#very much tries to be a mother figure to the boys which H rejects (like how he started w SgtH) and D has complicated feelings abt it

[botseeksbot]

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you���d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[spn-romantica]

So I watched SPN for years, right up until the end of S11, when they brought back Mary. I heard that S15 would be the last season, and I was like ‘oh ok I’ll rewatch (for like the 8th time) and finish SPN then’ BUT THEN 15x18 happened and I was violently pulled back into the SPN fandom. I still haven’t caught up fully watching yet, but I’ve read so much discourse now...and I have thoughts. Hypotheses currently. I’ll wait to finish the whole show for real to call any of this theories but, I wanted to record my thoughts.

They’re about Chuck. As a villain. Which weirds me out. As an antagonist? Sure. As evil? No. Can’t envision it. I just finished my rewatch of S5 and, damn, but if Chuck is the ultimate villain, S5 reads very differently. :0

But I recently saw a post comparing Dean’s reaction in 1x18 (I believe) to his in 10x05 (for sure) about when someone mentions his mother’s death. In 1x18, it’s Sam when they were children and Dean gets angry. In 10x05, it’s a group of high school girls and Dean just bops his head along to the song. The post was framing it as 10x05 not understanding Dean’s thoughts about his mother, but I think that both episodes understand Dean. When Dean is a child, the trauma over his mother’s murder is still fresh. By 10x05, the event is 70 years in the past. Of course it still affects Dean. Of course. You never really get over something like that. But I’d argue that after 70 years, Dean has moved through the stages of grief to acceptance. It still hurts, but like an old ache, not a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Interestingly, 10x05 is when we see Chuck, after a long absence. He’s watching the play, probably happy that someone loves his work enough to even make a musical, but he is also watching the Winchesters. The actual episodes of the show, aka the books Chuck writes, are what Chuck knows/cares about regarding the Winchesters. Despite being God, I’d argue he doesn’t pay attention to every second and all the little minutia of the boys’ lives. So, here in 10x05, we have confirmation that Chuck is around to see that Dean has healed from his mother’s death.

Later, in S11, Dean acts as therapist/life counsellor to Chuck/God, regarding Amara and Lucifer. And it works! Dean teaches God about family and about healing. Why does God listen to Dean Winchester, a random human? Perhaps it is because of S1-5. Perhaps it is because Dean and Sam were part of God’s test, as God himself describes it in 5x22.

What was the test? Was it God’s experiment about choice and free will? About freedom vs peace? Or, perhaps, was God trying to understand sibling relationships? He and Amara are two faces of the same coin. They are siblings, but with very different outlooks and it caused a rift between them, caused Chuck to seal Amara away before she could destroy his creations. Chuck regretted this, but saw it as a necessary betrayal. But then, some time later, Chuck’s angelic children experience their own betrayal and sibling rift. Lucifer tries to turn the angels against God, rebel and reject God. He makes demons, for sure, and maybe even Hell. But why? God figures that Lucifer was maybe jealous of the new baby (humans) like others in the show postulates. Or maybe Lucifer had beef specifically with Michael, because humans are little more than amoebas from an angelic perspective. Aside from Castiel, Anna and a handful of other angels, angels consistently view humans as humans might view dust mites. Maybe humans were the cause of the rift between Michael and Lucifer, but it was Michael and Lucifer’s relationship that needed fixing in the end, regardless.

So God is left with the sad conclusion that maybe close siblings will inevitably betray each other and be unable to forgive and heal. He wants to heal with Amara. But he also wants Michael and Lucifer to be able to heal. (It doesn’t occur to God that maybe Lucifer’s problem was never with humanity or Michael; it was with God.)

So God has research to do, to see if it’s possible for siblings to experience such deep betrayal and still heal. He turns to his little hairless apes, the only sentient species on Earth with potential to parallel the angels. He starts testing siblings. Cain and Abel are first up. Needless to say, but the betrayal was too strong and left no room for healing. But on down the line of Cain, God continues testing. Eventually, we come to Sam and Dean.

God has scheduled Michael and Lucifer’s family counselling session for 2010. All the data up to this point says it can only end badly. Maybe it’ll half-kill the Earth, but it’s finally time for Michael and Lucifer to meet and for one of them to die. God isn’t happy about this conclusion, but it’s what the data says. So, finally, the last test subjects, the last in the line who will be the vessels for Michael and Lucifer’s showdown, arrive. Sam and Dean Winchester are to be the last sibling test. The conclusion seems foregone at this point, but there is no point in cancelling the last bit of the test after so long, so it continues. God watches. And Sam and Dean surprise God. Siblings after siblings had failed for millennia to heal. Betrayals too strong, healing too little, too late. But Sam and Dean. no matter how badly they hurt each other, find a way to come back together and heal. They don’t give up on each other, despite millennia of data to the contrary. Still, the angels and demons push and push at Sam and Dean until their rift is as wide and as deep as Michael and Lucifer’s, as God’s and Amara’s (in late S4). It seems, despite the brothers’ best efforts earlier on, it’s all for naught.

But there is a further element of randomness, something God couldn’t foresee. Castiel. God hasn’t had occasion for romantic love in his own experience, so he is entirely blind to what choices Castiel is likely to make. He provides an element of randomness to the experiment, an essential part that gives Dean the ultimate chance to go back to Sam and begin to heal (4x22).

Throughout S5, Sam and Dean heal. There is hurt, still, of course, but they love each other and forgive each other. By 5x22, they’ve surprised everyone. Even the angels have given up on turning them against each other, and have shrugged and settled for using Nick and Adam as the vessels for the showdown. Sam and Dean passed their test. They were siblings who betrayed each other and healed from it. God reconsiders how family counselling will go with Michael and Lucifer. He figured it would be the Apocalypse, the end of the problems between Michael and Lucifer, as one of them dies, as had always happened before. But, Sam and Dean showed God, that though it is rare, it is possible to heal. So God gives Sam and Dean an out. He gives Sam the strength to seize back control from Lucifer, should things go south.

Finally, the showdown arrives. Michael and Lucifer meet. They talk things out. To God’s surprise, Lucifer reveals that he never had a problem with Michael. He had forgiven Michael long ago. But Michael couldn’t forgive Lucifer. He had to be a ‘good son’ and do what he thought God wanted him to do. But Michael didn’t realise, that God doesn’t give orders. Free will all the way, baby! But the whole thing comes as a surprise. Apparently, all this time, the problem relationship wasn’t siblings, it was parents.

Oops.

Good thing God had a back-up plan.

Sam throws himself and Lucifer (and Michael and Adam) into the Cage. Michael and Lucifer have an eternity to figure things out between each other now. But that’s beside the point. The point is, now, that God has to start testing all over again. Not how to fix sibling relationships, but how to fix parent-child relationships.

God restores Castiel, perhaps for a few reasons because God exists outside of time, but originally it may have been just for one. He likes Castiel. He is impressed that Castiel invented free will for himself, broke free of angelic programming (multiple times over), and did it all for love. It’s novel. It’s interesting. God might even think it’s sweet. But God has had time later, and thought about it, and he has a plan. And Castiel is essential.

But Dean Winchester is the key.

Sam and Dean’s relationship with their own father has been strained, but both boys find a way to forgive John his flaws and failings, and love him. Whenever they do get a chance to see him again, post his death, they don’t hate him. They’ve healed. John’s relationship with Sam and Dean is one point of data, Abraham and Isaac another. There are many data points that God can reflect back on and consider.

But as S6 through S10 roll on, God watches Sam and Dean and Castiel. He even watches Crowley and Rowena for another data point. Dean is his main focus, however. (This is a little meta, but as the story focuses more on Dean than Sam post S5, it ties in. Prior to S6, both Sam and Dean were essential - the sibling test. Now, post S5, the parent test, Dean is the most essential. Of course, Sam and Castiel are important too. But Dean is key.)

Dean is a good father. He was a good father to Sam, even when he was only 6 years old himself. He was a good father to Ben. He was willing to die for Bobby John. He’s always good with kids. Not only that, but Dean is blunt enough, brave enough, and crazy enough to tell God to God’s face what he thinks. God needs Dean’s advice, his perspective and opinion on family relationships, but he also needs to see what Dean would do if he were in God’s shoes.

[Edit (1/04/21): After seeing Michael and Lucifer (mostly) heal, and after seeing Sam and Dean heal their relationship, God finally has hope for him and Amara. So God logically wants to retrieve Amara from her prison. But how? Well, he could just wander on up to Cain and do it himself, but what would Amara say? “So I see you’ve come crawling back, eh, Chucky?” She wouldn’t be impressed with God. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s hopeless too. SO how to give her hope? How to make her see that she and God can be okay again? Why, stick her near Dean Winchester, of course! So God sets things up for Dean to get and lose the Mark of Cain, thereby ensuring that Amara will feel a connection to Dean and stick around him/keep him alive long enough for Dean to work his life-coach magic.]

In S11, God and Amara heal their relationship because of the hope Sam and Dean gave God, and also the direct advice Dean gives God. God and Lucifer, not so much.

God needs more data. He needs to see what Dean would do. In comes Castiel’s relevance. God sets things up so that Lucifer can have a son. A nephil. Jack. And God points Castiel in Jack’s direction, trusting Castiel’s ability for unconditional love to keep Jack alive long enough for the experiment. Castiel becomes Jack’s father. But Castiel will never betray Jack, the way God betrayed Lucifer. And, besides, Castiel isn’t the target of this experiment. But it is Castiel’s relationship with Dean Winchester that provides the link needed to get the experiment rolling.

Because Jack is Castiel’s son, he is therefore Sam and Dean’s nephew. Except, God has been watching Castiel and Dean. And, frankly, their romantic love for each other is so obvious even God cannot miss it. Through Castiel, Dean sees Jack as his son too. He loves Jack, exactly like a son. In this way, Dean parallels God, and Jack parallels Lucifer.

But God knows Dean would not easily turn on any child, let alone his own child. So God had a plan for that too. One that Amara helped him with.

They brought back Mary Winchester.

Mary is the one person in existence whose loss would hurt Dean enough to spur him to action. So, she was brought back to die. It was a matter of only a few years of gentle prodding to get everything in position. Jack causes Mary’s death. Dean is faced with a horrible decision. If Jack can kill Mary, what’s to say that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t be next? Mary’s death is like everything beginning all over again for Dean as well. Her first death set off a chain reaction, a series of unfortunate events that spanned decades and nearly caused the ruination of not only Dean’s life, but Sam’s and John’s and even the world. That scar, which had healed as well as it could after 70 years, that God saw was healed in 10x05, has been violently opened up again. It’s the only thing that could force Dean’s hand, that could get him to betray Jack and try to kill him. If Jack had killed Sam or Castiel, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Both Sam and Castiel had died and come back so many times, and while it would hurt Dean and make him doubt Jack, their deaths would be a sacrifice that Dean would feel obligated to respect, to give Jack a second chance like they would both want. (And God has been laying the groundwork for Dean, convincing him that Jack is evil, will be evil like Lucifer, can’t be allowed to live. All things God has thought about Lucifer over time. Was Lucifer inherently evil? Was their rift inevitable?)

So, here it is. The big test. Will Dean kill Jack? Will he betray Jack and cause an unhealable rift? Or will he find a way to heal, like he did with Sam against all the odds?

And, once again, Dean impresses God. He refuses to kill Jack.

But now we’re in the endgame. Sam, Dean and Castiel are aware that Jack’s life was only on the line because of God. It’s not something they can forgive, or understand. They’re all God’s guinea pigs, and while he loves his guinea pigs, he knows he’s hurt them in the name of science, of knowledge. or healing, and God can’t undo what he’s done. Free will is linear, after all. So it is time for the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack included, to be done with God. God is done with them, too. It’s time for them to be free and at peace. The experiments are done. God has decided not to kill Lucifer. He has decided to try to heal. He can get Lucifer out of the Empty and talk and try to fix things. He has forever to fix things, now that he knows he can. (The last element of this, Jack forgiving Dean for trying to kill him, is something I have limited knowledge of, but I am under the impression happens so... To be added in the edit once I finish the series.)

But the only way the Winchesters will be able to rest, is if they think God, the last and greatest villain, is out of the way. They know they’ve been manipulated their whole lives, first towards the sibling experiment and now the parent experiment, so they need to think God is gone so they can feel secure in their free will once more. Truthfully, God never took their free will. He set them up in situations, maybe even gave a bio-chemical nudge of anger (Dean) or attraction (Sam and Eileen) every now and then. But the choices were always theirs. Still, God knows they won’t see it that way. So he sets things up so that they can defeat him.

He lets them win. He wants them to win. They cannot defeat God, after all. It’s not God’s time, and Death is the only one who can claim God in the end, as the two embrace as friends and walk to the next existence. But the Winchesters need this, and so God allows it. A last gift, to the beings who have been such help, hope and inspiration to him.

With an eye for an eventual S16, 15x20 is written to be ‘an ending’ but also one that could easily be reframed as a bad dream.

For example...

Unfortunately, after Jack, suped up on a extra Grace God lent him, restores the Earth and expends all the Grace (”giving up the mantle of God so that their is no God, no plans, only Free Will”), and Dean, Sam and Jack head back to the Bunker to regroup and gather the ingredients to do the spell to rescue Castiel from the Empty, they’re jumped by monsters who are angry with how much God has fucked with them on behalf of the Winchesters. 15x20 is all a djinn dream Dean is trapped in.

16x01 is Dean waking himself up from the djinn dream, Sam and Jack escaping their own monsters, and then the end of 16x01 is Dean saying something about waking Castiel up from his own dreams in the Empty. The rest of S16 sees the boys save Castiel, reunite with Eileen, start a monster-hunting Bobby Singer/Men of Letters-esque organisation, Dean and Castiel getting together and getting married on Valentine’s Day, Jack getting to live a normal life, going to school, making friends, etc.

If their is no S16 ever (which would be criminal), then 15x20 makes no sense, unless it is plainly a recount of an old, hopeless ending written by God. However you spin it, 15x20 is not the way it seems (like owls).

All things being said, God is an antagonist, but he’s not evil. He’s an asshole, sure, but he never once worked against the Winchesters, never bet against them, never tried to erase or end them. He wanted them to win. He wanted to see the fruits of free will be love, second chances, hope, forgiveness, healing, and happiness, not just betrayal, pain, selfishness, jealousy, disappointment, and hopelessness.

Why is the ending he shows Becky ‘hopeless’? Because God is. He has spent his long existence losing his most loved family members. Amara, Lucifer. How can things end well for God, when they can’t even end well for humans? But Sam and Dean defy the script, again and again. They surprise God, defying the statistics, defying the hypotheses, throwing the experiment into disarray. Giving God hope. Sam and Dean were okay. Dean and Jack were okay. If God had a romantic love, he would find hope from Dean and Castiel being okay. But when God wrote the book he showed Becky, he was writing what he thought would happen. In the end, surely, not even Dean can be enough to hold Sam and Cas and Jack together. But in the end, as we see, as God sees, he is proven wrong and he’s happy to be wrong. He’s hopeful. And he can leave Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack, and all the angels and all the humans, to rule the Earth and the Heavens. He doesn’t need to learn anything more from them, so he heads to the Empty, with Amara, with Lucifer, with Death (Billie or not, Death is there for God in the end), and they can all depart for a better existence of their own.

If you read all of this, thanks! I eagerly anticipate watching the remaining 10 seasons so I can come back and edit the heck outta this, but until then, if y’all have any thoughts, I’d be interested to hear them~

TLDR: God is a morally bankrupt scientist and the Winchesters are his guinea pigs, but he’s not evil and he does love his guinea pigs, even if he could really treat them nicer.

[tessiete]

hi ive read like all your stuff about korkie is a kenobi in the span of about three days and i'm so EMOTIONAL?? it makes such narrative sense - star wars is a story about fathers and sons and what happens when mothers are lost and in eternal spring, when obi wan doesn't reject korkie, and korkie doesn't reject obi wan, and they love each other and accept each other despite the gaping hole that satine left in their relationship it like heals and breaks that cycle of little blonde boys being 1/

of little blonde boys being left in the desert without their mothers and with father figures who don't quite accept the responsibility of being a father to all of their detriments! it lets padme live, and it lets luke escape, and it lets everyone who wants to heal and work towards a better future. anyway, this is some Good Fucking Food and thank u for writing it. if you're still open to prompts i would really like to see some kryze-kenobi family bonding. just the three of them happy and together 

AH! This has been sitting so beautifully, and lovingly in my inbox for ages now, and I do apologise, but I just - I saw fluff and I panicked. I PANICKED!!!

And, as you can probably see, wrote reams of whump and h/c instead. But I tried.

Anyway, there is so much I want to say about this - I’m going to have to bookmark this whole thing just so I can come back again and again to your generous words. Thank you! I do have such a fondness for Eternal Spring, and whether or not it began as a joke, I am SO attached to the idea of Korkie as a Kenobi, the idea that blood isn’t always bad, that healing can happen, that good people make mistakes, that forgiveness IS an option - and I love how that aligns with the Pacifism of Satine’s New Mandalorians. I wish we had more of it (that insistent, unrelenting kindness and compassion) in SW, and Korkie is my little effort at that.

RANTING ASIDE, I hope you find and enjoy this little bit of fluff for the Kenobi-Kryzes. MUCH LOVE.

AND BY THE HAND LED

It was not Life Day. It was not Holyrod week, and Belli’s birthday had been a full ten month ago. Yet still, on this day, Kirokicek Kryze woke with the sun, and raced to his window where he could see the Sundari dockyard in the distance. 

Personal shuttles buzzed to and fro. Docking tugs hauled heavy freighters into place. Long, thin vactrains hurtled passengers from one platform to the next, or further on into the heart of the city. A few large ferries which had found mooring overnight made their ponderous voyage upwards, headed for the small opening at the apex of the Sundari dome. They were bound for transports anchored in wet space, the people aboard away for deep space travel to distant stars. 

Korkie watched as one neared the aperture, then, with incredible steadiness of hand, cleared the narrow gap with ease. He let go his breath, but his eyes remained fixed upon the opening. He was not much concerned with the ships that left, but instead found great interest in those ferries which were currently arriving.

They took turns - one in, one out - and with every exchange, Korkie felt as though the city was making room for a very special guest. One who loomed larger than life in his young consciousness, and one who occupied more and more space in his heart the closer he came.

Bebu was coming home.

A knock at his door was not enough to tear his attention from the spectacle outside, but he shuffled over to make room for his mother beside him at the window.

“Good morning, cyar'ika,” she said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “And what has got you up so early?”

She still wore her nightclothes beneath a fine gown of pressed velvet. Korkie leaned back into her embrace, stroking the soft fabric, and letting the warm, sweet smell of sleep wash over him.

“I’m watching the dockyards,” he said. “Look! Do you think that one of them has Bebu on it?”

Satine let her chin rest on the crown of his head, and followed his gaze to the sky.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Are you excited for your Bebu to come home?”

Korkie turned, trying to get a glimpse of her expression which could only be as teasing as his own was incredulous. She smiled.

“Excited, Belli?” he asked. “I am so, so, superlatively excited!”

“My,” she said, her face transforming to one of awe. “That is quite a superlative word you have discovered. Is it new?”

Korkie nodded. “I am saving it for Bebu, for our collection. Do you think he shall like it?”

“I think he shall be quite impressed, dinui.”

“I have another, but I always say it wrong, so I think I shall write it down, instead.”

“That is very wise,” she said. “For then there is no chance of misunderstanding, and then your father can teach you to speak it correctly.”

Korkie grinned, and squeezed her hand, so glad to be in such perfect accord. 

“That was exactly my plan, Belli!”

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast,” she said, laughing. “Now come.”

“Are we going to the docks?”

“Not yet,” she said. “First meal first, I think, and then we shall see.”

She stood from her place behind Korkie, and smoothed her skirts. The early morning sun fell kindly over her face, so that it lit her eyes from behind, like the facet of some bright gem. She held out her hand to him.

“But Belli -!”

“Is that fussing I hear coming out of your mouth?” she asked, the perfect image of confusion.

“No,” he conceded, hanging his head in defeat.

“I thought not,” she said. “Not my Korkie. Besides, we must first ensure that we are properly fed, and tidied before we appear at the docks. We cannot have our tummies grumbling and complaining while we are at the height of a superlative joy, now can we?”

“That would be rather distracting,” he allowed.

“And what would your father think if you showed up all bleary eyed, and sleep tousled? He’d hardly recognise you!”

“That’s not true,” protested Korkie. “He’d think me a ‘devoted legislator’. He said so last time.”

Satine cocked her head, a smirk curling in the corner of her mouth, and pinned just there, until such a time as she could give it to the owner of those borrowed words. 

“Well, cyare, I cannot think he meant it as a compliment,” she said, wiggling her fingers temptingly. “Now come - to firsts.

In the kitchens, his mother suggested they arrange a menu, scrounged from the conservator and pantry, while the staff set about preparing for the rest of their day.

“No need to bother anyone too much when it’s just us, right?” She placed a stool in front of an out of the way countertop, and held his hand while Korkie made a great leap to stand atop it. “Now, what are we hungry for?”

“Isbeans, and egg!” he cried. “With fresh muja juice!”

“Muja juice!” she echoed in surprise. “My, but we’re feeling quite indulgent today!”

“Well, it is a special occasion!” he said.

“Of course, you’re right. Muja juice it is. Anything else, ad’ika?”

He thought for a moment, but knowing how easily she had acceded to his first request, he concluded it most reasonable to forward several more.

“Perhaps some toast,” he said. “And flatcakes. And melon squares with black fire jelly? And then some moof milk and summerberries because they’ll go bad if we don’t eat them. With sucre crystals on the top. And maybe - only because Bebu says it’s healthy - a cup of kava. But just one, or I’ll be up all night.”

She crouched down to meet him, mischief sparkling in her eyes and not a word of protest at his requests. Instead, her tone was conspiratorial, as though they were together in some great game of hide and hunt. 

“Let’s brew a whole pot,” she said. “So that we may share it.”

He laughed in delight. Satine pulled down a tin of weava flour, and let him sprinkle the surface while she portioned out another measure into a shallow bowl for flatcakes. Under her careful eye, he cracked a tip-yip egg, and tipped in some sucre. She worked the mixture into a sticky dough, and portioned out small spheres for Korkie to press out upon the counter. Cook A’den looked on skeptically, but when his stack of raw discs began to pile up, she stepped in with a sigh, and a fond smile and lifted him on her hip while she fried them over a nano-cooker. 

As he worked, Satine gathered the berries and the milk, and a little pot of sucre. Helping hands piled plates high with toast, and ulik butter. Isbeans and hard boiled eggs followed, kept warm beneath heated domes. A whole pitcher of ice cold muja juice was produced from the conservator, and a fresh pot of kava was left to steep with wide, green leaves still in it. There was so much food that, in the end, a small cart was required to bear the fruits of their labours, while Korkie added the final touch of perfectly browned flatcakes.

Normally, they would eat their firsts in the family dining hall, but Satine insisted that she could not possibly do so while still dressed in her nightclothes.

“And scandalise the whole parliament? I think not, my very shocking dinui. No, it’s best we take everything back to my rooms, and eat there where no one will think us as uncivilised as we appear.”

So with many thanks to A’den, and her workers, Korkie followed his mother down the glistening marbloid halls with their wide windows. The sun was nearly all the way up, and the traffic in the sky had only increased since Korkie last looked. He was hit with the sudden realisation that perhaps many ferries had come and gone in his absence, and any one of them might contain his father. He raced to the window to check.

“Come along, Korkie,” said Satine. “Soon. I promise.”

Torn between food and the possibility that his father was waiting for him even now, Korkie gave into the demands of his hunger, and followed his mother down the hall.

They stopped outside her door, the cart pushed just off to the side. Satine looked at him appraisingly, smoothing one hand over his determinedly erstwhile hair.

“Oh dear,” she said, straightening his synfleece robe, as he reached for the cart to steal a summerberry from the pile. “You do look a sight. But I suppose it cannot be helped.”

She gave him a fond caress, her thumb tracing the swell of his little cheek with such reverence, and care that Korkie nearly felt guilty for snatching the fruit. But she smiled as he swallowed, and he supposed it must just have been one of those strange things buirs did from time to time, where they mixed up joy and sorrow and said nothing about it.

“I shall comb my hair later, Belli,” he offered. That seemed to do the trick, for she laughed, and stood, and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“I will remember you said that,” she said. “Now, be a good boy and get the door for your Belli, would you?”

She returned to the cart, as he wiped his hands down the length of his robe, and reached for the palmpad. The door chimed, and slid aside with the barest sigh of air. Inside, Korkie could see that the curtains had been pulled back, and the room was flooded blue and gold with the oncoming day. Playful shadows danced across the floor where hanging tassels toyed with the sun. The carpet glistened like thick grass, lush and crowned in dew. A small table with three chairs sat to one side, and an old cloak lay thrown across it. There were boots, too large for his mother to wear, a belt too wide to be hers, and there, in the bed, swaddled in silkweed sheets and haloed by the sun, was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hovering on the edge of waking.

“Bebu!” Korkie shouted.

At his cry, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and smiled, catching his son as raced across the floor and leapt upon the bed in a single motion. 

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.”

“Bebu!” Korkie cried again, laughing and wriggling with joy. His father lifted him over his head, holding him aloft as he made his cursory examination.

“Korkicek!” he groaned, as his strength gave out and Korkie tumbled atop his father’s chest in a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You must be very much grown since I last saw you, for you are getting too heavy for me!”

“No, I’m not, Bebu,” he said. “I’ve only grown two centimeteres since you were gone, and Belli says that’s only because I’m on a spurt.”

“Only two centimeters?” Obi-Wan demands. “Dear me, that’s not very much at all. I shall expect more diligence in your efforts at stretching if we are to make any serious headway in this matter.”

Korkie giggled. “Don’t be silly, Bebu,” he said. “I cannot stretch myself bigger. It takes time.”

“And heavy reading,” Obi-Wan agreed gravely.

“And good eating,” Satine added from behind them. She’d set the table in their distraction. Obi-Wan’s cloak now hung respectably from a hook by the fresher blind, and three plates sat waiting to be filled. The isbeans steamed, their skin crackling and blackened. The flatcakes dripped with galek syrup and butter. The summerberries shone plump and delectable in their precarious pyramid. The black fire jellies jiggled, and the muja juice sparkled.

“Is that fresh kava I smell?” asked Obi-Wan. 

“It is!” said Korkie. “And all sorts of things which Belli and I made! I suppose it’s a lucky thing we made so much extra, for now you can share it with us.”

“A lucky thing, indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed. He looked at Satine with such adoration that the smirk she had pinned up earlier unfurled completely and crossed her face in a radiant smile. 

“Come, Bebu,” said Korkie, taking his father’s hand in his. “Enough lazing about in bed. Let’s eat, or the kava will get cold.”

“Quite right,” Obi-Wan agreed, standing as Korkie slid to his feet beside him, and tugged him over to where Satine was waiting. “We can’t have that.”

“And you may have my cup as well,” added Korkie, magnanimously, “As it is truly a rotten drink, even if you say it is healthy. But since it is such a special day, I don’t think I should be forced to have it, anyway.”

“He drives a hard bargain, your son,” said Obi-Wan, leaning in to beg a small kiss.

“Ah, but of course,” said Satine, quick to grant his request. “He gets that from you, cyare.”

--

“Ah, ner wer'ika! Ni mirdir tion'tuur gar ru'kel olaror. Bic cuyir ori'udes tion'tuur gar cuyir dar.” - Ah, my little terror! I was wondering when you might show up. It has been far too quiet without you.

“Te jatne mind jo'lekir ti ast” - The best mind agrees with itself. (read: Great minds think alike.)

ad’ika, dinui, cyare - little one, gift, beloved.

[cynicalclassicist]

The Atheists Tragedy and The Lion King

So The Lion King is often termed as Hamlet with lions. Yet while looking around at Renaissance Tragedies I came across a piece called The Atheists Tragedy or The Honest Mans Revenge, which I feel resembles it more.

The play was written by Cyril Tourneur in 1611. He is also supposed to have written The Revenger’s Tragedy, published in 1607, now more generally thought to have been written by Thomas Middleton.

The play may be read here. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/55625/55625-h/55625-h.htm

A summary and further details may be read here. https://cord.ung.edu/athiests.html

So in The Atheists Tragedy we have the French Baron Montferrers, who has a son Charlemont and a brother D’amville (possibly a pun considering where he will end up), the titular Atheist. As this is the Renaissance the portrayal of atheists is... not exactly pleasant, the usual official perception then was that atheists were inherently immoral.

Like Scar D’amville plots to seize power over his nephew, while pretending to be a kindly uncle. When his nephew Charlemont wants to go off to war D’amville loans him the money to do so, despite Montferrers wishing his only son to stay.

Scar also manipulates Simba into going, firstly to the Elephant Graveyard, which Mufasa has told Simba not to go to, by telling him only the bravest lions go there. Then later outright telling him to run away.

D’amville murders his brother by throwing him into a pit, like Scar murders his brother by throwing him off a cliff.

Well it isn’t really the fall that kills the Baron, D’amville’s henchman Borachio smashes his skull with a stone.

Scar seizes power on the pretext that with his brother and nephew dead he is heir. D’amville fakes his nephew’s death, having his henchman Borachio bring a false message that Charlemont was killed in war, the war which he encouraged his nephew to leave for.

Scar seized power believing his nephew was dead, having sent his hyenas to kill his nephew after telling Simba to run away and never come back. However Simba escaped them and flees into exile.

D’amville also has a trouble with incompetent henchmen, sending Borachio to shoot Charlemont when he visits his father’s tomb. But the pistol misfires and Charlemont kills Borachio.

Both heroes encounter their father’s ghost, Charlemont sees his father’s ghost just after their death, telling him to return to France.

Simba meets his father’s spirit when he is grown, by the prompting of the Baboon Rafiki.

This is often compared to the ghost of Hamlet’s father but is very different. Hamlet’s father tells his son to avenge their murder. Mufasa and Montferrers tell their sons to return home, reminding them of their duties. Montferrers even says to leave vengeance to God.

Now this refers to a scene cut from the film but retained for stage version, possibly for the content. Scar holds power but is paranoid, then decides to produce an heir.

Scar in The Madness of King Scar comments: Without a queen, what am I? A dead end, no line, no descendants, no future. With a queen, I'll have cubs... Immortality will be mine! Immortality will be mine!

Nala enters, the eventual wife of his nephew. He then tries to seduce her, telling her:

We'll create a host of little Scars.

But she rejects this and flees the Pridelands.

As D’amville says at the end of the first scene when his sons Rousard and Sebastian enter:

Here are my sons.— There's my eternity. My life in them And their succession shall for ever live. And in my reason dwells the providence To add to life as much of happiness. Let all men lose, so I increase my gain, I have no feeling of another's pain.

To enhance this power D’amville has his elder son Rousard marry Castabella, the betrothed of Charlemont. However Rousard is sickly and thus unable to produce children. D’amville decides that in order to continue his line he will have children with his daughter-in-law.

D'Am. 'By my persuasion thou wert forced To marry one unable to perform The office of a husband. I was the author Of the wrong. My conscience suffers under't, and I would Disburthen it by satisfaction. Cast. How? D'Am. I will supply that pleasure to thee which he cannot.

Likewise Castabella is horrified, calling it incest due to her being his daughter-in-law. Charlemont then frightens his uncle away disguised as the ghost of his father.

In The Lion King Scar, when attacking Simba’s mother Sarabi sees Simba, initially mistaking them for Mufasa. Interestingly enough the live-action version has Scar having designs on Sarabi... as if pushing the Hamlet link more.

Incidentally D’amville’s schemes come to naught. Rousard dies of sickness, Sebastian, who objected to his brother’s marriage and is on bad terms with his father, has been having an affair with Castabella’s stepmother Levidulcia and performs a mutual kill duelling her husband Belforest to give time for her to escape. Which proves pointless as on finding both dead she kills herself.

Both D’amville and Scar start to lose their sanity. D’amville after counting the money from his brother’s revenues sees them in a dream. With his sons dead D’amville observes there may be a power above him. Before that he talks to the skulls in the graveyard, thinking his brother’s ghost is after him.

Scar in his madness still obsesses over his brother and plays with skulls.

Both have a meet-up between the love interests after escaping the villain. Charlemont forgives Castabella on finding out she was forced into the marriage and they lie down to sleep on skulls... of course fitting with the moralistic approach no further.

The Lion King, not being quite so conservative, has Simba and Nala meet in Can you feel the Love tonight and implies their union.

The Lion King clearly has the superior ending though. The Atheists Tragedy has Charlemont and Castabella sentenced to death for alleged fornication and Charlemont killing and D’amville agreeing to carry out the sentence.

In The Lion King Simba is accused of killing his father, with Scar forcing him back off a cliff in a similar way to how he killed Mufasa. Then when he tells Simba he killed Mufasa they are inspired to defeat them and force his confession.

D’amville himself tried to accuse his nephew of a crime when they first returned, having them arrested for not paying back the loan. Though his son Sebastian pays the money so their cousin can be released.

In The Atheists Tragedy...

D'Am. I ha' the trick on't, nephew. You shall see How easily I can put you out of pain.—Oh! [As he raises up the axe he strikes out his own brains, and staggers off the scaffold. Exe. In lifting up the axe I think he's knocked his brains out.

I would imagine that performing that on stage would get a laugh, especially with the Executioner’s comment.

But he’s still able to confess he was the villain before expiring.

Scar’s downfall works better, with him trying to throw the hyenas under the bus, surviving his battle with his nephew, but his hyenas, starved under his rule, turning on him.

Unlike Hamlet these works do not have the wronged party, the murdered figure’s son, take direct revenge. Frequently of course in Revenge Tragedies the Revenger will not survive the play, the implication being seeking personal revenge is a bad thing and will destroy you.

Simba does not actively seek revenge, refraining from killing his uncle when backing them into a corner and instead threatening them with exile. It is only when his uncle attacks that he fights, defending himself. Unlike Hamlet who plots revenge and in the process kills the innocent Polonius. Likewise Charlemont only fights for defence, killing Borachio when they try to kill him.

Hamlet is a much more questioning and complex character, questioning the natural order and natural rules. Charlemont is more of a good boy, doing what he should. This is contrasted with his uncle who completely opposed to natural rules, thinking of pleasure and the strength of his line, fitting the Renaissance stereotype of an atheist, even down to incest. His crimes are visited upon his sons, the elder with sickness, the younger, even though decent and honourable, also dies.

Charlemont says after his uncle’s death...

Charl. Only to Heaven I attribute the work, Whose gracious motives made me still forbear To be mine own revenger. Now I see That patience is the honest man's revenge.

The message is simple. Don’t take revenge yourself. Leave it to God. A quite conservative and pious approach. It is not overall a tragedy for Charlemont, who survives. Even the way the villain seems to lose through strokes of bad luck despite his cunning, one son falling ill after the forced marriage, another dying in a duel, a pistol misfiring, then D’amville himself dying in a contrived manner, seem to imply the agency of God.

The Revenger’s Tragedy is thought to act as a contrast, with the Revenger ending up dead.

Charlemont can now marry Castabella (still virgin due to her husband’s sickness) can wed.

The play ends with Charlemont saying

Charl. Thus, by the work of heaven, the men that thought To follow our dead bodies without tears Are dead themselves, and now we follow theirs.

Anyway with the villain dead Simba becomes King, and with Nala has a child, completing the circle of life.

All is good.

Of course The Lion King is quite by the basics in its Renaissance Play structure, I doubt the writers sought consciously to base it on this play. It’s just interesting food for thought. Perhaps because The Atheists Tragedy is so by the basics and standard moralistic and this is trying to tell a family friendly version of these plays.

Some good essays I found on this.

https://extra.shu.ac.uk/emls/journal/index.php/emls/article/view/446/325?fbclid=IwAR2ewO9GXlYLzL8Rqz2EqzR_ZpXdJMmFmoC2HxamR1p3m9fh6RcVsa9mmz0

https://ttu-ir.tdl.org/bitstream/handle/2346/19767/31295004630041.pdf?sequence=1&fbclid=IwAR19yKmgpvOVxEsO4fv65PtScBYVYxVxg3lYwZHJNANzXLMCSVEMi2raaqw

@blackcur-rants​ @epic-summaries​ @ylvisruinedmylife​

[captain-sodapop]

Alright.  Let’s finally talk about how Dean’s death was no surprise.

(Goddammit, I was so close.  I knew I should have put down “Dean gets impaled by rebar” instead of “Dean keels over from a massive heart attack” in my final season predictions.)

So, 14x10 “Nihilism” aired almost two years ago now, and the night that episode aired, I wrote a story speculating what it would look like if Dean’s book read that he was going to die an inherently normal death.  The story itself isn’t important here, but what is important is that was probably the night I got comfortable with the idea that Dean Winchester probably wasn’t going to make it all the way to the end of the show.  I essentially began that process of grieving his character two years in advance.  The clues that Dean wasn’t going to make it are many, but I realize that it’s a surprise for a lot of people, and a hurtful one at that.  And I won’t lie, it does hurt - it would have been nice if he made it to the end, but it was a longshot.  There was a sort of inevitability to it, and we can argue about whether it was the best choice or not somewhere else; what’s important here is that in the context of the show, it makes sense.  

A lot of the reason it makes sense was because if we’re being honest, starting roughly at 14x10, Dean begins to slowly but surely alienate himself from his family and completely alienates himself from them by 14x20.  Yes, Chuck is definitely a puppet master here, but we know because we’ve seen it that it’s possible to break away from Chuck and make your own choices - Sam and Dean do it all the time.  

A lot of this alienation revolves around Cas and Jack.  We’ve gone over and over the fact that yes, Jack was in a really fucking weird spot after he killed AU!Michael (was he soulless?  How much of his soul was left?  Was he good, evil?), and was struggling, and it ultimately culminated in him accidentally (ACCIDENTALLY.  GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULLS.  HE’S LIKE A TODDLER WHO ACCIDENTALLY SET OFF A GUN AND KILLED SOMEBODY.  Read The Secret Life of Bees, Jesus H.) killing Mary.  So now Chuck’s got all his little pieces in place: Dean’s despair and grief has blinded him to the point where he can shift back into black-and-white mode and treat Jack as an evil being and can willfully ignore Cas’s desire to protect and help his own son, roping in Sam to be an accomplice in his manipulative plan.  We know the story.  Dean was going to kill Jack in that graveyard until he finally broke out of Chuck’s storyline once again, but at this point, the damage is done.  Cas was willing to fight Dean to protect Jack, Sam was racing to stop him, and he still almost did it.  In 15x01, even though he can now see Jack didn’t deserve to die, he still ultimately blames Cas for what happened to his mother, tries to make him work with the demon using Jack’s body as a vessel, and drives Cas away in 15x03 after telling him he basically believes Cas is the only one who fucks things up.  (And you call this true love?  Fuck all the way off.  God or no God, this shit ain’t good.)  This man told a grieving father to fuck off.  

So that’s Cas gone.  And frankly, I’m amazed Cas could ever forgive Dean for something like that.  (That’s part of what makes 15x18 so bad shhhhhhh.)

Now, we know Sam has his own shit and he wasn’t gonna go anywhere, was somewhat - or not even somewhat, totally, even if he didn’t like it - complicit in deceiving Jack, and I’m not sure he ever quite knew why Cas left, which is another deceptive move by Dean similar to the one later in the season where he struggles to tell Sam that Billie’s plan is going to kill Jack.  So Dean also lies to his brother, but what’s new.  (What’s interesting about Sam’s story this season is that from the time Eileen returned, it was pretty obvious they were setting him up to survive the story, but he didn’t seem to ever think he deserved it, which he totally does.  They both do, they ALL do, but anyways...)  15x16 and 17 find Sam and Dean as at odds with each other as they’ve ever been: lies, hiding information, Dean claiming the boy Sam and Cas claim as a son isn’t family (which is so out of character for Dean, but...ugh, ANYWAY), and ultimately culminating in Dean pulling a gun on Sam and Sam having to pull him back from the edge.  

All of this is to say that from about 14x19 to 15x17, Dean was behaving like a complete asshole to just about everybody he claims to care about.  He was even sitting by himself in 15x11:

(Look!  We’ve got three people who respect and forgive each other on one side, and Angry McShoutsALot on the other.  Guess who dies?)

For a guy who’s all about family, Dean sure does a good job of rejecting the family unit in the last season.  And even though Sam unfortunately doesn’t get to know this until decades later and he himself is in Heaven, and even though we don’t get to see them in the finale, Cas and Jack ultimately survived the story and rebuilt Heaven and are presumably together.  Now, I know I’m giving this show a lot of credit it probably doesn’t deserve, but it’s almost as if Sam, Cas, and Jack working to protect and save the family unit ultimately saved themselves in the end.  They show constant concern for each other, no strings attached, work to find other ways if it means they can ALL survive, not just some of them, so they can stay together as a family.  Meanwhile, Dean is so wrapped up in his own existential crisis and grief that he forgets the family he has and instead plays right into Chuck’s hands.  Chuck is defeated in the end, but Dean is ultimately the one who has to pay the ultimate price for his behavior, and he gets impaled on some rebar.  Ouch!

Now.  Would it have been nice if Dean had made it to the end, lived to meet his nephew and got a job that made him happy and full-body hugged Miracle every morning?  Uh, YES.  It would have made this Dean girl very happy.  But in the six years I’ve watched this show live and through several rewatches, it was obvious to me that Sam especially was the one with staying power.  There’s just something about Dean as a character...you get the feeling he was not meant long for this world.  He takes up so much space, was just so much - too much, sometimes.  It really doesn’t matter what got him in the end - rebar, heart attack, car crash, monster - what matters is that something was always going to get him in the end.  I mean, something gets everybody in the end.  But Dean’s one of those stars that burns real bright for a short time.  Jared speculated that there could be quite a bit of time between the last two episodes, so maybe Dean got some real nice peaceful years with Miracle and Sam.  We don’t know for sure, and that’s maybe one that could be left to the audience to decide, just like who Sam’s wife is (it’s Eileen, by the way.)  But Dean was never going to be like Sam, growing real old and lying in hospice.  Well, maybe he would have been lying in hospice, but he wouldn’t have been real old.  It would have been the alcoholism, the diet, an injury, his heart, something.  

In this ending, it was a piece of rebar that gouged him and tore him apart.

But it was coming.  I knew it, and I know of a few other people who figured it would happen, too.  But Dean’s behavior in these last episodes from the end of season 14 to near the end of season 15 are of a man that is pushing away his family, and in the end, it seemed to cost him.

[dancingkirby]

Azula Week Day 5: Smiles

Summary: Zuko decides to invite all of his and Azula’s illegitimate half-siblings to the brunch on his and Mai’s wedding day.  It goes less badly than Azula had feared.

Warnings/Notes: Multiple non-graphic references to past sexual abuse of multiple underage girls, leading to one death and one near-death in childbirth.  (Don’t worry, it has a happy ending!).  Classism, internalized misogyny, etc. on Azula’s part.  OC-heavy.  One GoT reference that sort of wormed its way in there under its own volition.  

Word count: 2667 (longer than I had been anticipating!)

After many, many delays, the day of Zuko and Mai’s wedding was finally imminent.  There, would, of course, be intense media coverage and a general holiday for the populace, as well as thousands of guests. However, Zuko had also come up with the idea to have a pre-wedding brunch for family and close friends only. This wouldn’t be so outlandish, except that to him, “family” included Ozai’s bastards…every single one that he could find.

“Even the commoners, Zuzu?” she had sighed when he broke the news.  “It’s not a good image.  People at court are already talking.  We ought not to remind everyone of our baggage.”

“They’re not baggage, Azula,” he retorted.  “They’re our siblings.”

“Half-siblings,” she corrected as she brushed a cherry blossom from her shoulder; they were sitting in the courtyard watching the decorations being put up.  

Azula,” her brother admonished.  He spent what seemed like an absurd length of time trying to figure out what to say next, looked to make sure the decorators weren’t eavesdropping, then added, “I’ve been to their houses, you know that.  I’ve spoken with them personally, and I know all of their names and their stories.  You don’t want to know what I found out.”

“Don’t I, brother?” Azula inquired in faux innocent tones.  Zuko rubbed a knuckle against his forehead.

“Fine.” He conceded. “Here’s just one of the stories. There was a girl.  Lian.  Her father died suddenly, and her mother was sick a lot.  So she and her older siblings had to find jobs in the palace so the family wouldn’t starve.  She wasn’t even old enough to legally be hired, but they found work for her in the laundry under the table.  Her job was to go from room to room, gathering the dirty clothes.  I think you can see where this is going.  And…she died giving birth.  She was just a child.”  Sparks flew out of his nose as he exhaled forcefully.

“You’re rambling, Zuzu.  And watch the volume,” Azula stated almost without thinking.  Internally, however, her mind was spinning.  As much as she hated to admit it, Azula had not been prepared for that last part.  Died? Five years ago, she would have dismissed Lian as not fit to live anyway.  But now…she knew that she herself had been near death in that same situation, no matter how much the doctors had tried to sugarcoat it.

She was able to remain expressionless, however, and asked, “And the baby?”

“His name is Chun. The youngest of the bunch; just turned four.  Cute kid.”

That would place his conception sometime in the weeks after the Day of Black Sun, during which Ozai had lost his last vestiges of self-control and everyone else in the palace suffered.  For all she knew, Lian could have been one of the ones Azula herself had witnessed; she’d never bothered to find out any of their names.

“Any other dead?” she queried.

“No, thankfully.  Many of the mothers have permanent medical problems, though.  Some have turned to alcohol.  A few of the kids were adopted out.  Acknowledging and welcoming them and their children...well, it’s the least we can do.  It’s the…”

Wait for it.

“honorable thing to do.”

And that was that.  Once the h-word was added to the equation, there was no changing her brother’s mind.

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It was the morning of the big day.  Zuko had decided to get the inevitable family photos done at the brunch, since Fire Nation weddings were lengthy and the smaller children would probably be tired after a long day of ceremonies.  Currently, he and Mai were standing at the entrance to the courtyard, greeting the guests as they walked in.  

There were twenty-one acknowledged bastards; everyone at court knew that.  Zuko had managed to track down an additional twenty-three, and he wasn’t even certain that he’d found them all.  This meant that their lord father had sired at least forty-six children…well, technically forty-seven, Azula thought as she fingered the footprint pendant on her necklace.  Twenty-eight of those had been born during his not quite six-year reign as Fire Lord.  Had she not known for herself how insatiable Ozai had been, she may have found the number mind-boggling.

What was more, their heretofore unacknowledged half-siblings tended to skew younger than the acknowledged ones.  The noblemen of the court who were actually decent people (or at least concerned about marriage prospects) had started keeping their young daughters home a couple of years into Ozai’s reign.  That meant a veritable flood of children ten and under, most of them having never come anywhere near the palace prior to this.

She nibbled on a green onion tartlet as she stood on a slight rise, surveying the goings-on in the courtyard.  Some children were wandering around, looking at their surroundings with big eyes.  A sizable group had been attracted by Ty Lee’s impromptu acrobatics performance.  Ursa was sitting by the pond, commiserating with some of the young mothers.  Kiyi had taken it upon herself to give people tours of the grounds whether they asked for it or not.

But…where was…?

Azula was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even fully register the timid tug on her sleeve until it was repeated a few seconds later.  She looked down for the source, and saw a small boy, wearing what must have passed for finery in whatever tiny village he came from.

“Bathrooms are that way,” she said for about the tenth time today as she pointed with her finger. But apparently that wasn’t the reason this child had sought her out.

“Are you the Princess?” he asked.  Except the “r” sounded more like a “w.”

“I am,” she confirmed. Then she watched, bemused, as the kid sank into a kowtow with surprisingly good form for a child of that age…not to mention a peasant.

Azula would not smile. She would not smile.

“You may rise,” she told him automatically, with all the solemnity she would give to an adult.  He sprang back up.

“Aunty said we have to do that if we see the Fire Lord or Fire Lady or Princess,” he explained in a rush.  “I saw the Fire Lord and he said don’t do it, but I wanted to do it because I practiced!”

Pwacticed.

She…was smiling, wasn’t she?  Damn.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

“Chun,” he answered. Azula had already had her suspicions when he had mentioned an aunt instead of a mother, and this confirmed them. This was the one Zuko had mentioned, whose mother had died.

“Well, Chun,” she said, “Your aunt was correct, generally speaking.  However, Zuzu does have his hangups about etiquette.  If you really want to pay obeisance, I would suggest a bow instead.  Would you like to learn the correct form for that?”

“Yeah!” he cheered.  Azula was quite sure that in the entire history of the world, no four-year-old had ever been as enthused about learning courtly manners.  

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

Chun had the three different depths of bowing down in about five minutes.  Azula had always considered herself good at sniffing out potential, and this child had heaps of it.  Perhaps one day he could find work as a palace bureaucrat, and even ultimately be appointed to a seat on the Fire Lord’s council.  She supposed that Zuko’s incorrigible stubbornness had had some merit for once; otherwise, Chun’s talents would have been wasted among the riffraff.  He was also tremendously eager to please, and refused to leave her side.  Azula got the feeling that nobody paid much attention to him at home.  

It almost made her wish that she hadn’t been so harsh toward Mai’s younger brother a few weeks ago. For someone who continued to know nothing about children except that they liked gross stories, she sure seemed to attract a lot of children.  

As the two of them wandered back to where the main crowd was, Azula provided a running commentary about their various half-siblings.

“That woman in the glasses is Anshi, the oldest,” she informed Chun.  “Great with numbers, and even beat Iroh at Pai Sho once.  Very boring conversationalist, though.  The lady in that hideous gown next to her is Zhilan.  She can lightning bend, yet refuses to actually learn how to use it effectively because she prefers to spend her days arranging flowers and playing the erhu like a proper lady.”  She shook her head.  

“She’s fat!” Chun exclaimed brightly.  Azula chuckled.

“Sssh.  Well, to be fair, she doesn’t have my flawless physique, but actually she’s expecting her third child.  Perhaps she thought that people would be so blinded by that monstrosity of an outfit that they wouldn’t notice?” She pulled Chun along before her vision was permanently ruined by what even Ty Lee would likely reject as too over-the-top.  Although it was unclear how much of her gossip the child actually understood, he didn’t appear bored.

“There’s Ichiro; he’s skilled at archery and so aloof that he makes Mai seem warm and inviting. And…ugh, that’s Eri, stuck-up as ever. Do not go near her,” Azula cautioned. The girl apparently ruled over the Royal Fire Academy for Girls just as Azula herself had done a decade earlier, but unfortunately lacked the intellect to be anything more than a common bully. Best to give her a wide berth like Kiyi did.

“Who’s that?” Chun piped up while pointing at a pair of children dressed in bright red from head to toe.

“Those are Akane and Akemi.  Twins. They’re the youngest of the Acknowledged, and they’re…”

Azula never got to say exactly what it was that Akane and Akemi were, since just then, there was a commotion at the courtyard entrance.

“Sorry I’m late!” yelled the new arrival.  As she turned to greet the soon-to-be newlyweds, her face was somewhat obscured. However, Azula had no difficulty recognizing her.  She’d know that short haircut anywhere.

Ruanyu.  Azula’s breath caught in her throat.  They hadn’t seen each other in nearly five years.  After so long without any contact, she’d been starting to think that her half-sister was dead.

“How about you run over to the Fire Lord and show him your bow?” she asked Chun.  He scampered off happily enough.

Azula was not anticipating that this would be a happy reunion.  Once, they had been close, and Azula had even allowed Ruanyu to call her by her given name.  However, she really had treated the girl more like a pampered yet disposable pet than anything else, and had all but forgotten her in the events leading up to Sozin’s Comet.  In fact, she hadn’t remembered that she had left the girl to her own devices until months later, when she was in the hospital.  

Then Ruanyu looked her way, paused for a split second, and began running toward Azula at top speed. Azula steeled herself, her heart racing. She remembered that the feisty little girl had held her own in sparring matches, and she was prepared to repel any firebending that might come her way.

What she was not prepared for was being nearly knocked off her feet by the sheer enthusiasm of her half-sister’s embrace.  When they pulled apart, Azula attempted to remain stoic, but the sheer magnetism of Ruanyu’s famous ear-to-ear grin was too much for her to resist.

“I see you managed to escape,” she commented dryly.

“Yeah.  My mom smuggled us out after the whole Phoenix King thing,” Ruanyu answered while shrugging, as if it were of no great importance.

Azula became painfully aware that everyone in the courtyard was watching them.  In fact, Zuko was leading the spectators in some applause, Ty Lee ran over to get her hug, and Mai made a cough that sounded a lot like the word “Finally.”

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Azula accused Zuko.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” was all he said in response.

“It seems that you succeeded in something for once,” Azula remarked in as deadpan a tone as she could manage.  Then, to Ruanyu, “Let’s go talk somewhere more private.”  Ruanyu agreed, and they retreated to Azula’s favorite shady little enclave.  Once they were out of earshot, Azula decided to cut right to the chase, as she looked at the face that was almost like looking in a mirror.

“If you’re angry at me, then say so.  Don’t hold back on my regard.”

Ruanyu bit her lip as she considered.

“I was angry at you.  Really angry for a while,” she commented.  “But I decided to forgive you.  Zuko told me about what Ozai did to you.”  Her eyes hardened.  

“Did he do anything to you?”   Azula had to know.

“Nah.  Well, he kept saying all this creepy stuff, but I was always faster than him,” Ruanyu replied.  She was obviously trying to be casual, but not quite succeeding.  She was sixteen; old enough to know that she had only just dodged a lightning bolt, and that others had not been as fortunate.

“And just what have you been doing these past years?” she inquired.

“Mom took us back to the village where she grew up.  She wanted me to settle down with some boring man and raise a family.  But that’s…not me.  So I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, seeing the world,” Ruanyu explained. Yes, Azula remembered her half-sister’s thirst for adventure well.  In fact, she had briefly considered taking the girl to the Earth Kingdom, but had decided against it since she knew that Ruanyu would never have gone along with taking Zuko and Iroh prisoner.  

She asked, “Any plans for after the wedding?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Ruanyu answered.  “I think I might stay at the palace again for a bit, then set off again.  I’m interested in seeing that new city that Zuko and his friends are building; he told me that they’re looking for settlers.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them.  “Did someone say my name?”  Azula turned to see that Zuko was indeed present, with one twin hanging off each arm.

“Yeah, I was just telling Azula that I wanted to see Republic City.”

“Well, we’d be glad to have you there.  But, uh, anyway, I came up here to tell you two that the photographer’s setting up.  He has a prototype model of a new kind of camera; one that can take the picture instantly.  I thought the younger kids might find it harder to stand still.”

“Don’t get him started on that special camera,” Mai chimed in as she walked up with Chun trailing behind her.  “He’ll probably spend our entire wedding night talking about it.”

“Not the entire night,” Zuko protested.

“Oh, really?  I suppose I will just have to make sure that you keep your word.”

Azula said, “There are children here, you two!” in almost perfect synchrony with Ruanyu’s “I don’t think I wanna hear this…”  They must have pulled identical faces, since Akane exclaimed, “More twins!”

“Oops.  Forgot about the kids,” mumbled Zuko. “So…yeah.  Picture time.”

And so the soon-to-be-wed couple kissed as they temporarily parted; Mai had to leave to undergo the ordeal of getting dressed in her many-layered wedding outfit.  (“If I’m really lucky, maybe it’ll actually get done sometime this decade,” she said.)  Zuko eventually got the whole group of Ozai’s progeny rounded up.  As her brother enlisted Sokka’s help to explain how the camera worked to those children who had never been photographed before, and Azula snuck appraising glances at the latter, she felt oddly at peace. They made for an odd collection of individuals indeed, but Zuko had been right just this once.  That awful trial was behind them, and they were all stuck in this same recovery boat together.  

After some time, they were all arranged in a more or less organized manner, and Azula made sure that her necklace would be clearly visible in the picture.

“Smile!” the photographer ordered.

And, as they saw weeks later when the developed pictures were sent to them, nearly everyone had.  Even Azula.

[krystalkoya]

Tango | 01

Summary: Fed up hanging by the sidelines when you and your friends go out clubbing, you enroll in a dance class to give you the much needed confidence to join your friends out on the dance floor. What you don’t expect is to go from tripping over your feet to falling head over heels for your dance instructor.

Or, the one where you start learning more about your dance instructor than the art of dance itself.

REPOST: this fic underwent minor changes, nothing plot-wise but some minor edits to grammar and/or characters to make it up to par to my standards 

read on ao3

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, smut, 

rating: +18

word count: 24k

chapter warnings: 18+ semi-public sex, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs, dirty talk

01| 02

_____

“For the last time Chae, I said no. I’m tired of being the only one sitting by the bar while the rest of you throw ass on the dance floor!“

You immediately cringed as you registered the sheer volume of your voice in the quiet frozen food aisle of the grocery store.

Shooting the glaring mother beside you an apologetic look, you lowered your voice and tried again.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just… everytime we go out I end up sitting by the bar on my phone or chatting it up with the bartender. It’s not like I don’t enjoy our conversations, some of them are quite insightful, but… I think it’s time for a change.”

Of all the times you have gone out clubbing with your friends, you were always the ‘responsible one’. You weren’t forced to take on this role. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any fun while you were there. You enjoyed bar hopping and trying all sorts of questionable liquor, but when it came time to actually dance? No thanks. You’d rather just stick to your silly phone games. With a resigned sigh, your best friend of five years said, “___, no one is forcing you to sit by the bar the entire night. Here’s a thought: if you want to have fun why don’t you come dance with us?”

Picking up a tub of ice cream from the shelf, you examined the calorie content while you mulled over your friend’s words. The cold dessert definitely wasn’t allowed on your healthy eating kick, but not caring you tossed the tub into your cart and readjusted the phone in your hands.

“Chaeyoung, you know why.” You heard the frustrated click of her tongue before you even finished your sentence.

“Is this because you said you can’t dance? Please, not this shit again. You don’t have to be an expert! Like, have you actually seen anyone dance at the club?!? Everyone’s drunk and uncoordinated anyway so it doesn’t matter!”

“That’s not the point. Let’s just forget about this okay? I don’t even like the club anyway. All these sweaty strangers rubbing up against each other? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Nope, you’re not weaseling your way out of this one. Come onnnn, it’s our tradition for god’s sake! If I’m being honest, I don’t even really like the club, but we’re in our twenties and society has convinced us that these are the golden years of our lives and we need to spend it getting drunk, stoned, and dicked down by random guys each week. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“First of all, we barely do any of those things you just mentioned, at least I don’t. I don’t know what you get up to in your free time but leave me out of it. Like I said, my mind’s made up and I’m not going back. End of discussion.”

You hear silence on the other line and for a moment you really think she has given up. But this is your best friend we’re talking about here, you should know better by now.

“Not even if I agree to teach you a few steps?” comes her pleading response. If you were there with her right now, you had no doubt she would be pulling her signature pouty-lipped face that always seemed to make you give in to her demands. Good thing you weren’t there.

“Really? Your going to teach me how to dance? Remember how that turned out the last time? In case you don’t, let me remind you. Bad. Like, very, very bad.”

There was a pause, as if she were jogging her memory of the time she tried to teach you how to ‘walk it out’ at her sister’s wedding years ago. “You’re absolutely right. How did I forget that mess.” You can almost hear her shudder on the other line. “That almost tore our friendship apart. Fine, you win.” Crossing off frozen fruit off from your list, you started walking towards the produce aisle of the grocery store.

“Exactly. Let’s just move on. I’m not going clubbing anymore and that’s that. Plus I wasn’t exactly meeting any guys there anyway.”

Chaeyoung let out a laugh, to which, you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why, but you were offended nonetheless. When she spoke again she revealed to you what she thought was so funny. “___, you do realize you don’t actually date the guys you meet at the club right? Those guys are only good for a fuck. Haven’t you ever heard of a one-night stand? And if they’re really good, then maybe even two fucks.”

“W H O R E.” is your only reply.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, it’s the 21st century and I am a sexually liberated woman who is free to do what she pleases with her body, with multiple men if she wants too. Third of all, you really need to get some dick, maybe then you wouldn’t be such an uppity bitch all the time. But guess what? That’s not gonna happen if your ass is glued to a stool instead of some dude’s crotch the entire night.”

“Hey listen, can you hear that? It’s the sound of me, rolling my eyes at you for the thousandth time tonight.”

She paid you no heed, ignoring your comment in favor of continuing on with her tirade.

“Listen, if you really want to learn how to dance I know someplace you could go to get lessons. I met this guy at the club who teaches contemporary dance but the studio offers all sorts of genres. You interested?”

As you checked off the last thing on your grocery list, phone pressed against your ear, you came to a stop and mulled over her words. Dance lessons? It never occurred to you that you could sign up for lessons, you had simply resigned yourself to the sad fact that you could not and would not ever have rhythm. At this point, you were tired and ready to end this conversation but you knew that wouldn’t happen if Chaeyoung didn’t get her way. So with a sigh, you reluctantly agreed.

“Sure, why not.”

“I’m sorry? Something other than immediate rejection? I- wasn’t expecting that. Okay, great, I’ll send you the details before you change your mind. I got to go now babe, my boss has been on my ass about these quarterly reports and I can’t stand to hear him go off on us about ‘the importance of meeting our deadlines’ again. But I’m so proud of you for doing this, we’ll have you throwing that ass back in no time! Love you!“

You could almost hear her grin through the phone but before you could even say goodbye she had already hung up on you. You chuckled, resting your hands on your shopping cart as you stared down at your phone. Chae could be – a lot. But she was your lot to handle. She was a reliable friend and you wouldn’t have made it through these last few years of college without her. However, as you went over the last few minutes of your phone call you couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious.

Did I really just agree to taking dance lessons of all things?Fuck. If there was anything you could pray for more in that moment it was that you didn’t make an utter fool of yourself when the time came for you to actually dance. But before you could ponder your dilemma any further, several harsh taps on your shoulder stole your attention away from the device in your palms and up at your surroundings. You swiveled your head around looking for the source of the incessant jabs when your eyes landed on silky locks of vibrant red hair.

Oh boy. Oh boy, because the man attached to the mane of crimson hair might possibly be the most attractive person you have had the pleasure of viewing in a while.

He was strikingly handsome, a kind of natural beauty that was seemingly effortless (something you appreciated but had always envied). Bright red hair meshed well with smooth tanned skin, and a lithe form clad in casual jeans and a baggy t-shirt that somehow looked way better on him than it would on you. How was it possible someone looked so good doing a task as mundane as grocery shopping? Realizing that your eyes may have wandered for too long, you drew your eyes away from his form and back to his face.

You instantly regretted it when you saw the look of pure annoyance marring his handsome features.

Oh.

Obviously handsome boy was mad at you. Why, you had no idea. So taking it upon yourself to find out, you cleared your throat, and asked in clearest voice you could muster, "May I help you?”

He kissed his teeth, chuckling lowly, but something about the venom in his voice told you he didn’t find anything funny. “May I help you… Yes, you can actually. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking the tomatoes.”

Annndd there it is. He just had to ruin it by opening his mouth didn’t he?

You looked around. You had, in fact been blocking anyone’s access to the tomatoes that were sitting in a crate next to the other vegetables in the produce aisle. An honest mistake, so what was his deal?

“Well, I’m sorry but you could’ve said something along the lines of… oh I don’t know, 'Excuse me,’…? There’s this thing called being polite, you know.”

You may have been struck silent by his looks at first but there was no way you were going to let some entitled prick walk all over you. Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his weight to his other foot and shot you a piercing glare before saying through teeth clenched tight, “Look I don’t have the time for this so could you kindly do me a favor and move to your left a little so I can just pick these up and go?”

Excuse me? Just who did he think he was? You take a moment to breathe because despite your anger, you will not get yourself thrown out of this grocery store for assault. You oblige him, taking a step back as you say, “Fine, there I moved. But do yourself a favor and learn some manners. You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” He muttered, not even sparing a glance at you as he inspected the tomatoes for selection.

Scoffing at his remark, your jaw hung open shocked by the sheer audacity of the man before you. You gave yourself a few more seconds to calm down before you closed your mouth and abruptly spun on your heels. You did not have the time nor the energy to argue with some dick in the grocery store so late at night. Swiveling around, you hurriedly stormed off to checkout, looking forward to going home and getting some sleep before class the next day. .

.

.

Three days later you were stumbling into your apartment, kicking your heels off into some random corner of the room to inevitably trip over later.

You dropped your purse at your feet as you collapsed into the soft cushions of your sofa, mentally and physically exhausted from the stress of the long week you just had. The unnecessary pressure from your boss to meet the deadlines eons away had built up so you were grateful that you had the weekend to recharge. At the moment, all you wanted to do was take a nice hot shower and curl up into your soft cotton sheets. Perhaps you would catch up on a couple episodes of your favorite TV show before bed as well.

Unfortunately, just as you settled into your couch, your phone decided to start buzzing. It took you awhile to locate the device from within the depths of your bag, but once you found it you weren’t surprised to see your best friend’s name displayed across the screen.

“Hello?” you grumbled into the phone.

“Sooo… how do you like the studio?”

Confusion marring your features, you questioned her. “What studio? What are you talking about?”

“Oh bitch. Bitchhh.Do not tell me you forgot. You do remember that I signed you up for dance lessons for Friday? Please tell me you remembered.”

You didn’t remember. But in your defense, what was she thinking signing you up for a class that met on Fridays of all days?

“____, I swear to god you better get your ass to that studio or I will drag you there myself. I don’t want to deal with you whining to me about your shitty dancing anymore, so move it. You still have half an hour before the class starts.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going, I’m going. Sheesh woman,” you said already making your way to your bedroom.

“Good. Tell me how it goes when your done! And don’t forget to have fun!” her voice almost too saccharinely sweet.

It amazes you how this woman can switch between an angel and the devil’s spawn in a matter of seconds.

As soon as you said your goodbyes you rummaged through your drawers for some comfortable your workout clothes. Stopping by the fridge for a water bottle, you headed toward your car, mentally preparing yourself for an hour of hell.

If you were going to suffer, might as well be hydrated.

And hell it was.

Because although you managed to make it to the class with 10 minutes to spare, you immediately regretted coming when your instructor for the evening walked in. That same prick from the grocery store entered the classroom, a bright smile on his face as he welcomed his students. You would of thought this man was a completely different person if it weren’t for the bright red hair that sat atop his head.

You tried everything in your power to avoid eye contact but it was too late. It was almost as if time has slowed down as you saw the expression on his face morph into shock the moment you two locked eyes. The brief moment between you two passed almost as fast as it came, though because in the next instant he was plastering a wide smile back on his face and moving to the front of the room to address the class.

You don’t remember much of his greeting. You managed to pick up that his name was Jung Hoseok. And he said something along the lines of “dancing is a form of self-expression” and “don’t be afraid if you can’t get the moves right away… have fun…“ But for the most part you had zoned out, contemplating the catastrophe that was your life. Fuck me.

It was just your luck that you managed to get him as your dance instructor. If it weren’t for the fact that you had already paid you would have left already.

Unfortunately, you were just going to have to try avoiding the man for the next hour or so. After that you were never stepping foot in this studio ever again.

Avoiding Hoseok wasn’t all that hard considering the fact that once he started, his sole attention was dedicated to concentrating on teaching the choreography. That and you had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying just as hard to avoid all eye contact with you as you were with him.

While the music played he stood at the front of the class, teaching you all a simple choreography that went along with a high-tempo hip hop beat.

Although you took a place at the back of the class, it didn’t completely eliminate your anxiety of dancing in front of complete strangers. It was irrational to think that anyone would pay you any attention when everyone’s focus was likely to be on trying to get their own moves right. The class was diverse, with people younger, older and around your age there but it seemed as if everyone else was doing so much better than you as you struggled to keep up with the steps.

It was just your luck (which was minimal these days) that at that moment, Hoseok called for a break. Thank god.

You propped your hands up on your hips, closing your eyes and rolling your head back to stretch out the muscles in your neck. Unfortunately, your moment of relaxation was interrupted because when you looked back up you were shocked to see Hoseok walking… right towards you? That couldn’t be right.

Despite ignoring your presence for the whole first half of the class, he seemed to be charging straight towards you. But just before he could reach you, a few members of the class ahead of you had intercepted him in his travels. Phew.

Dodged a bullet there. You’re not sure what he was going to say to you, but you’re completely sure you didn’t want to hear it. Taking that time to escape, you took a seat near the back of the room and pulled out your phone to text Chaeyoung.

You: It was a big mistake coming here. [7:47]

Chae: Why, What’s wrong? [7:48]

You: Remember that dick I told you about?

You: The one from the grocery store? [7:48]

Chae: Yeah… [7:50]

Chae: Oh no, don’t tell me he’s there??

You: Oh he’s here alright.

You: He’s the goddamn dance teacher for christ’s sake. I mean, what are the odds, right?!? [7:50]

You chanced a small glance over your shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief when you saw Hoseok was still engaged in small talk with some chatty women. And judging by the way their hands lingered on his arm and the exaggerated laughs in response to his jokes, it was fair to say they weren’t just interested in the art of dance, but instead the art of the dance teacher. Don’t be fooled ladies, bad things sometimes come in good packages. You learned that the hard way.

Looking back at your phone you read the recent message from Chaeyoung.

Chae: Wow, what a coincidence

Chae: But he can’t be that bad right? [7:53]

You: Not that bad? Were you listening when I told you the story the other day? [7:53]

Chae: I was but i really think ur just being overdramatic, like always. I mean, the guy just wanted his radishes and u were in the way [7:56]

You: Tomatoes, Chae. He wanted tomatoes.

You: And 'like always’..?!? Are you my friend or his??! [7:57]

Chae: Whatever. Istg you’re so stubborn sometimes

Chae: Just give him a chance. He must be good at his job and you need all the help you can get. ;) [7:58]

You leave her on read as Hoseok calls the class back to his attention. Overdramatic my ass, you think as you get back in line. Only half an hour more of this and then I’m through. That’s it. They couldn’t convince you to come back here even if they paid you.

By some miracle you manage to make it through the rest of the class.

Luckily Hoseok had chosen songs with slower rhythms as opposed to the upbeat choreography he was teaching in the beginning half of class.

Hoseok thanked the participants for attending, and if you weren’t in such a rush to get out of there you would have appreciated his sincere closing remarks. Alas, that wasn’t the case and no sooner than Hoseok stopped talking were you sprinting to the back wall to gather your belongings.

Gathering up your water bottle, your phone and purse, not even bothering to shove the items into your bag, you turned on your heel and made a mad dash for the exit, hoping to avoid Hoseok’s gaze as you escaped with the crowd. But fate seemed to have a different plan for you, as it always did, because no sooner had you turned around were you barreling straight into a firm chest. One glance up led you to determine that it was Hoseok’s chest to be exact.

Luck really said fuck you and took her leave didn’t she.

Taking a step back you steeled yourself and channeled all the energy you had left into a glare you hoped conveyed that you really weren’t in the mood for his bullshit today.

"Yes?” You glowered up at him.

He chuckled softly. Chuckled. You really didn’t find anything funny about this situation. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Pretty fucking awkward to say the least.

“This some type of revenge scheme of yours? Watching my every move so you can best plot when to strike? I didn’t realize I pissed off a stalker the other night. I should really be careful about who I make angry in the future.” He says, smirk apparent in his tone.

“No, actually. Believe it or not, I’ve got better things to do than go around stalking assholes like you.”

“And that includes taking my dance classes…?”

This cocky bastard. Scoffing, you square your shoulders and push past him heading right for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, your second attempt at escape was foiled yet again by Hoseok, a hand on your wrist preventing you from leaving.

"Hey… wait, I was just joking. Listen, I’m sorry if I was rude the other night. I think it’s great that your taking my class though. Did you have fun?”

You snort, shucking his hand off your wrist and saying, “You’re only saying that because I’m paying you. Can’t be mean to paying customers, now can we?”

“That’s part of it, yeah,” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up at the side but at the roll of your eyes he backtracks.

“Kidding! Kidding.” He panics, hands up to placate you. “But seriously, I’m sorry for the way I acted the other night. It wasn’t me. I was going through some shit and I… look it doesn’t matter. I had no right to be rude to you over some fucking vegetables. So will you please accept my apology so we can start fresh?”

At this point you were tired, sweaty and all you wanted to do was go home, take a nice hot shower and curl up in your soft linen sheets. Plus, his apology seemed genuine. And you didn’t want to admit it but perhaps Chaeyoung was right when she said you could be a tad over-dramatic at times.

So, with a huff of your breath, you went the drama free route for once and accepted his apology.

“Okay. But consider this your last chance so don’t fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I won’t. You won’t ever see me acting like that again. I had a bad day and I took it out on you which was in no way acceptable. How about we turn over a new leaf? Sound good?” At your nod of affirmation, he presses on, “So how did you like the class?”

You took a moment before you answered. Should you tell him the truth? That you absolutely hated it? That you had already decided you were not coming back? Or should you lie and say you loved it, only for him to be surprised when you didn’t show up the next week, or the following week, or the week after that…

“It was good. You’re a great teacher. It’s just… I don’t know. Dancing just isn’t for me.” You decided to go with the truth but you wanted to make sure he knew it had nothing to do with his teaching.

“Isn’t that why you took this class? To get better?” he asked with a confused crinkle of his brow and a tilt to his head.

He had a good point. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I guess it’s just my own insecurities holding me back. I feel like a fool in a room full of swans.”

“Swans?” He snorts. “Were you in the same room as me for this last hour? The woman in the front row would’ve taken my eye out at one point if I hadn’t dodged her leg in time. Trust me, you’re all equally terrible.”

By this point you two are the only ones in the room but surprisingly it’s not as uncomfortable as you’d imagine it to be.

You’re not sure how to respond so you say dumbly,

“Uh…thanks??”

“You’re very welcome.” He says with a smile and a pat to your shoulder.

You shake your head in disbelief of the man. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

He scoffs, placing his hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Ouch, you wound me. Come on, you don’t really think so low of me do you?”

“I’ll tell you what, considering when I first met you, no. You were a huge fucking dick then, but now??” You place a finger on your chin as if considering his rank to you now.

“You’ve been demoted to just an average dick. Four or five inches maybe?” You tease.

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or not but I’m gonna choose not for fear of starting another argument. But listen,” he says tone turning serious, “you weren’t that bad from what I could see of you. You weren’t good, but certainly not terrible. You managed to keep up with a lot of the steps.”

“How would you know? You didn’t even look in my direction the whole hour!”

“Not true. I did glance at you a couple times. But you had a scowl on your face the entire time so I knew you were still pissed at me from that other night. Your energy… it was killing my vibe.”

“And you wonder why I still consider you slightly dick-ish.”

A roll of his eyes was his only response, choosing instead to elaborate on his earlier comment. “Look, if you’re really that uncomfortable being in a group setting you can always sign up for private lessons.”

“Private lessons? With you?” “Yes, with me.” He said with yet another eye roll, but he was smiling so you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed.

Private lessons did sound nice. Dancing in front of one stranger was always better than dancing in front of a whole group of strangers. But that would mean you would be alone, with Hoseok. Although you hated to admit it, dude was attractive and he turned out to have a better personality than you’d initially thought. Yeah, the coward in you said you were going to have to pass on this.

“It’s gonna be a no for me, thanks for the offer, but I’m good, really.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise but all he says is “Okay, that’s fine. Just do what works for you.”

“Thanks, I will,” you say tersely, hiking your bag up on your shoulder. The comfortable mood from earlier seems to have dissipated just as soon as it settled, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now.”

“Right, it is getting late.” He says with a polite wave.

But he seems to have forgotten something because when you turn the knob on the door you hear a sudden “Oh!” from behind you. You turn to look at him.

“I didn’t get your name. I introduced myself at the start of class but I’ll do it again in case you were too busy plotting my death to notice. I’m Hoseok.” He extends his hand for a shake, expression expectant, probably waiting on you to introduce yourself as well.

You did remember his introduction at the beginning of class and you thought it was only fair that you tell him your name given the fact that you no longer wanted him to burn in the pits of hellyou guys were on good terms now.

“___. And sorry, I didn’t realize my glare was that obvious. I’ll try to be less subtle next time.”

“___. Nice to meet you under better circumstances. Hopefully there won’t be a next time, for my sake at least. So, I’ll see you next Friday then?”

“Yeah… see you.” It was a lie. You knew damn well that this would be the last time you stepped foot in this studio. Screw Chaeyoung and the hell you would receive from her for quitting.

With a final goodbye he sent you off with a blinding smile and a wave of his hand.

Turning swiftly on your heel, you threw him one last tight smile over your shoulder before you exited the studio, grateful that this night was finally over. .

.

.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“Jesus woman, lower your voice! I have neighbors!” Typical. And she calls you overdramatic.

“Fuck the neighbors. Let me get this straight.” She says. "Hot guy wants to spend time with you and you turn him down because of… what exactly?“

"First of all, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I’d be paying him for private lessons. That’s all.” you explain.

“Potato, potahtoe. Why would you pass up the opportunity to get some one-on-one lessons from a hot instructor?”

You currently sat across from Chaeyoung, the two of you curled up on your couch together. You were supposed to be on a bad 90s movie marathon until the topic of your first (and last) dance class came up.

“Because,” you began, “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s not a grade-A douchebag.”

The look she sent you for that last comment immediately translated to 'cut the bullshit’. She knew you were lying. Curse you for being so accustomed to telling her everything. You told her all the details from the fated night at dance class over the phone the next day, but in hindsight you could have saved the part where Hoseok turned out to be somewhat of a decent guy to yourself.

“Hon, you know you need these lessons. And if you’re too afraid to dance in front of a group why not just get the private lessons? Plus, you need to get out of the house more. You’re always either studying or at work these days. A hobby will hopefully distract you and get rid of some of that stress. And you know what else gets rid of stress? Fu-”

“Quiet woman! I need to think.”

Despite that last comment, she was right. Chaeyoung being right was becoming a recurring theme in your life and you didn’t like it. But it was a rare occasion that you had any time for yourself, let alone anyone else these days. Although it was your last semester your professors had been unrelenting, you seemed to be getting double the work as in previous years. In addition, your nearly inflexible work schedule and crappy boss hadn’t made things any better.

Shoulder slumped, you admitted defeat.

Shock replaced her features. “I’m sorry what?”

“I said you’re right okay? God, why is it so hard to admit that to you?”

Chae let out an excited giggle, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry it’s just, that’s the second time this week that you didn’t argue back with me. Allow me to enjoy this will you? Anyways, does this mean you’ll suck it up and go back?”

You slowly nodded your head, muttering a 'yes’ under your breath. You figured the lessons would allow you to learn how to do something you’ve always wanted to do while providing you with a good way to relieve all of your pent up stress.

She leaned forward to give you a brief hug before leaning back to say, “Hey, I’m proud of you. We’ll sign you up for the private lessons later. Let’s move onto more important topics. So what does this guy look like anyways? Let’s see if he’s as attractive as you say he is.”

“It’s not like I have a picture of him saved anywhere. I didn’t get his number or his social media.”

Sighing, she whips out her phone, not even looking at you when she asks, “What’s his name?”

“Huh? Jung Hoseok, but I don’t see how that will help. It’s not like you can–”

“Found him!” And she’s moving closer to you to show you her phone.

“You said he has red hair right? This him?”

You take a look at her phone, the Instagram page of the one and only Jung Hoseok displayed on the screen.

His instagram is filled with pictures and videos of him at the studio leading dance practices or performing some kind of choreography. Then there are the typical pictures you would expect of any instagram user. Selfies of him out with friends, food, the scenery. He must have died his hair regularly- in some pictures he had the red hair he had currently, in others it was brown, and even blonde at one point.

“Damn. This is him? Hold on.. maybe I should sign up for lessons too.”

“Please,” you scoff and hit her arm. “I’m concerned enough about your vagina already. Please don’t add more guys to the mix, especially not my dance teacher.”

“Relax I was joking. Mostly. And don’t be concerned about me, my vagina’s doing just fine. You should be concerned about your own dried up puss. How long has it been since she’s gotten a good plowing?”

You shake your head at her, redirecting your attention to the TV.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Chae flings her arms around you. “Because you love me and no matter what you say, I’m still your favorite person in the world.”

You smile, humming in acknowledgement. “I guess,” you say, defeated. “Now shut up and let me watch my bad movies in peace.” .

.

.

The following week you find yourself back in the same dance studio.

Before she left your house that night, Chaeyoung made sure that she witnessed you make an appointment for the next available private lesson with Hoseok. This is how you wound up here at the dance studio at 7pm on a Tuesday night.

You take a seat on the floor of your designated room for the night, as you still have about ten minutes until your lesson starts.

Hoseok isn’t here yet and you pray to god he doesn’t show up so you can just go home.

Pulling out your phone, you open up your music playlist. After the first group dance class, you had went home and downloaded the songs Hoseok had used. You figured that even if you weren’t going back to the class, at least you got a few new songs to listen to. Hoseok actually had a pretty good taste in music, which you guess wasn’t surprising considering his job as a dance instructor.

You lazily scrolled through your playlist, stopping when you came across one of the songs you recently added. It was one of the slower-tempo songs that Hoseok had used in his last class. You could still remember some of the choreography clearly, simply because of how badly you butchered the steps. Feeling brave, with no audience to witness your wild flailing limbs and uncoordinated movements, you turned up the volume on your phone and stood up from your position on the floor.

Doing your best to execute the choreography that Hoseok had taught you all from your very first class, you went into the first movement.

Just then the door to the studio burst open and you nearly jumped out of your skin from how hard it had startled you. Placing a hand on your chest as if it would somehow calm the rapid beating of your heart, you whirled around facing the source of the loud intrusion.

It was Hoseok, standing in the doorway with his duffel bag on his shoulder and a slight smirk making its way onto his face. You rushed over to your phone on the floor, picking it up and turning off the music that was still blaring in the otherwise quiet room. However, your frantic actions must have prompted Hoseok to speak.

“Got started without me, did you? It’s okay, don’t stop on my account. Just act like I’m not even here.”

As you disconnected your phone from the speaker, you shot him a quick glare before locking your phone and placing it on top of your bag by the wall of the studio.

“Let’s just get this hour over with. And please, try to keep your smart comments to yourself.”

“And the ice queen returns. What happened to our heart to heart the other night? Did you forget already?,” he said with a grin so wide you wanted to box it right off his face.

"No it’s just that I’m only allowed to be nice for very brief moments in time or else I’ll spontaneously combust. So are you just gonna stand there and look dumb or are you gonna teach me something? I’m not paying you for nothing.”

“Right you are. Lemme just get set up and we can begin, mmkay?”

Once he sets his duffle bag down and connects his phone to the speakers in the room he turns to you.

“Why don’t we start with the same song you were just practicing to.” He says scrolling through the phone in his hand.

He presses play and the song starts playing through the speakers like it was a moment ago. He stares at you expectantly.

“What?”

“Well, show me what you were doing before I came in.” You don’t know what you were expecting because in all honesty this was what a one on one dance lesson entailed. It was inevitable that you would actually have to dance in front of him in order for him to help you. But still, you were nothing if not stubborn.

“Can’t you just teach me some steps and I’ll try to keep up? Like in your group sessions?”

“___, the benefit of having private lessons is that I can focus on you. I need to get a baseline to see where you are before I give you anything too hard.”

You’re silent for a moment. It was better to rip off this band-aid sooner rather than later. Embarrass yourself in front of him now and get rid of this awkwardness that still remained between you two. Making up your mind, you tell him to restart the song.

You get in the starting position while Hoseok moves back in the room to give you more space. As the music starts again you repeat the steps you went through earlier, trying your hardest not to mess up.

The whole time you run through the choreography you feel completely uncomfortable, feeling Hoseok’s stare on your form from behind. About a minute in, just when you start to forget the next couple steps, he cuts the music.

You turn around to see him setting his phone down once again. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just leisurely takes a few sips of his water before turning to you. You have half a mind he’s doing this on purpose just to see you squirm.

“Well, not gonna lie that was bad.”

“I’m leaving.” you say already moving towards the door.

“Wait, wait let me finish. It was bad, yes, but it wasn’t terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m being serious. Trust me I’ve seen far, far worse. You have a general sense of rhythm but you don’t always know where to direct it at times. Your movements aren’t fluid. Too jerky in some areas, smooth in others. You need to loosen up. You’re too stiff. Just relax and feel the music.” He presses play again and this time demonstrates the first couple steps before motioning for you to try again.

You are reluctant to do so but comply anyway because it is what Chaeyoung would want. She’s not here right now, but you have no doubt she’ll know you didn’t give it your all the next time you see her.

And you fear the consequences of that interaction more than your current predicament. Note to self: rethink this entire friendship dynamic asap. ___

The rest of the lesson goes by smoothly, surprisingly. Hoseok demonstrates the choreography while you try to keep up, him stopping you every now and then to correct you.

Halfway through the lesson, when Hoseok called for a water break, the door to your studio swings open. A lithe brunette man appears in the doorway, only to double-take when he sees you and Hoseok inside, before he starts apologizing profusely.

“Ah, sorry hyung, I thought I was in here today.”

“No worries Jimin. I think you’re in room 211 today,” Hoseok replies, before glancing at you. “Jimin, this is ___, ___ , Jimin. He’s the one of the contemporary dancers here.” he says, gesturing between the two of you.

Jimin. Why did that name sound familiar? Was this the guy Chae was talking about? The one she met at the club?

“Nice to meet you, Jimin,” you say kindly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too ___.” And you don’t know if it was just you but you swear there was a glint to his eyes and a slight curl of his lip that made this baby-faced man seem so much more tantalizing. But before you could ponder this further, Jimin was speaking again.

“Unfortunately I have to get going now or I’m going to be late for an appointment. The mom’s a nightmare — wants her kid to be the next Maddie Ziegler. Tough luck cause little Sarah’s got two left feet. Don’t tell her mom though, she’s loaded and I need the money. Anyways, I gotta go. Hope to see you around sometime ___! Later Hoseok!” He calls with a wave, already out the door in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok chuckles softly at that, shaking his head slightly.

“He seems nice,” you say. “Why couldn’t I have gotten him instead of you as a teacher?”

Hoseok pins you with a look. “Because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t think contemporary dance would do you much good in a club. Unless it’s an underground jazz club. Maybe not even then,” he shrugs.

Why didn’t you just lie when he asked you why you were taking lessons earlier? It was already embarrassing enough being here dancing in front of him, and now he knows you’re here just because you wanna know how to throw it back in the club.

Apparently, your silence in response to his comment was his cue to keep talking.

“But anyways, Jimin may look like an angel but he’s everything but. You’re better off with me.”

“Oh, like you’re some saint.”

“As holy as Lucifer,” he smiles.

“The fallen an-”

“Less talking, more dancing. Come on we still have like 15 more minutes.” he says, cutting you off by turning the music back on.

 Needless to say, the dance lesson wasn’t as bad as you had expected it to be. A couple days later you and Chaeyoung finally have a chance to catch up and you tell her all about your first lesson. You mention the brunette haired boy, Jimin you think his name was, and she tells you that that was in fact the guy she met at the club. Apparently, your first impression of the man was correct. Chae tells you he’s a huge charmer, can flirt the pants off any woman, or man, for that matter. You think it’s his eyes, they draw you in like a predator hunting its next prey.

She encourages you to go back for more lessons, even if its just to get a chance to “sample the merchandise” as she put it.

You do find yourself going back the next time and the week after that. Not to “sample the merchandise” or whatever the fuck, but because of your dedication to getting better. Soon enough you have been attending the lessons for a little over a month. You find that each time you go the embarrassment of having to dance in front of Hoseok dissipates little by little.

You even discover that Hoseok is not that bad to be around. He’s funny and despite your fears of him laughing in your face when you mess up he’s surprisingly polite. He doesn’t scoff or sneer when you miss a step, instead he’s attentive, sweet even, as he helps you correct your form.

You start to notice a difference in yourself as well. Even if only by a fraction. You aren’t a professional-level dancer yet (nor do you think you’ll ever get to that level, but that’s okay) but you’ve come a long way from where you started. It makes you feel proud that you are finally doing something for yourself. Something you always wanted to do but never had the chance to.

One night however, Hoseok decides to change things up from your usual way of doing things.

You enter the studio, the first one there as usual, and you put down your things before you start stretching to get your body warmed up for vigorous exercise. It had been something Hoseok suggested you do when you had started complaining about having cramps after sessions.

It is when you are bending over, hands touching your toes to stretch your hamstrings that you hear the door swing open. At the low whistle that comes from behind you, you jerk upright and turn around, sending a glare to the man standing in the doorway.

“Perv,” you say through your teeth.

Hoseok sighs, defeated, “Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? If you don’t want to give me a show, face away from the door next time, yeah?”

You cross your arms over your chest and say, “I’m not paying you to ogle my ass. We’ve only got an hour and you’ve already wasted 5 minutes by showing up late.”

“It always comes back to money with you doesn’t it? I’m hurt.” You roll your eyes instead of responding and he uses this time to set his duffel bag down next to yours at the back of the room.

He squats down to fish his phone and aux cord out of his bag while he speaks.

“I want to try something different today.”

He’s not looking at you so he misses the suspicious look you send his way. “Different…how?”

“You said you’re here because you want to learn how to dance so you can go to the club right?”

“Yeah…?” you say, still not getting his point.

“Well everything I’ve been teaching you so far is way too advanced for a club. In all honesty, you don’t really need these lessons if that’s the reason you’re here, but you’re paying me so who am I to complain?”

You give him a pointed glare. “Your point, Hoseok. Get to it.”

“Right, all I’m saying is my lessons are useless in that kind of setting. So, I’m gonna teach you something else. Something useful.”

“Yeah? Well, something tells me I’m not gonna like this.”

Finally locating his phone and aux cord from within the depths of his bag, he fiddles with the speakers as he says,

“Oh trust me, you won’t.”

Suddenly a song you don’t recognize is playing through the speakers. It’s slow, much slower than the other songs you’ve practiced to. The rhythm is … sensual.

Too sensual.

Hoseok sets his phone down on his duffel bag in the corner of the room. You see him glance at you before he picks up the chair by the wall and walks toward you with it.

He sets the chair down behind you before coming back around to face you again. “You’re main problem is you’re lacking confidence. You need to have confidence to dance in the club – to dance period. To not care what anyone thinks about you because in that moment you’re free. It’s just you and the music.”

He takes in your expression. You’re still looking at him with suspicion, arms crossed over your chest and expression guarded.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve improved a hell of a lot these past few sessions, but you’re still not completely comfortable, I can tell. And your dancing is suffering from it.”

Clearing your throat, you ask defensively, “Okay, and?? What does this have to do with our lessons?”

“Well I can’t force you to gain confidence in your dancing but I can certainly help you try. Just try and follow my lead, okay?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead he pulls the chair up further and tells you to sit in it.

“What, why?!?” You protest. Did he really expect you to just go along with whatever he says without telling you what his plans were? He must not know who he’s dealing with.

Rolling his eyes, he repeats himself, “Just sit in it. We don’t have time for this.”

“Not until you tell me why I have to sit in the chair.” You say not backing of down.

He tilts his head back with a groan, looking thoroughly fed up with you. “God you’re so stubborn. Everything just has to be difficult with you doesn’t it?” He says more to himself than to you.

At this point the all too-sensual-fucking music still plays from the speakers and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you fearful of what was to come.

Hoseok finally peels his head back down from the ceiling to look at you and when he does his stare is intense.

You go to say something else but when he turns his gaze towards you it makes you hesitate.

You gulp.

“Why are you so stubborn, hmm?” And he takes a step closer to you.

“Do you like pissing me off? Is this fun for you, is that it?” Another step forward from him has you stepping back, suddenly not feeling as bold as you had been just moments ago.

“Hoseok, what are you-”

“Ahh, ahh, ahh…” he shushes you with a finger to your lips. “Don’t speak. You had your chance. It’s my turn now.” 

You find yourself leaning as far back as possible to put some distance between the two of you, but when you step back again, your leg hits the chair, causing you to stumble.

A hand snakes around your waist, preventing you from a painful collision with the chair and the floor of his studio. A look of shock lights up your face as you look up at Hoseok, your voice truly stolen from you now.

“Careful, we don’t want you to get hurt, now do we? Why don’t you take a seat, hmm? Relax those legs a bit, you’ll need them later.”

This time Hoseok leaves you no room for debate as he eases you down into the chair himself. The music is still playing, and your nerves are higher than they ever have been during a lesson. This was Hoseok’s plan to get you to feel confident? If the sweat forming under your pits was any indication, he was doing a terrible job.

Hoseok stands before you, looking down at you in your seat.

“You need to loosen up. Dancing is all about feeling music. Letting the rhythm flow through your body as you feel it.”

He suddenly stands back a bit, swaying his hips to the beat of the music as it plays.

“Don’t think, just do what feels right.” At that he closes his eyes, head tilting back towards the ceiling once again, but he keeps the swaying to the music.

While his eyes are closed, you take the opportunity to get a good look at him. He really is in his element when he dances. There’s something about him that just looks so at peace – like he’s in his own little world that consists of just him, the music, and the sway of his body.

You drink in the movement of his hips all the way up to his exposed neck and that sharp jawline you finally had the chance to admire with his eyes closed. Instantly, you regret your ogling because it does nothing to quell the rising of your body temperature, or the heat between your thighs.

Things only get worse when you notice that he is getting closer to you. Stepping in time to the music, Hoseok is slowly inching his way towards you. He’s looking directly at you now, can see you squirming in your seat in an effort to put as much distance between you two as possible, and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. Oh he’s enjoying this, the bastard, a little too much if you’re being honest.

Suddenly, as the beat drops in the song, he’s propelling himself forward, effectively closing the last few inches of space between you two.

He’s leaning forward, devilish smirk on his face and a hand on the back of your chair, you’re face almost eye level with his chest as you look up at him pathetically.

“This is the type of dancing you’d most likely see in a club. Free, wild… seductive.”

By now the music has returned to it’s melodic rhythm and so does Hoseok. He begins swaying to the beat, rolling his body into yours in a way that can only resemble a lap dance to any onlookers.

One hand on the back of your chair, the other just lightly grazing the top of your knee as he moves, the smirk never leaving his face as he says, “Watch me. See how fluid I am with my movements? How I hear the music and let the notes flow through my body?”

He’s backing away from you now, only to circle your chair, not failing to drag his fingertips across your shoulders until he comes back around to face you again. He traces his arms down your forearms only to grab your hands and hold them in front of him while you continue to stare pathetically up at him.

“Think you can do that for me?” he asks, hopeful eyes shining back at you.

What is he talking about? No you can’t do that, that’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. This whole situation is bizarre and you snap out of you’re stupor to remind him that he’s supposed to be teaching you to dance, not… whatever this is.

“Hoseok,” you say, “I’m not paying you to give me a lap dance.”

“Oh, I know,” he nods, “You’re gonna give me one.”

Before you even have a chance to ask him what in the hell he’s talking about he’s hiking you up onto your feet and plopping himself down into the chair instead.

He looks smug as he sits, legs spread wide in that obnoxious way that guys do and hands in his lap. He stares up at you blankly.

“Well…” he pats his thighs, “Get to it then.”

You stare at him incredulously for a moment before you burst into laughter. The unhinged notes of your laugh almost sound out of place amidst the music that still plays in the background. 

“You’re kidding right? You’ve got to be kidding.”

When his facial expression remains serious you realize that he’s not kidding. You still. “You’re not kidding.” You cross your arms over your chest, turning towards the door. “Okay I’m actually leaving...,” you say for the second time that night.

Before you can get too far, however, arms snake around your waist and you find yourself rooted to the spot.

“You wanted my help, well this is what my help looks like. Ultimately, it’s your own choice, you don’t have to do this but trust me, this lesson is just as beneficial to you as any other, maybe even more.”

You hang your head down, sighing in defeat but not ready to give up just yet. “How do I know you’re not just doing this for your own perverted gain?”

He lifts his hands up by his sides and says, “You have my word. This is purely for your own benefit and not for my own personal gain at all. Scout’s honor.”

You reluctantly relent, softening your demeanor a little by unfolding you’re crossed arms from your chest.

Hoseok calms at that, seeing that you are staying.

“Plus,” he adds, “No offense, but if I wanted a good lap dance I’d just go to the strip club.”

You turn to leave again but Hoseok is grabbing your wrist preventing you from straying far yet again. He’s doing that a lot tonight. Being overly touchy-feely. You can’t say you’re complaining. 

“Kidding, kidding. Geez, your finicky. Come on, at least just try for me.”

You turn around in his arms and sigh. “Alright… well, what do you want me to do?”

“Just feel the music and do whatever feels right.”

Confidence. Just have confidence, you say to yourself. You put your hands on the back of his chair, as he had done earlier but after that you freeze. You don’t know what to do. It seems like you can’t even hear the music at all with how hard you’re heart is pounding in your ears.

Hoseok must have noticed your hesitance as he puts his hands on your wrists which causes you to look at him.

“Hey, just breathe. It’s just me, you and the music.”

He places your hands on his shoulders and his arms at your sides pull your hips closer to him. As the music plays, his arms around your waist guide you into a soft sway along to the beat.

“See? Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head at him, still a little timid but starting to move your hips along to the music on your own.

Feeling more emboldened as time passes, you pull back from him a little, and let the music guide your movements. Your hands drop to your sides, slowly dragging them up your body as you continue your hypnotic sway from side to side. You try to channel all of the grace and sex appeal of your favorite female artists into your movements, imagining a movement and forcing your body to execute it exactly.

At first you don’t pay attention to Hoseok, your eyes opting to drift closed so you can focus on hearing the music and translating it into dancing. But at the sound of someone clearing their throat your head snaps back up to stare at the man sitting directly before you.

Big mistake. His eyes are focused on you, staring intently at you and every move you make. It causes you to falter a bit in your movements, but you quickly recover, not wanting him to notice how much he affects you. He looks… uncomfortable? Weird because you’ve never seen him look like that before, ever. He’s always the picture of calm, cool and collected. But now… now his eyes are blown out, pupils wide and…you could swear you saw his eyes flicker over your frame once before he wets his lips and shifts in his seat.

Mostly because you want to get away from his heated gaze but partly because you feel strangely emboldened by his reaction you begin to tease him more, starting a slow walk around the chair like he had done to you earlier. Unfortunately for you, he can still see you in the mirrored wall of the studio and he is looking straight at you, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. You meet his eyes with a stare of your own, the room silent except for the music that plays softly in the background.

It’s almost as if you are in some sort of competition. As if he’s testing you to see whether you really have the guts to do what he asked of you. And if there was one thing about you, it was the fact that you really, really liked to prove people wrong.

Biting your lip, you tentatively place your hands on the back of his chair, the tips of your fingers lightly touching the top of his shoulders.

To your surprise, he captures your fingers in his own hands, dragging your hands down to rest properly around his neck. At this point, you are just slightly swaying in time to the beat of the music, nerves shooting through your body at a rapid pace. Your eyes fall close, head tilted down at your toes in favor of looking at him.

However, your head snaps back up again once he speaks.

“You’re doing well. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well, piss me off and this is what happens.”

“Really? That’s all it takes? A couple fighting words and you’re moving like this? Remind me to piss you off more often then.”

“Please don’t. Between you and my best friend I don’t think my blood pressure can take much more than this. Any higher and I’m finished.”

He chuckles lowly and your too busy admiring the deep timbre of his laugh so close to your ear that you don’t notice he’s pulling you around to face him until your standing right in front of him again.

His hands find their way to your hips but this time they’re timid. You freeze, standing between his parted legs, so close, your hands braced against his shoulders as you stare down at him. He seems to be just as frozen, seemingly shocked still by the proximity of your body to his. His hands maintain their light hold on your hips, not wanting to push you farther than your willing to go, as if he’s waiting on you to make your next move. It’s cute… his hesitance. He’s being polite, an action you’d never expect to come out of the usually cocky man sitting before you, and your thankful. It gives you the much needed confidence to continue, your movements becoming bolder, raunchier.

And suddenly you’re pushing off from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as your move in time to the music. You don’t watch him for long though, it’ll only make you more nervous than you already are. You can already feel that sudden burst of confidence starting to dwindle but you don’t want to give in to nerves now. You’ve come to far.

You spin around, continuing with that same sensual sway before you bend over suddenly at the drop of a beat, your head down by your knees and your hand at your feet. You don’t know where all this is coming from. How you are doing it. You must be pulling from the mental compartment of all the dance moves from female artists you had admired but could never pull off.

Whatever the case may be, you know one thing for certain, you are doing what feels right. It’s just you and the music and your body is responding to it. What you have yet to realize, however, is that the man in the chair is also responding to something. And it isn’t the music.

_____

Hoseok watches as you slowly drag yourself back up, turning yourself around to face him again. The whole time he just has a front row to seat to your ass. I mean it’s just there. He’s starting to think this was a bad idea, but in his defense, he didn’t know you’d turn out to be such a fucking tease. Once you let your guard down, he couldn’t deny that you actually had some moves. There was some rhythm in your bones somewhere. Buried deep, deep down beneath all that ice.

But soon Hoseok is losing focus again as your shimmying turns into a slow stalk towards him. Your face – determined, concentrated, his – apprehensive, and so unbelievably turned on.

You grab for the back of his neck with one hand, drawing your faces close, as you sink down on his thigh, beginning a slow grind there.

Yep, definitely a bad idea, he thinks.

Where was all this coming from? You had to be fucking with him. You must’ve known how to dance all along because this is ridiculous. No, it’s ridiculous how turned on he is right now and you haven’t even done much but move your hips.

Well, now you’re grinding said hips on his thigh and that’s ten times more distracting. It doesn’t make sense really. He’s seen way better dancers – at strips clubs, some of his fellow coworkers, hell even some of the half-drunken girls at parties he’s been to. He’s seen all the tricks, the way they oozed sexuality with each and every movement. But there was something about you that held him hostage. He was intoxicated. By what he doesn’t know.

It must be your eyes. So dark and captivating, yet so innocent at the same time. Or maybe it was the fact that you did prove him wrong. And he didn’t know whether to be thankful or resent the fact that you did…

He’s not sure, but for the life of him he hopes you don’t notice his body’s reaction in response to your actions.

_____

Holy shit, you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Grabbing his neck and taking a seat on his lap seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you’re behind made contact with his thighs? Different story. But still…you want to prove him wrong. Not just that, you want to prove to yourself that you could do this. So, summoning all the courage you had left in you, you ground down on him. Your hand still holding his neck, your faces mere inches apart as you ground your hips into his crotch. The shocked expression on his face and his blown out pupils only encouraged you, urging you to move faster, grind just a bit harder.

"You didn’t tell me you could move like this,” he mutters lowly, so lowly that if anyone else were to be in the room, only you would be able to hear him.

You falter slightly, not expecting his voice because it felt like ages ago since either one of you spoke. However, you quickly recover, composing yourself to reply to him.

“I didn’t know I could.”

He glances down, then back up. “Clearly you can.”

At this point your faces are even closer than you were before, nose to nose, and his hands have once again found their way to your waist. He doesn’t control your movements, as he did before, instead his hands seem to follow your lead, allowing you to remain in control.

The gesture is subtle, but you pick up on it nonetheless. It’s sweet, you think, how he’s not forcing you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, allowing you to be in control of your body.

You find yourself leaning forward, something about him drawing you in. You are staring into eyes and his intense gaze meets your own right back. You also find that your lower half has migrated from the end of his thighs to closer and closer to his crotch. And what you find there makes your breath hitch, voice caught in your throat.

If he knows that you noticed the slight bulge forming in his pants he doesn’t say anything. And neither do you. Instead the both of you just continue to stare at each other. Your hips have halted all movement, the room silent except for your heavy breaths and the sound of the music in the background.

Your arms are still around his neck and the position is intimate so intimate, but you don’t pull away.

He looks up at you, bottom lip between his teeth, as he studies you, and he looks like he’s about to say something but at that moment the door to the studio swings open and you are scrambling off his lap in an instant. Your butt makes contact with the hard wood of the floor and you wince. Hoseok had been nice enough to try to save you from your inevitable fall but when he couldn’t he offers you a hand up instead.

Your eyes snap to the man in the doorway when you hear him start to speak.

“Sorry, am I… interrupting something?” The man queries, the expression on his face puzzled and slightly uncomfortable.

“No, not at all!” Hoseok blurts, then composes himself, “I was just in the middle of a lesson, what do you need Jungkook?”

“Sorry, uh right. I was wondering if you could cover my class tomorrow? The 8-10 year olds? I got a group assignment for school I can’t miss.”

“No problem. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I figured you were in here rehearsing like always, I didn’t know you had a lesson going on, sorry.” The kid does look sincerely remorseful for barging in on you guys but you couldn’t help but find his wide eyes and puppy-dog expression cute. Speaking of cute, you were starting to wonder whether being attractive was a requirement for working here because so far everyone you had come into contact with was insanely good-looking.

“It’s okay. I guess I didn’t tell you I had a lesson tonight.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly out o breath even though he wasn’t the one dancing. Gesturing between you both, he introduces you to each other and says, “You have got to stop meeting my friends this way. But all this is telling me is that my friends lack manners and need to learn how to knock.”

Jungkook blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he glances at you and gives you a small wave. Adorable.

You wave back, smiling politely as you ask him, “So Jungkook, you’re a dance instructor here too?”

“Yep. I mostly lead the children’s hip hop classes but I assist in the adult classes occasionally.”

Hoseok claps his hands together, “Alright, I think Jungkook’s intrusion wraps up our lesson. Kook I’ll see you later. Text me the details of the class so I know what I’m doing when I get there okay?” Jungkook nods his okay and they say their goodbyes. Once the door swings closed again Hoseok turns to see you have already started collecting your things.

“Your friends seem so much sweeter than you.”

“Here we go again, you assuming you know my friends better than I do when you don’t.”

“What?” you shrug. “The kid’s adorable. Like a cute little puppy.”

“Yeah, well sorry you’re stuck with me. JK doesn’t do private lessons.” You zip up your backpack and throw it over your shoulder as you stand, turning to face him. “Aww that’s too bad. Maybe I can get him to make an exception?” You put your finger to your chin in thought.

“You really didn’t do too bad today you know.”

You’re confused by the sudden change in topic but his next statement clears it up for you.

“Your dancing. It was actually… pretty good.”

You blush at the compliment. Really? He really thought you did well? You don’t know why you are surprised because you could obviously tell by his body language a few minutes ago that he was into it but…it felt good to hear him say it.

“Uh, thanks.” You say like an idiot. God why did words fail you at the most inopportune of times.

“No problem. See, I told you all you needed was a little push.”

You smile and nod at him again (like an idiot) but you can’t help it. You don’t know what to say. It’s like you were suddenly overwhelmed with a fresh wave of nerves.

“Well it’s getting late. I guess I’ll head out.”

“Right, uh, I-I’m gonna go now too. Uh, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashes his megawatt smile at you and you feel the butterflies stir.

Sending one more tight smile has way you turn on your heel and make your way to the door as quickly as you can without actually running.

God, what did you get yourself into?

.

.

.

A week later you are sitting at the shitty desk in the shitty building of your shitty job.

In case it wasn’t clear enough, you really didn’t like your job.

Originally you had took it because you thought it would be a good entryway into the publishing world. Turns out you were just doing the job of a glorified intern, answering phone calls, responding to emails, and (you guessed it) going on the occasional coffee run.

Fucking secretarial work. You should have known this is what you would be doing when you applied, really. You had thought this job would give you exposure to the world of writing, publishing, and editing but sadly you were wrong. The lengths of your exposure spanned asking a client what day of the week worked best for them to meet with a staff member to discuss their work.

Thankfully, with only one semester left in school, you wouldn’t have to wait long until you could apply for work that you actually wanted to do. Once you figured that out, exactly. At only 24, most people would say you were doing well for yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel as if life was passing you by and everyone was leaving you behind.

You took a break from school for a year to save up enough money to go back but when you did, it wasn’t easy. Who knew taking a year off could make it so hard to get back into the groove of things? You had to grind full time for awhile in order to catch up. In the meantime though, you were stuck here.

Currently, you were supposed to be responding to emails but you were attending to much more important business.

Chae: So y'all bumped and grinded on each other… and he almost kissed you. I’m struggling to see the downside to all this

You: I said it felt like we were gonna kiss, not 'he almost kissed me’ Big difference.

Chae: Sounds the same to me

You: And the downside is that now things are going to be awkward between us. We were actually starting to become cordial with each other, dare i say friends even. now that’s all shot to shit

Chae: It’s only awkward if you make it awkward ;)

You: Exactly! Have you met me?!

Chae: You’re overreacting! He obviously likes you so quit worrying.

You: Oh yeah? What makes you so sure of that?

Chae: He let you dance on him for 15 minutes and popped a stiffy from it. I think he likes you.

You: I have got to stop telling you every little thing about my life.

Chae: Try as hard as you want but I’ll pry it out of you sooner or later!

Just as you were about to type out a snarky reply in response, your phone pinged with the alert of a new message.

But it wasn’t from Chaeyoung.

It was from Hoseok.

Hoseok: Hey

And then, another ping, alerting you that second message had come in.

Hoseok: I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel our lesson tomorrow. I have a thing I gotta go to. Hope you understand :)

Great. Now he was cancelling on you. Must be trying to avoid you after what happened last session. Chaeyoung wasn’t always right, as she liked to believe.

You: Yeah, well if he likes me so much why did he cancel our lesson tomorrow?

Chae: What?

You: Yep. He cancelled just now. Said he had a 'thing’

Chae: Ppl have to go to 'things’ all the time. Relax. I can 100% bet that he still likes you

You: Sure (◔_◔)

And that was the end of that conversation because eventually you did get back to work, even if all you did was pretend to organize the files in your already alphabetically-coded drawer. By the time it was time to clock out you were already packed up and ready to go, all you were waiting on was the clock to hit 6pm.

You had absolutely no plans today, a rare occasion that you got to go home and not have to worry about how you were going to finish several assignments for classes that you a) had little to no time on, or b) had ample time for but procrastinated on.

All you wanted was to go home and curl up in front of your couch with your dinner.

You gasped. Dinner. It was sad to say, but you had absolutely no food in your home to make a warm home cooked meal tonight. With your roommate having gone to visit her family back home, the house had been even emptier than usual. And you were too lazy to go grocery shopping tonight, it would have to wait until the weekend. So, as you got in your car you pondered your options for where you would be getting your next meal from.

There was a Korean place nearby that you had always wanted to try. You guess now was the perfect opportunity unless you wanted to go home and put together a dinner made out of cereal dust and cup ramen.

As appetizing as that sounded (it didn’t), you quickly changed lanes, heading for the restaurant a few miles away from you.

When you got there you were surprised. Not by the decor, or by the delicious smell of food wafting through the air, but because the man standing directly in front of you looked like your dance instructor. You hadn’t memorized the back of his head or anything, but you were pretty sure this was Hoseok standing in front of you and not some eerily similar doppelganger.

He stood in line waiting to order his food, hat pulled down low over his eyes and head buried in his phone. He hadn’t noticed you yet, thankfully, and you took this time to ponder whether you should make yourself known or just go home to your sad dinner of cereal flakes and cup noodles.

The last time you two talked you had turned into a awkward, stuttering mess, so wanting to save yourself the embarrassment of having to go through that again, you had decided to slip out as inconspicuously as possible.

No luck. Unfortunately, Hoseok chose that moment to look up from his phone, swiveling his neck around on his shoulders for a stretch.

You were backing away quietly toward the door so you saw the exact moment Hoseok recognized you, double taking to confirm that it was in fact you. You hear your name fall from his lips in question and you resist the urge to visibly wince.

“Hoseok!” You say feigning enthusiasm. “What’re you doing here?” The fake smile plastered on your face is probably terrifying.

“Just grabbing dinner. My buddy owns this place so I get a nice discount. You grabbing dinner too?”

“Yeah, yep.” Jesus, fuck. “Though I don’t have a friend who works here so I guess I’ll be paying full price.” How much longer did you have to endure this torture?

He laughs at that, and it does something weird to your stomach. The butterflies are acting up again, but this time it isn’t due to nerves.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I had to cancel our lesson. It’s just there’s something I forgot about and…”

You interject to help move the conversation along. You do not want to talk about dance, or lessons, or anything at all right now.

“Hey, no worries. I get it. You make me out to be way more devastated than I actually am.”

He laughs again saying, “Stop lying. You would’ve quit weeks ago if you didn’t like dancing at least a little.”

Maybe he was right. You don’t know. You certainly didn’t hate it as much as you did when you started, but love? Hmm, must be still getting there. You force your other theory, the one where you decided to keep up the lessons because of the person teaching them, down deep into the recesses of your brain. 

You go to answer him but before any of you can say anything else, it’s Hoseok’s turn in line.

He greets the host comfortably, they seem to know each other, presumably because Hoseok’s friend owns the place and he must come here all the time.

“Jaehyun, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Good, good. Me and the wife took a vacation away from the kids and lemme tell you, best sleep I’ve had in a long time. You still working for that crappy boss of yours?”

Crappy boss? As far as you knew Hoseok seemed to be comfortable with his job at the studio. You had even met the owner one time and she didn’t seem to be a total stick in the ass. In fact it was quite the opposite. You remember you had been running late to practice after work one day, struggling to lug your bag, your change of clothes and sneakers all into the studio. The owner had been passing by when she saw you and kindly offered to give you a hand. But then again, some people tended acted different towards their employees versus a paying customer.

“No, no I quit not too long ago. Seokjin here today?”

“Oh really? And yeah he’s in the back. I can go grab him for you if you want-” The host, Jaehyun says, already making his way to the back of the restaurant.

“No need. I’ll see him later no doubt.” Hoseok replies.

“Alright. You want the usual, to go?”

“Actually,” Hoseok glances at you,“I think I’ll eat here tonight. Can I get a table for two?”

“Sure, no problem.” You see Jaehyun’s eyes land on you standing awkwardly off to the side before they’re back on Hoseok, “Just give me a minute.”

You’re confused. Was Hoseok meeting up with someone? That’s the only plausible reason for him asking for a table for a table for two. You panic. What if he meeting up with a date? God you needed to hurry up and order your food so you could get the hell out of there.

But then Hoseok is turning to you, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Have dinner with me?” he says.

“What?” You must have misheard.

He laughs, though this time you don’t know why. “I said have dinner with me. Come on, I could use the company. Unless… you have other plans?” And for a moment he looks disappointed.

Yeah, your other plans consisted of curling up on your couch and stuffing your face of bulgolgi but you don’t tell him that. In fact, you’re starting to think you must be a masochist because despite your nerves just a moment ago you agree to eat with him anyway.

“Uh, no. No plans.” you mumble.

“Great, so you’ll eat with me?”

You nod tentatively in response and that elicits a wide smile from him that lights up his face like the sun. You sigh, following Hoseok to a table near the back of the restaurant. You’re more whipped than you thought.

The food is good, oh my god it’s so good. Why hadn’t you come here sooner?

You’re in the middle of shoving another serving of pork belly into your mouth when Hoseok (who you had honestly forgotten was there) speaks.

“Whoa, slow down. A-are you even chewing? Please tell me you’re chewing and not just inhaling your food.”

You moan around a spoonful of sliced beef, rice, and vegetables, the spices meshing together and hitting your tongue just right. “Can’t talk. Eating.”

He shakes his head, attention now on his own food and making sure the meat on the grill between you doesn’t burn.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to put in a little extra for chef then. He never cooks like this when I’m by myself.”

You stop eating mid-chew, tearing your eyes away from the table to shoot him a look. “Hoseok, I don’t know if this is what I think you mean but you’re not paying for my food.”

“I already told you, it’s your first time here so don’t worry about it. Plus, it’s the least I can do for disrupting a busy woman such as yourself.”

Something about the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face while he says it gives you the impression that he knew you had absolutely nothing better to do tonight.

At his words, you momentarily forget your argument and say, “Excuse me. I’ll have you know I am very busy, okay? So drop the sarcasm. I had several plans lined up for tonight.” You huff indignantly. 

“Oh yeah, like what?” he queries looking up at you in between turning the meet over on the grill. 

Shit. “Like... you know. Stuff,” you shrug. 

His light cackle fills the air and you would be more upset that he was laughing at you if said laugh didn’t warm your insides and bring a smile to your own lips. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before.”

“Me neither. And I’ll be beating myself up everyday for not having come sooner. This is fucking delicious.”

“Yeah, I know,” an amused expression crosses his face as he resumes watching you scarf down the rest of your meal. “Save some for me, yeah?”

“You snooze you lose.” Comes your retort, already reaching for your next mouthful of food. “You said you’re friend owns this place?”

“Yes he does. The friend’s name is Kim Seokjin. That’s me. I’m Kim Seokjin.” You register that another voice has entered the conversation and you look behind Hoseok to see a handsome man smiling brightly at the pair of you, his hands resting on good-naturedly on Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying my food. If you’re going to get anything out of this date I’m glad it’s a good meal.” Seokjin says to you.

This time, you do choke. Coughing hysterically, you reach for your glass of water in an effort to clear your throat. Date? Hoseok’s friend thinks you were on a date.

Just great, add more fuel to your fantasies.

Hoseok blanches, looking back at Seokjin to clarify. “Seokjin, you know damn well I stopped bringing my dates here after what happened the last time.”He gestures to you, “This is ___. She does lessons with me.”

No longer coughing up a lung like a madwoman, you shyly wave in greeting when Seokjin looks your way.

“Nice to meet you ___. Ignore him, I’m sure anything I said at the time was perfectly appropriate.”

“You told her I can only get it up if we’re both cosplaying as titans from that weird cartoon you watch!”

“Anime, Hoseok, it’s called anime. And your kink is nothing to be ashamed of! There are plenty communities of people out there with the same fetish. I just had to give your date a warning in case she wasn’t into that sorta thing. I was only doing you a favor.” Seokjin shrugs.

Hoseok huffs in frustration and you chuckle quietly at their antics. Seokjin, hmm? So far you think you like this guy. You haven’t seen Hoseok this flustered in… ever.

The squabbling between the pair dies down and you tune back into the conversation when Seokjin turns serious.

“How’s things going at the firm 'seok? That place keeping you busy?”

All of a sudden Hoseok looks, nervous? And not the flustered kind of nervous he was just a moment ago when Seokjin was teasing him. He’s more anxious than anything. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck before he replies,

“Yeah, I uh… I quit actually.” he mutters sheepishly.

You think Seokjin’s eyes are going to pop out of his head with how far they bug out of their sockets. “Quit? What do you mean quit? Since when?”

Hoseok glares at the other man, as if trying to telepathically communicate that he should keep his voice down.

He elaborates, “I don’t know, about a month ago? Listen, it’s not a big deal.”

Seokjin bellows with laughter at that, a hand placed on Hoseok’s shoulder for balance as he doubles over in mirth. Once he comes to again, he wipes a tear from his eye dramatically and straightens up.

“Ha, good one. Not a big deal? Wasn’t that your old man’s dream for you your whole entire life and it’s 'not a big deal��?”

Hoseok winces at that and you’re starting to realize that this conversation is venturing into personal matters. Personal matters that are obviously a very touchy subject for Hoseok if his reaction is anything to go by.

“Yeah, well it’s not my old man’s life to live now is it?”

Hoseok says lowly and at that the conversation halts for several moments.

You’re thankful for the chatter of other patrons, the sounds of metal hitting ceramic, and the distant street noise coming from outside or this long lull in the conversation would have been way more awkward than it already is. You are beginning to wonder whether you should just leave enough money on the table to pay your half of the bill and go home but then Hoseok is speaking again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that it’s just… I was tired of people telling me what I should be doing, especially my dad. So, I quit. I never liked that job anyway.”

Seokjin nods his head in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m glad you’re out actually. You always seemed so miserable there and you never had time to hang out anymore. I take it you’re at the studio full time now?”

“Yep. I’ve felt better than I have in a long time too. Despite being on my feet most days I feel like I have more energy than I ever have working in that hellhole.”

“Good. I’m proud of you. What did your dad say?”

That anxious look is back on Hoseok’s face.

“Funny story. I kind of… haven'ttoldhimyet.” The last part of his sentence is rushed and muttered under his breath but Seokjin still clearly manages to hear what he had said.

“You what?! Hoseok, you have to tell him! It’s gonna crush him but he needs to know.”

Hoseok swats at Seokjin’s head as if trying to shoo him away when he leaned closer to shout at the man sitting in the booth before him.

“I know, I’m working on it. I just need time. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away. You can’t your mouth shut for shit.” Seokjin places a hand on his chest, offended

“Excuse you I can keep secrets, especially the one you’re keeping from your dad right now. Just tell him soon, he’s gonna find out eventually.”

“I know, I’m just not ready yet. But I will be! Soon.”

Hoseok starts playing with fingers dejectedly and Seokjin looks down at him pityingly.

He looks so sad and small, and the sight tugs at your heart strings immensely. Suddenly Seokjin turns to you as if just now remembering you had been sitting there the entire time.

“I don’t think you can blame me for scaring off your date this time Hoseok. This was all you buddy.” Seokjin says with a pat to the other man’s shoulder, most likely trying to lighten the mood.

“Again, not a date. And I still blame you. You’re the one who asked me about my job.” Hoseok counters.

“Fine,” Seokjin brushes Hoseok off with a huff before he turns back to you. “But I still feel bad. Tell you what, I’ll throw in a free dessert, any one you want, on the house.”

“Oh it’s ok, you don’t have to-” you begin but Hoseok cuts you off.

“She’ll take it. She’s not even paying so I’ll take any discounts I can get.”

“Oh, well in that case, it’s standard price and extra for any extra toppings.” He turns back to you, “I recommend getting the sweet rice cakes with red bean paste. Absolutely delicious.”

Hoseok bristles. “Isn’t that the most expensive thing on the dessert men-”

“And with that I bid you all adew! Nice meeting you ___. And Hoseok, tell your dad about the thing!”

Seokjin shouts as he makes his way back to wherever the hell he came from. You barely had time to say goodbye as you watch him disappear toward the back of the restaurant.

You can’t help but smile as you observe Hoseok expression, elbows propped up on the table as he rubs his temples in annoyance.

“I like him,” you say decisively.

Hoseok still has his eyes closed when he replies.

“And the saga continues. How many more of my friends can you meet without taking an instant liking to them over me?”

“It depends, how many more friends do you have?”

His eyes snap open.

“None. No more. Seokjin was the last of ‘em. I’m a very lonely guy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

You nod along dismissively. Hoseok was, generally, a very freindly guy (aside from that one fluke the first night you had met him), so you doubted any of that was true. 

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to see all that. Seokjin just kept prying. He must’ve forgotten we were in public. Or he didn’t care,” a pause, “He just didn’t care.” he declares.

You decide not to give him a hard time especially after hearing some things he probably never meant for you to hear.

“Don’t apologize. I get it, we all have overbearing parents, some more so than others.”

He laughs bitterly, “Yeah, my dad’s one of the more overbearing types I guess. Fucking sucks, really.”

You give him a pitying smile to try and convey that you understand where he’s coming from but you don’t, not really.

Your parents had always been pretty supportive of you, always letting you try whatever little activity caught your eye only to inevitably drop it two weeks later in favor of a new one. Your dad had always said “Let the girl try it. It’ll build her character,” all those times your mom got fed up with your lack of commitment to any one thing. You tried basketball (no hand-eye coordination at all) and drawing (too meticulous) and martial arts (sports just weren’t your thing) until you found something you did like. Writing. You had always loved reading and writing, so much so that you had joined the neighborhood book club (that was only comprised of retirement aged grandmas and a sprinkle of middle aged moms) to discuss your favorite books. In high school, you had become an active participant in the creative writing club, even going so far as to become the vice-president in your senior year.

So no, it didn’t really make much sense to you when someone told you they had an overbearing parent. Why would you want to limit your child by putting them in a box of what you think he or she is capable of doing?

So, as you sit there and wonder what you’re life would have been like if your parents didn’t let you experience these things, Hoseok continues.

“My dad he’s… he’s not a bad guy it’s just, he’s got a fixed idea of what I should be doing with my life.”

“Ohh.” You blank in recognition. “Let me guess, you don’t want to do that do you?” you query.

Hoseok nods. “Ever since I was little he was always saying ‘go to college, study something practical, get a high paying job.’ It’s like he never stopped to consider what I wanted.”

You nod, finally understanding. “Sometimes people just want the best for their kids but they don’t realize that their hurting them in the process.”

Hoseok’s eyes glimmer with the excitement that someone finally gets it. “Exactly. I’d just wish he realize that what’s best for me is doing what I want to do, not living out whatever plan he had laid out for me.”

“And what is it? That you want to do?” You ask. The answer should be obvious.

It is obvious. The man looks like he lives and breathes dance. Often more times than not he is a couple minutes late to your lessons because he got held up rehearsing for his own showcase, or staying behind to help a few of his other students with a difficult part of the choreography. Whatever plan he has laid out for himself you know dancing is an integral part of it. That’s why it does not come as a surprise to you when he says,

“Dance. I love it.”

You gasp, sarcasm laced in your tone, “I never would’ve guessed!”

He smiles. “I’m not sure how far I can go with this. I just know that it comes as natural to me as breathing and I never want to stop. And I want to make a living doing something I love, ya know? God, forbid I get into a freak accident or something. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” He chuckles but you don’t doubt for one second that he is dead serious. You admire his passion and his bravery for getting out there and actively seeking out what he wants. Most kids wouldn’t dare defy their parents, even if it means sacrificing their own happiness.

Hoseok didn’t, refused, to settle. It’s admirable.

“I’m proud of you.” you say seriously.

“What?”

“I said I’m proud of you. I know I’m not your dad and I don’t have some lifelong bond with you that would warrant you wanting my approval, but, if it means anything, I’m proud of you. For living your life the way you want to.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly awestruck by the fact that you didn’t say anything sarcastic, or slightly insulting, for once. It’s actually quite…nice. He’s not sure how to respond yet but his body warms a little inside at your remark.

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, i-it does mean something. Means a lot.” And he’s back to sheepish again, his face turning a cute shade of tomato red in response.

You learn a lot about Hoseok that night. He was two years older than you, for one, and apparently he had a degree in business analytics, which was… completely not Hoseok to say the least.

In other words it was extremely shocking to you, but it was something he had completed at the insistence of his father. He had been working in sales for about a year when he decided to call it quits. Ever since he’s been working at the studio full time as an instructor. He makes significantly less money now, but at least now he doesn’t dread the thought of waking up to go to a job he never liked in the first place.

He shows you his instagram page (something you had already studied extensively after that night Chaeyoung had discovered it) where he posts his original choreography and clips of the showcases he’s done. He tells you he’s been meaning to start up a YouTube channel where he can post longer clips and tutorials. The whole time he speaks rather excitedly about it all, like a little kid talking about their favorite cartoon. It’s endearing, seeing his eyes light up like stars as he talks about his goals. He even tells you he wants to open up his own studio one day, although something about the way he says it makes him seem unsure if of it’s possibility, uncertainty flooding his irises and replacing that shiny glimmer.

You tell him to go for it. You have full faith in him that he’ll have a studio to call his own in no time. You’ve seen the comments under his videos, praising him, begging him to upload step-by-step tutorials so they can learn the choreography for themselves. You have no doubt that anyone who’s serious about dance will want to train under him, you included. And so you tell him that. He’s already come this far, why stop now?

The conversation even ventures into your own career. Wherever that’s headed. You tell him you’re in your last semester of school and about you’re major in English literature. It’s something you always liked but you’ve been unsure of the kind of career you wanted to pursue. There seemed to be too many options, yet none at all. You weren’t conducive to teaching, if what happened in the 7th grade when you tried to tutor little Johnny from next door was anything to go by, then yeah – it was best you left teaching alone.

Hoseok tells you that you and his dad might get along. He was a literature teacher, though more of the Korean literature variety. He then asks you if you’d ever be an author. You like writing but how often do people become successful authors and make a decent living off of it?

“If you’re any good you’ll make it. You should let me read some of your work. I’m an honest critic, I swear.” Hoseok says. Hoseok is the last person you’ll ever let read your silly drabbles and poetic musings. Honest critic or not, there’s still something raw, vulnerable about letting anyone, let alone him, read your work.

And you hate to admit it but you had a feeling you’d value his opinion a little more than you’d like to.

You both continue to talk, your conversation surprisingly deep, as you finish up your meals. Hoseok had ended up ordering the sweet rice cakes even though you told him not to. But boy are you glad he didn’t listen. One bite in and you feel like you have died and gone straight to sticky rice heaven.

Hoseok also gets away with paying the bill, despite your loud protests against it. Although you do manage to slip him a twenty, refusing to take another lesson from him if he doesn’t keep it.

You actually had fun tonight, not something you had thought you would be saying when you first stepped into the restaurant and saw Hoseok standing in line. But now… now you don’t want the night to end.

Thankfully, Hoseok, must not either, which is why he offers to take you to a nifty little ice cream parlor that he swears has the best soft serve in town. Two desserts in one night isn’t exactly ideal, but neither of you are complaining. Now as you sit on a bench outside slurping on your quickly melting double chocolate fudge cone, you are content. The softly flowing waters of the river before you provide calming background noise to the otherwise quiet night.

“So have you applied what you learned in an actual club yet or what?” Hoseok says between licks of his mint chocolate chip ice cream.

You choke on your ice cream (you don’t know how but you do).

“Ex-scuse me?” You mumble around a bite of the cold dessert.

Hoseok chuckles at your flustered response.

“When was the last time you’ve been to a club?” he asks again.

“Um- awhile actually. And I’m not exactly thrilled to go back.” Your surprised Chaeyoung hasn’t dragged you out to yet another club in weeks. She must be busy. That or she’s just giving you time to get settled with these lessons before she forces you onto a club dance floor.

“You should go back. See if you’ve improved at all.”

“Well I better have or you’re a terrible teacher and I want my money back.”

He just shakes his head rather than dignifying your comment with a response.

“So tell me,” he begins, “What’s the real reason you decided to take my lessons?”

“Huh?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“You heard me. You can’t just be taking lessons because ‘you want to learn how to dance in a club.’ I had a feeling you were lying when you first told me but I didn’t want to push it. So tell me, why are you really here?” He queries, eyes squinted at you in suspicion.

Try as you might to deny it, he’s onto something. Although this whole thing had started because Chaeyoung suggested that you get lessons to get over your fear of club dancing, perhaps you definitely had ulterior motives when you initially agreed. You guess Hoseok was starting to catch on that you can’t just be taking his lessons for something as silly as dancing in a sweaty, grimy club. And he was right. So you tell him the truth.

“My dad, he was in a group when he was younger. He and his friends started it up expecting nothing serious to come out of it, but they eventually started seeing some success in it. They started competing in competitions which blossomed into them winning a few. They even became back up dancers for a couple of the local artists in his town. My dad used to tell me all about his days as a street dancer and he seemed so happy then.“

You relay the story of your father’s background, a faint smile on your face as you are reminded of all those times he used to sit you on his lap and tell you all about his glory days.

"They were dancers of the popping/locking variety.” You gesture to Hoseok, him most likely being familiar with the technique. “And he wanted to make a career out of it too but, I don’t know – life happened I guess. He met my mom and pretty soon I was here.” Hoseok is nodding along, paying attention to your every word as you tell him your family history.

“It was an unplanned pregnancy but my parents weren’t upset or anything. They just… adjusted. My dad had to put his dream on hold to support us, especially with his father-in-law breathing down his neck that he needed to get a real job to support my mom and me. So, he eventually settled down. He made decent money, so he never really complained but he never did get back to dancing. Not really.”

You shrug thinking about your childhood with your father. He was the best dad, always there for you, making you laugh, but more often than not you would spot something somber floating in the depths of his eyes. Something just below the surface, but subdued enough to make you believe you needn’t worry.

“But as long as I remember he was always dancing.” You remember those early mornings, waking up to soft music playing as your dad danced with your mom in the kitchen, her shrieking at him to stop fooling around before she burned the pancakes and, him, laughing heartily as he tried to coax her into a swing.

“He loved it. Dancing was his passion. Kinda like you really.” You pause to look at him.

“He tried to get me into it but I never took, obviously. I guess that’s why, now, I’m trying to pay homage to him. I don’t know it sounds stupid but, I want to connect with him in some way and dancing is the only way I know how.”

You didn’t mean to tell Hoseok this much about your personal life but once you started talking, it was hard to stop. Hoseok was a surprisingly good listener, but more than that you realized that it had been a long while since you talked about your father. You figured that you needed to get this off your chest and Hoseok generously lended an ear to listen.

Hoseok makes sure your looking at him before he says, genuinely, “It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all.”

His words strike a chord in you and you feel grateful that you joined him tonight.

He holds eye contact with you for long after he finishes speaking. It’s too quiet, the only sounds you hear are the gentle pitter patter of the water before you, and you swear you can hear both of your breaths, slow and heavy. He holds your gaze and… did his eyes drop down to your lips or are you hallucinating? If they did it happens too fast for your soju-riddled brain to comprehend because now his eyes (if they ever left) are back up at yours. His stare is intense, too intense, which is why you find yourself snapping out of your haze and averting your eyes to your rapidly melting ice cream.

Hoseok clears his throat, adding some much needed noise to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

“Your dad sounds a lot like me actually. Mind if we switch?” he jokes.

You smile, grateful that the awkwardness from earlier starts to dissipate. “I’d love to but I don’t think it’d be much of a fair trade. My dad died a couple years ago.”

Hoseok winces, his attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, seeming to have worsened it instead. “I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a really great guy.”

“It’s no biggie. He was sick and we knew he would have to pass eventually. And, you’re right, he was a great guy. I have a feeling you guys would’ve gotten along well. Could’ve even given you a couple pointers.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I guess you’re not wrong though. I would’ve loved to learn from a guy like him.”

You smile. “God, now I wish you were his son. You would’ve made a way better student than I did, that’s for sure.”

Hoseok laughs. “Like I said, offers still up to take my old man. He probably would’ve loved another literature nerd to geek out with over similes or metaphors or whatever the hell you all get excited over.”

“I’m more of a sucker for descriptive imagery myself, but to each their own.”

Hoseok snorts around his final bite of his ice cream cone, thoroughly done with this conversation. You continue to lick your ice cream happily, pleased that you got the last word in.

 Hoseok drops you off back at Seokjin’s restaurant to pick up your car and from there you both part ways.

“I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.” he says as you try to fish your keys out of your purse.

Your heart flutters at the prospect of Hoseok wanting to spend more time with you. Finally locating your keys you unlock your car, sending Hoseok a response over your shoulder.

“We should. I severely underestimated you Jung Hoseok. You can be good company when you want to be.”

Salacious smile on his face, he pokes his head through the open window of your seat, his forearms resting against the car door.

“I’m really not that bad once you get to know me ice queen. I just had to get you to warm up to me. I can be good from time to time, but only if you let me.” He winks.

Heat rushes to your cheeks so incredibly fast you’re surprised you don’t pass out from it. God he’s unbelievable. Just when you think you’re getting over this silly crush he starts this to fuck you up all over again.

You groan audibly. “It was nice while it lasted. Goodnight, Hoseok.” you say tersely.

“Night, __! ” He calls cheerily over his shoulder and you watch him incredulously for a little bit before you drive off, headed straight for home.

When you do get home you run over the events of your night from beginning to end, not believing that it started out with you worrying that your next meeting with the dance instructor would be awkward.

You are grabbing some pajamas from your bottom drawer when you hear your phone ping with the alert of a new message.

You grab your phone from its place on the bedside table to read it.

Chae: Suit up, we’re going dancing bb.

You: When?

Chae: This Saturday. And bring your dancing shoes cause I’m inviting a few special guests.

You: Special guests???

Chae: You’ll see ;)

You don’t know what Chaeyoung is up to but you’re certain you don’t like the sound of it. Whatever she’s planning you push it to the back of your mind as you get ready for bed.

And once you do finally settle into the soft sheets of your heavy duvet, it takes you longer than expected to fall asleep. Because all you can think about is how soft Hoseok’s lips would feel pressed against yours if he had kissed you earlier on that park bench. How delicious his taste would’ve been, minty fresh and slightly sweet. How thoroughly you would have wanted his tongue to explore the recesses of your own mouth.

And suddenly you were awake, the growing wetness between your legs an undeniable indication of your desire.

Fucking hell, one little almost-kiss already had you reaching for that tiny motorized bullet in the top drawer of your nightstand. You were screwed.

.

.

.

Taehyung and Yoongi are not what you were thinking when Chae said you’d be having 'special guests’. Yoongi technically didn’t even count as a 'special guest’ anyway since he was working tonight.

And Taehyung came with you guys to the club almost always. You think the only time he skipped was when he had an extremely important final early the next day, but even then, it was like pulling teeth trying to convince him to stay home and get some rest. But when you mention this to Chaeyoung, she tells you they are not the 'special guests’ she was talking about.

You three sit by the bar, chatting with Yoongi while he polishes glassware, occasionally dipping away to attend to real customers. This routine is normal for you, but somehow tonight feels different.

As the night goes on you get more and more wary, truly scared of what Chaeyoung has planned. Everyone’s acting strange. Chae, especially. Sure, you guys make small talk but it’s weird because you all never make small talk. At least small talk this awkward and stilted. Yoongi asks you how your lessons are going and you respond truthfully.

“Kicking my ass but I’m no bitch so I’m getting through it.”

Taehyung jumps in too, trying to make chit-chat about how your last semester at school is treating you. Usually you like talking to Taehyung about these sorts of things. He’s a good listener and gives you surprisingly good advice for someone who’s supposed to be younger than you. But tonight he seems distracted, like he’s only half listening. His eyes dart around the room several times before they inevitably fall back on you, pretending as if they never left.

They aren’t immediately jumping up to gyrate and dry hump the air either, which is also strange. Everyone seems like their waiting on something to happen, yourself included. The difference being that they know what that something is and you don’t. The suspense is killing you.

It was 10pm on a Saturday and you would much rather be at home but you’d be a fool to mess with your friends’ plans. You figured it would be a typical night out. It wasn’t.

For one, Chaeyoung had taken extra care to pick out your outfit for tonight, refusing to let you go with your usual selection of comfort over fashion. She even went as far as asking Taehyung (the resident fashion expert) to stop by a little early to give his opinion. Before you even got a foot out of the house, you were poked and prodded at, not a single hair on your head left out of place.

Now as you sat there in your little red number, you couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about. Last time you checked it wasn’t your birthday, or a special occasion so what on earth was making them act so strange?

But when you spot a familiar head of light brown hair in the crowd you begin to realize.

“You invited Jimin?” you whisper-shout over the loud music to Chae. You can see that said head of light brown hair is making his way towards your section of the bar.

The smile originally directed at the brunette man making his way towards you all immediately disappears at your accusation.

“No. Must be coincidence.” She’s says before flagging Jimin down with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.

Coincidence my ass,you think. Jimin reaches you guys, that friendly smile on his face as he greets you all with a hug. He seems to already be familiar with Taehyung, apparently. This comes as a shock to you and go to ask Chaeyoung if they’ve all been going clubbing without you but something catches your eye. One more head is rapidly approaching your growing group.

“Jimin, what the fuck? I turned around for a second and you were gone.” Says the new visitor.

Jimin turns around to face his friend. “I told you to follow me. Why didn’t you listen?” While they argue you turn your attention to Chaeyoung, that conniving little–

“You invited Hoseok?” You grit out through clenched teeth, doing your best to control your volume so the red-head doesn’t hear you.

When she doesn’t do anything but smile coyly in response you turn your head to Taehyung and Yoongi.

“And you two, you knew didn’t you?”

Taehyung shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry ___. I wanted to tell you but she threatened to cut up all my button-downs if I did.”

“No excuse,” you say mercilessly, then turn to Yoongi who is still polishing that shot glass even though it’s been clean for the past 5 minutes now.

Yoongi looks up, eyebrows perked up at you as if to say, ’oh, you’re talking to me now?’ “I wasn’t threatened.” he says, expression bored. "Chaeyoung told me everything that happened starting with the day you first met him in that grocery store. When she told me her plan I was all in. You need some dick ___. Desperately.“

Taehyung snorts a laugh at that, trying (and failing) to hold it in when you glare at him. Chaeyoung lets out a full belly laugh not caring about the death glare you’re shooting her right now.

You turn back to Yoongi, giving him a taste of your medicine too. "What? I’m only stating the truth. ___, I love you but I can’t have you hanging around me the entire night. My tips were starting to dwindle and,” he leans in as if to tell you some big secret, “this may sound selfish but I like money just a teensy bit more than you.”

You pout childishly at him, about to complain that he’s a terrible friend but you freeze when you hear your name come from the taller of the two men beside you.

“___? Is that you?”

You take a moment before you look at him to calm yourself down. You saw him yesterday and that went fine, just relax. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. Maybe it was the fact that you were seeing him in a club setting, a place you were never really confident in to begin with.

You breathe in and out one last time hoping to god no one notices how long its taking you to gather yourself before you can respond.

But once you do look to Hoseok all your efforts to calm yourself down go to waste because holy fuck does he look good. A long sleeve button-up adorns his frame, the sleeves rolled up to expose his toned forearms. Tight black jeans emphasizing his finely toned legs. Even his hair is styled differently, the tousled red strands now slightly wavy, the curls cascading down his forehead prettily.

You must be taking too long to say something because the next thing you know, Jimin is speaking.

“Oh yeah, it is.” He looks to your friends. “I didn’t know you guys were friends with ___. She takes lessons with Hoseok at the studio. Right, 'seok?” He bumps Hoseok’s shoulder, which jolts him out of whatever haze he was in.

He shoots Jimin a glare, rubbing the spot where he bumped him tenderly. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t know you would be here. Jimin didn’t say he was meeting up with anyone when he dragged me along.”

Hoseok introduces himself to your group of friends, although you’re pretty sure he needs no introduction. Clearly Chaeyoung filled everyone in on exactly who he is.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m gonna go dance. Jimin? Taehyung? Care to join me?”

Jimin barely even gets out a “Sure, why not?” before Taehyung and Chae drag him off to the dance floor.

And then there were three. You turn to Yoongi, thankful for his presence. “Yoongi do-”

“Save that thought, I’ve got to attend to those paying customers over there. Be right back.” Yoongi says, heading towards the couple a few barstools down. They seem to be far more interested in their own conversation that you doubt they were even trying to get the bartender’s attention at all.

So far you’ve concluded two things from being out tonight. 1) You were friends with conniving little snakes, and 2) you needed new friends.

You hear Hoseok pulling out the seat next to you and you’re nerves shoot up all over again due to the fact that the two of you are all alone.

His eyes are back on you again and you feel self-conscious, not used to wearing something so revealing, especially in front of him. His eyes appraise you, and you swear you can feel your gut doing backflips inside you.

“You look great, you know. Red looks good on you.” Hoseok says genuinely.

“Thanks.” You give him a once over. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

”'Too bad?’ Wow, you really know how to compliment a guy, don’t you?“ He says but you can tell he’s not offended by the way he chuckles lightly at your comment.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, you sipping greedily on the drink in front of you as a way to calm your nerves. You’ve never been an avid drinker, but apparently tonight you are. Before you know it you’re a little past tipsy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body like a reassuring blanket. Your nerves are put to the test again, however, when Hoseok decides to break the silence.

“About the other night, I’m sorry again I had to cancel our lesson. My sister’s wedding is coming up and mom wanted everyone home for a family dinner. I wasn’t flaking on you or anything, I swear.”

You quickly swallow down the rest of the liquor in your mouth so you can talk. “Oh my god, don’t worry about it. Especially if it was a family thing. Like I said, I wasn’t even upset when you had to cancel.”

It was a lie. You were upset but not because you wouldn’t get to dance. More like you would be missing out on another chance to spend time with him.

“You keep saying that but I doubt it. It’s funny, I didn’t know you’d be out tonight. I wasn’t even planning on going anywhere but Jimin insisted I tag along. This must be fate.” he says.

You laugh internally. Fate. If you call the three stooges grinding up on each other a few feet away from you gate, then sure. Regardless, you tilt your head slightly in confusion, asking him what he means anyway.

He looks at you. “Well, this is your first night out in a while right? The other day I joked you should apply what you learned at a club but it’s not so much of a joke now. Come on, let’s see if you remember any of what I taught you.” At that he stands, taking your hand in his in an attempt to pull you off your stool.

You don’t budge, rooted to your spot like a stubborn weed in the grass.

“No thanks. You go, have fun. I’ll keep the drinks company.” You reach for your fruity concoction, taking a sip rather than obliging Hoseok’s requests for you to stand.

“Come onnnn, it won’t be that bad. If anyone laughs I’ll defend you, you’re all equally bad in my eyes, don’t worry.”

“Wow that makes me feel ten times worse, I’m definitely not going anywhere now.” You mutter. But when he pouts at you slightly, his eyes pleading for you to come join him, you relent, sliding off your stool and tugging your dress down before it can ride up any further on your thighs. You sigh. You figured you have to do this eventually.

If it wasn’t Hoseok you have no doubt your friends would come looking for you sooner or later. And they wouldn’t be as nice as Hoseok had been. He smiles victoriously when you stand, keeping your hand in his as he leads you out to an empty space on the dance floor.

You see your friends plus Jimin couple feet away caught up in their own world as usual.

Hoseok stops somewhere in the middle turning you to face him. He starts you out with something simple, guiding your movements as you sway along to the beat.

“See? Nice and easy, nothing crazy.” he reassures you.

But then he’s spinning you around, your back facing his front. When his hands glide around your waist you can feel the blood in your body as it makes it way to your cheeks. He molds you to him, brushing his hands down your arms before their landing firmly on your hips again.

Oh this guy, he thinks he’s such a fucking tease doesn’t he? Well, two can play at that game. The music is suggestive, sensual, similar to what you danced to back in his studio.

You can do this, you think. You roll your hips back experimentally, feeling a surge of confidence enter you when his breath hitches.

“Like this?” You say innocently, although your movements are anything but. “Am I doing okay?”

You try again, more firmly this time, making sure that he feels every inch of you against his crotch. The soft moan he releases by your head is music to your ears.

“More than okay.” Another groan when you grind down against him again.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” he asks almost breathlessly.

Watching him come undone like this is nice, you think. This… this you can do. Especially since each and every reaction you coax out of him just makes you feel that much bolder.

His hands come around to clutch you more firmly, securing one arm around your waist while his other remains attached to your hip, pressing you closer against him.

“Just a few,” you whisper, loud enough for him and him alone to hear.

He’s burying his head in your neck, the skin there soft and exposed and inviting. Your scent is so potent there, and as he drags his nose across your skin he can’t help but want a taste.

You whine, ready to just start begging him to drag his tongue along your already when you feel his lips on your skin. They’re soft at first, peppering your skin with light, tentative touches. But soon enough his lips are lingering. His kisses longer, sloppier. The open-mouthed kisses he trails across your neck are so hot and searing it causes the rest of your body to tingle with undeniable desire. You crane your neck even further if that’s possible, wanting him to mark up every inch of your bare skin. He engulfs your earlobe into his mouth, groaning into your ear when he speaks.

“You taste so sweet.”

You moan in response, too caught up in how good his tongue feels against the shell of your ear to say much else.

And then he’s trailing kisses down your jaw, all the way to your lips only to capture them in between his own in a kiss.

He groans into it, the taste of your lips even sweeter than your skin. But your twisting awkwardly to try and reach him properly and noticing your discomfort, he maneuvers your body in his arms, turning you to face him. Your arms immediately encircle his neck and his lock tight on the dip in your lower back, inching dangerously close to the curve of your ass. You devour his lips like a woman starved, and he does the same, thrusting his tongue between your lips, the both of you eager to explore each other.

Too soon he’s pulling away, and you chase the feeling, pouting when he doesn’t immediately press his lips to yours again. He’s panting breathlessly, smiling at your cute reaction.

“God what are you doing to me.” He presses his forehead against yours, rolling his hips up against you and that’s when you feel it.

A prominent bulge presses against the thin material of your dress and you feel a new wave of arousal hit you at the promise of what that holds. You press your legs together in an effort to relieve some of the ache between your thighs, unintentionally rubbing up against Hoseok in the process.

“Fuck,” he groans from deep within his throat. “I need to get you alone.” You nod enthusiastically, too out of it to say anything. All you know is that you need him, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

Pressing one last kiss to your lips, Hoseok pulls away, dragging you behind him as he makes his way through the crowded bar.

After brushing past a crowd of sweaty drunken club goers, he’s finally pulling you into a co-ed bathroom, locking the door and pressing you against it. He wastes no time, attacking your lips again so you feel the full force of his mouth against yours. The kiss is deeper this time, tongues colliding sloppily and just the barest hint of teeth that makes you eager for more.

Your hands glide up his chest, the shirt you had admired earlier quickly becoming a obstacle in your desire to feel his bare skin against your palms.

You pull away slightly, just enough to murmur against his lips,

“Off.” You tug at his shirt.

He chuckles lowly, placing several quick pecks against your lips before he’s stepping back from you.

“Eager are we?” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt at a snail’s pace just to piss you off, no doubt.

You roll your eyes because yes, you are fucking eager.

Instead of responding you yank him back to you, swatting his hands away so you can undress him yourself. Once his shirt is all the way undone you take the opportunity to run your hands up and down his toned torso. Jesus, all those hours at the studio did him well. You��re distracted by his chest so it takes you off guard when his lips are suddenly back on you. His kisses are not as frantic this time but just as passionate.

You take your time exploring him. He breaks the kiss, moaning audibly when you graze his nipples with your thumbs. Sensitive is he? You smile, taking that information and filing it away for later.

But your moment of power is fleeting, however, because the next thing you know he is hiking your dress up, his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” One hand pushes your dress up over the curve of your ass while the other traces the delicate lace of your cotton panties.

“Ever since that day you sat on my lap and grinded on my thigh like a horny little slut.”

You moan at a combination of his words and the fact that he’s now cupping your clothed sex. You’re so wet and there’s no doubt he can feel you soaking through to your panties. But you don’t care. He’s massaging his fingers over your clit just right and ohmygod you don’t want him to stop.

“Or maybe it was before that. Who knows. But all I can think of lately is how pissed that sharp mouth of yours makes me and how much I want to fill it up.”

Good god you needed him to shut up. It’s embarrassing how close you are to coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

It’s funny because if anyone asked, 'deny, deny, deny’ had been your motto when it came to Hoseok. But once it actually came down to it you had to admit that you’ve wanted him for a while now too.

But now that you finally have him, you’re not at all sure what the hell you signed up for.

In a flash he’s down on his knees, yanking your panties down with him as he goes. You gasp, shocked by the sudden rush of cool air on your hot core, but that doesn’t stop you from snaking your hands through his hair, spreading your legs a little wider for his ease of access.

When two of his fingers meet the slick heat of your pussy your breath hitches, already overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers on you.

“I wonder,” Hoseok begins eyes concentrated on the dewy pink of your folds as they greedily engulf his digits. “Do you taste just as good down here as you do up there?” His fingers glide up and down your pussy, scissoring your clit between his index and middle finger. So close to where you want him to be but not quite there yet.

However, he doesn’t wait long to give you what you want because all of a sudden his tongue is on you, the flat of his tongue pressing up against your clit as he swipes one long stripe up your sex. You moan wantonly, clutching the hair on top of his head even harder than before.

He groans at your tight grip, inadvertently producing vibrations against you that make you moan louder with pleasure.

“Mm, so much better.” He places several kisses against you, making his way to your aching hole.

You throw your head back when he scissors his tongue into you, a soundless moan leaving your open mouth. You worry when you feel him retract his tongue, but it’s only so he can push two fingers up into you, stretching your hole so he can thrust his tongue deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whine desperately.

“How’s this? Am I doing okay?” He mirrors your words from earlier, and you’d scold him for teasing you but you can’t, not when he’s lapping at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Fuck Hoseok,” you pant, “I can’t… I need…” He draws back, catching your eyes with his as he mouths at your pussy, “What? Hmm?” Another lick, and you whimper, knees buckling.

“What is it you need?” He whispers darkly.

His gaze is so intense but you’re caught in limbo, wanting to look at him but not being able to with the way your eyes keeping fluttering shut at his ministrations. You cry out when the tip of his tongue flicks hard against your clit, punishment for not having answered him.

“Shit I-I need you.”

He groans, adjusting the pressure against your clit to soft kitten licks, yet the two fingers shoved up your pussy keep a solid rhythm.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Please…” you writhe against the wall, holding tight to his soft locks for leverage.

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please…” you cry out when he gives a particularly harsh thrust inside you. “M-make me cum.”

He groans, resuming a harsh pace against your core. Everything is wet, his lips sloppy and shiny from a combination of your juices and his saliva. His fingers are relentless, pistoning into you and not letting up until you’re cumming around his digits.

Your orgasm builds in the pits of your stomach, a slow burn that culminates in an explosion of pleasure that has you moaning his name in satisfaction.

“Fucckk. Hoseok, just like that.” You’re a whimpering mess at this point, you’re hips undulating against his tongue as you ride out the last few waves of your high.

He laps up your juices eagerly, not stopping until he’s tasted every part of you. You watch him, satiated, as he gives your cunt a few last licks before he’s rising and capturing your lips in a kiss. You return his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away from you, smiling endearingly.

“You were so loud.” he comments.

“And who’s fault was that?!” you hit his chest playfully. “You’re lucky the music out there is so loud or else you would have gotten us both kicked out,” you say.

He laughs at your faux outrage. “It would’ve been worth it,” he mutters lowly.

“Mmm,” you hum pressing against him again for another kiss. “Maybe.”

You’re body is molded to his, and you can feel every inch of him against you, including the hard erection pressing against your upper thigh. You snake your hands down his bare chest, past his toned stomach, until one hand is cupping the tent in his pants. He groans lightly. You apply more pressure, gripping him more firmly so that you can feel the outline of him over his clothes. You tug at him lightly.

“Don’t tease.”

Smirking against his lips, you decide to spare him. He’s suffered long enough having to endure being this hard for so long. Determined hands cease their assault on his clothed cock and reach for his belt buckle, undoing the clasps that keep him hidden from your view.

The whole time he watches you with bated breath and lust in his eyes, anxious for you to get your hands on him. Once his pants are undone you tug him close to you by the belt loops, before one hand is reaching into his boxers to feel him. Your hands thread through neatly trimmed pelvic hair before they land on him, full and thick and hard, and he groans.

“Oh god, please please don’t tease.“

You giggle at how desperate he sounds but only squeeze your hand around his shaft harder, taking the time to explore him before you absolutely ruin him. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but there’s enough of him to make you literally salivate at the thought of him fucking you open and taking you raw.

When you get to the tip there’s a bead of pre-cum forming, a patch of his underwear already wet with how much he had been leaking before. You use that to coat the rest of him, the added lubrication making it easier for your hand to glide up and down his shaft.The whole time you observe his reactions, his eyes shut tight in pleasure giving you the freedom to watch him unrestricted.

He gasps when your thumb dips down into his slit, his eyes screwing shut, brow furrowing deeply.

But he doesn’t have long to revel in your touch because all to soon you’re removing your hand from him completely. His eyes shoot open at you, confusion etched across his features. Cute.

You take pity on him, giving his lips a quick peck before you drag the same hand that was just on his cock up to his lips. Tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, you tug down on it until he’s opening his mouth for you. You take this opportunity to stick two fingers into his warm mouth, and he accepts them greedily, sucking and coating your digits in his saliva.

You watch him entranced, and he looks back at you intently, but you pull your fingers back once you feel like they have been sufficiently coated. For good measure, you lick a line up your palm before your hands are back on him again.

This time, when you wrap your hand around him, the glide is much easier due to your dual saliva. Hoseok keels forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as you stroke his cock.

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“Yes, yes. God please keep going.” he pants next to your ear.

And you do keep going, if only to coax those cute sounds out of him further. Your hand is moving at a punishing pace, your grip deathly, but you don’t let up even when your arm feels like its going to fall off with the amount of effort you’re exerting.

You want him to cum. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel just moments prior. And you’re doing a pretty damn good job if his whimpers next to your ear are any indication.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum.” he pants out.

At that declaration, you stroke harder in an effort to get him to cum faster. It’s only when your fingers graze his tip one last time that he is done for, his orgasm hitting him full force and coating your hand in thick ropes of white.

You slow your pace, milking him of all he’s got as he comes down from his high. He slows his breathing beside you, his harsh pants eventually subsiding into even breaths. He pulls back to face you.

“I can’t believe you. You really just made me cum in my pants like a fucking sixteen-year old.” he says, disbelief etched across his face.

You laugh, removing your hand from his underwear. “It’s payback for eating me out so well I couldn’t think straight. You should be thankful it wasn’t my mouth.”

His eyes darken at that, but you quickly shut him down. “Get your head out of the gutter, there’ll be plenty of time for that but right now we need to get cleaned up. The guys are probably wondering where we are.”

“Sorry but you can’t just say stuff like that and not expect me to get excited… and… no that’s not helping either.” In the midst of him talking you had brought you’re cum-drenched hand up to your mouth to suck off Hoseok’s seed that hadn’t remained in his pants.

You smile sheepishly but continue cleaning off your hand anyway, too concerned with the taste of him to worry about his growing arousal.

You turn around to wash your hands in the sink there while Hoseok buttons himself back up behind you. You shoot him a smile of gratitude in the mirror when he reaches down and adjusts your dress back over your ass for you.

Drying your hands, you help Hoseok fix the last few strands of his hair that was out of place before you two deem that you are acceptable enough to be seen in public again. And by acceptable you mean: it’s obvious you two hooked up but hey, at least you had the decency to try and cover it up.

Hoseok and you make your way back to you’re little area of the bar to see that Chaeyoung, Jimin, and Taehyung have taken a break from dancing. You don’t even make it all the way there before you see Chaeyoung’s resulting smirk and waggle of her eyebrows at the sight of a disheveled Hoseok and you.

You mouth out a “Shut it” to her and hope she knows how to read lips.

“Where have you two been? We came back and you weren’t here.” Taehyung asks, seemingly none the wiser to you and Hoseok’s whereabouts.

“Dancing Tae, isn’t that what people do at clubs?” you say quickly.

“The horizontal tango maybe,” you catch Chae muttering under her breath and you kick her under the table in retaliation.

Thankfully, that conversation is cut short when Yoongi drops by again, striking up conversation about some drunk asshole he’s debating on whether he should call security on or not.

You try your best to act natural, and so does Hoseok, but a lingering stare from Jimin has you thinking he must be a little more perceptive than Tae (or less drunk). You feel like you can breathe again when he finally relents, attention turned back the animated bartender behind the counter. .

.

.

The next day you are at work, physically, yes, but mentally? Checked out the moment you got here. You’ve been thinking about Hoseok’s mouth on you all day, the pretty sounds he made when he was desperate, the face he pulled when he was orgasming under your-

The phone rings and you’re pulled yet again from your fantasies. It was for the best. You really needed to focus and get back to work.

You pick up the phone, putting on your 'professional voice’ and getting your computer ready to set up an appointment for one of the clients.

You’re not even halfway through you’re greeting when you hear the sound of your best friend on the line.

“Chae?!” You whisper shout, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Why are you calling me at work?!”

“You know why. If you answered you’re texts it wouldn’t have to come to this, now would it?” She whisper-shouts back, letting you know that she’s probably supposed to be working too.

You saw the texts (so many texts) but you had yet to answer her. You didn’t see the point when she had known what happened, you knew what happened, why did she want to coax it out of you so badly?

“ Chae, please. I have shit to do and you can’t call me up at work like this- I’ll talk to you later, bye-” You’re about to hang up when you hear her noises of protest on the other line. You sigh.

“Wait, wait, hold on. At least tell me this… was it good?”

You let a smile break out onto your face, nodding your head in confirmation.

“Yes.” you leave it at that..

She squeals into the phone and you can hear that she wants to try to weed some more information out of you but you are already saying goodbye. The last thing you need is your friend thinking she’s some kind of matchmaker.

You go on about your day more focused this time, thankfully. But the excitement of the morning returns when you get a text message around noon.

Hoseok: hey :)

You: hi

Hoseok: how are you?

You: I’m swell, doing absolutely wonderful on this fine day. And you good sir?

Hoseok: haha, very funny

You: Lol, how are you gonna ask ‘how am I’ when you literally ate me out like you did last night. You should already know. 

Hoseok: I didn’t think it’d be polite to tell you right off the bat that I’m still thinking of your taste on my tongue. Since this morning actually

Well that shuts you up momentarily.

Hoseok: What’s wrong? No more jokes?

You: Some of us are at work you know

Hoseok: I’m at work. Teaching a group of 10 year olds right now. Doesn’t mean I’m not imagining bending you over and fucking you into the mirror of my studio

It takes you a while to respond because that is certainly something you’ve imagined before

You: Gross. Such dirty thoughts in front of the kids?

Hoseok: Relax, their on water break rn

You: Still

Hoseok: Anyway, I wanted to ask you something

You: Shoot

A few minutes pass where you see those same three dots appear and disappear, as if their mocking you.

Hoseok: my sister’s having her wedding rehearsal is coming up. I was wondering if you could come with me

Hoseok: I’m not forcing you, or anything! I could just really use someone there with me to take get my relatives off my back. If they see I’m with someone they’re less likely to hound me

Hoseok: And not 'with someone’ like that! As friends, I mean.

He’s inviting you to a family event?

You: Can’t you take Jimin or one of your other friends with you?

Those three dots appear and disappear for a few seconds but it takes significantly less time for him to respond this time.

Hoseok: Can’t. Jimin gets motion sickness, Jungkook’s busy with school and Seokjin would just be a mistake. You’re my last hope. Please.

He sends the puppy-dog face emoji and you are a goner.

You: Fine, when is it?

Hoseok: Really? Great, thank you so much.

Hoseok: And it’s this Saturday but we have to head up there a couple days early, so maybe Thursday night?

You: I’m using my sick time for this so it better be worth it

Hoseok: It will be. I’ll make it up to you I promise ;)

You don’t respond after that because you really do have to get back to work now. You two have been friends for a couple months now and now you’re meeting his family. As friends, you remind yourself.

This whole one-eighty in your relationship with Hoseok had been nothing more than a friends with benefits situation. Right? Is that what you wanted? Yes. Maybe. It could be? You weren’t sure.

The only thing you were certain about right now is that you had to go home and start packing for a weekend trip away to meet your friend’s (with benefits) parents.

It was going to be an eventful three days you’d come to find out.

[blacknight1230]

“A Night Under the Stars” -  Chat Noir Imagine

Prompts: “To be honest, I just wanted to chance to look at the stars with you.”

The sky was beautiful this night. Despite the bright Paris lights, you could clearly see the stars and constellations in the night sky. The balcony outside your bedroom window was where you liked to hang out on nights like this. Well, more specifically, when you everything got to much for you. 

You had recently moved to the City of Lights with your family, your mother and father having earned new jobs in the city. As such, this forced you to pack up everything and leave. This included leaving all your friends behind and going to a new school, Françoise Dupont High School. Which is the reason why you were currently trying to relax on your bedroom’s balcony. 

Going to a new school, in a completely different country on top of it was stressful, but it only takes one person to create your school life a living hell. This person was Chloé Bourgeois, the so called “Queen Bee” of the school. Being the daughter of the mayor, she was very spoiled and used everything in her power to humiliate others, crushing them with her callous and careless ways. You thank your new friends, Marinette and Alya, for preventing you from going crazy from the Wasp, as you liked to call her. 

Yet, there were days where it just seemed to get too much and only the night air seemed to fix it. Your delicate fingers rubbed your tense forehead, trying to massage away the frown lines. “Rough day,” a voice said. Your head snapped to the rooftop of the building next to you, a dark figure standing on it. When the mysterious person jumped onto your balcony, you could finally see who it was. 

“Chat Noir!” you exclaimed in shock. “At your service, mademoiselle,” the black cald hero smirked and mockingly bowed. “What are you doing here?” you asked the cat boy. What is one of heroes of Paris doing here? you thought. “I should be asking you the same thing, kitten. It’s awfully late for a school night,” Chat flirted. You mentally rolled your eyes at him; he was such a massive flirt it was unheard of. 

“Fine, you want to know. School. Dealing with school has me out here,” you answered. “I’ve gotten tired of being pushed around by the mayor’s daughter, Chloé. So I came out here to look at the night sky and get away from it all.” “Sadly, I know how bad Chloé can be. Not only does she humiliate all her classmates, but she doesn’t even see the charming and good looking man I am!” Chat exclaimed. 

You let out a small snort, finding it funny that Chat was so bummed out by another female’s rejection towards him. “That’s Chloé for you, haughty, pampered, drama queen with mommy problems,” you scoffed, not taking your eyes on the moon and stars. 

Unknown to you, Chat was staring at you with a love struck look, his green eyes glistening with admiration, as you stared off into the distance. “What about you? What’s your reason for hanging out with little old me?” you said, turning your head to the side to look at Chat. The young hero was caught off guard, a faint blush on his exposed cheeks. “To be honest, I just wanted to chance to look at the stars with you,” he said, his eyes closed and one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

You tore your gaze away from Chat, eyes downcasted as a blush fanned your cheeks. “Why do you want to do that? I’m just me, I’m no one special,” you uttered. “Of course, your special, kitten! You’re just too modest to realize how stunning you are!” Chat protested. “No offense, but you don’t know a thing about me, Chat Noir.” you replied. 

“I might be a hero, and a bit of a flirt, but its not like I don’t have a life outside being Chat Noir. I go to school, I have friends and family, I even have a crush on a certain girl in my grade!” Chat defended himself. “And I know things about you too, (y/n). I know you like to hang out underneath the cherry tree in front of the school yard. I know you have a little notebook that you have on you at all times that you draw or write in during classes. I know you always buy (favorite cookie type) cookies at the cafeteria.” 

During this ... outburst, Chat slid across the banister and closing the short distance between you two until he was right in front of you. Your breath was caught in your throat, your nerves going haywire. “H-How do you know all of this?” you stuttered. A part of you thought he was a creepy stalker, waiting in the shadows to kidnap you in order to keep you all to himself. But the more rational part theorized that maybe he was one of your fellow classmates. But who? 

“Let’s just day, Collegé Françoise Dupont has students with many secrets,” Chat said. “One of them is that a certain male student has a crush on a certain (brunette/blonde/dark haired) girl who likes to observe the moon and stars.” “You go to my school!” you exclaimed breathlessly when he confirmed your suspicions. Chat just smirked and shushed you. “Quiet now, kitten. Let’s just have this moment together,” he whispered in your ear. 

Before you could press him more, Chat closed the short distance between you two, his lips meeting yours in  surprise kiss. Your eyes were almost bulging out of your head. Chat Noir was kissing you! Said hero was holding you close, his masked eyes closed in content. You eventually relaxed into the kiss when the shock of what was happening faded away. Your once stiff arms that hanged by your side moved up to wrap around Chat’s neck, a sigh escaping your lips. You could feel Chat smirking into the kiss and if you weren’t preoccupied at the moment, you could have snapped the smirk off his face. 

You and Chat separated from each other at the same time, having to breath. All you could do was stare into Chat’s green glistening eyes. “What’s the matter, kitten? Cat got your tongue?” Chat teased, a smirk on his face. “Shut up,” you mumbled, unable to come up with a snarky reply as your cheeks burned red. 

Chat just chuckled, until a beeping sound caused his ears to twitch. He looked down at a ring on his hand, which you never noticed before and quickly distanced himself from you. “I’m sorry, my kitten, but I have to go. À demain, mon chatton,” he said, before hopping over the balcony without another word. You then saw him hopping across rooftops in the distance. 

In a daze, you went back inside, absentmindedly moving to lay on your bed. Despite how tired you were, your mind was running a marathon. You couldn’t stop thinking over the kiss and what Chat said. As your mind ran rampant, you slowly realized something. The identity of Chat Noir. 

Despite getting little to no sleep, thanks to your revelation the night before, ou were very peppy, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. Marinette and Alya noticed this, giving each other a side glance before confronting you. “What’s up with you, (y/n)? You’re acting like you drank two giant bottles of Mountain Dew,” Alya said, stopping you in your tracks. “Guys, something amazing happened last night!” you exclaimed, bouncing on your feet. “Really! What happened?” Marinette asked, excited and curious about what could make you this happy. You weren’t really going to tell them what happened last night, only going to give them the barest details, but before you could do that, you saw a certain someone in the distance. 

Adrien Agreste was talking to his friend, Nino, as he was walking when Chloé interrupted them. You couldn’t hear what she was saying, but you could tell she was annoyingly sucking up to him, trying to earn his attention and affection. “Sorry, guys, I have to do something. I’ll be right back,” you told Marinette and Alya, before walking towards Adrien, Nino, and Chloé. 

“Hey, Adrien!” you velled out to the blonde. “Oh, hey, (y/n)!” called back, ignoring Chloé and her advances when he noticed you. “Hey, (nickname), how’s it going?” Nino greeted, giving you two finger pistols. Chloé hauntly turned towards you, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed as she glanced at you. “What do you want?” she huffed as I came closer.

 “How are you -” Adrien started to say when you were close enough, but he was interrupted when you suddenly kissed him on the lips. Adrien’s eyes widened, body going stiff in shock as you kiss him, the boy not knowing what to do and what led to this scenario. Nico, Marinette, and Alya looked at the scene eyes wide and mouths open, while Chloé screeched in horror. 

You separated from Adrien, who was still standing shock still and held one of his lax hands. “Thanks for hanging out with me last night. I had a lot of fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime?” you said, looking into Adrien’s wide eyes with an innocent smile on your face. You promptly walked away and towards the main entrance of the school, Alya and Marinette tripping over themselves as they tried to catch up to you, hounding you with questions oce they caught up to you. Meanwhile, Chloé ran away crying hysterically, probably to complain to Sabrina. 

“What the heck was that?” Nino asked his best friend, who was still standing there in shock. “I’ll tell you later, Nino,” Adrien said, his friend confronting him causing him to snap out of it. Adrien left Nino, heading towards the nearest mate’s bathroom, hand enclosed over the small piece of paper secretly given to him by (y/n). Once he was alone and in a safe place, adrien read the slip of paper. It said the following:

Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out your identity Chat? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t do that to you, especially after last night. I’m looking forward to move star filled nights together. 

Love, (y/n)

As Adrien read the note, Plagg appeared from his miraculous ring, reading over his shoulder. “I told you their was nothing to worry about! And it looks like she feels the same way!” the kwami exclaimed, floating next to the blondes head. A smile graced Adrien’s lips as he looked off into the distance, his eyes watching (y/n) being pestered by her friends at her locker. “Yeah, I guess you were right,” Adrien said, a love struck look on his, before heading towards the girl who captured his heart.

THE END

[harveywritings92]

One sided friendship Batboys series:Dick Grayson X Reader. p 1/2

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

_

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs  and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

Your POV:

"Ah...what happened last night?..." My voice croaked God my mouth tasted awfu, my whole body feels like it went through the spin-cycle...I gotta hurl! I groaned as my joints pop and body protested from standing up, I sigh wincing in pain as sunlight shined my eyes in from the tiny cracks from the curtain, Wait my window isn't that big? 

I swallowed and got up from the bed walked over to the window and drew back the curtain to reveal...Niagara Falls?! that seem snapped me awake faster than a hamster on coffee! 

*When...How did I get to Canada?!* then I noticed what I was wearing a gray button up shirt...a man's button up shirt...My heart was rattling in my rib-cage as I finally got a good look around the room. it was obviously at the Casino...

And I wasn't alone I saw a passed out redheaded man passed out on the floor..in my dress! I'd be laughing right now if I wasn't freaking out! I went to run a hand through my hair and I saw a tiny glint in the corner of my eye...It was ring a wedding ring...my stomach churned as I looked over to Whats-his name and saw a similar ring on his finger too...

"What the shit?" I croaked sobbingly before I was harshly interrupted by the contents of my stomach decided to remind me what I had for dinner the other night, and ran to the bathroom. While making friends with the porcelain throne...I tried to piece together how I got here...

It was all because of Richard 'Effin' Grayson! we used to be thick as thieves, but then he started noticing girls! every time he would go out meet some girl and he'd fall for her, shower her with attention and gifts and then she'd get fed up with him ditching their dates, due to his nightly activities and he go crying to me..the stupid girl who was dumb enough to hold on what little hope I had, that he'd notice me and my feelings. But no, every time I had the courage to speak to him about it...

I'd run into him while he was on a date or introduce me to his new girlfriend and the cycle would start all over again! Which was totally unfair! He can date around and ignore me, but if a guy ever shows a sliver of interest in me. He gets all pissy and tells them to back off or sabotage my dates! and recently he started obsessing over some girl he'd seen at one Bruce's gala...

As Dick described her: she had e/c, glossy [long/short] hair and nice [full/petite.] figure for a small fleeting moment I though he was talking about me...only to be introduced to [similar sounding name] at an old classmate's wedding that the two of us were kind of friends with, and the crazy thing is? 

SS/n looked exactly like me only with a nicer figure,perfect height darker/lighter hair and eyes and dressed more provocatively then me...that was the worst fucking blow to my heart. 

Dick was pretty much telling me that he's wants someone like me...but not Me. After that I remember getting into my car and just drove off, I didn't care where... I just had leave! I had to get away from Gotham, from Bludhaven from Dick, everything...

I vaguely remember checking my phone for flights and came across an ad for Niagara falls...Well I did have vacation days, And Bruce has been badgering me to take some time off. taking a risk I submitted my vacation time and list of temps to cover for me while I'm gone and booked the first available flight which was in four hours and just drove to the airport. 

I must've looked very odd a girl dressed like a nerdy princess walking around the airport a 12 am, a few little girls actually looked a me in awe and asked for a selfies *they must be on their way to Disney world or just got back from Disney world...*  I though and happily obliged to their request their parent were grateful and apologetic at the same time,

When my flight was boarding I got a text from the bride asking if I was alright? and what shitty move Grayson pulled... I snorted a girl I barely talked to in school was more worried about me then Dick! he saw my face he knew I was upset! but, he ignored me in favor of his new girlfriend who was just going to dump him once he starts bailing on her for Nightwing duties. I texted back saying I was fine and shut my phone off...

That was...what was the date? When I was finally done with throwing up...I looked around the room for my phone and some clue as to who and how I supposedly married the redheaded stranger! I eventually I found my phone I've seriously been gone two weeks?! But, I could've sworn I just left! then I noticed the camera... 

It was pink and had a cheesy logo on it Reverend Al's 10 min weddings! taking a leap I hooked the camera to the TV...And my face immediately turned bright red..."Oh god kill me now..." I moaned into my hands mortified as the guy next to me woke up and looked around disoriented before barfing on to my dress...Mental note burn that dress...And learn supposed husband's name....

A few days later..

"Something's wrong, I know it father!" Damian huffed as he followed Bruce downstairs the older Wayne sighed he explained to his son that Y/n was just on vacation and should be back any day now...But his son wasn't having it he knew Y/n would at least call them how her trip was! or how long she was gonna be or a least to see how Damian himself was doing...she pretty much the big sister/mother he never had growing up.

So, of course he freaking out...Someone has to! Grayson was too clouded with infatuation to even noticed Y/n was gone and her cheap plastic knock-off was had overstayed her welcome the second she step foot in this manor, She would act all sweet and nice, but the second Grayson left she would become obnoxiously rude had pig manners.

 [like chewing loudly,going days without bathing,eating like a donkey raised her etc.] and was possibly cheating on Grayson judging how quickly Ss/n would openly flirt and throw herself at his father, Drake or Todd and when they rejected her advances she make a scene causing Dick to come and rescue her.

Everyone hated her and couldn't understand why Dick would date someone like her who was obviously dating him for money and attention, when he first hinted that he liked a girl with [y/hc] and [y/ec] they assumed he was talking about Y/n...even Todd boasted that.

"it was about Effin' Time!" But when he showed up with [ss/n] it was slap to the face to everyone...Damian went to go find Y/n and check on her, but found her apartment empty he asked Bruce about it and his father explained that she had just clocked in her vacation days and would be gone for a while...

They got to kitchen and immediately Bruce and Damian's mood soured seeing [ss/n] drinking orange juice straight from the carton and her mouth stained with what appeared to be oatmeal...heaven forbid what was floating around in that juice carton! Damian grimaced as she noticed them She swallowed loudly and put the juice back.

"Oh, good morning Mr. Wayne.~" the girl purred shamelessly showing her exposed bra to the older man who decided that he'd grab breakfast at the office and left then she noticed Damian and her mood soured. "What are you looking at brat?!" 

she sneered before Damian could snark out a reply her phone started ringing and she quickly escaped bumping into Jason who grimaced at her as she passed him. 

"What's miss Piggy's problem?" He asked taking the orange juice out the fridge, his younger brother just blanched as Jason brought the carton up to his lips, but noticed Damian's face and immediately back pedaled.

"The bicycle drank this, didn't she?" he seethed this was his juice! it had his name on it, no one touches Jason's shit! He dumped the carton a looked ready spew when he saw the oatmeal chunks floating down the drain. "And she ate my fucking Oatmeal! Goddammit! Grayson!" Jason bellowed sprinting up the stairs looking for the acrobat.

 Damian rolled his eyes already how this song and dance will go...Drake, Todd or his father will confront Grayson about Ss/n's behavior she'd make scene causing him to make excuses or be defensive and would all end with everyone on both sides the silent treatment...the green eyed boy sighed in annoyance and went to go train in the cave when he saw a taxi coming up the drive.

Strange, they weren't expecting any visitors...."Ummi?" He said heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted to the main foyer just in time to see his father opening the door to Y/n!...and some redhead man who was younger then his father by few years.

the h/c smiled at Bruce sheepishly as Damian noted her attire black jeans, f/c t-shirt that said I <3 Niagara Falls and a worn out Letterman's jacket that obviously didn't belong to her..

"Hi Bruce...Damian sorry I took longer then I sai-" She cut off by the boy running up and hugging her waist "Don't leave again.." he mumbled into her stomach before turning to mystery man who was awkwardly observing them. "Don't you have a route or fares to collect?" the boy hissed at the gray eyed man who stared bug eyed at the kid before rubbing the back of his head.

"o-oh boy, um... I'm not a cabbie I'm Y/n's-" Y/n nervously intervened.

"Say, where's uncle Alfred I need to tell him something..."

"You didn't tell them yet?" 

"It didn't feel right doing it over the phone, sue me!"

The redheaded man winced as Bruce looked between the two and noticed their hands...or rather their ring fingers and shit it the fan. "BOYS! ALFRED! FAMILY MEETING!! NOW!?"Damian gawked at his father stunned he has never been this angry in front of company before! 

"What's going on Ummi?" He asked Y/n who just smiled sadly and readjusted her large framed glasses the photochromic lenses were dark and hid her eyes, as Alfred and the other boys showed up along with Ss/n who sneered when she saw Y/n..."Den. Now.." Bruce said calmly as his sons swallowed wondering what they did?

They, Alfred, Y/n, mystery guy went into the den Ss/n went to follow only for Bruce to blocked her from entering "I said family meeting, you're not family.." he hissed at her the Darker/lighter H/c gaped at him like a fish and pointed at Y/n in disgust "She's allowed!" She shrieked in his face.

 "Y/n is Alfred's niece that makes her family.." Bruce huffed before slamming the door in Ss/n's face they heard her screech stomp her foot like a child before hearing her footsteps hurry away...

"Wait, how come this guy can stay, but not my girlfriend?" Dick demanded eyeing the redheaded man suspiciously and annoyed that he was sitting so damn close to Y/n. who was trying to avoid everyone's stares as she found her voice.

 "I really think this is a little extreme?" Bruce shot her a look that could melt paint steel, the e/c girl swallowed hard "S-so, you guys know that I went on vacation.." Dick cut her off "When did you go on vacation?" he sounded bemused and offended that she hadn't said anything to him, his brother's just looked at him like Seriously? 

"I've been gone for almost three weeks, Richard..." she said ignoring pain in her chest that he hadn't noticed she was gone. while Jason pitched in 

"I seriously thought you would've at least noticed the gremlin whining 'Ummi...where's my ummi?' non-stop for the last two weeks!" Damian turned red and snapped at Jason to shut up as he kept his arms around Y/n's waist glaring at the streaked haired man.

whilst everyone gave Dick shit for not noticing his so-called best friend was missing for almost half a month, Tim commented about how she could've been kidnapped or murdered and he would've been too busy with his "hairpin Cinderella" to notice "That's over the lin-" the oldest brother was about ready to tear into Tim for that, They were cut off by their foster father slamming his hand on the table.

"Could we please talk about the fact she came back married!?" Bruce bellowed a pregnant silence filled the air as the boys slowly turned to Y/n in disbelief who sighed bringing a hand to her forehead showing the gold glint of her wedding band. 

"Hayden say hello to the boys..." she mumbled quickly as Hayden awkwardly waved "Hi boys." he cleared his throat as everyone gawked at the 'couple' stunned then Dick burst out laughing after a few minutes of this he sighed wiping a tear from his eye. "heheh..Good Joke Y/n! you and Bruce almost had us...Right?" he saw no one else was laughing..."Right?" Y/n bit her lip took out the USB from the camera and plugged it into with the den's TV...

[[A faded pink banner read out Reverend Al's Ten minute weddings! is hung haphazardly over what appeared to be a lounge that hasn't been decorated since 1970 lit up by a broken disco ball and fairy lights...

at a graying podium a priest in a sequin jacket and bell bottoms, boredly reads wedding rights to an obvious shotgun marriage as both sets of parents were glaring at the pregnant bride and the groom in disappointment as they walked out of the lounge in annoyance...

Just as the good reverend was about to put bible away he looked up and rolled his eyes muttering "God..are you kidding?" under his breath and sighed as Y/n still in the dress she wore at their classmate's wedding was practically dragged down the aisle by a drunk Hayden who giggling as he tried to hold the possibly more inebriated Y/n up as she kept trying to sit or lay down. The priest huffed looked at his watch "Alright my kid's got a thing in ten and my wife's gonna flip on me...let's make this quick!"

"Do you?"

"Y...Y/n *hic*"

"Take..

"Hey-Dan!" 

To be yer husband and wife?"

"I g-got Neerds in my bra!" Pulls out candy box and pours some in Hayden's hand.

"Aces! Sugar Tits!" pops them in his mouth and smiles at the priest.

The priest gives them a blank stare, but goes with it..."Right then, by the power vested in me by the province of Ontario I pronounce you man and wife, here's coupon book for Cliffton Hill...Kiss n' get out!" the priest sneered handing them the marriage license his assistant was filling out for them, 

He stamped it and and put it in Y/n's purse as she and Hayden gave each other a small peck on the lips and wandered out of the church completely oblivious to what they just did...then came back a few seconds later to steal the camera..]]

Y/n stopped the recording blushing bright freaking red "Trust you don't want to see what's on rest of this..." she mumbled as everyone was staring at the screen stunned, well everyone except Dick who kept his eyes on Y/n who was fiddle with her glasses waiting for someone to say something, he noticed a mark on her neck...

a hickey? this was real? she let that stranger..., the scent coming off her wasn't her perfume it was to rich and musky, the ring on her finger...it...a weird feeling curdled into Dick's stomach it felt tight and his heart felt like it had taken a bath in acid...

He couldn't place the feeling, but knew he couldn't stay anywhere near Y/n's husband out of fear of what he may do to Hayden. "I'm going for a walk..." was all Dick said before calmly leaving the den... Y/n and Hayden both flinched hearing the front doors slam whilst everyone stood stock still.

Till Alfred snapped out of his stupor and punch Hayden in the face "You, disgusting scoundrel! womanizing git!" the old man snarled as Jason pulled the old man away from the ginger who was stunned knocked out of his shoes by an old man,

 "And this is why I wanted to speak to Alfred privately!" Y/n sighed as Damian looked very conflicted, half was angry that  Grayson had finally driven Y/n too far... while the other was horrified that they'll never get rid of Ss/n now that Y/n been wedded! 

Alfred's angry voice cut in "Young lady we are going to city hall this instant for an annulment!" her uncle seethed pointing at the door, but Y/n stood her ground "Well, maybe I don't want an annulment." Alfred and the boys gawked at her.

 "I know you're all hoping that Dick will pull the damn wool off hie eyes...But, considering the girl he wants will never be me, I think it's for the best I move on..." She said meekly as Alfred huffed "No, A thousand times no! I listen dear, I know  how men like Hayden work, and this?" he holds up her hand showing her ring to herself. "Is just a phase to distract him from whatever void he thinks is plaguing his life." Y/n blinked at her uncle bemused then looked at Tim who cleared his throat.

"Alfred saying Hayden only married you because of a mid-life crisis..." the teen explained as said ginger awkwardly raised his hand. "Y'know I'm sitting right here?" he said then all the males in the room slowly turned and glared at him "Shut-up." they snapped Hayden blanched "Ok.." he squeaked and averted his eyes to the floor, and Y/n calmly pulled away from her uncle.

"Look, I understand your all just trying look out for me, But I'm not going to sit around and wait...it's time look at a new chapter in my life and that's just Dick's loss." Alfred still begged that she and Hayden get an annulment but, Bruce stop him. 

"Alfred, Y/n is a grown woman this is her choice and we have to respect that, even if it hurts someone in the end." The billionaire said gently as the butler looked down sullenly and with that the meeting was over.

Y/n and Hayden went back to her apartment to well clean up any expired food. and just get over the jet-lag they were feeling, As they settled in for the night neither noticed Nightwing watching them from the tree outside Y/n’s bedroom gritting his teeth in anger...

[sanfl0werrr]

the meaning of love

| part one | x | part three | part four |

you felt weird, like really weird. the ride back home with jaemin was weird. the both of you barely spoke and he looked as if he was so done with everything. it felt as if he didn't want anything to do with you either.

i mean, he could have just rejected me, you thought, why go through all the trouble?

you decided to not think about it anymore. the run in with the dreamies were too weird, and it was probably the first and last time you will ever interact with them. at least you hoped it was.

just as you were about to leave the house, your mother called out to you, "i don't see wonwoo anymore. did you have a fight with him?"

you rolled your eyes, "no, i didn't. there's rumours that he's dating someone now. i don't know who's the lucky girl though."

"y/n doesn't need any man! she has me," your little brother ran to hug you, with his arms wide open.

"that's right, my little prince! i only need you," you kissed him on the cheek as you carried him up.

"what about me, princess?" your father coughed from behind the newspaper, "i'm practically the first man you love."

both you and your mother looked at each other and laughed, "well, someone's craving for some love."

"i'm going now. bye!" you shouted as you put your shoes on.

--

the rumours of wonwoo having a girlfriend was spreading like wildfire in school. no matter where you went; canteen, garden or even the toilet; you will keep hearing about it.

you sighed. your heart was hurting after all, and the fact that everyone was talking about it, made it worse. it was as if you were invisible, like you weren't the one who's been next to him all these while. everyone dismissed your existence now that wonwoo has a girlfriend.

break came, and when it was break, wonwoo would usually find you to eat together. ever since the rumour had spread, he no longer finds you anymore. so, you secluded yourself in the music room at the end of the hallway.

you entered the music room, finding solace in the silence as you sat down in front of the piano. wonwoo and you would usually hang in the music room from time to time, just catching up or even talking about random topics.

the music room was also one of the reasons why you fell for him. because when two people spend so much time together, they're bound to be alike. that was what happened to you and wonwoo, the both of you were inseparable.

remember when you told me you liked the colour green? you smiled to yourself, remember when you told me you wanted to write?

remember you told me you wouldn't leave me? your smiled faltered, remember you told me you loved me?

"it was probably as friends, though," you sighed.

"as friends? what is?" a voice boomed from behind you.

you jumped in shock, "oh god, make a noise! you nearly killed me!"

"you're exaggerating," you could sense the sarcasm in his tone.

you turned around to give the boy a piece of your mind, but you didn't expect it to be him, out of all people.

"jaemin?" you squealed.

"cat got your tongue?" he raised his brows.

before you could even say anything, the rest of the dreamies entered the room.

"y/n is here!" chenle shouted excitedly.

"luck is not on my side today," you huffed.

"what do you mean by that? we're the best you've got!" donghyuck snapped in fingers.

"i suddenly don't feel so good," you joked as you grabbed your unfinished lunch, trying to get away.

"she just called you thanos!" jisung laughed really hard, slapping mark's and jeno's arms.

"jisung!" both of them shouted in unison.

you were just about to escape the chaotic scene until someone closed the door shut from behind you.

"going somewhere?" jaemin voiced out.

you turned around, his tall figure hovering above you, "yes, i'm trying to get away."

"why!?" chenle questions you, very loud.

"i mean, aren't i intruding? seems like the music room is your hangout place," you shrugged.

"y/n... come sit with us. like chenle said yesterday, you're always welcome to hang with us," mark softens.

"why is mark so soft towards y/n? suspicious," donghyuck scratches his chin.

"yucks, i can't get used to mark being soft," jeno chides in.

"mark, i didn't know you had a crush on me," you cooed.

"oh god, y/n! stop teasing me so much. you always do that during our committee meetings!" he shrieked, "not here too, please."

you laughed, "i'll try."

the moment you looked up, your eyes made contact with jaemin's. you didn't realise how pretty he looked up close, almost too sinful to be that beautiful. you blushed momentarily and looked away, walking to take a seat to finish your lunch.

as you sat down, jaemin plopped next to you immediately after that. you looked around to see that there were a few other seats available, but didn't really heed much attention.

"so, y/n! do you like games?" renjun started the conversation.

"mobile games? not so. arcade games? hell yeah," you grew excited the moment you mentioned arcade.

jeno placed a hand on his heart, acting offended. you just laughed and stuck your tongue out as a joke.

"let's go to the arcade after school, then!" chenle suggested.

"that's very impromptu though," you widen your eyes.

"you don't like it?" renjun asked.

"hell no, i love it! let's go! i'm so excited!" you danced a little, out of excitement.

the rest of the dreamies laughed, except for jaemin. he tried stifling his smile, because he found you really cute and all he wanted was to squish your cheeks. not that you know anything though.

--

you were just fidgeting in class, and knowing that you're gonna go to the arcade right after that you couldn't control the excitement.

"ms y/n. i will have you know that my class hasn't ended yet," the teacher voiced out.

the bell rang right after that, signalling the end of class.

"well, it has now," you winked at the teacher.

you spranced out the door to get some of the things out of the locker that was needed for the weekend.

"arcade! let's get it," you whispered to yourself.

just as you closed your locker, someone called out to you. you turned around to see who it was and it was none other than, jeon wonwoo. right next to him was a girl, whom you assume to be his girlfriend.

"y/n!" wonwoo greeted you excitedly.

"oh, hey!" you forced a smiled.

"i know i've been missing in action a lot and i know you've probably heard the rumours and i'm super sorry for the late introduction!" he clasped his hands together, hoping you'd forgive him, "her name's aera, and she's my girlfriend!"

and those assumptions were correct.

"finally, jeon wonwoo! i've been dying to know who's the lucky girl!" you took his hands and jumped around gleefully, while your heart literally broke into a million pieces yet again.

"i wanted you to be the first one to know and i'm sorry for keeping this from you. you're my best friend," wonwoo smiled.

you're my best friend, he said.

"o-of course! you're my best friend too," you repeated to assure him but it somehow left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"let's catch up soon, y/n!" wonwoo waved goodbye.

looking at their silhoutte fading away, your tears threatened to fall any minute. i thought i told you to suck it up, you said to yourself again, suck it up!

he isn't worth any tears, you tried brainwashing yourself again, but the tears fell anyway.

you ran to the music room. you didn't care if anyone saw you or judged you, but you kept running. you just needed to be alone.

the moment you slammed the door open, you were face-to-face with 7 familiar faces.

"y/n?" chenle whispered.

"oh my god, what happened?" donghyuck tried to come closer.

you stepped back, shock evident on everyone's faces, including yours.

"i-i have to go, i'm sorry," you ran away.

"y/n!" you heard jaemin calling out to you.

you ran till you reach the one place with no memories of wonwoo and you together; dream book cafe.

with a heavy breathing, you tried to make yourself comfortable at the restricted section that was located at the end of the room. you hated that you cried easily, and the fact that you've fallen deeply in love with your best friend.

everyone said don't ever fall for your best friend, and you could see why now. there wasn't any guarantee that he/she will love you back. you only realised that now, which sucks.

"y/n?" a voice call out to you.

you immediately looked up and widen your eyes, "h-how did you know i was here?"

"i live around here remember? and you mentioned this cafe once before," jaemin sighed.

he came closer and sat right next to you, "wanna tell me what happened?"

"n-no," you stuttered.

"really?" he asked once again.

you hiccup, "n-no."

jaemin chuckled, "come here."

he placed his hand over you, making you lean onto his broad shoulder.

"are you comfortable?" he peered into your face, making sure that you're okay.

you nodded, "very comfortable, thanks to you."

jaemin chuckled once again, "so, do you wanna tell me why you were crying?"

you waited and contemplated for a little while, wondering if you should opened up to jaemin. i mean, he was actually the one who didn't talk to you, but also, what's the harm in letting him know.

you breathed in, wondering how to start, "um, well.. i like someone, and he turns out to be my best friend."

you looked at jaemin, and he was staring back at you, listening to every word you were saying.

"maybe it's more than just a like. maybe it's love, but i don't know. we've spent every day together and doing things together and that made me grown to like him so much, so the thought of us being together most of the time was never really weird. i thought maybe we had a chance together, until i saw his girlfriend."

you paused again, and you felt jaemin hugging you tighter.

"his girlfriend was so pretty and they really look compatible together. maybe, it was just me, being my delusional self, you know. wonwoo deserved way better and i can never match up to him, i would never. i was never meant to be loved by him but i wanted him to love me badly."

"you're fine the way you are, y/n. my words probably won't be of any comfort but, believe me when i say you deserve just as much love as wonwoo. maybe even more. the love you give to people is the love you're definitely gonna get back. wonwoo's girlfriend is pretty, you say? i think you're even more stunning and charming than anyone i've met."

you didn't dare to look up to meet his eyes. you didn't want him to see you've became a mess, a blushing mess. it wasn't even a confession, you know it, but it drove you mad, a wreck.

from then on, you knew things will never be the same.

[nocturnrpg]

DANNY RYDER is a 21 year old resident of Penbrook. He was born on the 20th of August 1996. People say he looks similar to Robert Sheehan. Danny is TAKEN.

B I O G R A P H Y .

Danny is born to Lottie and Johnathon Ryder, with an older brother name Finley already there to greet his new younger (by ten years, actually) brother. Two years later, Danny was a given a chance to greet someone, and this was Carrie. It isn’t long before Carrie’s birth before the Ryder’s up and move from California, the place his Mother and Father and adopted as their own for the past eight years as their home, and moved back to their hometown in Cavan, Ireland. The move, in theory, made sense; the family didn’t end up building strong bonds to California at all in the long run. They knew a near empty handful of people and this, tied with Danny’s father’s inability to hold down a decent job, left them with precious little to stay for. For the first few months or so, the family stayed with Johnathon’s mother. This, in itself, was the illogical part of the move. It wasn’t as though Danny’s grandmother was a bad woman, it was just that she and her daughter-in-law were vastly different people. After a spat between the two (that very heavily featured Danny and his inability of keeping his crayons on paper and instead, opting to display his creativity elsewhere - living room walls, for example), they were tossed out to the street. Lottie decided to defend her son in spite of the threats of being kicked out and despite her husband’s very quiet pleas for her to just apologise, she did not.

A woman who was too proud to be bossed around by a woman half her size and twice her age, found herself and her family living out of a car for a week straight till they found a new place to rent. This cycle managed to continue, the renters and the landlords seemed to never run out of disagreements and almost all of them revolved around Danny and the mess he would unintentionally cause. Sometimes, however, they managed to hit the jackpot of landlords and found people who seemed not to care about the state of the house they were letting being trashed that little bit further by the Ryder’s – which inevitably happened in every place. But, of course, Johnathon’s inability to hold down a job always seemed to come back around to bite him and the rest of the families living situation when they got to these places. Soon enough they would have to move out to find somewhere cheaper (see: increasingly worse places to raise a family). The thing is, luckily for them, the Ryder’s, through all of this, could always be counted on as a happy family.

The next thing in the line for Danny: school. So, Danny’s grades may not have been the best throughout his school career, but he tried his best from start to finish; he’d worked his arse off for the C that his parents would plaster a fake smile on for to join him in celebration. Though never formally diagnosed with the latter, something that is simply down to his moving school’s so often along with his parents moving county, Danny suffers with severe dyslexia and ADHD. And as a result, he never enjoyed school: he didn’t like the way he was being forced to learn; he didn’t like the people there, and the feeling tended to be mutual. He was often subjected to a lot of bullying throughout his school years. He’d joke around too much, say the wrong thing, generally annoy people – whether it was intentional or not – he just found it hard to be liked. He’d try and try but to no avail: he figured making friends or generally getting along with anyone just didn’t seem like it was the thing he was supposed to do. It wasn’t till he was sixteen that an opportunity was offered to the family through Johnathon’s job at the time: moving back to California for work. Danny couldn’t have been happier; they were leaving the hellhole he had been calling home for the past nine years, the only con being his brother staying in Ireland to continue with further education.

The move was what Danny wanted to be a turning point for him though, of course, it wasn’t - the same lies that ‘new year, new me’ has to offer as every new year round. Danny went on as he did before in Ireland, quiet enough and hardworking, trying his best to just get school over and done with. Though bullying lessened, it didn’t considerably. There was already someone around ready to prod at him about something or another, but he decided he could handle it. It was never something he wanted to bother his mother and father with, it never seemed necessary. It wasn’t until he made friends with an older boy that he felt his luck beginning to change. Ethan, he introduced himself as to Danny. Ethan was nice to Danny, though they didn’t go to the same school, they found they were neighbours, this and the fact that Ethan was nice to him and didn’t seem to hate his guts the minute he said a word kept Danny on his toes, ready to spend near every spare minute with Ethan. Then, maybe it was because of the fact Ethan paid any attention to Danny at all, or just the fact that Ethan never once told Danny to leave him the hell alone as many before him have, but Danny formed a crush on him. One of those toe curling embarrassing ones, one where Danny could feel himself cringe into himself whenever he said anything to Ethan. Ethan either didn’t notice or was just too polite to point it out. It wasn’t until Danny, in a spur of the moment decision, kissed him that Ethan stopped talking to him. It was only for a week that Danny spiralled into a pit of self-hate and anxiety before Ethan talked with him again, opting to ignore the fact it happened at all. Danny, still in a state, went alone the same as Ethan. Best friends? Friends. They were friends… till the Ryder’s (surprise, surprise) moved once more.

So aged sixteen, Danny and the rest of his family (minus one brother, of course, who Danny barely sees or talks to anymore, for the record) moved, and kept moving. Gutted from the loss of his only actual friend in the whole wild world, he threw himself into his schoolwork again. A few school moves later, though, he decides to try and at least put himself out there with people. Which he does, and succeeds for the most part. He ends up (somewhat popular), the kind of popular that a kid who people think are kind of funny and will talk to in class if the situation happened to arise, but won’t say a word to outside of the school grounds. A popular that Danny settles with. He even dates a girl; which no one saw coming – another thing not expected, by Danny at least, was one girl called Lauren cheating on him essentially the entire time they were together. But Danny being Danny suppresses the heartache that came along with it, and just goes along with school and puts twice as much effort in as everyone else into his schoolwork. And, in the end of it all, comes out with decent grades that he celebrates in private. School ends and it’s another stress out of his life.

This was the point in Danny’s life where things seemed to slow down. Stuck in a constant state of just floating by in his life, he longed for a change and moved out from his parents home, who live just an hour out of Penbrook, where Danny now resides. Now, this wasn’t the most well thought out of decisions for Danny but he needed something more exciting. He didn’t have a plan, but he didn’t have much of anything. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t stand being with his family, it wasn’t the case at all – but they were, in some respects, a ball and chain. A constant reminder that by staying with them, there was no independence for him, there was nothing new and exciting for him to cling onto for his own mental state. So, he up and moved because, really, it seemed like his last hope.

It wasn’t too long after moving that he found a little life for himself, he managed to get a job that he didn’t care for but got him through the day’s he had nothing planned for and got him money for the days he did. He was happy enough, still floating but, at the very least, it was somewhere new. Danny, now, works as a retail assistant and works equally as hard to manage his brain and the trauma that he considers him being himself and therefore never getting to leave his own company.

S E C R E T S .

Because Danny never got the help he needed with his dyslexia, he convinced himself it was something to be ashamed of. Though he can read, it’s a great struggle and takes more effort than he cares to admit. He makes a point of avoiding it altogether if possible, and especially when it comes to reading out in front of people.

He has the deepest self hate issues you’ve ever seen. He sees himself as a deeply flawed person, not because of the way he looks or because of the things he has done ever, but just because of who he is. He deems himself as universally disliked and near enough impossible to be liked. Unless he’s told flat out that someone is his friend (and then periodically reminds him of that fact) he’s convinced they’re talking out of pity. He is working to try and get over it, but this idea has been drilled into him since he started school, facing rejection after rejection. His loud persona and sarcastic nature is his deflection method. He’ll deny anything said about it, but he still feels like the kid that was bullied his whole school career and the one that people only talked to because no one else was there.

Danny struggles massively with insomnia and night terrors. Despite one of his favourite genres being horror, his nightmares are very little to do with the supernatural horror. All seem to be revolving around his insecurities and then involving the people he cares about turning on him because of them. He often manages to get what happened in dreams mixed up with reality because of how little he sleeps – the guy’s exhausted, but he’s also astonishingly embarrassed over them.

Since he’s spent his entire life repressing emotions, Danny often struggles to keep his actions in check when he gets upset. He doesn’t have anger issues like his family once thought and got him checked for – but he does have inexplicably loud and uncontainable emotional outbursts about the smallest things every so often. All of his emotions come out at once and he finds it very difficult to think about what he’s saying in those times, though he’s also very stubborn and does his best avoiding apologising after.

C O N N E C T I O N S .

Best friends with Ben.

Dating Shane.

Used to date Faith.

[talesmaniac89]

Fatherhood

Summary: Dad!Crowley & Daughter!Reader - Crowley comes home to find his daughter playing hide and seek.

Word Count: 1877

Triggers: None, just father/daughter fluff

Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/E/C = Your eye colour ¦ Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Note: So, as promised, a little fluff after yesterday’s angst in Phone Call. This was fun to write so might do more little one shots featuring this duo!

—

Crowley had been called a lot of things through his well over 300 years alive, or well… Somewhat alive. Demon, sure constantly. Bastard, pretty much his middle name. Vindictive, who wasn’t? Son of a bitch, well, they’d clearly met his mother. King of Hell, soulless, heartless, crazy… Hell the list went on and on… But father, that was not a title he’d ever thought he’d hold again.

Fatherhood never suited Crowley. Therapists would likely say it was his own issues with his wench of a mother, or possibly his lack of a father figure or some similar obnoxious bullshit. He himself however just believed there wasn’t room for children in his existence, more now than back then. Emotions were chains and children were an extra weight on those chains made to slow you down on your rise to greatness. And he wanted to be great. Roman emperor level great, except of course without the backstabbing, iron poisoning and inevitable loss of power.

Plus, as all the stupid souvenir t-shirts said… He’d been there, done that, and completely screwed up his first child. His philosophy was simple, really. Child-rearing wasn’t one of those get back up on that horse kind of moments. If you failed the first time around you shouldn’t try again.

So, when Juliet, his favourite trusted hellhound, brought a crying infant back with her after reaping the ripe soul of a dealtaker, Crowley was clearly… Well, in a bind was putting it mildly. The hellhound was somewhat smitten with the baby girl. Taking a protective stance in front of the child if anyone but Crowley tried to come near and curling up around her to calm her hiccuping sobs.

Having just had pups Juliet was still a bit… Motherly. Which was probably why she brought the baby with her. The child had been the only family of the latest soul added to his collection. So, with her motherly instincts, and having just claimed the soul of the baby’s single mother, Juliet had probably been unable to help herself. Honestly, considering the woman had squandered her deal and sold her soul on a wish to be in a very specific TV show, which didn’t really pan out for her career wise… She clearly didn’t have the knack for planning ahead, and from what Crowley knew, which was a lot more than he often let on, she had been a horrible mother.

Still, bringing the child back to hell… It was more than he’d expected from his hellhound, but as always, she constantly surprised him.

And so, Crowley had been faced with a dilemma. It wasn’t just a pup. It was a baby, a human baby. A living, breathing, innocent child that really didn’t belong in hell, not even in his more… Luxurious private slice of it. Yet, he didn’t want to leave the kid with the Winchesters. They weren’t really the poster boys for a healthy upbringing and he doubted they could provide the kid with the apple pie life of a perfect made for TV family.

Sure, he could leave her at some stranger’s door in a some strange version of ding dong ditch… But he’d been there himself, the traded for three pigs type of been there. And though that might have been back in the 17th century in rural Scotland he knew for a fact, seeing some of the poor sods that walked past his not-so-pearly-gates, that the “modern” foster care system wasn’t all daisies and teddy bears either.

Crowley was evil, sure, and cruel, definitely, but he wasn’t a monster. At least not past the tiny little fact that he was a literal demon. So he had taken it upon himself to raise the child. After all Juliet had seemed like she would rip the head off anyone who tried to take her new human shaped pup away from her. And Crowley very much preferred his head where it was.

It was like something out of a rejected sit-com script. Crowley, King of Hell, leader of the crossroads demons, and now a single father. And that, that was how hell got its princess, a full five years ago, though only those closest to the king knew of her existence.

—

“I’m home,” The words that over the last few years had been coming easier each time he spoke them now rolled off Crowley’s tongue as if they were the most natural words in the world. As if hell had somehow, after hundreds of years, actually become his home due to the little girl who waited for him there whenever he was out on business. Loosening his tie he raised his eyebrows in slight confusion when he didn’t hear the distinct sound of tiny feet rushing to greet him.

“(Y/N) where are you hiding now you little chipmunk?” Crowley fully lost his patented king of hell tone as he looked around the hallway, knowing the little princess couldn’t be far away. A warmer smile than he ever offered to anyone else easily lighting up his face and deepening the smile lines around his eyes to make the man truly look like the father he was trying to be for the small child that had turned his life upside down.

“Hmmm… I know she’s hiding somewhere,” He said to the room, pretending he wasn’t able to sense her presence behind the decorative curtains further down the long hallway. The small childish giggle he was rewarded with better than any amount of riches he could possibly wish to get.

Walking toward her he made a show of looking under tables and behind pictures on the wall and teasing more poorly suppressed high pitched laughs out of the apple of his eye. Adding a few small surprised noises and confused head scratches to the mix for comedic relief he slowly made his way over to where his little girl was hiding. The bulge in the curtain larger than her little shape should have been, which meant she’d once more dragged Juliet along with her. The hellhound was practically her domesticated house pup by now and seemed to have taken well to the role as nanny.

“I wonder, could the little chipmunk be hiding behind the curtains?” He asked the empty hallway in front of him when he was only a few steps away from where the five-year-old was doing her very best to stand completely still. Which, for a five year old was the equivalent of rocket science.

“Nooo,” The laughed denial only making Crowley beam brighter at his little ninja before playing along.

“Oh really? Well, then she must be in the other room,” The King of Hell pretended to take a few steps forward and did a quick turn back towards the curtains with a shocked gasp as (Y/N) gleefully laughed at his little performance. She was the only audience a father would ever need. Even if the Winchesters didn’t appreciate his little jokes, she always laughed and played along.

“Wait a minute,” Crowley said as he tip-toed over towards the expensive velvet curtains. “I’m pretty sure curtains can’t talk,”

“This one can! It’s Mr. Curtain!” The small darling voice of his little girl was shaking with laughter and as he looked at the movements in the curtain it was easy to tell the whole girl was shaking right along with it.

“Really now, well Mr. Curtain, but… What’s this lump here then?” He reached out of the curtain with a curious gesture and his princess squealed in her hiding place. “It kind of looks like it’s (Y/N) shaped. You didn’t eat my little girl did you Mr. Curtain?”

“Noooo, I jus’ had ice cream,” The small voice giggled as Crowley placed his hands on the curtain, pretending to measure up the part of the curtain where she was hiding.

“Ice cream before dinner?That doesn’t sound like something Mr. Curtain would do. No, you know what I think?” Crowley let his hand reach for the side of the curtain with a warm smile as he crouched to be at the same height as his baby girl.

“What?” (Y/N)’s voice had that cute little lilt it always got when she was truly curious. And she was always curious… Ah, the struggles of raising small children.

“I think this little lump is actually my princess!” Crowley said with a laugh as he pulled back the curtain to reveal his adopted daughter. Her surprised squeal automatically brightening the room and Crowley’s day as he caught her up in a big hug whilst Juliet nudged at them both with her snout. A bit jealous of the interaction as she felt as if she was just as big a part of the tiny little family as the two other members and just as entitled to a hug or at least an ear scratch.

“Daddy!” (Y/N) squealed as her little arms went around his neck to hug him back as hard as she could. Which honestly wasn’t very hard at all, but she always put all the strength in her little body into it.

“What have you been up to today pet?” Crowley said, standing up and lifting his princess with him as he focused on her brilliant (Y/E/C) eyes and her slightly messy (Y/H/C) hair from her time behind the velvet curtain.

“Walkies with ‘Ette!” She said, arms still around his neck as she looked down at the hellhound which he had yet to understand if she could see or not. Children all had a bit of magic in them, so it wouldn’t surprise him if she could. “Then Mr. Curtain ate us,”

“Really, did he gobble you up on your walkies?” Crowley asked with over-acted shock as he shifted the little girl so she was against his side like a little monkey. Teasing out another little laugh with a small tickle before carrying her easily towards the living room to ensure she got her dinner and possibly rewatch Moana, or whichever Disney movie she was obsessed with at the moment.

“Yes! You saved me from Mr. Curtain daddy!” Her big bright eyes widened as she nodded profusely, happy that her father was playing along with her little story.

“Did I? So is daddy your hero then?” Crowley said, his heart swelling like it always did when he held his world in his arms. Because shortly after Juliet had brought the little ray of sunshine into his life that was exactly what she’d become. His world.

“Yes! My daddy is the bestest hero!” Her little smile beamed up at him with so much love and admiration is nearly made the demon’s no longer beating heart burst. Her little hands holding onto each other as she gave him another big hug whilst he opened the door to the colorful and warm living room where he was just a father, and never the King of Hell.

To think he could love someone so much. With his little princess, his darling (Y/N), around everything was always fine. No matter what the world threw his way during the day.

It didn’t matter to him if the whole world saw him as a villain. Because to his little girl, Crowley was a hero.

Please do let me know if you wish to be removed from the tag list

Tags:  @auszimbo @upon-a-girl @gallifreyansass @mogaruke @skybinx-blog  @delisp @jensen-jarpad @supernatural-jackles @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm @wildfirewinchester @just-another-busy-fangirl

Also tagging a few Crowley fans I know ‘cause I’m shameless that way: @roxy-davenport @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @scheherazades-horcrux, @ajacentlee, @chelsea072498 @annabellerosemasters @alangel1895

[queermediastudies]

Y Tu Mamá También

Analiese Schulzki’s Queer Movie Review 

Y Tu Mamá También (2002) is a film directed by Alfonso Cuarón, which on the surface appears to be the typical coming of age story of two boys who have been best friends their entire lives and go on a road trip with an older woman who is leaving her husband so that they can both sleep with her. However, this film goes beyond a coming of age and focuses on the emotional and sexual tension and repression of the two main characters Julio (Gael Garcia Bernal) and Tenoch (Diego Luna) who discover and are trying hide the fact that they have feelings for the other through constant arguments about the secrets they have kept from one another. This film for many years has been perceived as a momentary gay love story between the two characters, but truly is one of the first break through texts of its kind to address the struggle of bisexuality and why it is so confusing to be attracted to men and women as well as the notion of being queer still seen as a taboo because of this hyper macho Mexican culture which ultimately destroys their relationship.

Before the three characters leave on this road trip, the audience gets a glimpse at the relationship between Tenoch and Julio whose girlfriends have just left to travel Europe. At the beginning Tenoch and his girlfriend are in the middle of sex when they discuss how he doesn’t want her sleeping with other men in Europe while they are both listing off the men she is not allowed to sleep with, they are turning each other on listing different nationalities of men, as well as Tenoch mentions her father. When the girlfriends leave Tenoch and Julio spend almost every moment together going to parties, getting high, swimming alone together at Tenoch’s father’s country club which then turns into them masturbating together yelling out people who turn them. Together they become closer and that intimacy scares them so they keep secrets like the ultimate reveal later in the movie that they both slept with each other’s girlfriends and each other’s mothers. Being as close to sleeping with each other without actually doing it or admitting it.

With all of this sexual tension and repression by Tenoch and Julio, we cannot forget the other main character Luisa (Maribel Verdú) who ultimately brings these two other characters together. In the midst of talking about friendship, sex, and trying to evade their sexual advances towards her Luisa just found out that she is living with terminal cancer and only has a month or so to live and that her husband cheated on her. Luisa is important to the development of these boy’s sexuality because she has represented the fluidity and passion of their relationship. Both Julio and Tenoch are instantly attracted to her and are willing to do anything to keep her around including making up a beach destination called Heaven’s Mouth just so they can get her to go on the road trip. The most important part about Luisa is she is the one who understands the fluidity of sexuality and life and is not afraid to call them out when they are letting their masculinity and pride get the best of them. In a moment of furry and what most would consider the climax of the film is when she tries to leave the group in the middle of nowhere because she is sick of their fighting. In the moment of packing up her things she says “ Typical men! Fighting like dogs and marking their territory.  What you really want is to fuck each other that’s what you really want.” In these intense tensions, “pleasures generated by the man-man aspects within narratives of the former group of films create space of sexual instability that already queerly positioned viewers can connect with in various way, and within which straights might be likely to recognize and express their queer impulses” (Doty, 8).  She understands that they are just putting up this persona to so that they can remain separate from one another and comply with society's view to rejecting queer relationships.

When this film was released Y Tu Mamá También was one of the first of its kind to release a film in Mexico that tactfully told a story about bisexuality even if it wasn’t explicit. The entire film leads up to the moment where all three of them put all of their masculinity, fights, and society behind and have sex with one another. In reference to Barry Jenkins's Moonlight, the idea of water a queer representation is stagnant throughout the film and almost presents itself as a main character. Y Tu Mamá También had a similar representation with water and with Mexico. The film is about a road trip through Mexico which means every time a character looked out the window they were forced to capture not only the scenery but the ideals and life of Mexico. Luisa who is from Spain mentions, “you are so lucky to live in Mexico. Look it breathes with life.” which is why it is so difficult for these characters to live and fully express themselves because they have to hide their feelings.

 When one thinks of Latin cinema they think of the macho hero man saving the day from the damsel in distress. There is rarely an opportunity for fluidity and sexuality to be expressed. Throughout the film, Tenoch and Julio find themselves gravitating towards water at the beginning swimming clothed and racing one another, then to swimming nude, and finally spending an entire day on the water do they feel comfortable enough to have sex with Luisa together because they are like the water feeling fluid, free, and vast to explore an important part of their feelings. I remember watching this film my first year of college, and it honestly felt like the first time I had ever seen a relatively clear representation of bisexual characters. As someone who was still trying to figure out her sexuality as a bisexual woman, it began to put somethings into perspective. Julio and Tenoch are still very much attractive to their girlfriends and to Luisa but is clear that they have a connection and attraction towards one another. What is devastating about this film is in the end Luisa dies and eventually so does the relationship between Tenoch and Julio. Luisa for these characters represented the fluidity of their sexuality, when we leave her character she says, “life is like foam, so give yourself away like the sea”. When they wake up the day after begin so intimate with one another they fall back into societal norms and pressures each goes to University studying exactly what they refused to study at the beginning of the film. 

Like many bisexual characters in film and television they are seen as hyper sexualized, never satisfied, and continuously invisible representations. “New Queer Cinema makes use of postmodern ideas and aesthetic styles (as does queer theory itself). New Queer Cinema often questions essentialist models of sexual identity, and frequently shows how the terms “gay” and “lesbian”  are inadequate when trying to define actual human experiences” (Beshoff and Griffin, 11).  Y Tu Mamá También was one of the highest grossing films in Mexico at the time of its release as well as nominated from Golden Globes and Academy Awards, while recognized cinematically, critically it remains relatively as invisible just as the Bisexual community in LGBTQ representation and celebration. This film was certainly unique and one of the first of its kind to be represented in Latin Cinema and deserves the credit and recognition that it deserves.

References

Benshoff, H., & Griffin, S. (Eds.). (2004). Queer Cinema: The Film Reader.

Cuarón, A. (Director). (2002). Y Tu Mamá También [Motion picture]. Mexico.

Doty. (1993). Making Things Perfectly Queer.

Y Tu Mama Tambien 2002 Movie Poster [Photograph]. (2002). Retrieved from https://static.rogerebert.com/uploads/movie/movie_poster/y-tu-mama-tambien-2002/large_tm3xNZPx16fYYRl8RluxrkK6p.jpg

[lucindadixon]

holdontohopelove replied to your link: M*A*S*H - Best of Hawkeye/Margaret

Any chance you’d be willing to post the list itself to Tumblr? The link doesn’t work and I would loveeee the list of episodes.

Sure, here it is!

The following is a list of episodes with good HM scenes (or, on occasion, just good Margaret scenes, because I love her sfm) and a brief description of why I'm including it. Some are big important scenes, others are just little tiny things that no one but a die hard shipper would even notice.  I'm doing this primarily for my own reference, but if someone else gets something out of it, all the better.

 Season One

 Ep. 12  Dear Dad - First kiss!  Hawkeye walks up to Frank and Margaret, asks Frank to hold his drink, grabs Margaret, dips her and kisses the bejeezus out of her!  Margaret is speechless and weak-kneed when he's finished. Frank refers to Hawk as an animal and Margaret agrees, but she obviously does not consider that to be a bad thing.

 Ep. 21  Sticky Wicket - Hawkeye is deeply troubled about a patient who isn't getting any better.  Margaret assisted him on the surgery and seeks him to out try and figure out what went wrong.  Hawk is kind of rude to her actually, but when he eventually figures out the problem, it's her he hauls out of bed to operate with him.  While they are still a long way from the friends they end up being, it's obvious in this episode that they respect each other professionally.

Season Two

Ep. 6 Kim - Because it's Hawkeye she clings to when she's scared, not Frank.

Ep. 11  Carry on Hawkeye - Everyone has the flu but Hawkeye and Margaret and they have to work together to keep things running.  There's a great scene where they have to give each other flu shots - Hawkeye, of course, wants his in his tushie.  There are definite shades here of the friendship they eventually develop.  In fact, he even refers to her as 'nurse, friend, and all round good egg', and you can tell she's pleased.  One of my Top 10 HM episodes

Ep. 14  Hot Lips and Empty Arms - Nothing specifically HM (and there's a bit of Margaret/Trapper) but I'm including it anyway because it has some great Margaret scenes and she is just so stinking cute when she's bombed.

Ep. 15  Officers Only - Hawkeye tries to convince Margaret to agree to allowing enlisted men in the new O club.  There is dancing involved.  Frank is jealous.  Unfortunately he fails to convince her, but it's cute while it lasts.

Season Three

Ep. 4  Iron Guts Kelly - A visiting General dies in Margaret's tent and she seeks out Hawk and Trapper to help her cover it up.  Nothing specifically HM, but a really hilarious episode.

Ep. 7  Check-up - I'm torn on this one.  I decided to include it only because Hawkeye giving Margaret her check-up was cute, especially the fact that he shaved before it.  But then he basically calls her fat.  Huh?  It also features Drunk!Margaret which I love, but is kinda heavy on the Trapper/Margaret which I don't.

Ep. 9  Alcoholics Unanimous - Frank outlaws booze, so of course Margaret, Hawk, and Trap get drunk together and then make fun of Frank when he finds them.  Really funny scene.

Ep. 10  There's Nothing Like a Nurse - Because she quite enjoys her goodbye kiss.

Ep. 13  Mad Dogs and Servicemen -  Margaret and Hawk have words several times when she disagrees with the way he treats a soldier with what he believes to be hysterical paralysis. Also, Radar is bitten by a dog and needs rabies shots and there is a wonderful scene where Margaret kindly reads him a letter from a girl wanting to correspond with a serviceman.

Ep. 16  Bulletin Board - Because they're laughing and covered in mud.

Ep. 19  Aid Station - Hawkeye and Margaret (and Klinger) are sent to an Aid Station at the front.  There's a cute scene on the way where Margaret won't let Hawk change a flat tire because his hands are too valuable.  Once there, they work incredibly well together and the professional respect between them is obvious.  She tells a wounded soldier that he's lucky because Hawkeye is the best. He encourages her to start a surgery without him.  There is a sweet scene where they talk at the end of the day and end up going to sleep curled up together.  And when they get back to camp, he kisses her on the cheek.  One of my Top 10 HM episodes.

 Season 4

Ep. 3  It Happened One Night - Hawk and Margaret work the night shift in Post Op together.  When they relieve Frank, he says he's leaving them to "carry on".  The look they give him is priceless.  Later, a can of beans Hawk was heating on the stove explodes and gets all over them.  Margaret laughs as he uses his finger to taste the sauce on her face.  Best exchange of the night:  Patient:  "I hate your guts."  Margaret: "My guts are not here for you to love."  One of my Top Ten HM episodes

Ep. 10  Dear Peggy - Because she gets in the jeep as he admires her best side.

Ep. 11  Of Moose and Men - Hawkeye has to operate on a Colonel he's offended.  Margaret is very impressed with his work and tells him as much.  So naturally, he hits on her and pisses her off.  Just prior, there's a sweet scene when she covers him with a blanket as he sleeps in Post Op.

Season 5

Ep. 1  Bug Out - While the rest of the camp bugs out, Hawkeye, Margaret, and Radar remain behind to look after a patient who can't be moved. There is a nice scene where they talk about being afraid.  Later, as they are about to leave the camp, Margaret tells Hawkeye he should be proud of the lives he's saved.  He tells her she should be as well and kisses her on the cheek.  One of my Top 10 HM Episodes

Ep. 2  Margaret's Engagement - Because he fixes her boo-boo and tells her to knock off the insensitivity.

Ep. 3  Out of Sight, Out of Mind - Because he knows her by her perfume.

Ep. 5  The Nurses - Hawkeye helps a nurse Margaret has confined to quarters have a rendezvous with her husband by "quarantining" him in Margaret's tent.  Margaret's pain at being rejected by the other nurses is heartbreaking.

Ep. 7  Dear Sigmund - Because she's playing poker in the Swamp wearing boxer shorts.

Ep. 11  The Colonel's Horse - Margaret needs an appendectomy and Hawkeye is the only surgeon she wants.  He pays her a tent call for a pre-op exam but she won't let him because he won't lay off the sexual innuendo.  She ends up waking him in the middle of the night to do the operation.  There is a cute scene at the end where he takes his patient for a stroll around the compound.  She thanks him for doing a wonderful job and he offers her a guarantee: every thousand miles he'll probe her chassis.

Ep. 19  Hepatitis - Hawkeye is examining everyone for hepatitis, including Margaret.  Hawkeye: "You're going to get a shot too."  Margaret (shaking her brush at him):  "So are you, kiddo."  She confides in him a problems she's having with her fiance's mother, he admires her caboose, she tells him off.  He tells her she's magnificent, inside and out.  Aww.

Ep. 21  Movie Night - Because he wants to hear her sing.

Season 6

Ep. 1  Fade in, Fade out - Because he was drooling over her bikini picture.  And because he was genuinely interested in why she was upset.

Ep. 7  In Love and War - Included only for the HM scene at the end where they commiserate over Hawkeye's lost love and Margaret's cheating husband.  Otherwise, not at all ship-friendly.

Ep. 9  Images - Margaret becomes upset after hearing that a stray dog she's grown attached to has been killed by a jeep.  Hawkeye sees that she's emotional and tries to get her to talk.  She doesn't want to admit to it and accuses him of always trying to get in her head. Eventually he succeeds in getting her to break down, and he holds her while she cries.

Ep. 12  Comrades in Arms (Pt 1) - Hawkeye and Margaret are stranded alone together in an abandoned hut while on a trip to the 8063.  They find comfort in each other's arms while shelling goes on all around them.  In addition to the kissing (squee!), I love that when she is going to sleep, she says to announce himself if he's coming over to her in the middle of the night so she doesn't brain him with a big stick thinking he's the enemy.  Hint, hint, perhaps?  One of my Top 10 HM episodes.

 Ep. 13  Comrades in Arms (Pt 2) - Margaret is kind of weird and OOC in the first half of the episode and it's a uncomfortable to watch her being all mushy and trying to make Hawkeye into something he's not. The ending scenes though, first with Hawkeye confessing to BJ that he felt something for her, and then the two of them making peace, make up for the bad beginning.  The whole 'who's smiling' bit at very end is adorable.  One of my Top 10 HM episodes.

Ep. 14  The Merchant of Korea - I love the scene in Margaret's tent when Hawkeye goes to invite her to the poker game.  Something about the way she casually picks up his hand and moves it out of her way instead of just commanding him to move it is adorable.

Ep. 15  The Smell of Music - Because of her brilliant three-wave plan to clean the boys and stop the French horn.

Ep. 16  Patient 4077 - Margaret loses her wedding ring and Hawk and BJ buy her a replacement.  She's a bitch about it at first, but after Klinger sets her straight, she says she likes it better than the original.

Ep. 19  What's Up Doc - Margaret confesses to Hawkeye that she fears she may be pregnant.  It's touching how concerned he is for her.  They perform surgery on Radar's rabbit's ovaries to do a pregnancy test. In my Top 10 HM Episodes

Season 7

Ep. 1  Commander Pierce - Because she's beautiful when she's overworked and because since when did he join the army?

Ep. 2  Peace on Us - I could write a book on this one.  I love how the only thing that gets though to Hawkeye when he's ranting about the army's rule change is Margaret's confession that Donald has run out on her.  And later, when they hug at the red party and she puts her hand on the back of his head and pulls him down like she's about to kiss him...swoon... (see icon). She's kind of all over him in this episode, both during the party and the next morning.  In my own personal head-canon, they totally fell off the 'just friends' wagon that night. On of my Top 10 HM episodes.

Ep. 7  They Call the Wind Korea - Because he never let's her get away with 'I'm fine' when she's not.  And because she lays her head on his shoulder.

Ep. 12  Out of Gas - A couple of cute moments.  While they're playing poker he calls her 'toots' and she doesn't even get mad.  When she passes out from the ether, he revives her.   And when she wakes him up to go into surgery, he ask her to help him up, which she does, and get him something to lean against, preferable her, which rates a smile.

Ep. 13  An Eye for a Tooth - Hawkeye's hungover and Margaret's in an incredibly good mood.  She starts tickling him at the breakfast table and then loads his coffee up with sugar, leading to a food fight!  Charles manipulates them into a prank war, but they team up and get him in the end.

Ep. 16  Inga - Even though Hawk spends most of the episode chasing another woman, I have to include this one because Margaret completely pwns him in the scene outside the mess tent, telling him off for being sexist. I find his accusation of jealousy interesting though, in that he seems to mean he thinks Margaret is jealous of Inga professionally, but Margaret takes it to mean being jealous over Hawkeye's attention.  Seems like maybe he unintentionally strikes a bit of a nerve, even if that isn't what prompted the fight..  And then it's just sweet when she makes him go to the movies with her at the end and they walk off with their arms around each other.

Ep. 19  Hot Lips is Back in Town - Because he does his best to make sure she's okay after her divorce papers arrive, at least until he passes out.  And she is absolutely trying not to laugh when he interrupts the triage lesson.

Ep. 20  C*A*V*E - Hawkeye and Margaret help each other work through their phobias (claustrophobia and loud noises, respectively) when the 4077th is forced to evacuate to a cave during an attack and then they have to take a critical patient back to operate on him.  BJ:  "Boy, I can't leave you two in the backseat of anything."  Um, what?  Has he seen things we have not? In my Top 10 HM episodes.

Season 8

Ep. 2  Are You Now, Margaret - A congressional aide is convinced Margaret is a communist sympathizer.  Nothing specifically HM, but it shows how far she's come that every single person was on her side.

Ep. 11  Lifetime - Because she's Hot Streak Houlihan and they work so well together.

Ep. 12  Dear Uncle Abdul - Because her valiant foot locker gave it's life so she might live.  Not HM, just really funny.

Ep. 13  Captains Outrageous - Because they really should own a bar together.

Ep. 14  Stars and Stripes -  After Margaret's date with Scully goes south, Hawkeye tries to give her a pep talk.  She includes Hawk in her list of failed relationships - I think this is the only time the events of CIA are ever referenced, however obliquely.  Later she describes her ideal man as being 20% her father, 10% Scully, 10% Hawkeye, 3% Frank Burns and 1% her ex-husband.  I love that he rates higher than Frank.

Ep. 16  Bottle Fatigue - Because she's the only one defending his cranky arse when he gives up drinking, even though he doesn't appreciate it.

Ep. 25  April Fools - Because she's Margaret the Menace and they steal her tent.

Season 9

Ep. 5  Death Takes a Holiday - Margaret, Hawkeye and BJ struggle to keep a soldier alive until December 26 so his kids don't have to remember Christmas as the day their father died.

Ep. 17  Bless You Hawkeye - Because she checks him for fever and sits by his bedside.

 (Sheesh. What happened, Season 9?  Where be all the HM?)

Season 10

Ep. 3   Rumor at the Top - No HM, but Margaret's attempts at making Col. Potter sound senile are quite amusing.

Ep. 4  Give 'em Hell Hawkeye - Because they sit awfully close together even though there are more chairs.

Ep. 11 The Birthday Girls - No HM, but Margaret and Klinger are really sweet in this one.

Ep. 14  The Tooth Shall Set You Free - Because he refills her coffee cup without her even having to ask.

Ep.  15  Pressure Points - Because she makes a good catch.

Ep  16  Where There's a Will There's a War - Hawkeye writes out a will during a harrowing visit to an aid station.  He leaves Margaret his Groucho glasses to remind her of how much he enjoyed her rarely seen silly side.  There is a flashback of a sleep-deprived Hawk and Margaret making bad puns and cracking up while taking inventory in the supply tent.

Ep.  20  Picture This - Charles, BJ and Hawkeye are fighting and Hawkeye moves out of the Swamp. It's Margaret who goes to trick Hawkeye into going back, while Klinger and Father Mulcahy go to BJ and Charles.

Season 11

Ep. 1  Hey Look Me Over - Because they dance the Lindy Hop. Sadly, off screen.

Ep. 2  Trick or Treat - Because he really likes her sexy costume.

Ep. 7  Settling Debts - Not HM, but included because Margaret does such a bang-up job of stalling Colonel Potter.

Ep. 10  U.N., the Night, and the Music - Margaret takes an interest in a U.N. representative who has suffered an injury that has left him impotent.  He confides in Hawkeye, who tries to run interference.  Included because the U.N. guy originally thinks Hawk and Margaret are more than friends and because Margaret thanks Hawkeye for "trying to be a jerk".

Ep. 15  As Time Goes By - Margaret decides to make a time capsule to commemorate the 4077th.  Hawkeye volunteers to help and they spend the episode arguing over what would be appropriate to include, Margaret wanting a military theme and Hawkeye goes more for the human side of the war.  In the end she is more agreeable to his way of thinking after they hear the story of a chopper pilot's heroism and then when she sees the items he's chosen.

Ep. 16  Goodbye, Farewell and Amen - A couple of little things in this one, and of course, one great big thing.  First, when BJ leaves the first time, it's Margaret he chooses to have explain things to Hawkeye for him.  Then, when he gets back from the psych hospital and goes right into surgery, it's Margaret that helps him through it.  And what can I say about their final scene?  I love that moment of understanding between them where they each know exactly what the other is thinking ("So, ah, listen..."  "Yeah.") and then they just grab onto each other at the same time.  That was one hell of a goodbye kiss.  To me what is happening here is that they are admitting, to themselves and to each other, just how much more there was to their relationship than the friendship they had eventually settled into.  That their reasons for not being together, while valid as far as they went, were no longer important in the face of probably never seeing each other again. Also, all shippiness aside, this is an incredible series finale.  Charles and the musicians make me cry every time, as does BJ's final goodbye note. One of my Top 10 HM Episodes

everytimeyougo 's Top Ten Hawkeye/Margaret Episodes

10.  Carry On Hawkeye

9.   It Happened One Night

8.   C*A*V*E

7.   Bug Out

6.   What's Up Doc?

5.   Comrades in Arms (Pt 2)

4.   Aid Station

3.   Goodbye, Farewell and Amen

2.   Peace on Us

1.   Comrades in Arms (Pt 1)

Honorable mentions:  Sticky Wicket, The Colonel's Horse, Hepatitis, Images, The Merchant of Korea, Where There's A Will, There's A War

[thebeccagramchronicles]

(Heads up. This is a long post.)

So——–

We’re talking about success and failure.

Maybe we need to define what success is, what failure is. It’s how we view failure that really matters in our quest for success. 

Is it success when we take a little step forward toward our goals?

Is it failure when we take a little step back?

I can use myself as an example in a couple of areas in my life.

PAINTING

When I took my first drawing class I was scared to pick up the pencil.

When I took my first painting class, I was scared to pick up the paintbrush and even more frightened to put paint on the paper. I sat in front of that big piece of white paper terrified. I must have sat there a long time because finally the teacher came over and whispered in my ear, “Rebecca, it’s only a $3.00 piece of paper”.

I ran into that teacher a few months ago and we chatted for a few minutes. She asked me what I was up to and I started describing all the DIY projects I had taken on. She gave me the greatest compliment, “Rebecca, creativity just oozes out of you.” Coming from her that meant a lot.

Now, you should know, I really struggled in the beginning. But now I don’t even think twice and I think my paintings can be considered “art”.

But I had a lot of failures along the way. One of my goals for this year is to make some prints from my paintings and sell them at a local art store. Am I afraid they’ll just sit there and no one will buy even one?

Of course. But I will have succeeded because I will have tried.

 BLOGGING

Talk about a lot of failures along the way. Whoa! If you have been with me a few years, you ‘ve read some poorly written posts. You’ve read some ramblings that didn’t go anywhere.

I worked harder at this than anything I’ve ever done. My learning curve was straight up and I almost quit a number of times. And the actual design of the blog was mindboggling hard for me. I broke down in tears a few times I was so frustrated.

Do I consider myself successful now?

Yes.

No.

Yes, because I believe I am communicating effectively.

No, because I haven’t found my rhythm yet. Maybe I never will. Maybe that IS my rhythm.

Our church is doing something kind of interesting in a few weeks. We are to dress in a way that shows what we “do” or want to “do”.  Well, my occupation now is “Blogger”. I’m carrying my computer to church and handing out business cards with my name and my website’s name. When people ask me what I blog about I’m going to tell them.

That might not sound like much to you but it’s really big for me. You see I’m very comfortable writing in the safety of my home. I’m very comfortable “talking” to you like this. But to tell people in person that I blog, I find scary.

And, honestly, there are other areas in my life I couldn’t care less whether I succeed or fail. I don’t think we need to define every area in our lives as success or failure. I think there are some people that do but I’m not one of them. I’m perfectly content to be mediocre in some areas. I hope you have areas of your life like that. It gives us some breathing room.

(An aside: I prefer to think in terms of “Is this (whatever “this” is) the very best I can do”? I always use January to do some thinking and reflection about the past year. As you know my mother died May 11th so it seems particularly important this January. I had no idea where I was headed and then one day I was doing something and I immediately said to myself, “Is this really the best you can do?” I believe that was definitely from God and I have been asking that about everything, from my wardrobe to my makeup, to my cooking, to my decorating, to my praying, even to my grocery shopping. I will be posting more about this later.)

As long as we don’t equate success with money or fame, we can pursue our goals without a lot of pressure.

One of the things my mom used to say (Boy, it hurts to write “used” in reference to her), which really bothered me was that she “wasn’t good at anything”. It wasn’t true. She was good at lots of things and I tried to tell her that often. But she always equated success with money and fame. It broke my heart.

I won’t bore you with all the names of the highly successful writers whose manuscripts were rejected time and again, the Olympians who fell more than soared, or the number of experiments scientists conducted before succeeding. But the one thing they all had in common was how they looked at failure.

They saw failure as stepping stones to success.

I was searching blogs using the word “failure” and I found the following quote. ( That website is here.)

“failures are the stairs of success, The sooner you act and fail, the sooner you will succeed.” 

This really resonated with me. When you think about it, it’s true, isn’t it? I mean we might as well get started. Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year is going to come anyway (at least we hope it does), so we might as well get our failures out of the way now.

I hope if you have dreams, you will start at least taking the first steps towards that dream. I won’t say that it’s the journey that ultimately matters but I will say that it’s the journey that defines our final outcome.

It was my first year of experimenting with paint, paper, and techniques that defined my style.

It was my first year of blogging that helped me define what I wanted to write about.

I really didn’t know in either case where I was headed. I just knew I had to stay on the journey until I figured it out.

Tenacity almost always get us where we want to go.

Don’t give up. I won’t say we can do anything we want to do because I don’t think that is always true, but I do believe we can get pretty darn close.

Is there anything you’ve been told you can’t do? What if it isn’t true?

Have you ever accomplished what you thought was impossible?

God bless and have a great day.

(“I found a new blog the other day with an interesting title. Check her out here.”)

      How to define success or failure and why it’s important (Heads up. This is a long post.) So-------- We're talking about success and failure. Maybe we need to define what success is, what failure is.