happening?”

“You’d probably scream.” You say it in such a dead-pan tone that Hoseok stops halfway through going to push the doorbell, and turns back to you with his lower lip jutting out:

“I wouldn’t!”

“I’m just joking,” you poke his pouty face, pushing up one corner of his mouth to force a smile, “You’d cry, wouldn’t you?”

“So would you!”

“Then do we turn on the water-works when we tell them?” you ask, “How good are your fake tears?”

Hoseok pulls a face akin to distress, and puts a fist to his mouth, with over exaggerated sobs. “I’m just so surprised I finally met my soulmate… I never thought this day would come… but why did fate have to assign me such a horrible soulmate?” He turns his head away, pulling up a hand to cover his non-existent tears, while you grab his fingers, to pull them away from his face, where he hides a smile.

“Hey! You would be lucky to have me as a soulmate!”

He gives up on the facade of crying to bop your nose gently with a finger. “I know.”

You let go of his hand, and both seem to come to the realisation that you’ve been standing on the porch a bit too long. Hoseok presses on the doorbell, while you say, “We’ll just tell them that we ended up kissing last night, and that the names showed up. Maybe we’ll cry a little, but only if the mood calls for it. Just… try to be convincing.”

You can’t continue to brief him as the door is being flung open and Mina is careening into your arms, yelling “Hello!”. As an afterthought, Hoseok squeezes his hand into yours and gives your fingers a press as Mina leads you inside.

The decoration has already started in the living room, with a wreath of holly on the doorframe, and Yoongi frowning at the unassembled parts of a fake Christmas tree. He’s become a victim of the festive spirit, as somebody, probably Mina, has stuck a crown of tinsel on his head, which he’s bearing with surprising grace.

As Mina leads you over to the box of decorations that still needs to be sorted, she keeps rattling on about what all that needs to be done, and how stressful Christmas can be, while Soomi and Namjoon try to untangle Christmas lights in the corner. And then, slowly, silence settles around the room, as each of your friends notice your hand threaded through Hoseok’s.

Mina keeps on rambling, pulling out a few ornaments, inspecting them, before she turns back to you, sensing the odd atmosphere of the room, and notices you and Hoseok’s closeness. And then her eyes fall to your wrist, where Hoseok’s writing peeks out under your sleeve.

The ornament she’s holding falls to the floor with a smash. But she doesn’t seem to notice or care, just covers her gaping mouth with her hand. You realise she’s crying.

Before you can open your lips and say anything, she throws herself at you. “I knew this day would come!” Her arms tangle around your neck, and then you feel Soomi’s arms around your waist on the other side, Hoseok being crushed closer to you as Namjoon joins the group hug, and soon you’re in the middle of a human sandwich, finding it difficult to breath. In the wave of emotions flowing through your friends, you almost get caught up in it, your eyes stinging. You try to latch onto that feeling, hoping it will make your story all the more convincing.

At last your friends let you go, and Mina pulls up your sleeve to inspect the writing. Panicking over the sloppiness of your attempt to recreate a soulmate mark, you pull back your hand quickly, and when her eyebrows furrow in concern, you quickly explain, “Sorry. My wrist still kind of stings.”

“Oh, of course!” she says, “It’s been so long since Yoongi’s name imprinted on my skin I forgot that it kind of actually hurts when you first get it!”

Your chest heaves in relief, managing to keep the interest away from the feigned marks, supposed to bind you to Hoseok. With his hand still laced in yours, you feel his fingers press as a way to say well done for covering so well. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his lips quirking up, amused by how well you lie.

“So…” Mina takes you by the elbow, leading you over to the sofa. On the other side of the room, the rubble from the dropped ornament lies forgotten for later. What your friends want to know is, “Tell us exactly how it happened!”

Four eager pairs of eyes light on you and Hoseok, and with a glance at him, you launch into a dumbed down version of last night, explaining the walk under the stars, the drinking, the decision to try kissing. You, of course, exclude the part where you wrote your names on each other, substituting in some rubbish about feeling a glowing below your skin when your lips connected, about your wrists stinging, and looking down to see your marks on each other, left there for what your friends believe will be forever. For not having much time to prepare your story, you’re impressed with how well the two of you manage to pull off the tale. It was a good idea to stick closely to the truth, and even though you and Hoseok aren’t really soulmates, you decide that you definitely make good partners in crime.

♡♡♡

So the rest of the day is planned out ahead of you, with decorating and prepping for your visit to the restaurant in the evening, plus a few celebratory glasses of champagne for your and Hoseok’s sake.

“We’ll finally be able to get into the soulmate suite together,” Mina sighs happily, as she slots another few cards into a card holder in the shape of a Christmas tree.

The boys are out of the room, warded off as Mina and Soomi claimed that they needed some time alone with you to get all the juicy details, and more importantly, to squeal over how cute you and Hoseok are. You try to fight back the biting annoyance that it took you finding a (fake) soulmate to finally get back with your old friends again. No matter how much they try to include you in their activities, it always ends up that you’re left out from their conversations, unable to complain about how your non-existent sweetheart forgot to do the dishes last night, or how you’re not sure if you have enough money saved up for a couples retreat together. You’re aware it’s not your friends’ fault - finding a soulmate tends to cloud judgement, everything turns to sweet mist, until there’s nothing that you want to talk about but your other half, tied to your side by fate’s red string. It feels nice to have the two girls to yourself, even if it took an inked name to get them back. Despite yourself, you get swept up in the romance of your own fabricated story, almost believing it as you recount it again.

“I always knew it would be Hoseok for you,” Soomi says, her task of organising a box of mixed up decorations forgotten as she smiles over at you, eyes glazed by images of sugar coated love and kisses between you and Hoseok, “Before I got together with Namjoon, I always worried that you two would get paired up and leave me as one of the last soulmate-less ones in our group.” She laughs at herself - looking back on her fears seems daft now, knowing the steady relationship she has with Namjoon. Their dates, visiting old-fashioned bookstores and peaceful museums seems close to idyllic. You’re surprised to hear her earlier concerns. Namjoon with his deep-cut dimples, and Soomi with her unruly curls, and bright blue eyeliner on her lashes, seem completely inseparable now. It’s strange that she somehow thought:

“Hoseok and me? You really believed we would end up together?” you ask, curiosity bubbling in your veins. Why does she think you and Hoseok are a good match? What is she seeing there? You certainly don’t see it, whatever it is. After all, Hoseok is a good friend, but he’s only that out of necessity, with you both on the outside of your friendship group, the last to be paired off by the hand of fate.

Soomi shrugs her shoulders, long earrings jangling as she shakes her head in defeat. “I don’t know… you just seem good for each other. Hoseok always manages to lift your spirits, while you keep him grounded. And you’re constantly teasing and flirting with each other. It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Flirting?” Your cheeks turn crimson, and your friends begin giggling.

“Ah, you’re so cute!” Mina grins, “It’s okay to flirt with him, you know! You’re soulmates after all! No point in denying it!”

Soomi begins to put on an affected version of your accent, saying “Oh, Hoseok, stop, you’re being far too loud! You’ll give us all a headache!” As she speaks, she swats at an imagined Hoseok.

Mina picks up on the act, “Hoseok! It’s super cold this evening. Let’s huddle closer to keep warm!”

You open and close your mouth, wanting desperately to deny all this, yet knowing that doing so would blow a massive hole in your cover. And even as you think about it, your brain flies back to earlier this morning, when you and Hoseok teased each other on the porch. There’s certainly a lot of touching between the two of you, but that’s just you being friendly. Hoseok is so clingy, he shows affection with little taps and light presses of his finger to remind you that he cares. And he does it with everyone, not just you - it’s only natural that you reciprocate. But you can’t explain this to your friends, can’t make a case for your innocence, so your just let your blush settle in, and, rather gruffly, reply, “All right. That’s enough.”

Mina chuckles, “Sorry. It’s just too cute! I’m glad you’re happy.” She sets down the cards she’s sorting, and leans across the table to pat you on the arm. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

Did she pick up on your irritation at being teased? You quickly push your smile a little further, your cheeks beginning to hurt from the act. “Yeah! Of course… I’m just… shocked is all.” You hope you’ve convinced her as she pulls away again.

“Yeah, it can be overwhelming at first,” Soomi says, nodding sympathetically, “I remember the first few days after Namjoon’s name showed up on my skin were all just a whirlwind of phoning relatives and friends, and trying to organise a new life with him.”

“Oh, yeah! How did your parents take it?” Mina asks, frowning over her pile of Christmas cards, “I’m sure they’re glad you’ve finally found someone.”

“Ah-” her question catches you off guard. This lie was supposed to stay among your friends. You hadn’t cast a single thought to your parents, now living a long drive away. They would most certainly be happy to know if you were paired off - it seemed to be the only thing they care about when you do call them, asking if there’s anyone special in your life, insisting that you should try to be more active in finding a soulmate. You know you’re a disappointment to them, never giving them a promise of grandchildren to continue on the family name. Thinking of them now has your arteries tightening, blood pressure rising. There’s a reason you don’t call often. “They were – yeah – they were happy,” you say, brain tumbling over itself. You add in a forced laugh, “At least now they won’t be on my back all the time, asking me when they can expect news of a son-in-law.” At your own insinuation, your blush deepens, and your friends look at each other knowingly.

“What about living arrangements?” Soomi asks, “You and Hoseok live close to each other, so it won’t be too much trouble to move into his house, right?”

The questions keep getting worse, and your mushed up brain can barely process each turn that the conversation takes, leading you deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. At this rate you’ll expose yourself, and you just pray the boys will get bored, and burst back in, asking Mina how she wants the tree to be decorated, or if she wants them to run to the store for more Christmas cookies.

“Well…” you mumble, willing your brain to kick into gear, “I think… it’s a bit early for that.”

“But you’ve known each other for so long,” Soomi says, “Moving in together wouldn’t be that weird, you practically live together any way with the amount of time you spend at each other’s houses!”

Busy sorting Christmas cards, Mina stays quiet, brow furrowed.

“We’re going to think about it once Christmas is over,” you say, a lie finally falling into your mind, “It would just be a bit too much to think about moving right now, since we’re so busy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Soomi drop the questions, and you let yourself relax, glancing over at Mina, who’s still concentrating on her card display. Sensing your gaze on her, she looks up to flash you a distracted smile, but there’s something in her eyes that sets you on edge, and you know you’ll need to make your story more convincing if you want to keep her from pressing you further.

♡♡♡

“What do you think?” you ask, stepping out of Mina’s bathroom that evening, and giving a twirl to let your friends see your outfit. Saying you didn’t have much clothing appropriate for dating, Mina had insisted that you borrow some of hers for your trip to the restaurant. The sparkling silver jumper tucked into black skinny-jeans feels odd on, and the high heels are one size too small, but your friends clasped hands and showered complements are enough to convince you that it looks good.

“Hoseok’s going to be gob-smacked when he sees you,” Mina coos, taking you by the shoulders and spinning you around again.

Just then you hear Namjoon shouting up the stairs, “Any time tonight guys.”

Soomi leans over the banister to call, “We’re coming!” while Mina pushes you after your friend.

Downstairs, the boys are waiting for you, dressed up for tonight. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Hoseok. His hair has been pushed off his forehead, and he’s wearing a plain white dress shirt, tucked into black trousers. Unlike the other men, he hadn’t gone for a tie, instead wearing his top button undone to show the tanned skin below. He looks good, and the thought of him being your date tonight suddenly sends a shiver down your spine. People are bound to realise that you’re faking when they see such an otherworldly man strung through the arm of someone as plain as you.

Pulling at your sleeves self-consciously, you descend the stairs and take Hoseok’s waiting hand. “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs, and despite knowing it’s an act, you can’t help but blush.

“You too.” You wish you were lying.

Rather than laughing it off like he does with most compliments, Hoseok ducks his head to the floor bashfully, with a mumbled, “Thanks.” You’re surprised at how good his acting is.

“Ready to go?” Namjoon asks, and with a nod, your group makes their way out into the cold. The restaurant is only a couple of streets away, but the air is nippy, and even with your choice of a long-sleeved sweater, the cold bites through you. Noticing your chattering teeth, Hoseok pulls you close to his side, arm threading around your waist, while he guides your hand to the small of his back, below his blazer. Telling yourself that your red face is due to the cold, and not his proximity, you make your way to the restaurant in relative silence, listening in to your friends’ excited chatter, rather than trying to say anything to Hoseok. This close, you feel strangely shy around him.

At last the restaurant appears ahead of you, and under your touch, you can feel Hoseok’s steps becoming bouncier as you draw close. He turns to you with a bright smile and sparkling eyes. “Finally, we get to see how the more fortunate live,” he whispers to you, and you can’t help but chuckle at your shared secret, exhilarated at the prospect of seeing an area that’s been denied to you for so long, all because you were missing a soulmate.

“What are you two giggling about?” Mina throws you a knowing grin, like she doesn’t need to ask, and your blushing face gives her exactly the answer that she wants.

“Nothing!”

“Okay,” she raises her eyebrows at you, “Nothing.”

Namjoon pushes open the doors for you, and you are grateful to step out of the cold into the noisy heat of the restaurant. You eye the stairs that lead down to the section of the restaurant where the soulmate-less eat, glad that you won’t be cordoned off to that area this year. The soulmate-less basement isn’t unpleasant, in fact it’s nice - filled with neon lights, it has a bar along with the booths for eating, and a pool table and arcade games to encourage you to interact with strangers and maybe meet your soulmate. But you’re tired of going down there, of constantly having desperate men calling you to come and chat with them, insisting that you must be their soulmate. Getting to go upstairs instead is a welcome break from all that. But as your friends ask for a table for six, you suddenly grow nervous. What if the waiter checking wrists will be able to tell that your soulmate mark isn’t legitimate? You grab Hoseok’s shirt a little tighter, and his hand on your waist responds with a reassuring press.

Your friends go ahead with the waiter waving them on, and your heart flees to your throat as you pull up your sleeve to show off the writing beneath. You hold your breath, expecting the worst, so much so, that you blink in confusion when the waiter says, “On you go. Table’s on the right, over there.”

You turn back to flash Hoseok an excited grin as he follows behind, and the two of you follow the rest of your friends upstairs. You can’t help but gape as you reach the top, to take in the view you’ve dreamed of for years. Finally, you know what the soulmate suite looks like. The floor is wooden, walls and ceiling white, and the whole area has a light and airy feel, with a wide-paned window looking out on the twinkling lights of your town. The tables are laid out with rose petals at each place, candles flickering to fill the space with a warm glow.

Most of the tables seat couples, but there are a few tables with bigger groups, where people are double or triple dating.

Overcome with the whole experience, you still can’t keep your gaping mouth shut as you sit down, Hoseok taking the spot opposite you. In the candle light his eyes look darker than usual, deep and daunting, to draw you in, like whirlpools in a black ocean. You’re convinced the owners of the restaurant must pump chemicals into the air to make couples extra gooey while they’re here. That can be the only explanation for the strange tug you feel in your chest at this moment.

With the first bottle of red wine being passed down the table, you let yourself get caught up in the intoxicating experience, feeling the warm burn of the burgundy alcohol slipping down your throat to heat up your chest and heart.

Past his menu, Hoseok keeps raising his eyebrows at you, looking as excited as you feel to finally see the suite you’ve heard so much about. Every time his eyes dart your way, he adds to the warmth in your heart and your belly, mixing up the alcoholic exhilaration that pulls your lips to a smile, and closes your eyes to the pleasure of the happy bubble surrounding you.

With the starters coming and going, then the main course, and then desert, you keep up with the chatter, feeling a low blanket of enjoyment come down to muffle out all the bad in your life, at least temporarily. In the low lighting, you can almost believe in the story you and Hoseok have created, a wonderful romance between two good friends. After all, you do love him, platonically maybe, but it’s still love, and the fiction of falling into something else with him isn’t too far a stretch. With his hand reaching over the table to hold yours, slender fingers threading through your spaces for the sake of a show, while his feet accidentally brush your leg under the table, each time with a small crack in your pretend love, with an embarrassed smile, with all these feelings, you get caught up, let your heart free from the cage in your chest, pinning it to your sleeve instead. Looking at Hoseok, watching the rise and fall of his throat as he speaks, brown eyes cascading stars, and dimples cutting into his face, you sense a wobble in your heart, only fleeting, but present nonetheless. Like a glitch in your chest that rights itself quickly.

You decide that the restaurant must be drugging everyone here, doped on love chemicals to make you forget your name and your face.

Because there’s no other explanation for this odd tightness in your heart.

Before you can consider the consequences of this sensation, beside you, Namjoon, who’s getting too excited in a story he’s telling, fails his hands and knocks over his glass of wine. Burgundy splashes onto the light silver sleeve of your borrowed jumper.

“Oh no!” He holds his hands out of the danger zone so he can do no more harm.

It’s enough to snap you out of the trance this restaurant has put you under, and you quickly grab a few napkins, trying to dab at the spillage before any more wine can drip onto the floor.

Hoseok reaches spare napkins across to you, while Namjoon keeps mumbling, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you soothe, shooting a thankful smile to Hoseok as you take his offering of napkins, before returning to mopping up.

Mina stands, quickly taking you by the hand, “Why don’t we go to the bathrooms to get it washed off?” she suggests, and you let her lead you away.

In the blue lights of the bathroom, you feel yourself snap free from the mind melting effects of the alcohol and Hoseok’s warm eyes on your own, the smell of soap and bleach clearing your head.

Mina pulls you over to the sink, grabbing a few paper towels from the side, and wetting them under the tap. She begins to daub at the damage on your sleeve, knitting her brows as she concentrates.

“Sorry tonight had to end like this for you,” she chuckles.

“It’s no big deal,” you shrug. With your sobered mind, away from the hazy romance of the restaurant, you notice that Mina is holding the wrist that bears Hoseok’s name awfully close to the sink, and you begin to get anxious as water drips down your sleeve. How long can the ink hold to your skin before it starts washing off?

“I just feel bad that your first night out with Hoseok was ruined,” Mina explains as she presses with the damp paper, trying to soak up what red wine she can, “You looked so happy together until you got distracted...” She pushes up your sleeve try and clean any wine that might have splashed onto your skin, and below her fingers you see the smudged name of ‘Jung Hoseok’ blending off in black on her fingers, writing out your doom.

You quickly snatch your hand away, muttering, “It still hurts,” but her eyes are already going wide. She looks to the ink on her fingers, and then grabs your arm back again, yanking your sleeve up fully to expose the worn letters.

There’s no way to explain yourself.

“What’s this?” she runs her finger across the wet ink, smearing it on your skin in a condemning trail. Her eyes jump to yours, full of accusations. “I knew it. I knew you were acting weird about this! It was far too convenient…” She lets your hand fall limply to your side.

“Mina… please…” you try to plead with her, “You can’t tell anyone else about this. Just keep it between us.”

“Why?” she crosses her arms, “Why would you do this?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” under her wounded glare you find yourself defensive, tone sharper than intended, “Maybe because Hoseok and I were tired of being left out of everything just because we don’t have soulmates? Because we’re lonely and bored and worn-out from disappointing everyone just by existing? Don’t you remember what that feels like?”

Under your venom, Mina’s anger crumbles, leaving hurt burnished on her face. “Of course I remember… and you’re right, we have been treating you and Hoseok pretty bad, but it’s hard, you know... trying to remove yourself from your soulmate once you meet them, even to spend time with friends. Still, this? This isn’t how to fix the problem.”

“Well, I know that Mina!” you throw your arms out, sleeve slipping down a little further as ink and water track weakened black down your skin, “Obviously it’s not the right thing to do. But you know, right now I don’t care…”

“And what if your soulmate comes along while you’re off pretending with Hoseok? What if you miss your chance because of this?” Mina’s eyes have slipped from hurt to worry, as the consequences of you and Hoseok’s impatience hits her.

“I don’t know, Mina…” you let your arms fall. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m tired of waiting, and I’m tired of being left behind, and I’m tired of my parents waiting for me to continue our family, and I’m tired of seeing every other person in the world paired off except me… and Hoseok and I are just having... fun. So please don’t ruin it for us.”

She bites her lip, then sighs. “Fine. I won’t tell the others. But I don’t think you should be doing this… acting out love with someone who isn’t your soulmate can lead to problems. Haven’t you heard of those people who get soulmate marks prematurely, only for them to fade again because they tried to force themselves to fall in love?”

You have heard of it, of those who start dating someone they knew isn’t right for them, so desperate to settle down they’ll love anyone who looks at them right, only to discover a temporary name on their wrist, that will fade painfully, leaving their skin blank and their heart empty. Stirring up feelings before fate is ready is certainly dangerous. But that’s not what’s going on with Hoseok.

“It won’t happen,” you assure Mina, “We’re just friends...”

“Then why were you giving him heart eyes over dinner?”

A warm flush sweeps over you uncomfortably, as if all your arteries have started leaking blood up to your cheeks. “I wasn’t-” you choke out, “I just – we’re acting.”

Mina doesn’t look convinced, but she hands you a couple more paper towels, dropping the subject with a final, “Just be careful, okay?” She leaves the bathroom, letting you clean up the rest of the wine by yourself, carefully wiping the stipes of ink off your arm.

When you return to the restaurant, she’s back by Yoongi’s side, laughing at a joke you missed.

You sit down with a sigh, trying to look as normal as possible, and not as if your whole plan had blown up in your face. Hoseok shoots a look across at you, furrowing his eyebrows. While the rest of the group is busy discussing how they’ll split the bill he mouths across to you, “You okay?”

You give him a small nod, before turning your attention back to the rest of the group, while Hoseok keeps his eyes on you.

You don’t have any more time to convince him that you’re okay, with the rest of the group getting up to leave. The night is over, not as successful as you had expected. It leaves you with nothing but guilt at the ink burning on your arm, and Hoseok’s hand smarting in your own, all for show.

♡♡♡

The next day is spent making cookies back at Mina’s house, but it isn’t without a sickness in your stomach that you show up on her doorstep, remembering all that went wrong yesterday, and all that could go wrong today.

Hoseok’s name on your arm has been reinforced with sharpie again, you carefully going over his letters the best you can. It still looks a little off compared to the way he writes, you own shaky hand going imperfectly over his scrawl.

You step inside to the smell of vanilla and Mina with her hands already covered in flour as she opens the door. Her greeting is awkward, remembering what you went through last night, but she still gives you a short hug, trying her best not to get flour on you in the process.

Hoseok’s already in the kitchen, helping as Namjoon tries to get the electric mixer to work, while Soomi frets that her soulmate is going to break something.

You shrug off your coat, saying hello, and Hoseok’s eyes light up as he steps across to greet you, as is expected of him. But as he comes closer, and keeps going, you realise that he’s not going to just hug you, but is planning something more. Before your brain can process what’s going on, his hands wrap around you, pulling you close, your chest pressing to his, as he bends down to pluck a kiss off your frozen lips.

Your mind is still whirring as he steps away again, murmuring, “Hi.”

You shake your fuzzy head, still trying to understand what just happened. Your eyes dart across to Mina, who’s watching Hoseok’s PDA with concern glittering in her irises, and your cheeks flush for shame.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone,” you mumble to Hoseok, self-conscious, as he leads you by the sleeve of your jumper to the kitchen counter where he’s been working.

“There’s no need to be shy,” Soomi says, “You and Hoseok are completely entitled to be sappy around each other. After all, you’ve only just discovered that you’re soulmates. That must be so exciting!”

“Are you saying we’re not exciting anymore?” Namjoon accuses.

“You’re still exciting, baby,” Soomi assures him, poking his cheek with a flour covered finger, leaving a white splodge on his skin. With the group’s interest redirected towards Soomi and Namjoon, laughing at each other, you breathe a sigh of relief, given a few seconds of grace to slip out of your expected role and worry about Hoseok and the ghost of his lips on yours, still keeping your mouth tingling – because you weren’t expecting it, and not because you enjoyed it.

But as the baking continues, with Hoseok unending in his affection and affectations, reaching over you to help you get bowls off the high shelves, and wrapping his arms around you to aid with stirring when you get tired of it, you wonder how true that is. Beyond your love for Hoseok as a friend, is there something more lurking below the surface? If he kissed you again, would you mind it? And if not… where does that leave you?

With your stomach dipping, you remember your talk in the bathroom with Mina, the worry of falling in love before fate is ready to pair you up. You can’t force yourself into feelings just because you’re so starved of that kind of affection, wishing someone would touch you the way Hoseok does right now, hands resting on your waist as he hugs you from behind.

Mina’s words have probably just made you paranoid. You only like Hoseok as a friend. It’s nice being so comfortable with him, his hands on yours and his smell in your head all feeling like it’s meant to be there.

With the last of the cookies done, left out to cool so you can ice them later, your group moves back together again. But as you all head towards the living room, to hang out before whatever else is planned on your Christmas agenda, you sense a change in the atmosphere. Beside you, Hoseok is oddly quiet, and the rest of the boys seem to be on edge. Uncertainty dips in your chest as you settle down on one of the sofas, with Hoseok sitting on the floor at your feet, resting his head against your knee.

Subconsciously, you place your hand to his bright red hair, running your fingers through it to keep yourself calm, while he nestles closer.

And then Yoongi stands up, turning to Mina, and you realise why the mood has been so tense, when you see his hands behind his back, clutching a small black box.

You know what that means.

It was bound to happen eventually. Your friends have been together for so long. It’s the inevitable result. But this still feels like a stab in your stomach as you realise that another wall is being built up between you and your friends, moving on with their soulmates, while you’re being left behind.

“Mina,” Yoongi clears his throat, “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while… and I’ve been trying to think what would be the best way to go about it. I imagined all kinds of scenarios, where I’d take you to a restaurant, or the park, or somewhere else romantic, but you know that being cheesy doesn’t suit me…” he gets down on one knee, bringing out the box, “So I figured that this was the best place to do it, at home, with our friends who made us who we are today.” He opens the box to show a delicate ring, sparkling bright. “Mina, will you marry me?”

Mina gets off her seat, crouching down to look into Yoongi’s eyes as he kneels, “Of course, you sentimental idiot.” Her voice is wobbling, and you see that she’s fighting to stop herself from crying. “Of course, of course!”

Yoongi leans across to intercept her tears with a kiss, and then he’s standing, picking her up and spinning around, while the rest of your friends cheer.

“I knew you had something planned!” Soomi cries, before turning to thump Namjoon in the arm, “You knew about this and you didn’t even tell me!”

“Well it was meant to be a surprise,” Namjoon says, “You would have just told Mina!”

“Would not!”

Their bickering blends into a blur as crushing worry powers down on you. Your friends are getting married. It won’t be long before Namjoon follows suit with a proposal of his own, and then they’ll move on to thinking about children. They’ll start getting on with their lives, and slowly, more so than ever, they’ll slip from your life, too concerned with their new families. No matter how fun it is to pretend over Christmas with Hoseok, his name in ink on your wrist doesn’t solve the problem that you’re single, and getting older by the day.

You realise that you’ve been sitting with your hand frozen on Hoseok’s head, gripping a fistful of his hair. Quickly, you let go, while he turns his head to look up at you, sensing your stiffness. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, and you nod, although you don’t feel it at all.

All that’s left is a suffocating fear of your loneliness, a worry that you’ll be left by yourself as your friends forget everything but their lust and love.

As you gaze blankly, feeling nothing but a crush of panic, and Hoseok’s warm hand in yours, squeezing, trying to break you from your reverie, a bottle of wine is being opened, and a glass is being pushed into your hands, cold on your clammy skin.

In the background, outside of your head, you hear your friends celebrating, babbling about the wedding, what Mina will wear, where they’ll go for their honeymoon. And then you hear the jokes that it will only be a little longer before more happy announcements are on the way. Eyes dart over to you, seeing you with your hand still stuck in Hoseok’s, looking to those outside your head like you’re head over heels, except you’re only holding onto him, not because you love him, but because, right now, if you let go you might fade away completely, forgotten by fate.

Unable to take it anymore, you set your glass of wine down, untouched, and leave the room, telling your friends that you need the toilet. Hoseok’s hand leaves yours, and you don’t look back to see the concern on his face as you flee up the stairs, away from the heat and light and celebration. You take the stairs at a run, and fall into Mina’s room, where you’ve been so many times before, visiting for sleepovers and parties. But it’s been a long time since you’ve stayed here, now that she’s so entangled with her own soulmate.

You collapse onto her bed, no longer her bed, but her and Yoongi’s bed. The whole room feels different now. It’s a couple’s room. Yoongi’s clothes folded over the chair, his shaver in front of the mirror, and his deodorant by the bed all remind you that Mina is being snatched away, and then Soomi soon after, and you’ll be all by yourself.

Despite their promises to stay close when the names appeared on their wrists, you should have known better than to believe them. The blinding pull of destiny is too strong to resist, and they’ve gone down the path all soulmates go down eventually, forgetting the soulmate-less who need them.

You throw your arms over your eyes, blocking out Mina’s room, not hers anymore, and hope to block out all the thoughts with it. But in the dark of your closed eyes, your worries are louder than ever.

You hear the door opening, and glance up quickly, worried you’ve been caught moping on a day when you should be happy. But it’s only Hoseok, stepping in with a hesitant smile.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice husky.

One of the great things about Hoseok is his ability to sense what you need, and switch moods accordingly. When you need him warm and bright, he’ll be that. When you need him loud and comic, he’ll be that. And at moments like this, when you need him quiet, he’ll be that as well.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning back down on the bed again.

He lies down on the space beside you, you feel the mattress shift below him.

Glancing across, you see him staring up at the ceiling with his red hair falling off his forehead, expression neutral. You turn your attention back to the ceiling as well, as if there’s a story scribbled up there that you find incredibly interesting.

At last, Hoseok’s voice cracks the quiet settled around you. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” You give him the honest answer.

He doesn’t respond, only turns his head to watch you; you can feel his eyes on you from the corner of your vision.

“Seeing Yoongi and Mina finally making plans to get married just made me remember that no matter how fun this is…” you wave at the space between you, at your agreement to enjoy Christmas together, “It’ll never be a replacement for finding our soulmates. I feel as if I’m just on standby, waiting for love to come to me…”

Hoseok’s chest heaves up and down in a sigh, and by your side your feel his fingers brush against yours. “I know… I’m sorry that I’m not able to take those feelings away from you.” He gives a half laugh, huffing through his nose. “If it was up to me, if I had fate in my hands, I would have paired you up long ago, and kept you from all this hurt. Sometimes I really do think that you and I would make good soulmates for each other… that would be a neat tie up for it all, wouldn’t it? No pain for us, and none of the excruciating waiting… but I know that my writing on your arm can’t take any of this away from you, and I’m sorry for it.”

You sit up to look down at him. “No, Hoseok. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. It’s not your fault. And, I’m being incredibly selfish, because obviously you must be finding this difficult as well… so I’m sorry too…”

He smiles up at you, sadness slipping into his face, filling his sparkling eyes and tipping his lips, “This sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Completely.”

With a “hup” he pulls himself to sit up as well, “What do you say we go out for a little bit? Some fresh air might help you feel better.”

“What about Mina and Yoongi?” you say, “Won’t it be weird if we just leave while we should be celebrating?”

Hoseok shrugs as he stands up, fixing his shirt that had ridden up while he lay. “In their eyes we’re new soulmates. If we slip off for some alone time they’re not going to mind…”

He’s probably right. And a break from the atmosphere downstairs sounds incredibly tempting.

“Alright!” you hold out your hands to him, letting him pull you up from the bed, and lead you downstairs to grab your coat and scarf before you sneak out the door, and into the fresh December cold.

It’s at that stage of late afternoon, when, with the sun going down soon, it feels more like early evening. The colours are softer outside, like you’re viewing them through bleary eyes, but no matter how often you blink, they still feel washed out and weak. The sky above your head in covered with blushed-grey clouds, with a few streaks of pink by the horizon.

As you take the steps down from Mina and Yoongi’s house to the pavement, Hoseok threads his hand in yours, fingers red in the cold.

“We don’t have to pretend to be a couple anymore,” you remind him, but he simply responds with:

“I know. But my hands are cold,” so you keep your fingers intertwined with his as you walk.

Walking down the winding path of your development, you and Hoseok admire your neighbours’ decorating jobs, drinking up the flashing lights and strings of tinsel that brighten the street, all while the sky is slowly drained from pink to red through to purple.

Away from Mina’s house you finally relax. Hoseok knows just how to make you feel better, and you wonder at his words in Mina’s bedroom earlier - how he was sorry that he couldn’t be your soulmate. You feel a pull in your chest; having Hoseok as a soulmate certainly wouldn’t be bad, he knows you well enough, your personalities blending nicely. Was fate lazy for not sticking you together? Or does it mean that there’s someone better waiting in your future?

Whatever the reason, you’re still glad that Hoseok is in your life, happy as long as you’re by his side, smiling as he jokes for you, shouting complaints about how cold it is, and puffing up his frozen pink cheeks.

By his side, all worries dissolve from your mind, like sugar in hot tea, until you can’t quite remember why you were so upset in the first place.

With Hoseok’s hand still stuck in your hold, you thread your way through the development and over the bridge leading into town, just as the orange of the streetlamps begin to flicker on.

“Hey, look!” Hoseok points up the town street, to the tall Christmas tree right at the top, a black shape before you, still unlit, “They haven’t turned on the lights yet.”

“That means…” you turn your eyes to him, seeing a smile break across his face:

“We’re just in time to see them getting switched on!” With a tug on your hand, he pulls you up the street, puffs of breath billowing from his grinning mouth as he runs.

You laugh as he leads you, caught up in his enjoyment, enjoying it yourself. Just as you reach the top of the street, the lights of the Christmas tree begin to switch on, and you stop to stare up as the glowing points spark up, beginning at the top with the star, and twisting their way down to the base, like a wave of light that brightens up the dull dark of a December afternoon, creeping into evening. From the base of the tree, the lights spread out across town, lamps by the shops flickering on in a chain reaction of rainbow colours. You turn to Hoseok, seeing the reds and blues and greens reflected in his eyes, dancing with wonder, and you can’t help but mirror his smile, infected by his laughter.

“Feeling better?” he asks you, and you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. You can barely remember why you were upset in the first place.

“Shall we go back then?” You’re aware that you’ve been gone a long time, far too long, and your friends might start to get suspicious. Your mind flies back to Mina. What will she be thinking, worrying about you alone with Hoseok while she knows the truth behind the mark on your wrist?

Hoseok’s smile slips a little, but he nods his head. “I’d almost forgotten we needed to go back,” he laughs at himself, while you steer him away from the lights of the tree, heading back for the path leading to your development.

You both fall strangely silent on the return journey, your mind filled with what you’ll have to cope with once you go back. Hoseok’s mind is busy as well, although with what, you don’t know.

At the steps leading up to Mina’s house, the lights all on and your friends’ laugher spilling out onto the street, Hoseok turns you to him, holding both of your hands in front of him, “Are you going to be okay?”

You nod your head, putting on a smile to convince him.

“Are you sure?”

You nod again, and Hoseok smiles, softly say, “Okay. Just checking,” before you both go into the house again.

“There you are!” Soomi pokes her head out of the kitchen, “We were wondering where you two love birds went.” Her eyes sparkle, imagining all the romantic situations you and Hoseok most certainly didn’t get into while you were gone.

“We just went for a walk,” Hoseok says, shrugging off his coat, “With all the excitement of the past few days, we both just wanted to take some time out to take things slow.”

“You? Take things slow?” Soomi leans on the doorframe shaking her head of curly hair, “I don’t believe it!” Her eyes dance across to you, “What have you done to him?”

You hold up your hands in defeat, “I don’t know… maybe Hoseok’s finally matured after finding himself a soulmate!”

“Hey, I was perfectly mature before then!” Hoseok complains, lifting his leg to pretend to kick you, “Don’t be rude!”

“Oh, sorry, Hoseok!” you laugh, pulling him into a hug where his flailing limbs can do you no damage. Right now, you’re not even sure what’s acting for you, and what’s natural.

Still, Soomi’s grinning at you as you head to the kitchen, like she’s holding a secret. It’s a smile that tells you she understands exactly what it’s like to be freshly in love with your soulmate, but she has no idea…

Inside the kitchen, the rest of your friends are decorating the cookies you baked earlier, with the boys trying to figure out the instructions for constructing a gingerbread house.

Hoseok grabs over Mina’s shoulder to get a cookie with icing still wet. “Hey, no!” she calls to him, but it’s too late, it’s already in his mouth, biting off a corner with eyes widening at her, “It’s good! Here, try some.” He holds out the rest to you, offering a bite, and despite Mina’s insisting that the cookies need to be saved for later, you really can’t say no, since this one can’t be rescued from Hoseok’s bite-marks anyway.

You lean over, and let him feed you a corner, biting off from his fingers and letting the taste of vanilla sweep across your tongue. Hoseok smiles at you, as you copy his wide-eyed expression: “Woah! It is really good!”

“Told you!” he sing songs, before reaching over again to give you another bite, which you happily take, until he smears the icing across your mouth, and pulls back laughing at the damage he’s done.

“Hoseok!” you can’t stay angry with him, wiping off the mess with your fingers and poking his cheeks to leave streaks across his face in strawberry red and apple green. He reaches a hand to the smeared icing, acting shocked, with his mouth open, before grabbing your hand, still covered in the cookie residue, and bringing your fingers to his mouth, he removes the last traces with his tongue.

“Ew, Hoseok, gross!” you complain, pulling your hand away from him to wipe the remains on his shirt, “Now your spit is all over my fingers.”

You notice now that most of your friends have paused what they’re doing to sneak curious glances your way, watching you and Hoseok’s display of… what… what is this? Flirting? Romance between soulmates? Or just teasing with a good friend?

“Why are you complaining about that?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows, “My spit was in your mouth when we kissed!”

“Gross!” you smack him on his arm, while he keeps on laughing, poking a finger to your burning cheeks.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

You bat his hand away, but can’t help but smile.

It’s only later that you realise that Hoseok’s display has completely distracted you from the ring shining on Mina’s finger, and the worries sliding into your head.

♡♡♡

The day after is free from Mina’s frantic schedule, left to spend some time relaxing, or in your case, doing some hectic last minute Christmas shopping. All while you know that your friends will be off doing things as couples, taking the opportunity to spend some quality time with their soulmates.

As you step out into the cold, with your keys in hand, and your scarf wrapped around you to block out the cold, you find your feet turning towards Hoseok’s house, just a little bit away from yours.

Your legs lead you up his drive, knocking on his door before you can stop yourself, and you are greeted by his tired face, obviously only just awake, with messed up hair and bleary eyes.

“Oh, hi…” His voice is an octave deeper, clouded by sleep, as he rubs his eyes with a fist, “What’s up?”

You fidget on his doorstep, not entirely sure what brought you here. It’s scary how reliant you’ve become on the sunshine he offers you. Blushing at your own weakness, you search for a suitable excuse, clutching at your scarf. “Um… I was going to go into town to do some Christmas shopping… and… I need you to help me carry all the bags… so I didn’t want to go by myself...”

He chuckles, reaching out a finger to pinch your cheek. “Ah, you missed me, did you? So cute. You can just say that you don’t want to be lonely, you know? There’s no shame in it.”

“Alright, fine! I’ll be lonely without you,” you say, sending a scowl his way, which only makes him laugh louder, before he answers:

“Okay, just give me a second to put on shoes.”

That’s how you find yourself heading into town, with Hoseok by your side, his arm around you to fight off the cold, as he complains about the bitter wind.

It feels good to be out with him, acting as you always did, without your friends around to wonder at the way you treat each other, letting him be super clingy, laughing at his jokes, and lapping up the warmth he offers. But you sense that there’s something different now. Maybe it’s all a side effect of the act you’ve put on around your friends, being sure to flirt obviously and love deeply, with extra feeling, handholding, and kissing, which is completely new. You aren’t sure how you feel about the kisses, which Hoseok seems to be quite liberal in giving.

You try to shake these thoughts from your mind as you head to the mall, glad to be inside the doors where the heaters rush hot air towards you, and you can disentangle yourself from Hoseok, getting rid of the warmth rising in your face. Today is a day with just you and him, and you’re going to enjoy it like you always do, as friends and no more. Mina’s worries about you falling in love are completely unprecedented when it comes to Hoseok – how could you fall in love with him, who you’ve seen far too much of, watching him throw up when he drinks too much, and accidentally discovering his browser history, which you wish you could remove from your brain with bleach. You could never fall for him, not when your body rejects him as its soulmate, not when your mind rejects him as anything more than a best friend. But seeing him turning back to you with that wide grin of his, face shining and lips stretching, the wobble in your heart gives you a warning that maybe you’re going a bit too far this time, that the mark on your arm, redrawn for today, is overstepping a line you should have put up a long time ago.

Despite this, as Hoseok grabs your hand, pulling you towards the shops, and asking you what you want to look at first, you let go of your worries, and decide to just enjoy today.

You wander around the mall, ducking in and out of shops, picking up things that seem suitable for your friends, and laughing over the ridiculous puns on the cards you buy. As the day wears on, you forget all that worried you, only enjoying Hoseok’s presence banishing all the bad feelings you have when you’re alone, left to overthink your singleness and your inability to be loved. It all slips your mind with him around, working hard to make you smile.

With a large bag of shopping in each arm, ready to head back home, you walk out of the last store, laughing at something Hoseok says, until he stops short, and you almost knock into his side.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Look,” he points across to the shops on the other side of the mall, where a young child, who can’t be older than six, is standing with his thumb stuck in his mouth and tears rolling down his cheeks, “Do you think he’s lost?”

Before you can say anything in response, Hoseok is handing his bags to you, weighing you down, with a mumble of “Hold these for a second,” before he crosses the hall, with you following behind, struggling with the shopping.

He crouches down in front of the child, while you wait behind him, “Are you alright?”

The child looks up with wide, brown eyes, scared, before he glances over to you, and you offer him a kind smile.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok encourages, “We don’t bite.”

The boy removes his thumb from his mouth, giving a sniff, and saying, “I lost my step-brother...”

“You did?” Hoseok’s mouth pops open in surprise, “What an irresponsible step-brother, going and losing you like that.”

The little boy’s eyes glitter at this, and he begins to giggle, “Yeah… he’s awful! Will he get in trouble with mummy for this?” It’s good to see that the fear of being abandoned in the mall hasn’t quelled sibling rivalry.

“Maybe,” Hoseok chuckles, “Shall we try to find him first before we worry about that?”

The boy wipes the tears and snot off his face with the back of his sleeve, and then nods his head, holding out a hand for Hoseok to take. Hoseok stands up, the boy gripping onto him with white knuckles. “Shall we go to the help desk then?”

You stare at Hoseok for a moment, completely surprised that he was able to stop the boy’s crying so easily. You haven’t ever seen him like this. But then again, you’ve never seen him around children before. “Okay,” you say, “That sounds like the best plan.”

You walk with the little boy, taking the long trip back down the mall to visit the help desk that you hope will aid in finding his older step-brother, while Hoseok chats with him.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” the boy answers proudly.

“And how old are you?”

“Five and three-quarters.”

“Wow!” Hoseok turns to you with wide eyes and a look of amazement on his face, all for Jungkook’s sake, “Did you hear that? Five and three-quarters? That’s so grown up.”

Jungkook giggles, and kicks his heels a little as he walks.

You reach the help desk, where the girl behind, dressed up in elf ears for the occasion, makes an announcement over the speakers for Jungkook’s older brother, who he tells you is “an airhead, although I don’t know what that means, but that’s what daddy says”.

While you wait for the step-brother to show up, Jungkook rocks back and forth on his heels, glancing over to the Santa’s grotto display, just a little way down from the help desk.

“Do you want to go visit Santa?” Hoseok asks, noticing the young boy who keeps glancing at the bright coloured lights marking out the way to Santa’s seat, and the model reindeers outside.

He blushes when Hoseok catches him staring, and looks down to the floor quickly, mumbling, “No. Grown-up boys don’t go to talk to Santa…”

“Says who?” Hoseok asks, indignation spreading across his face, “I’m an adult and I love Santa.”

With a bright face, Jungkook raises his eyes up to Hoseok, his irises sparkling, “Really?” he asks, and Hoseok gives a nod:

“Sure. Santa’s super cool. In fact… I was thinking of going to visit his grotto myself, and I was hoping you’d go with me while we wait… but if you’re too grown-up for that…”

“No, no!” Jungkook yanks on Hoseok’s hand, dragging him towards the grotto, “I wanna see Santa!”

Hoseok glances over his shoulder to you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead,” you smile to him, “I’ll stay here to see if the brother shows up.”

With a smile to show his gratitude, Hoseok pats his hand on your shoulder, before letting an ecstatic Jungkook drag him off, with you chuckling after them.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this, it’s a pleasant surprise to see him so kind around the child. Somehow he had managed to completely alleviate the child’s worries in seconds, distracting him and keeping him smiling. Is that what he’s doing with you as well? Making you happy, distracting you, treating you like a child?

The thought has your smile wiping off your face. All that you imagine between you and Hoseok, your connection, your friendship, your deep understanding of each other, is that all wishful thinking, looking for kinship in a best friend while you wait on your soulmate?

As you mull over these things, brain liquidating to a turbulent sea that tosses and turns your worries, you see a boy around your age approaching the help desk, to mutter to the girl in the elf ears, before she points your way.

He steps towards you. “Hi… I’m Jungkook’s brother,” he says, hesitantly, “I heard that you found him?”

“Oh, yeah!” you smile, looking him over, a lot older than you had expected the five and three-quarter year old’s brother to be, and a lot more handsome than you had anticipated, “He wanted to visit Santa’s grotto while he waited.”

You point across, just as Hoseok emerges with Jungkook again, the little boy’s hands filled with a parcel from Santa and a smile on his face. He stops in his tracks when he sees his step-brother, a loud gasp escaping his mouth, before he catapults himself over into the older boy’s arms. “Taehyung! Where were you?”

The older brother, Taehyung you guess his name is, grins a boxy smile as he picks up the young boy, “Ah, sorry, Jungkook! I got distracted and when I looked back you were gone!”

“Big brother is an airhead…” Jungkook chastises, his fist closing around Taehyung’s shirt, showing his relief to be back with his step-brother, despite his apparent distaste at being left behind, cheeks puffed up, and eyes narrowed.

“I know…” Taehyung laughs to himself, “Big brother really is an idiot isn’t he? You won’t tell step-mum about this will you?”

Jungkook thinks about it. “If I don’t tell mummy, will you buy me an ice-cream?”

“Okay, fine, you get as much ice-cream as you want,” Taehyung soothes, before turning back to you and Hoseok, “I’ll buy you guys ice-cream as well to say thank you if you want?”

Hoseok answers, “That’d be great!” before you can respond, and quickly takes a couple of your shopping bags off you, before walking after Taehyung and Jungkook. All you can do is follow behind, as the boys head for the food court with the promise of ice-cream.

At the McDonalds, with the smell of grease filling your nostrils, you stand, with Jungkook’s mouth slathered in ice-cream as he tells Taehyung all about Santa’s grotto, and how Santa had promised him his presents on Christmas day. “But I think big brother will get a lump of coal because he’s terrible at looking after me…”

Taehyung just gives a low, rumbling laugh, and ruffles his step brother’s hair, while you and Hoseok hide smiles behind your ice-cream spoons. Taehyung looks back to the two of you, “Thank you once again for all that you did! I really appreciate it, and Jungkook does as well, don’t you?” He gives the little boy a tap on the shoulder, “What do you say?”

“Thank you!” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of cold ice-cream, and from his screwed up face it looks as if he’s suffering from brain freeze.

“That’s no problem,” you reply to Taehyung, ready to leave, bags seeming to get heavier and heavier as the clock counts on.

But Hoseok doesn’t seem to be quite finished with his new friends, because just as you’re walking away, he suddenly gasps. “I didn’t do the soulmate check with Taehyung!”

“What, you mean that kissing you do with literally every person you meet?” you ask, and Hoseok nods his head aggressively:

“What if he was my soulmate?”

“Unlikely…” you mutter, while Hoseok narrows his eyes at you:

“You think he’s out of my league?”

“No, Hoseok, that’s not what I meant… just… what are the chances?”

But before you can stop him, he’s turning around and running back to Taehyung, “Wait!”

Taehyung turns back, face confused, as Hoseok gives him the same explanation that he gave you when you first met him, and Taehyung, with his brows furrowed at Hoseok’s suggestion, but not completely put off by his forwardness, gives him a nod.

Just before Hoseok leans in to kiss his new acquaintance, his eyes dart back to you, standing with ice-cream in one hand, melting in its tub, and bags of Christmas shopping in the other, and you see a glimmer that sets your heart on fire, just before your best friend leans in to press his lips to a stranger’s.

The kiss only lasts one second, but seeing him so willing to show that kind of affection to anyone is a stab in your chest. As Hoseok and Taehyung both pull back, and Taehyung checks his wrist, still empty, giving Hoseok a shrug, you realise that these feelings for Hoseok probably aren’t normal for a best friend.

You shouldn’t care who he kisses, and you should be glad at any chance he has to find his soulmate.

“Hey,” Hoseok calls over to you, pulling you out of your reverie, “You want to kiss Taehyung as well? He could be your soulmate!”

“No thanks,” you say, “Unlike you, I like to save my kisses for someone special…”

As the two of you wave Taehyung and Jungkook off, for real this time, Hoseok grins beside you like a Cheshire cat, “So… am I special then?”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, as you walk out of the mall and into the chilly wind of December, dangling the possibility of snow in your face without ever committing.

“Well, if you let me kiss you…” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You push his face away, not wanting to see his glittering eyes, ready to tease you. “Only because you’re my friend, and we’re pretend soulmates,” you grumble, cheeks heating up. You’re not entirely sure what to do with all of the discoveries you made in the mall today, seeing both you and Hoseok in a new light, his friendliness, his attractive qualities, and the uncertainty of your own heart, that’s getting more and more tired of waiting for a soulmate that never shows up, all while you have a man like Hoseok right in front of you, baiting you and testing you.

“Aw… I’m sorry…” Hoseok cries as you elbow him off you, “I’m only teasing. You’re not angry? Hey, you’re not angry are you?” He follows after you, poking at you, and pulling at your scarf, until you let out a laugh:

“Okay. No, I’m not angry. Now, can you stop being annoying?”

“I’m not annoying! I’m adorable,” he claims, as you offer your free arm back to him, and he grabs onto you for extra warmth. As you walk home, you forget the sick dip in your stomach when Hoseok’s lips met Taehyung’s, and you worried a new name would appear below your sharpie mark on his skin, this one permanent above his veins.

At your house, you pause, with Hoseok’s house only a little further down the street. You hang there for a moment, all of your worries crowding back to your head as the idea of going home to an empty house, cold and dark, sends a shiver tumbling through your frame, more to do with your fears, than the cold that clings around you.

Hoseok waits by your side, licking his lips, before he says, “Hey… do you… wanna come back to my place for the evening?”

“What’s wrong, Hoseok? You know you can just say if you don’t want to be lonely,” you tease, repeating back the words he spouted to you this morning.

But rather than laughing along, his face falls out of his smile for a split second and he answers, “Yeah… I’ll be lonely without you.”

You gulp cold air, your heart quickening its pace. “Well… okay then… if you need me so much… then I’ll come over.”

His smile returns as quickly as it disappeared. “Great. Thank you!” His arm falls over your shoulder as you walk back to his house, and you lean into his warmth, glad to drink up the comfort it offers, to get lost in the traces of him around you, his warmth, his smell, his sound.

Inside his house is like you always remember, when you would go around to his place to keep each other company while your friends spent time as couples. It’s inside these walls that Hoseok ended up becoming your best friend, maybe even closer to you than Mina and Soomi were before their soulmates evaporated into their lives.

“You want a drink?” Hoseok asks, and you raise your eyebrows:

“This early in the day?”

“I meant water,” he says, flashing you a grin, “But if you need more than that, then there’s still rum, and I’ve got coke.”

“Yes please.”

The two of you settle down on Hoseok’s sofa to watch through a collection of cheesy Christmas movies, with Hoseok lying down to rest his head in your lap after he finishes his rum, while you run your hands through his hair, forgetting your worries in the warmth of his room, and the heat of his head on your thigh, pressing his comfort.

As night sneaks in, with the sky darkening, you wonder if you should be heading home, but Hoseok sits up, rubbing his eyes, and you wonder if he had actually fallen asleep half-way through ‘Elf’, before he asks, “Do you want pizza?”

“Sure,” you say, glad of an excuse to stay longer, but getting a sense that you’ll only make things worse for yourself if you stick around. Your discovery of your feelings for him has dread chilling your veins, and you know you should detach yourself while you still can. You need to remember that out there, somewhere beyond his familiar hold in his familiar house, your soulmate is searching for you.

But Hoseok’s face is pleading, cracking through his smile, and you can almost taste his loneliness in the air, as bitter as your own, so you stay by him, going with him in the kitchen, while he orders your favourite flavour over the phone.

When he sits down at one the chairs at his table, setting down the phone again, you wind around to his back, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his head, unable to resist the urge to touch him when your pity strikes you. Maybe you hold him for your own sake, maybe you hold him for his – does it even matter at this point?

“Hoseok…” you mumble into his hair, smelling of shampoo, “What’s up?”

“The sky…”

“Very funny,” you murmur, “But really…” You know something’s wrong, his smile slipping off.

“Really…” he sighs, you feel his breath shudder through his body, “I’m tired of this.”

A hollow silence falls after his words, filled with the emptiness you’ve both grown so sick of.

“I hate not having a soulmate,” he tells you, “I mean… my parents met each other when they were 21. And I’m 23 now. I feel like as I get older it’s getting more and more likely that I’ll be soulmate-less forever. I mean… at what age do I give up? At what age do I stop kissing every single person I meet, with a small hope that their name will show up on my body?”

“There’s still time, Hoseok,” you tell the top of his head, although it feels vacant coming from you, when you feel the same way. There’s still time, sure. But with each second that passes that time shrinks a little.

He laughs against you, but it’s lacking all his usual joy. “I really thought this would make me feel better…” he says, his hand falling to your own hand, resting around his shoulder, rubbing at the name he wrote on your wrist.

Before he can say anymore, the doorbell rings, and he jumps up with his normal smile back on his face: “That’ll be the pizza.”

♡♡♡

After dinner and helping Hoseok clean the cheese-stained plates and glasses topped up with rum, you know that it’s time you should be leaving, but the longing inside you is screaming to stay.

So, when Hoseok leads you up to his room, you don’t object, only focusing on his hand fitted snugly in your own, rather than the warnings sounding in your head.

Sitting on his bed, the curtains drawn and the lights low, you don’t resist his hold as he balances your hand in his lap, his thumb carving out the shape of his writing on your wrist.

“I feel like I should apologise to you,” he says, eyes dark in the minimal lighting, and you quirk your brows at him:

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I dragged you into all of this… I only wanted to have some fun, but it’s made me sad instead, realising what I’ve been missing without a soulmate. I wish I’d never seen it. It’s better to live in ignorance, than to know what our lives lack. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, just because I was too blind to see how bad an idea this was.” His eyes fall to the floor, red hair slipping in to clash with his dark eyelashes.

“Hoseok,” you turn your body towards him, crossing your legs on the bedspread, and reaching to brush the hair away, so you can look into his chocolate irises, “I agreed to this, completely. So it’s all my fault as well, alright?”

He smiles, broken. “Alright…”

You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his back, and pushing your nose into shoulder, enjoying the shape of him against you, and hating yourself for liking it so much. Fate really was cruel to not match you with him, when you know that no one else can make you feel this way – not even a soulmate hidden in your clouded future.

“Oh… there’s something else I should apologise for…” Hoseok says to your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry for stealing your first kiss.”

You pull away to look into his serious eyes.

“I know that you were saving that for your soulmate, and just because my ideas about kissing are… well… a little different from yours, I thought it would be okay to take that from you. Which it wasn’t.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “We can just count it as practice for my real soulmate…”

“I don’t think it works like that…”

You furrow your brows, “Well, maybe I should get you back for taking that kiss from me.”

“Yeah?” His gaze glides down to your lips and then back to your eyes, “And what will you do to get me back?”

“This.” Before you can pull yourself away, before you can change your mind, you tip your head up, rising to meet his lips with your own.

This kiss is different from the ones before, those ones pressed quickly, not meaning much. This is so much more. Hoseok’s mouth isn’t closed to you, and his tongue isn’t nearly so shy. He feels warm and soft against you, experiencing him with every molecule that makes you. One thousand different emotions travel along you, leaving your lungs devoid of air as you pull away with closed eyes, and breathe, “Now we’re even.”

“Not yet… Don’t you owe me two kisses, for the two I gave you?” Hoseok’s low voice, so different from his loud joking, sends shivers reverberating through your body, and before you can pull yourself away, realising how bad this is, that you’re cheating on your future soulmate, you lean in for a second dose of his intoxication.

A second leads to a third. And a forth. And a fifth.

Each one leaves you less and less satisfied, needing more from him, all of this a blockade to the loneliness spilling over inside you.

You know that you should wait for your soulmate, but in this moment, all you feel is your passion and your lust and your anger – anger that fate hasn’t given you someone to love yet, anger that you don’t know what you’re doing wrong, anger that you don’t even know what it really means to love.

As Hoseok keeps his lips locked to yours, you shift your position on the mattress, letting him sit up, while you straddle his thighs, feeling his shape between your legs, grinding closer. His hands begin to explore you, and you follow suit, feeling out his shoulders, his arms, and then his chest, down to his stomach, and then your hands are riding up under his shirt, feeling hot skin on your hot hands, fingers tracing the beginnings of the muscles just below.

You’re lifting up his shirt, and he’s moving away from you, holding up his arms to help you draw the collar over his head, and then he’s sitting on his bed, half-naked, with only the moon to light him up from behind, rimming his whole body with silver, and giving him a halo of gold.

Seeing him like that, like an angel among the sheets, you realise you need to pull yourself away, and decide what you’re to do with all these feelings.

When he pushes himself forward to squat on his haunches, rather than following your instinct to melt against him, you stand up, leaving him looking at you, confused in the white of his bed sheets.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom,” you tell him, and he nods, wordless, before you go into his en suite and close the door behind you, switching on the lights, and staring into the mirror. You barely recognise yourself, with your hair mussed up from Hoseok’s hands, and your cheeks red and flushed. Going over to the sink, you lean your hands on the rim, and rest your forehead against the cool glass.

What are you doing?

What is Hoseok doing?

What are you both doing?

You know that the best thing to do now would be to leave, to preserve all your love for your soulmate, but Hoseok is just a room away, while your soulmate is who knows where, and Hoseok needs love just as much as you do right now.

You stare into the mirror, breath steaming up the glass so that your eyes disappear from view. Think rationally for a second. Get rid of the mists in your brain. What are the pros and cons?

Pro: You love Hoseok, and he’s willing to love you in return, even if it’s only for a night. Even if he grows sick of you in the morning.

Cons: If you let yourself fall deeper in love, you’ll end up like those people that grow impatient and stir up feelings before they should, gaining premature soulmate marks for someone they can never have, and going through excruciating pain to lose the writing on their wrist.

Pro: This will alleviate all your loneliness for now, making you forget exactly why you’re grieving. Hoseok, always a comfort to you, is the one you need more than ever at this moment.

Con: Will Hoseok even like your body, so normal compared to him, shining like an seraph in the sheets?

Pro: Everything’s okay because it’s Hoseok, your best friend, the one person who understands you, the one who should have been your soulmate, if only fate knew what it was doing.

Con: This is Hoseok, your best friend, and taking that extra step, making love with him, might cause you lose all his love in the end.

Pro: Hoseok.

Con: Hoseok.

You wipe the condensation off the mirror, so you can see your eyes again, resolute, knowing what you want.

Stepping out of the bathroom , you find Hoseok sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs hanging over the side, with his shirt in his hand, staring at it, almost as if he can’t understand how it got off him in the first place.

He looks up to you as you emerge, eyes asking if this is okay, or if you would rather leave.

You answer by stepping closer to him, in between his legs, and bending down to lay a kiss on his lips.

He pulls you under the covers, and you give yourself up to him that night, as the sky turns a darker shade of black outside. His body is like gold and honey on your own, as he discovers every part of you, every part you were holding back for your soulmate now open and bare for him. He drags you through paradise with him, and as you come to a climax below him, you find there are tears sparkling down your cheeks, and you don’t know if they’re there from the pain expected with a loss of virginity, or from the knowledge that you’ve let your future soulmate down, or if they’re from the exhilaration of the experience.

As Hoseok lies down beside you, calming his heavy breath, you stare up at the grey ceiling, expecting to feel hurt or happiness or anything… but instead there’s only emptiness, as you realise you can’t do that ever again.

Not with Hoseok. Not if you love him like you do.

♡♡♡

The next morning, you get out of his bed, and try to grab your clothes as quietly as possible.

But while you slip your jeans on again, you see him moving, red hair and golden skin stark against the white sheets, as he sits up to glance over at you.

You look down at him, mouth feeling sticky and dry.

“Sorry,” he says, and you reply:

“You keep apologising. Is this going to become a habit?”

“I only keep apologising because I keep making mistakes…”

You press your lips together, hands digging into the fabric of your shirt to keep away the pain rising in your chest. So last night was a mistake.

“I was sorry for stealing your first kiss from you,” he says softly, “And now I’ve taken a first that’s a lot worse than that… I shouldn’t have done that…”

How can you tell him that he was all you had wanted last night? That you fell in love over and over and over last night? That he stole nothing because you gave everything last night?

There are no words in your mouth, and you can’t give him anything but a sad smile, and manage, “Goodbye, Hoseok.”

The walk back to your house is too long, even though it only takes you a few steps, and you lock the door behind you, with a shuddered gasp, leaning back against the wall.

You take a second to let your legs find their strength again, before you run up your stairs, throwing off your clothes and stepping into a boiling hot shower, trying to wash off all traces of last night.

The water runs a dull grey down the drain as the last remains of Hoseok’s inked name wash off your wrist. Remembering it’s still there, you begin scrubbing at what’s left, not wanting to see it anymore. But as you attack with soap and your nails, the black stays stuck, like it’s clogged in your pores. Your scratching only leaves your skin stinging and red under the hot rush of the shower head, each press of your fingers sending jagged spikes of pain rattling up your arm.

You clatter out of the shower and grab the nearest towel, rubbing the water out of your eyes before you take a closer look at your wrist where Hoseok’s name remains, sticking stubbornly. That’s not ink. It’s embedded below your skin, right above your veins.

For one second you hope…

But even as you blink away drops of hot water, heart shuddering, the black fades away, turning to murky grey.

No.

You should have listened to Mina. 

No.

Falling in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate only brings pain.

No.

It will only give you a premature soulmate mark, and leaves your skin blank when it fades, with all the pain and heartbreak of losing a real soulmate.

No.

Hoseok’s name, muddied below the first layers of skin, shivers down another shade of dark grey, faded and dull, sending a burning pain coursing up your arm.

No.

You had hoped… that maybe it would stay… that it was a real soulmate mark… and not a temporary one… fated to fade of your skin with searing pain… but…

No.

Hoseok’s not your soulmate. And falling in love before fate intended was never meant to be painless.

♡ TO BE CONTINUED ♡

Author’s note: Well, here it is... the first part of this monster fic. It’s been so long since I started it, it was kind of hard to finally let it go and decide it’s finished. It’s been an amazing learning process for me, writing something so long, and has filled me up with passion all over again.

I hope that the whole premise of it isn’t too confusing, since I wanted to do something a little different with a soulmate au... and I thought it would be interesting to build a world where you don’t actually know your soulmate until they kiss you...

Oh... and yeah... Jungkook is waaaay younger than everyone else in this fic, just because.

I’ll be posting the next part before Christmas... so... yeah... tomorrow!

[2manyfandoms2count]

It was Heartbeats' first birthday on Wednesday (which is wild because it feels like so long ago and yet not), and I finally got a proper idea for a little epilogue! It's kind of plotless and completely self-indulgent, I just wanted to write some LS fluff, hope you enjoy (there's a tiny bit of "angst" at the beginning, like in the OG fic, but everything's alright) 😌

---

Epilogue

Marinette, my dearest Lady,

You might wake up believing that our conversation was just a pleasant (or so I hope) dream, but trust me, I pinched myself enough for the both of us to be certain that it really happened.

Just in case you don’t remember or are fuzzy on the details, I’ll reiterate the main points: I love you, Marinette, and I still can’t believe how lucky I am that you are, well, you. Please know that going on a date with you would make me the happiest man and cat on Earth, if you’ll still have me when the sedative wears off (but no pressure).

Call me later if you feel like it, you have both of my numbers, and let me know if I can help in any way.

Yours,

Adrien

A tear rolled down Marinette’s cheek and fell onto the already tear-stained card. She wiped it off, mindful of the fading handwriting, and couldn’t repress a smile as she looked up to the ceiling of her hospital room, taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep more tears at bay.

It felt like it was only yesterday that she’d found the card on her bedside table, and yet over ten years had passed since she’d learned who her partner was.

Ten years of a beautiful relationship. Their reciprocal confession had been followed by tentative flirting as they integrated all of the new information they’d gained into their interactions. Coming to terms with what it all meant for them and regaining their dynamics after Marinette had been admitted out of the hospital had strengthened their partnership beyond their wildest dreams.

So little had changed since then, and yet so much had; it wasn’t the two of them against the world anymore, for one.

“It’s official, she’s purr-fect,” Adrien’s half-whispered voice preceded his entrance in the room. Marinette quickly wiped her eyes, hoping it would be enough to fool him into believing everything was alright, and flashed him a wobbly smile.

He looked up from his phone with an excited grin, and froze slightly as their gazes met. His brow wrinkled into a worried frown as he pocketed his phone and lengthened his stride to join her.

“Marinette? Is everything alright?” He sat on the very edge of her bed, and carefully took one of her hands in his. She nodded wordlessly, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles across the back of her hand only making her tears rise again.

Kwami, she was so lucky to have him in her life.

“My Lady, you know I’m here for you whatever you need,” he said softly.

Marinette reached for the card and handed it to him.

“I hate you,” she sniffled with a small laugh. “I can’t believe you brought it, you know how it makes me feel.”

“Aww, my carefully chosen words moved you to tears once more...” Adrien smiled cheekily, squeezing her hand.

“I blame the tiredness. And the hormones,” Marinette chuckled.

“Lie to yourself all you want, I know the truth.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “Ah, what a master wordsmith I already was, back in the day.”

“As if you were confident about your talent then,” she snorted, thinking about how sheepish Adrien had been the next time he’d visited her. “Buguinette, I mean, Marinette, I’m sorry about the wording of my card, I don’t think I insisted enough that it’s absolutely okay if it was just the sedative speaking when you asked me out, I’ll respect your choice whatever happens, blablabla,” she mimicked Adrien’s voice, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile. “Thank goodness I was feeling well enough to sit up and kiss you, kwami knows what else you would’ve apologised for if I hadn’t shut you up.”

“And what makes you think that hadn’t been my plan all along?” Adrien scooted closer to her and brushed his nose against hers.

“I know you well enough, Chaton. There’s no way your eyes were anything but begging me to take a stray in.” She smiled. “Right?”

“Guess you’ll never know for sure,” he teased, leaning in.

“Adrien!” Marinette evaded him with a small pout.

“I’m joking, darling. You know I was absolutely terrified you’d changed your mind.” He chuckled.

“And you know I never could’ve let you go, my love.” Her lips spread into a satisfied smile before she closed the distance between them, her hands flying to his hair as he deepened the kiss.

The complete and utter glee she felt when kissing Adrien was one thing that hadn’t changed with time, and she knew from Adrien’s smile against her lips that the feeling was reciprocal.

“Anyway,” she said breathlessly when they finally broke off, “what did you do with our daughter?”

Adrien frowned and tilted his head to the side, still in a daze, before sitting up straight and clearing his throat. “Right, that’s why I came back!” He pulled out his phone and started looking through it. “The doctor said Emma was an absolute delight and pretty much a textbook example of baby reflexes, so she asked if she could go through the tests again with students to show them. I said yes in exchange for this.” He pressed a button and a rapid heartbeat sound filled the room, too quick for Marinette to be able to count the cycles. “Apparently her heart rate is a little quicker now that she’s born; she’s just like her mother, excited to be with me.” He nudged her playfully.

“Your heartbeat increased just as much when you saw me, might I remind you.” Marinette stuck her tongue out at him. “I can’t believe you left her with strangers instead of bringing her back with you.” She shook her head.

“Don't worry, she’s in safe hands. And anyway, Plagg and Tikki are hanging around, out of sight, of course. They already signed up to be her unofficial godparents, they won’t let anything happen to our little kitten.” He smiled.

“They better not.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against her cushions. “I can’t wait to take her back home.”

“Me too, Buguinette.” Adrien tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Before we go, would you like to try and sneak into the intensive care unit to show Emma where our dating life started, since we’re in the same building?”

“That would be pretty cute and romantic in almost any other setting, but believe me, I’m not taking my newborn daughter to the ICU if she doesn’t need it.” He pouted and she cupped his cheek. “We can definitely take a trip down memory lane later, though, just the two of us. Maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir can cheer people up while we’re at it.”

“And maybe they can help clueless people realise that they have feelings for each other.” He kissed the palm of her hand, looking at her mischievously.

“Sounds like a good plan!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, my plans are always excellent,” Adrien said with mock indignation.

“Of course they are,” Marinette chuckled, making him pout. “I love you, Chaton,” she added, bringing a smile to his face.

“Love you too, my Lady.”

Heartbeats

The famous “I-swear-it-gets-fluffier-it’s-just-this-first-part-that’s-a-little-angsty” one shot… Inspired by my brief ICU work experience and a reddit thread I read last week. Hope you guys enjoy! And special thanks @sd1970x for beta reading! 

—

Beep - Beep - Beep - Beep -

The sound of the heart rate monitor in the dark hospital room was driving Adrien crazy. It just seemed so slow, especially compared to the restless beat his foot was tapping on the ground as he waited. 

“Hey.” Alya layed a soothing hand on his jittery leg. “She’s going to be okay.”

Adrien raked a hand through his hair and looked at the resting body in the hospital bed. Alya couldn’t really understand. Sure, her best friend lay there, having been caught in the middle of an Akuma fight. But she didn’t know how.

She didn’t know it was the saviour of Paris they were watching breathe, making the sheets quietly rise and fall as she did so. His best friend, too. The girl of his dreams. He himself hadn’t known until the car had hit the chimney behind which Ladybug had retreated to feed Tikki while Chat held down the fort, their opponent having escaped their first Lucky Charm plan. 

He’d rushed to it and frantically dug out the rubble; he’d barely registered it was Marinette he was holding in his arms as he carefully extruded her from the pile of bricks. All he’d seen was the red blood that drenched her pink shirt. All he’d felt was the weakening pulse at her wrist. 

He’d dashed her to the hospital, ignoring the Akuma yelling after him to come back and fight.

She’d been rushed to the operating room as soon as they’d arrived, the doctors being afraid that she might sustain internal damage from her apparently broken ribs. Chat had just had time to snatch her earrings to avoid them getting lost. 

He’d then proceeded to kick the Akuma’s ass, fueled by the rage of it having injured his Lady. It was only after he’d purified the butterfly and everything had seemingly returned to normal that he’d realised he’d been crying. 

As he detransformed, two very concerned Kwamis floating in front of him, he’d been relieved to see a message from Alya in the class group chat saying Marinette was in stable condition, although still unconscious after her operation. He’d immediately volunteered to join her and Nino to visit their friend.

He stole another look at her. She looked so peaceful. Unhurt.

He knew the bulk of her injuries were concealed under the linen, though.

The monitor continued its incessant beeping. Adrien knew that it going silent would not be a good sign, but couldn’t help but be irritated by it nonetheless. Especially when the sound was superimposed with that in other rooms, as well as the bustling activity of the resuscitation ward.

“You’d think that with all this noise she’d be awake by now.” He mumbled. 

“Dude, relax. The doctors said she’s still sedated. She’ll wake up soon.” Nino wrapped an arm around his best friend’s shoulder. Adrien harrumphed doubtfully in reply.

“I’m more surprised that we haven’t seen Chat Noir around yet.” Nino added. “Apparently he’s the one who brought her in. He’s a cool dude.”

Alya nodded. “He really is.” Adrien’s heart warmed a little at his friends’ kind words. Then had to refrain from letting out an ironic snort at Alya’s next comment. “I still don’t understand what Marinette was doing there. It’s not like her to roam around fight scenes. It’s usually my job.”

“Your birthday’s coming up, babe, maybe she was trying to get a surprise message from Ladybug.” Nino shrugged.

As the pair bickered about how little or how much it was in character for Marinette to have been caught in the middle of offensive fire, Adrien got up to avoid betraying anything from his facial expression. He wasn’t sure Marinette would appreciate it if she woke up and found that all her friends knew that she actually didn’t need to stalk around Paris to get an autograph, or anything from Ladybug. She just had to say three little words to summon her. 

He approached the monitor screen, taking a look at his friend’s constants. He didn’t know much about medicine, but none of the numbers were flashing, which he assumed was a good sign. The electrocardiogram traced a regular curve that looked like the ones in medical shows. He took a mental note of the values. 

There was a small knock at the door before a nurse came into the room. “Marinette’s parents have returned, I’m sorry but she can’t have more than three visitors at a time and family has priority.” She said almost timidly. 

“Of course!” Alya replied with a smile. “We’ll be off.”

Adrien’s eyes stayed glued on the monitor, so she went around the bed and took him by the hand to gently drag him out of the room. She repressed a smile. For someone who claimed Marinette was ‘just a friend’, Adrien really seemed worried about her.

Tom and Sabine were waiting in the hallway. Tom looked the most shaken Adrien had ever seen him. He could tell he’d been crying.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Sabine said with a brave smile. “Sorry we had to go, but we hadn’t closed the bakery properly in the rush to get here.”

“Anything for Marinette.” Alya hugged her friend’s mother. “You’ll keep us updated? And don’t hesitate to call me if you need a bit of a breather, I’m sure we’re all happy taking turns to keep her company.” She didn’t have to turn around to know the two boys behind her were nodding.

“Of course.”

The three teenagers waved goodbye as they walked towards the exit. When the parents had entered the room, Adrien put his hands in his pockets and felt the two little studs he’d borrowed. 

“I forgot something in the room, I’ll be right back!” He said hurriedly as he turned around. He would’ve kept them safe for her, but he knew his Lady would probably panic if she woke up and couldn’t find them.

Nino looked at each other confusedly and shrugged.

When he was sure no one was in sight, he transformed into Chat Noir. It wasn’t the most discreet he’d ever been, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse as to why Adrien would have Marinette’s earrings. He knocked on the door before opening it. Tom and Sabine were sitting on each side of the bed, each holding one of Marinette’s hands. 

“Hi, Chat Noir.” Sabine said, wiping a tear.

Tom got up and engulfed him in a bear hug. “Thank you.”

Chat Noir awkwardly patted him on the back. “Anything for Marinette.” He parroted Alya. Including die for her. The thought scared him. “How is she?” He asked even though he knew the answer as he stepped away from the big man.

“She’ll be okay.” Sabine said. “The doctors repaired what they could, the rest will heal naturally. She’s going to be in a lot of pain, which is why they’re keeping her here, but they started weaning the sedatives so she can call the nurses if it hurts.”

Chat nodded. “I’m sure we’ll all be relieved when she wakes up.”

“Would there be any way for us to reach you to give you news?” Sabine asked hopefully.

“As much as I’d like to give you my contact details, I’m not sure it would be a good idea.” He smiled sadly. “But don’t worry, I’ll be around.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Anyway, I don’t want to bother you during your family time, I just wanted to make sure Marinette got these back.” He delicately transferred the earrings into Sabine’s hand. 

“Her lucky earrings.” She commented with a smile. “Thank you.”

“They weren’t so lucky this time.” He said gloomily.

“Of course they were! You found her.” Sabine squeezed Chat’s hand. “And the surgery went well.”

“We’re very grateful, son.” Tom patted him on the back.

Chat was moved by their words, which made his heart flutter in his chest. “I was only doing my duty.” 

“But you made a difference. And that matters.” 

Chat Noir wished that his father could sometimes be at least quarter as supportive as Tom and Sabine were. It would avoid him crying in instances like this.

“Will you tell her I came by?” He sniffled.

“Of course!” Sabine dug a tissue out of her bag, which he accepted gratefully, and a pen and paper. “You can write her a message too if you want, she’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

“Thank you.” 

He scribbled a quick word on the page, aware that he really needed to head back before Nino and Alya started worrying about his prolonged absence. 

Get well soon Purr-incess. I’ll be waiting for you. Love, Chat Noir P.S.: I might come back and borrow those earrings of yours again if I need extra luck.

“You took your time!” Alya greeted him with her hands on her hips as he finally walked out of the hospital.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nino asked, noticing the puffiness of his friend’s eyes, but not wanting to comment on it directly. 

“I think so.” Adrien smiled bravely. My Lady, at least. 

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