#Everyone has to be fumbling around in roles that are not actually suited towards them that much (like a wandering

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 5: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should choose a suspicious egg as his gift ….

"He carefully plucks the egg from the gift pile, wrapping it in spare fabric and tucking it away inside a small wooden box within his backpack for safety. Not really wanting to stick around and get accidentally pulled into scary underground tunnels or something, he shakily bids the Well Creature farewell, and continues on through the forest, just following whatever he can find that looks vaguely like a path.. He makes an occasional stop to pick up a cool rock, harvest berries, or let the cat play in the grass, but mostly just wanders aimlessly, lost in daydreams and contemplations of how his New Fun Life Of Spontaneous Adventure is going so far......

Eventually, the forest tapers off into a more open area of land, hosting what seems like a humble little village. By this point, it's nearly nightfall, which reminds him that he's actually quite afraid of the dark, so he scrambles about town for a moment until finally finding the local Inn. After nervously stumbling inside, he rents the cheapest room available, then sits alone, snacking on some free leftover food scraps and plain water. It's been a tiring day, but in the spirit of becoming an adventurer and pushing himself to have as many experiences as possible, he figures he could hang around downstairs a little longer, perhaps get one more thing done before bed -- What should he do?"

[cornflowershade]

Bless you for putting The Shipper content on my dash in 2023. Such a lovely show! I take it you enjoyed it?

OMG I DID. Like, where to start. First of all, I appreciate any show that doesn't take itself too seriously or seem afraid how it'll come off, and this is one of them. It is WACKY (and funny) and strange, and I enjoyed every minute of that. But there's drama as well, which I'm a sucker for too, and we will get to that.

Of course, I also lovedddd the cast. First was freaking amazing in this role, the way you can see him switch roles and covey Pan, like??? In fact, everyone did an amazing job. The acting was so good. Also loved Jennie as the angel of death, haha. And Ohm as Khet was so cute. Soda was adorable. And yeahhhh, Way ended up bringing emotions.

Going into the series, it was this great fun adventure body swap situation —always a good time— but obviously there was a million twists, and one of my favorite things about this show was how unpredictable the path always was. Being a show about life (and death), I think that unpredictability kinda suits it.

I like the idea of how it start with Pan, who has an idealized like, wattpad fanfic reading of the world around her—or at least of Kim and Way. Then we place her in Kim's life—via a total fanfic scenario (side note I love how everything feels so fanfic, even down to the wild shipping vibes between literally everyone at various points. the chemistry just chemistry-ing 24/7) and from there everything only gets more complex as she discovers that no, she doesn't know everything about this boy. We discover more about Kim through her, and over time through the other characters as well, and by the time we realize Kim is gone (following an ongoing mystery of Uh Oh Where Is He??) we finally have a fuller picture of him. A picture painted through the choices he made, the lives he impacted, and what he meant to people, etc. And Pan has a better understanding of both Kim and herself. As well as having to face some moral quandaries on how to handle situations linked to this extremely wacky circumstance.

She learns not to judge so quickly (like she did at the start with WayKim or at the point where discovers Kim's secrets. She continues learning this all the way to when she realizes how Khet feels.). I also liked that by the time she realizes WayKim was real, it's something that is able to hit her with gravity? By then it means something more than "ooooooh look at them, look at my ship." Because she feels the implications. Because she knows them better. Because she knows the weight of what it means after living Kim's life and after discovering that he's gone. After we learn that he's dead, it actually makes things make a lot more sense. 1) that he didn't wake up and 2) why the show gives such an investigation into his life [beyond the obvious reason, which is Pan trying to get her bearings and fumble through]—it's almost retrospective.

Speaking of the weight of things (yes this has turned into a full blown show review/meta haha) I again enjoyed how the series becomes something weightier as it goes on. Not to say there wasn't weight at the beginning, but the tone got more grounded as it progressed. Like I said before, it's a show about life and death, and the impact of both. I'd say it's also about loss and learning from experiences (even the angel of death ends up learning a lesson—double check those names!!—and being impacted by a relationship, by someone's life, as she develops a fondness toward Pan.)

Those themes start all the way back at the beginning, with Pan's body being in a coma. With her friends and stepdad worrying if she'll come back to them, and Pan being unable to tell them she's okay (ugh the drama yes). We see the impact that her absence has (and yet she doesn't truly realize until later that her absence is just as important as Kim's. That her presence is just as important his his.) That loss theme is kind of continued through the plot with Way and his girlfriend, actually. And then there's everything with Khet and Kim (yeah that made me cry), and Kim and Way (also made me cry). As The Shipper progresses, we see more deeply into every relationship and motive until we're finally able to understand the character's hearts. And by the time we do, that's why everything hurts so darn bad. It comes together so well.

The balance of lighthearted and heavy was actually really enjoyable to me, though I see from skimming through the tag that not everyone agrees here lol. But personally I liked the plot and the ending and think they worked pretty harmoniously. The series is definitely sad but I wouldn't call it a "sad show?" A reflective one for sure (not saying it's the deepest show on the planet but still) and kinda cathartic. I think it's interesting that, despite all the fantasy and off-the-wall elements, this show had a huge sense of realness to me?? While yeah, still being that fantasy story with wacky elements and lovable characters, which adds such a vibe and really makes the show xD

(Sidenote I laughed at the last line, 'so this is what it's like having a yaoi girlfriend' lmao. sorry khet. i'm not always keen on like, humor last lines—they sometimes feel out of place after sad things— but this one fit well and lifted the mood and seemed full circle. they brought it back to comedy without it being clunky. that whole last scene with her and khet was nice. now I just need to understand the after credit voiceover bc youtube didn't subtitle it AGH)

Honestly, no notes. Idk how common this take is, but: this was probably one of my favorite Thai dramas so far???

Anyway, looking forward to putting more of this show on your dash in the future xD

[storiesforallfandoms]

and the winner is... ~ eminem

word count: 1784

request?: yes!

“hey, love your writing sm ❤️ I really like the concept where the reader is a young actress with Eminem, so can I request one where they go to Marshall’s award show for the first time publicly, they try to keep it low key but the reader presents an award and when Em wins they share a warm moment on stage and the media loses it? thanks in advance”

description: in which they say they’re going to be lowkey for their first public appearance as a couple, and then he wins the award she’s presenting

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It was hard to keep my hands off of Marshall as we walked down the red carpet. It was our first public outing as a couple, but Marshall wasn’t very into PDA so we had decided to keep it somewhat lowkey. It seemed like a good idea in theory, until Marshall did the unthinkable and showed up dressed in a suit. How am I supposed to not jump his bones when he looks damn fine in a suit?

Every time I so much as glanced at him the paparazzi would go crazy. So many flashing lights that eventually I was seeing spots. It was hard to keep smiling when I couldn’t even see ahead of me.

Marshall put an arm around my waist - which of course led to more flashing lights - and walked me off the red carpet into the venue. The minute I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room, it really was like I couldn’t see. I had to take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the sudden light change.

“Weird how quickly I go from basically a nobody on a red carpet to a hot commodity just because I have attractive arm candy,” I joked.

A half smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “You were never a nobody. Not to me anyways.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet it’s kind of gross,” I teased.

This earned me an actual laugh as Marshall pulled me in for a kiss. Without any prying eyes around, we felt free to actually be a couple.

We engaged with some others in the industry, including those Marshall considered to be close friends of his. I felt out of place at this music award show as an actress who was still trying to become more than just a side character in the movies she starred in. I was grateful to have Marshall there to help me through it.

When we took our seats as the show was starting, Marshall reached over to take my hand. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Nervous I think. Which I shouldn’t be because it’s just me announcing an award, but it’s my first time on an award show stage for any reason, and it’s a pretty big award.”

“And it’s one I’m nominated for.”

I looked over at Marshall with wide eyes. “What?!”

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. Now I felt so much more nervous. What if I pulled a Steve Harvey and said the wrong name because I wanted Marshall to win? Or what if he actually did win but everyone thought I said he did because we were dating? I tried to focus on the stage ahead of me but my heart was beating so fast that my vision was starting to get blurry. I felt warm, like I was sweating, which made me worry that my makeup was starting to run. I was going to look disgusting with my makeup running on live television.

Sensing my new found nervousness, Marshall gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, look at me.” I glanced over to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this speech so much that you can say it without the teleprompter. It’s not going to be any different just because I’m nominated. If I win, you give me the award and I do a speech. If I don’t win, you give the award to whoever does and they make a speech. It’s not a big deal, (Y/N), don’t worry too much about it.”

I wished I could’ve just let my fear rush from my body, but it was still there. Before I could say anything else, the lights went down and the show officially started.

I tried to just sit and enjoy the show but it was hard when I had my upcoming presenter role looming over me. Of course, it was one of the last awards of the show, so I had to sit there and let my nerves build as the suspense for the winner of the award grew as well.

Every now and then Marshall would give my hand another squeeze and I would calm down for that split second. Having him by my side helped a lot, but every time I remembered that he might be the recipient of the award I became nervous again.

Finally, it was my time to take the stage. They passed me the envelope with the name of the winner and motioned for me to take the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as my name was called and I walked onto the stage. I hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up my shaking, and I really hoped my shaking wouldn’t make my voice sound as bad as I feared it would.

“This award can only go to the best of the best,” I started, glancing at the prompter in front of me to make sure I was saying the words correctly. “The person who worked the hardest and had the best payoff with their release. The competition this year is fierce, and it was hard to narrow it down to just these five artists, as there have been so many amazing works of art released this past year. It has been an even harder choice to pick who of them all is the best, although I might be bias in saying I’ve already chosen my favorite.”

The audience chuckled at my improved addition to the speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your nominees.”

I watched the video that played of the nominated artists. My heart skipped a beat when Marshall came up, a few clips from the music videos he had filmed playing in a short montage. He had worked so hard on his latest album, every part of me hoped that he would be the winner I was announcing.

As the video came to an end, I turned back to face the audience (and the cameras) to announce the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

I tried not to let my slight fear show as I fumbled with the envelope for a moment. I started to worry that I wouldn’t even be able to open it and completely embarrass myself on live TV. I tried not to sigh with relief when the seal perfectly popped open and I was able to pull the card out. The smile on my face had to have given away the winner before the words were even out of my mouth.

“Eminem!”

The crowd cheered and stood from their seats. A camera found Marshall, who was standing from his seat and hugging Paul and Denaun before making his way to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile proudly at him as I extended the award I was holding - his award - to him.

I was taken by surprise when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was brief since he had an award to accept, but it was enough to make my head spin, the way his kisses usually did.

When he pulled away I was still so stunned that I almost forgot to give him his award. I could see him trying to hold back a laugh as he took it from my hands and turned to the microphone.

“Thank you,” he said to the still cheering audience. For a minute I forgot there was anyone else in the room, and realizing so many people had watched that kiss made my cheeks heat up. “I’d like to thank my manager, Paul, who for some reason still backs me with everything I do and produce even when it pushes the boundaries a little too much. I also want to thank the good Doctor, who has been supporting me since day one and who has always believed in me and gave me this platform to make music and to push the boundaries that Paul has to deal with. My daughters, my biggest inspirations. And of course, I’d like to thank the beautiful lady who presented this award to me tonight. I may not show it publicly but I am my happiest when I’m with you and I cannot thank you enough for that.”

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes as I clapped along with the audience. The music started playing as Marshall offered me his arm to walk me off the stage. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as we walked down the stairs and backstage, away from the cameras and the thousands of people watching us, both in person and on TV.

We were greeted backstage by other presenters and winners who were still mingling and celebrating their wins. Marshall was congratulated and a few of the other presenters told me how well I did with my presentation. I was proud of myself for getting through it, but I was more proud that I didn’t go completely airheaded after Marshall kissed me.

When we finally got away from the large amount of people, Marshall pulled me in for another kiss.

“So much for keeping it lowkey, huh?” I teased when I pulled away.

“I was caught up in the moment,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t completely convinced.

“That speech was uncharacteristically sweet,” I said. “For your public persona anyways. I figured you’d keep it short and sweet and maybe get the show into a little bit of trouble with an unplanned curse word.”

He chuckled. “Well normally that would be how things go. But I meant what I said during my speech: you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. When you said my name I just couldn’t help but feel this unfamiliar surge of happiness and excitement at winning. You know I don’t care about these types of award shows, but the fact that you presented this award to me made me care for just a second. I know I’ll be the talking point for the next few days because of this, but right now I don’t care all that much.”

Tears were welling in my eyes again as I pulled him back to me. “Shut up, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”

His laugh filled my ears as he pulled me for another kiss. The happiness he said he felt coursed through my veins too. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in a moment like this.

When he pulled away he put his arm around me again and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I think I wanna celebrate my win with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

I smiled brightly at him. “I like the sound of that.”

[saiyanwhore]

Maid To Satisfy // VEGETA X FEMALE READER

Part Two: Party Time, “Excellent”

It was Friday evening and your team was currently rushing around the Prince's room attempting to get him ready. You stood watch, enjoying not having to do much. It was a nice change every once in a while, especially since Vegeta was one hell of a person to deal with.

Each time there was a royal celebration, each head servant stayed by their select persons all evening. You were there as his assistant, making sure your maids did everything they were supposed to. You also had to take certain requests and orders from the Prince himself.

This assistant role also called for specialty uniforms. The uniforms coordinated with whomever you were assisting so you could be found in a large crowd.

Vegeta stood still whilst your team fumbled to get him ready. They all had deep blushes on their faces as they moved furiously trying to dress and prepare him. Vegeta looked irritated as usual. As they finished up the final touches, Vegeta looked at himself in the mirror and smirked. His nose was high as he called out. "Everyone leave until it's time." Instantly, everyone left and you were following along until Vegeta called for you.

"Woman." He grumbled. "Fix my cape. Your idiots didn't do it right."

You huffed loud enough for him to hear, strolling on over to where he stood near his mirror. You reached your hands out onto his chest and unclasped his cape from the armor he was wearing for the evening. You leaned forward a little more, chests almost touching as you shook out his cape behind him. His scent entered your nose, causing your heart to stutter ever so slightly as you backed up and clipped his cape back on.

He looked at you with his dark eyes. They scanned your face before he looked down at his boots, avoiding the stare you returned back to him. You then glanced to the mirror, admiring the same detailing you had stitched on your coordinating clothing. Yours was clearly not as nice or fancy, but the image of the two of you standing there stuck in your head long enough to make you dream.

Vegeta had watched you do this, also looking at the attire closely. He had guessed that you put these two pieces together yourself. You knew he loved blue and gold from the many times you had made him clothes before. He would never admit it, but the thought warmed his chest. He always loved that you took care of him before anyone else and he wanted to keep it that way, no matter how much the two of you bickered.

"Prince Vegeta, it's time." You pointed towards the clock and then the door, Vegeta practically pushing past you to get to the door. You followed behind him, noticing how his boots for the evening added a few inches to his normal height.

You walked side by side down the halls towards the waiting hall so the royal family could make a grand entrance onto the ball room floor. You were eager to see a friend of yours, Kakarot, a servant to the King. He mostly used the job as an excuse to battle and spar with the most powerful warriors on the planet. In fact, he barely earned the title servant. It was clear that Vegeta did not like Kakarot. He actually despised the younger Saiyan, so your time was usually limited when trying to talk to him.

You both entered the waiting hall, you scanning the area for Kakarot. You spotted him next to the King, a playful smirk upon his lips. He saw you enter and waved you over, to which you obliged.

"Y/N! It's been a few days! How are you?" He greeted, pulling you into a enormous hug.

"Oh, just taking care of my toddler." You snickered, motioning over toward Vegeta.

Kakarot laughed along. "Yeah, I don't know how you put up with him. He's so mean."

"He's not so b-"

"Woman! I require your presence immediately!" Vegeta shot daggers at Kakarot.

You turned on your heel and started walking toward Vegeta. He met you halfway and grabbed your wrist in a death grip. "Don't talk to that clown." He said lowly, baring his teeth at you.

"You can't tell me who I can and can't speak to." You defended.

"I can and I did." He yanked you away to the corner.

You scoffed and shoved him away. "Excuse me?" You spat. "Kakarot is my friend Vegeta-"

"It's Prince Vegeta." He again roughly grabbed your wrist to pull you into the corner and you pulled back.

He stopped and his eyebrows furrowed in your direction.

"Woman, you are insufferable."

"Then get rid of me."

"What?"

"If I'm such a burden on your life then get rid of me, asshole." You frowned, turning around and walking back over to Kakarot.

"Everyone! Please gather! We are making our entrance!" A voice interrupted.

You felt your stomach drop as you shifted back around to see an angry looking Vegeta.

You shuffled over to him slowly, him ignoring you. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." You hummed.

No answer.

"You know I've got your back tonight. If you...were to need me."

He shrugged your hand off his shoulder and ignored you altogether as the doors opened. You walked behind him in a line with all the other "assistants".

Everyone's eyes were glued to the royal family, the Prince looking as sharp as ever. He could have any woman he so pleased.

You looked over to Kakarot and waved a small goodbye as you followed Vegeta, knowing tonight was going to be long and stressful.

You stuck by Vegeta's side as people approached him. He was a very irritated individual and you could tell he wanted to be left alone.

He greeted people, one after the other until he finally found a safe spot where others wouldn't bug him.

He sat there for a few moments, you by his side as everyone danced and chatted.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, looking over at him. "I know you hate this sort of thing."

He just ignored you and shrugged it off, looking down at his gloves hands.

"I know you're not fond of anything other than training really." You grinned as you took a seat next to him. "Typical of you, my Prince."

It was true that you understood Vegeta unlike any other. You two spent so much time together it was almost weird.

"I'll be back. I have an idea."

You walked over to Vegeta's father and bowed slightly before smiling softly.

"Hello King Vegeta. It seems the Prince is feeling very unwell. He has asked me to take him back to his room and give him medicine."

"Very well." He nodded you away.

You smiled to yourself and made your way back over to Vegeta who looked angry still.

"Come on." You grabbed his hand and pulled him from his seat.

His heart fluttered as you took him out of the ball room and into the halls where he was too surprised to even protest your next actions.

You hugged him.

His body froze in place as his eyes went wide.

You mumbled into his ear. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't even bring himself to push you away. It was if time stopped entirely, a feeling of horror and lovely little butterflies engulfing his being.

You finally pulled away after a hug was not returned and you looked at his face.

His face was very red and his brows furrowed.

You felt a wave of embarrassment fall over you as he just stood there, not saying anything.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him away toward his room. You dare not glance back at him as you walked.

Why would you hug him like that? Why did he not hate it?

Your scent still lingered on the tip of his nose and he couldn't help but want more. His whole body pulling toward you like a magnet.

The Prince was used to attention from women, but never you. You were always so emotionless when it came to such things and it confused the Prince profusely.

He didn't understand why you all of the sudden were showing such affection toward him. Or why your affection left him speechless and frozen. You were lower class. He shouldn't be in a trance over you.

When the two of you finally arrived in his room, you began gathering clothes for him to change into.

He watched you from his bed, still confused as ever.

You walked over to him with his new clothes in hand and set them next to him.

You began unclasping his cape, a little upset that your hard work at the sewing machine was going to waste.

He did look very handsome tonight indeed. You couldn't help but to feel proud you designed this piece for him.

You went to remove his armor and his hand caught yours.

"I'm capable, woman."m

You nodded and backed away as he undid the clasps at the sides and tore it off.

He was left in a beautiful blue and gold body suit. You had stitched it so intricately, knowing that he enjoyed such things even though he wouldn't admit it.

He always wore this sweat suit you made for him with a similar style, so you knew he was bound to love this as well.

He took off his boots and suit, leaving him in nothing but his under garments. He looked down at the suit in his hands and his fingers ran across your work. He stared at it, noticing the details.

"I thought you'd like it." You smiled softly in his direction, perplexing him as to why you were being so nice to him.

You sat next to him and leaned into his side, sliding your hand over his as he continued to feel his suit.

You ran you fingers across his knuckles that were bit beaten up from training. Scrapes and cuts.

"You got to go easier on yourself." You mumbled, grabbing his hand and examining it.

"Vegeta, this looks infected." You scolded him. "You have to quit being so stubborn and go to the med bay after training to get yourself cleaned up."

"I'm fine." He tore his hands away from your grip and you gave him a disappointing look.

"Clearly not. You're going to get sick and then you won't be able to train for days. Then I'll be running back and forth trying to get you what you need to get better."

"You don't have to do anything for me." He snarled, turning himself away from you.

"Who else is going to do it? Huh?"

You watched his ears go red.

"Whether or not you believe it, I care about your well being and I need to make sure you're safe so I don't worry." You admitted, pulling your knees to your chest as the Prince stood and put on the clothes you gathered for him.

"No other servant or maid cares as much as you. Take a hint."

You looked away. "Well none of them have to pamper you either. You're not exactly an easy person to deal with, Vegeta."

"It's Prince Vegeta." He reminded. "I'm royalty. I expect certain things, yes."

You whipped your head around to him. "Even your father isn't this awful. Kakarot is horrible at his job and your father never complains."

"Fuck Kakarot." He growled, clenching his fists. "My father just uses him to spar."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. You walked over to the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"To change my clothes, thanks Prince Vegeta."

You were beyond frustrated with him at this point. You walked down the hall to your room, thankful you actually had your own space because of being a head maid.

You didn't even care, you changed into some comfier clothes and took extra long.

You took the long way back to Vegeta's room, admiring how empty the halls currently were. Everyone still gathered for the ball.

You opened Vegeta's door and he was sitting on his bed looking out the window.

He didn't look at you as you crawled next to him.

"Woman."

"Yes?"

"Why did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Lie to my father?"

You chuckled before placing a small hand on his shoulder.

"Because I know you don't like that kind of thing. You're not exactly a social butterfly, ya know?"

He just hummed and continued to look out the window.

It scared him that you knew so much. You seemed to have him all figured out and that was terrifying to him. He looked over at you and noticed you looking up at him.

"What would you without me, right?" You giggled.

"I'd be at peace. Finally." He groaned, falling back onto his bed.

You leaned down and ran a hand through his thick hair.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

You moved your hand away. "Nothing."

"No, what are you doing?"

"Let it go."

"No." He grabbed your wrists. "What are you trying to do?"

You got an angry look on your face before you just screamed. "I'm just trying to be nice!"

He exhaled a deep breath before letting go of your wrists and crossing his arms.

You stood up and began tidying up his room, picking up his clothes and such from the floor.

He watched you from his bed, noticing how pretty you looked as your tail swished back and forth.

You were a strong woman for sure, and it only drew him in more and more. The way you weren't afraid to talk back to him or put him in his place.

The way you looked at him was enough to send him into a daze. He hated it. He wasn't supposed to like you. He wasn't supposed to imagine you with him.

But here you were, so smart and strong. So beautiful. He wanted you all to himself. Another reason to hate Kakarot.

It seemed that Kakarot was far closer to you than he was. It fueled a fire deep within Vegeta that made him want to explode.

"All done." Your words snapped him out of his thoughts and he sat up quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow Vegeta. Rest, please."

"Wouldn't it be suspicious if a maid didn't stay in my room with me? Considering you told my father I wasn't feeling well."

You mentally cursed.

"I'll send one of my girls in after the ball. I don't know how much more of you I can take tonight." You walked toward the door.

Vegeta was thinking of excuses to get you to stay, him wondering why the hell he even wanted you to stay.

"Just for that comment, I want you to stay in here with me." He grinned at you, but in an asshole sort of way.

You groaned loudly and turned on your heel.

"You're a prick." You growled.

"Bitch." He threw a pillow at you, but you caught it last second and stuck your tongue out at him.

You hugged his pillow close to your body, enjoying the smell of him as you sat on the floor.

You both stayed silent for the next few minutes before Vegeta stood and walked into the restroom. This gave you a moment without any tension and you were thankful for it.

Vegeta walked out moments later and noticed you shivering in the corner. He reached into his dresser and pulled out a sweater, throwing it at you.

"How thoughtful!" You gushed sarcastically. "The Prince does have a heart!"

He growled as you slipped the sweater over your head.

You stood and walked over to him.

"Grr. I'm Prince Vegeta." You mocked. "I hate you, woman. You're insufferable. Why do you run your fingers through my hair!? Grr. Grr. I have no soul."

You threw fake punches and kicks as Vegeta's face turned red. His arms crossed as he looked at you with an annoyed look.

"I do not sound like that!"

"Oh, but you do." You giggled, pinching his flushed cheeks.

"Stop that!" He swatted your hand away and you grabbed his hand in return.

"Spar with me." You suggested, punching his chest.

He laughed "Your form is awful." He pushed your body away and dashed around to kick your feet out from under you, but you jumped in time to miss it.

His eyes went wide as he went full force, you dodging every one of his hits. Until you fell over the coffee table in the middle of his floor.

You rolled on the floor with laughter, the Prince staring at you with a curious look.

"Since when do maids know how to fight?" He questioned, crossing his arms.

"My dad was a warrior. Died when I was fifteen."

"Well he obviously wasn't much of a warrior if he's dead."

"He died of a heart attack." You stood and crossed your arms. "He was the best I knew. Even stronger than Kakarot."

Vegeta gave you an annoyed look.

"I also train with Kakarot sometimes. He's taught me a lot."

"That fool shouldn't be teaching you anything."

"Last time I checked, he's stronger than you." You raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"He is not! I'm the Prince of all Saiyans. No low class scum can surpass me."

"Mhm." You softly laughed and waltzed on over to where he stood. "My Prince."

His face went red as he scoffed.

"Come on 'Geta." You chuckled. "Loosen up a little."

You pulled his arms out of their crossed state and held his hands in your own, swaying them back and forth with a smile on your face.

He looked at you with a soft look, one that was rare indeed.

"I know deep down the Prince is a big, soft teddy bear. Come on."

You placed his arms around your waist and then threw your arms around his neck. He looked off to the corner, not allowing himself to look at you.

His face was beet red as you hummed softly and swayed back and forth with him.

Vegeta couldn't help but feel so overwhelmed with warmth. The way you looked in his sweater, how lovely it felt to be so near you, knowing no one could see him but you.

But still, he did not allow you to know this as he didn't put in much effort during your little dance

You played with the hair on the back of his neck, causing a noise to escape from his throat.

He was totally a sucker for you.

You laughed at the noise, before noticing his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you in a little closer than before.

You felt a blush over your cheeks as Vegeta finally decided to look you in the face.

"Softy." You placed your index finger on his chest and pushed gently.

"I am not soft." He rolled his eyes and his grip on your waist loosened.

"Prove it." You leaned in, noses touching.

The next thing you knew your back was against the wall and his knee was holding you up.

"Mm." His eyebrow raised up at you felt his hands tighten around your waist. He lifted you up effortlessly and threw you over his shoulder.

He then walked over to the bed and softly sat you down. His hand moved to grab your jaw, and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

He leaned in, noses almost touching once more. His hot breath on your skin.

You looked up at him, butterflies in your stomach as he hovered over you.

His lips barely touched yours. "I told you. The Prince is not soft."

And he immediately pulled away and turned to walk to the bathroom.

You ended up grabbing a cot from a supply closet so you could sleep in his room that night to keep watch on him. You fell asleep before he walked out from his very long shower.

[viperbarnes]

Hey, idk if your requests are open, but if they are, can I request one with Bucky Barnes? Something where the reader maybe had encountered the winter soldier in the past (but is now maybe working with Sam and has some unspoken feelings with Bucky) and in the scene in ep 3 where Zemo tells Bucky to fight at the bar it ends up bringing her some bad memories of the winter soldier? Later Bucky can tell she's not okay and is acting skittish around him, and when she finally tells him about it he feels extremely guilty but she comforts him? I just love angst with a happy ending :3

I don’t really take requests, but this little idea was kinda inspiring so here ya go boo!

Gif belongs to @unearthlydust

Warnings for violence, blood, and being sick

You know he’s changed.

You know that he’s no longer the man he was when you first encountered him, you know the man he is now, a strange mix of conflicting outspokenness and quiet guilt. You know how he takes his coffee, and that even though he doesn’t necessarily feel the cold, he doesn’t like it all the same.

You know that he sleeps on the floor in his living room despite having a perfectly good bed, that from the moment he’d stepped foot into his apartment he’d had the best mode of escape clocked. You know that he has a secret soft spot for terrible action films, and gets misty-eyed at adverts with dogs in them.

You know all of this, and maybe that’s why it’s so terrifying.

Baron Helmut Zemo rubbed you all kinds of wrong ways, and you hadn’t even been present when he’d shown his face last. There was just something about him that made your skin crawl, but it wasn’t as if you could pull either one of your new partners aside and tell them that.

They already knew, already felt it too.

The feeling gets worse when he voices his plan, giving you all your roles to play, but again, it wasn’t as if you could pipe up and tell him to screw off. You all wanted to, but for now, you needed him and his stupid plan.

It’s how you wind up in too high heels and a little black dress that splits unnecessarily far up your thigh, how Sam ends up in a delightfully adventurous suit, and how Bucky is landed with pretending to still be a brainwashed assassin.

You can’t stop the scowl from taking up residence on your features as you move through the streets of Madripoor, glad that nobody really seems to pay attention to you, not when the Winter Soldier was around.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long for everything to turn to shit, and you nearly hiss at the way Zemo commands Bucky to fight. For his part, Bucky seems completely unperturbed, but perhaps that was part of disturbed you so much.

He’s beautiful, it’s undeniable, even when he fights, it’s magnetic. There was nothing graceful about it by any means, he’s brutal and abrupt, near-mechanical in how he moves. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away, and suddenly, you’re no longer in Madripoor, no longer in your stupid little dress and heels.

You push the man you’re protecting into the back of the car with a mighty shove. The wheels might’ve blown, but it was still another obstacle between him and the attacker.

Smoke blows across the road ahead of you, the flipped car that had previously been part of your convoy crackling with flames from the IED. You’d half expected a group of insurgents, but you’re greeted with just one man, striding confidently through the smoke and right towards you.

He was tall, broad, and covered head to toe in black, only his eyes and hair visible. Sunlight glints off the metallic of his sleeve, but when you take a closer look, you realise it’s not a sleeve at all.

Mouth dry and heart racing, you palm your weapon and fire twice. The man lifts the metal limb and blocks like it’s nothing. He’s nearing now, and for the first time in your career, you feel anxiety overcome you.

He doesn’t even try to attack you until you throw the first punch. He ducks it easily, blocks the follow up blow by batting your wrist to the side. His eyes set on you then, blank and oddly calm, and blue as the sky above.

He pulls back his own fist, and somehow you manage to dodge, jumping back and raising your gun again. No way he’d fair this close. But you’re wrong. You get three shots off before he’s in your face again, hand grabbing the barrel of your gun and yanking it from your grasp. You hear the clatter of it when it hits the ground, but don’t have the chance to formulate your next move.

Your throat is grabbed hard, and you’re forcibly shoved back until you hit the wrecked car. You grasp in vein at the man’s hand as it tightens, and with your back now against something, manage to put all your years of training to use.

You get your foot up between you, planting it harshly in his center mass and kicking with all your might. It seems to take him off guard, because he stumbles back, releasing your throat. You take the moment to turn around, hands banging on the car window.

“Go! Run! I’ll distract him!” You scream at your ward, and watch as the man scrambles from the car, out the opposite door.

You’re about to turn around when the back of your neck is grabbed and thrust forward, connecting with the car window so hard it cracks. You gasp, calling out in pain as blood immediately begins dripping down your face. He pulls you back to do it again, but you drop, becoming dead weight and managing to slip under his legs and out of his hold.

Still, you’re dazed, and blood seeps into your vision making your disorientation even worse. You stumble, knees meeting the ground for a moment as you grab at your forehead and clench your eyes closed to try and clear your head.

The deafening sound of three quick gunshots opens a pit in your stomach, and you just know, without even seeing, that you’d failed.

You get your eyes open by the time the assassin is stalking back towards you, gun holstered now. He closes his fist around your throat again and lifts you clean off the ground, his other pulled back and raised to hit you. You fumble, finding your mark and pulling the gun from his hip, pressing it to his abdomen and firing. Again, he reels back, dropping you and keeling over.

You don’t even attempt to finish him off properly, your fight or flight activated. He was downed anyways, and there was no way he’d give chase with a wound to the center mass like that.

But you’re wrong. You make it barely to the end of the block before something embeds itself between your shoulder blades, the pain so sharp and sudden it makes you fall. Before you know it, a weight is pressing down hard against your shoulder, a boot, and the knife is ripped from your body mercilessly.

You cry out in pain, life flashing before your eyes when a fist harshly grips you by the hair and pulls back your head. You feel the blade, still slick with your own blood, press against your throat.

Sudden yelling makes the assassin freeze, and with your head still raised, you can see the approach of several heavily armoured men in black. The one who shouts is speaking Russian, but your brain was too frazzled to translate properly.

The knife is removed from your throat, and your head released. The weight on your body leaves and you’re left gasping on the asphalt. Spots dance in your vision, but before you pass out, you lift your head just enough to see the assassin join the other men, before they disappear into a dark vehicle.

The place between your shoulder blades aches with memory, and you can think of nothing else for the rest of the night.

Even when you’re taken to see Shelby, even when the fighting starts and you’re forced to run, even when Sharon saves your asses and lets you crash at her place.

You change into the first thing Sharon suggests for you, not even caring. You felt numb, and cold and sick. You position yourself on the couch with the view of all the room’s doors and windows and sit quietly as the others talk. It isn’t until Bucky comes out of nowhere and sits himself next to you that you finally make any noise.

Unfortunately, that noise is a frightened gasp.

Everyone stops to look at you, Sam’s features folded into concern, while Zemo just seemed mildly amused. Bucky looked nearly as surprised as you, his eyes turned up at you. That’s when you realise you’ve shot up, gun in your hands and aimed directly at him.

That same sickness becomes overwhelming then, and the weapon falls from your hands to the carpet with a thud.

“I-- I didn’t--” You swallow thickly, eyes never leaving the man in front of you.

“--I’m sorry…” You manage to blurt out but quickly fly from the room, desperately seeking a sink, or a bathroom of some sort.

You reach a toilet just in time, emptying the contents of your stomach inside. You wheeze and choke as the sick burns your throat and you struggle to breathe, your eyes stinging as you hack and heave.

Hands gently pull at your hair, gathering it out of your face and holding it back, a warmth dropping beside you in the tiny space. You half expect to find Sam or Sharon, but you’re not unsurprised to find Bucky crouched down, his features a mix of sympathy and concern.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs, free hand moving to rub over your back soothingly, unintentionally brushing over your long-healed stab wound.

“I’m sorry…” You rasp when it seems you’re finished.

“You alright?” Is all he asks, hand moving to steady your shoulder when you move back from the toilet. Your miserable nod allows him to stand, and he closes the lid and flushes, before staring down at you and offering you his hand.

You don’t hesitate before taking it. You know Bucky. You know he’s changed.

He hovers over you as you step into the bathroom, seeking mouthwash that you use three times before you feel actually refreshed, and splash some water on your hot and splotchy face.

“You alright?” He asks again, looking at you in the mirror.

“I…” You trail off, clearing your throat.

“I forgot how good you are with your fists.” You tell him, attempting a smile, but it just comes out pained.

Bucky frowns at first, blinking in confusion until his eyes flash with recognition and he sucks back a breath.

“I-- I can go. Or you can. You don’t have to--”

“-- No, Bucky, I’m not quitting this.” You say firmly, turning to face him properly. He seems to be pressing himself against the wall, attempting to make himself look small and unthreatening, which was hard to do when he was a six foot four super soldier built like a tank.

“It wasn’t real.” He says quietly, avoiding your eyes, and you smile tightly.

“I know. But you’re a good actor.”

His eyes flicker up to yours, pained, and you cough.

“Buck, it’s… it’s not your fault.” You tell him, but his chin only drops further.

“I nearly killed you.” He hisses, more anger in his voice than you’re expecting.

“But you didn’t. And my freak out was just--” You cut yourself off, humming.

“My freak out was because I haven’t seen you fight since then, but I’m not scared of you James.” You step forward then, close enough to draw his eye.

“You pulled a gun on me.” He says, the hints of a joke playing in his words.

“I’ve pulled guns on lots of people, doesn’t make me scared of them.” he lets you move closer still, and hesitantly you reach out, laying a hand on his arm.

“I don’t like to see you like that, Buck… it’s awful.” You admit, glad when his posture seems to relax some.

“It’s not you.” You go on, trying not to give too much away, but you’re sure you’re already seen through.

“If I can help it, it won’t happen again.” He tells you, and you finally lift your gaze to make eye contact.

Something sparks between you, something that had been subtle and unspoken up until now. Something that had been there, lurking under the surface ever since he’d shown up on your doorstep several months back, just to let you know he was in the city and going to therapy. It was there when you’d tentatively begun hanging out, neither of you really having anybody else, but not being too bothered by that either.

It’s something big and intimidating that draws you closer together, hearts beating quick and shallow under your skin. Bucky’s eyes flicker to your lips, and suddenly everything seems real.

“Hey, everything alright?” Sam appears in the open doorway, and you jump away from each other. The other man’s eyes travel between the two of you suspiciously, and you scramble to get a handle on the situation.

“Just had a bad shot at the bar.” You tell him, glancing sideways at Bucky who avoids all eye contact.

“... Right…” Sam draws out the word.

“Well, Sharon’s party is getting started, so…”

“Right! Yeah! I’ll… I’ll go… to that… the party. Now.” You stutter and stumble over words, quickly pushing past him and leaving the room.

Sam stays in the doorway, watching you leave, before his gaze swivels back to Bucky.

“Called it.” He says smugly, and Bucky’s eyes snap to him.

“What?”

“I called that you two had a thing.” He teases. Bucky glares and crosses his arms.

“We don’t have a thing. There is no thing.” He insists, but Sam only hums, shrugging.

“That’s why I walked in on the two of you about to eat each other’s faces off.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose.

“That’s… gross.” He tells the other man, who ignores him.

“You got time for that later. I’m sure Zemo’s plane has a stall big enough for two. For now, we gotta go.”

Bucky can only grumble in annoyance as he follows Sam from the bathroom, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of commentary he was set to receive from now on.

Still, as he watches you slip on those sleek black heels, he thinks there’s probably worse things to put up with.

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Tadaima, Okaeri

Title: Tadaima, Okaeri

Release Date: 2020/07/28

Cast:

Morikawa Toshiyuki x Tamaru Atsushi

Toriumi Kousuke + Yashiro Taku

Tanezaki Atsumi

Synopsis: Masaki is a male Omega married to Hiromu a male Alpha. They have a child together named Hikari and they've just moved in to a new neighborhood. The story revolves around the everyday lives of this couple and how they raise their son Hikari.

Review Proper

Y’all should know by now that I really don’t like plots that involve children and rapists. And if that wasn’t enough, I also don’t like already established couples. Literally the only reason why I endured reading the manga because I felt bad for not supporting my friends’/proofreaders’ favorite manga. I do like Ichikawa Ichi, and Tenjou no Shita ni Koi is still one of my favorites up to this day (even though I have a love-hate relationship with it), but sensei is known to have an affinity towards love triangles—YA GIRL EVEN DOES SQUARES. It’s especially frustrating for me because I end up rooting for everyone to end up with the MC. 😩 Thankfully for me, Tadaima, Okaeri didn’t have a love triangle...in volume one at least.

If ya ain’t giving me 3P, don’t even bother

Anyway, I was actually ecstatic when news broke out about the adaptation. I mean, despite the fumble Fusion Product had with Fuck Buddy’s casting, I still had faith in their casting for omegaverse because hello? This was the legendary house who brought the award-winning Kashikomarimashita, Destiny onto the table and Romantic Joutou! Of course they’re gonna deliver again this time around, right???

WRONG!!!

 I just about died when I saw that Moririn was coming in for Hiromu, but then when I scrolled down to see who was going to do my and Yuuki's beloved Matsuo-san...

Y’ALL ARE WRONG TO CAST TORIUMI KOUSUKE FOR MATSUO-SAN. Don’t get me wrong, I love the man and he did his best, but he is in no way suited to play mature and sexy Matsuo-san. I wouldn’t have complained if Tori and Moririn switched roles because Tori is more suited to comedic Papa roles (Dekichatta Danshi), but Matsuo-san has this air of mysery to him that Tori can't emulate. 😤 Plus, Tori, bless his heart, doesn’t have a lot of sex appeal as a top. How was FP even expecting a black cat play a wolf??? There’s a plethora of actors who would slay Matsuo-san’s role out there and I just can’t fathom why FP couldn’t chose any one of them instead. If they were just going to mispurpose veterans in BLCDs, then I’d rather have them not be cast at all! Maeno could have delivered Matsuo-san just fine if only he wasn’t already committed to Kashikomarimashita, Destiny, but there’s still Wacchan, Hirarin, Katou Masayuki, and Shingaki Tarusuke who are around Moririn’s range. SEE, NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF Y’ALL JUST CAST KATOU MASAYUKI GODDAMIT. 

Breathe, Cheska. Breathe.

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned earlier, when I saw Moririn’s name on that list, I really did die; BUT NOTHING EVER PREPARED ME FOR WHAT HE WAS GOING TO SERVE ON THAT FUCKING TABLE!!! You don’t understand. Not only did he go a tone deeper than what I had imagined Hiromu’s voice was going to be, he also sounded like he was recording with a goddamn dummy head mic! 😩 Mans made me feel like he was talking to me and that Hikarin was our child (sorry, Masaki)! WELL, THAT SURE TOOK ME FUCKING BACK TO MY TEENS WHERE I’D JUST LISTEN TO HIS LOVERS ONLY AND KARESHI IGAI CDS TO SLEEP. FUCKING CHEAT WITH ME, DADDY!!! The audacity of your duality, FP!!! Now this is how you put veterans to good use! It’s been how many years ever since he was cast in a good role/main role??? Three??? Please come back for more, sir!!! 😩 Ugh. I honestly can’t think of another actor who could play Hiromu better than he can and he’s going to be the very reason why I’m going to listen to the upcoming adaptations if there may be. Again, I didn’t like Hiromu and Masaki’s pair at all and didn’t care about them, BUT YO I’M ALL SIGNED UP FOR THAT MORIRIN ACTION!!!

Tama and Taku also did very well in their respective roles. I also can’t imagine their characters to be played by other people, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I didn’t confuse Tama for Shirai Yuusuke in the beginning. 😂I do have to mention Tanezaki Atsumi here, too, because she fucking deserves it. When I say that I don’t like children, I really mean that I don’t like children. I mostly ignored Hikarin’s entire existence while I read the manga because I found him spoiled and well, you know, disproportionate. However, it’s really hard to ignore him now that he’s voiced, so I had no choice but to actually listen to the plot (surprise I only skipped to Hiromu and Masaki’s bedroom subjugation and Matsuo-san and Yuuki-kun’s interactions). I don’t know if it was because I was a few days away from my period, Moririn’s daddy voice, Tanezaki Atsumi’s stellar voice acting, BUT Y’ALL THAT AWAKENED MOTHER’S INSTINCTS, I—

YO I GET IT. I GET IT, YOU HIKARI SIMPS. HAPPY NOW?! Hina is a different story, though

I’m still not a 100% in Hiromu and Masaki’s relationship, but I will try reading through it with interest (try is the keyword). If anything, this BLCD made the series better EXCEPT for Tori’s casting fiasco of course. I’d definitely recommend this to you if you’re a fan of the series, but do be warned. If you also thought that Tori’s catching was sketch, trust your instincts because it’s going to turn out like how you imagine it. Regardless, everyone did their best and despite some minor addends/rearrangements on the dialogue, this was a good adaptation over all. PLEASE DO LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU’RE A MORIRIN FAN OH MY I CAN’T STRESS ENOUGH. 

[lestatslestits]

You Taught Me How To Write These Kinds of Equations

Day Three of @transphantomweek! I hope everyone enjoys!

Prompt: Lesson

They are running behind. The clock on the wall, visible behind Philippe’s head, declares this fact in bold Roman numerals. The older de Chagny brother is trying to be patient, but it’s a well known fact that he hates being anything but on time—he’s normally very laid back, but he’s never gotten used to the “fashionably late” part of being wealthy. The more he tries to fill his father’s shoes, the more concerned it makes him. 

He has also completely given up on the Windsor knot at this point. 

“Wide over narrow,” he begins, running a hand through his hair for the fifth, maybe sixth time. His gelled waves are starting to turn unruly. Neither of them mention it. Raoul follows this instruction and waits for another. 

“Okay, now, so—“ Philippe casts his eyes around the room, making his best effort to explain something he’s been doing by muscle memory since he was eleven. Raoul is seventeen now. 

“So,” he tries again, “Now you want to loop the wide end behind the narrow one, and then up and through.” 

He sees the hesitation in Raoul’s eyes. He makes another attempt to elaborate.

“I mean, up and then under the cross, between the tie and the collar. Does that make sense?” 

“No,” Raoul says, fumbling through the steps until the knot slips through and he’s back—not at step one, but a little before. He looks up, miserable.

“Okay. Wide over narrow,” Philippe begins again. His hand creeps up towards his hairline once more. Raoul’s shoulders droop and he yanks the tie out from around his collar so fast that the silk makes a slithering noise. 

“I’m sorry, Philippe. I’m not good at this, I can’t do it right.” 

His frustration is tangible and it breaks Philippe’s heart, so he says, “No, no. It’s not your fault. I’m terrible at teaching this. I learned how to do it years ago, and Dad taught me. You didn’t have the chance, because—“ he stops short, then continues, “because Dad died when you were so young.” 

He knows Raoul hears the pause. Neither of them mention it. Instead, his little brother says, “We’re going to be late. Can you just tie it for me? I’ll watch some YouTube videos later, or something.” 

Philippe hesitates, and then asks, “Is that what you want? Because I can do that, but if you want to try again, we can. We—don’t have to be on time.”

He actually makes it through that statement without cringing, but Raoul shakes his head, “Just tie it for me tonight. It’s not like I have to learn everything all at once.”

It’s true. And it doesn’t escape him that they’re both still learning, fumbling through these things. Raoul can’t tie a tie, Philippe still isn’t sure he knows how to step into the role of parent. 

Raoul offers him the tie, and he puts it around his own neck and ties it with his eyes closed, his hands steady and sure. The Half-Windsor knot that he completely failed at teaching takes him a matter of seconds. 

He loosens it, slips it over his head, and hands it back. He helps Raoul turn down his collar just right and makes sure the tip of the tie falls just above his brother’s belt buckle. 

“There we go. Let me look at you,” he stands back and surveys their joint effort as Raoul grabs his suit jacket and shrugs it on. 

“Very handsome,” Philippe nods his approval.

“Thanks. You might want to check your hair before we head out,” Raoul says, half apologetic. 

“Right, thanks. Also—“ he hesitates, “—Whenever you get around to it, no rush, can I join you in watching the YouTube tutorials? Apparently I’m not a very good teacher.” 

“Sure,” Raoul says, and smiles, “Now hurry up and fix your hair, or we’re going to be late.”

[talatomaz]

words | lena luthor x fem!reader

a/n: i love lena so much and i don’t appreciate what the supergirl writers are doing to her character

warnings: mentions of abuse. sexual references - just kissing tbh & a little morning after

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is a political journalist and works at catco. she is working late one night on her article about the presidential debate when lena notices her and interrupts her

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“12:37am”

Looking at the time on your phone, you sighed. You’d been here longer than you had intended to. You didn’t think writing your article would take this long but once you’d started, you hadn’t stopped. To be fair though, if you were home, you would probably be doing the exact same thing.

You often worked late, mainly staying up to all hours of the night working on your articles at home but tonight, you decided to stay at work.

You’d been in Washington, DC all week, interviewing politicians left, right and centre and had only just stepped foot back in the office earlier this afternoon. The majority of your notes were here anyway so there was no point in you going home yet.

You were currently transcribing your interview notes with your former boss, Cat Grant, who was the White House Press Secretary. You were happy for her, she seemed to really suit the job.

Then again, you think she just liked telling people what to do.

Laughing to yourself, you thought of the time when you used to be a junior writer working under Snapper. Miss Grant had given you the role but only because you had seized the opportunity to ask for it.

She always did like people who spoke up for themselves.

It was hard to say you miss her though, considering you saw her almost every other week. But now, her job had been taken over by James Olsen.

You were good friends with him, having known him when he worked at the Daily Planet. When he got the role, you celebrated alongside your other work friends, Kara and Winn.

Kara was now a reporter, a great one you might add, who always seemed to be getting exclusives with Supergirl.

That was funny to you because you knew she was Supergirl.

She didn’t know that you knew but the glasses didn’t exactly conceal much.

She was also very good friends with your new boss.

Lena Luthor.

You smiled at the thought of her. Whilst you were slightly intimidated by her, you did admire her. She was a very powerful and intelligent woman. And the fact that she was beautiful too didn’t hurt your perception of her. She was also the CEO of two major companies. That was impressive.

Glancing over at the large open office, you noticed the light on in the room.

It had to be Jimmy, you thought.

He did tend to stay over quite late; it gave him a reason to be out late when he conducted his Guardian business.

That’s right, you knew his secret identity too. He and Kara weren’t really good at hiding it, you thought.

Shaking your head, you clicked play on your tape recorder and decided to focus on completing the task at hand: finishing your article on the upcoming Presidential Debate so it could published for tomorrow’s evening issue.

Lena lifted her head at the sound of typing. She had been so focused on finishing the cross analysis reports for both CatCo and L-Corp that she hadn’t realised anyone else was in the building. Well, apart from the night team but they operated from a different floor.

She stood up and moved from behind her desk so she could see who the person clacking away on their keyboard was.

She stood in place, crossing her arms when she saw the woman hunched over at her desk, headphones plugged into her ears, typing furiously on her laptop, occasionally stopping to make brief notes on a piece of paper beside her.

Lena frowned. She had made it a personal mission of hers to interact with everyone on the floor so she could get to know her employees better. But she had never spoken to you. And she definitely would have remembered speaking to someone so dedicated to their work that they stayed in the office till this late at night.

She contemplated going over to interrupt you and introduce herself but decided against doing so. She began walking back to her desk before swiftly turning around, changing her mind at the last second.

As a reflection of the extraordinary nature of the Democratic field, New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, better known as AOC, has-

You stopped typing when you felt the soft tap on your shoulder. Removing your headphones, you spoke, “Yeah, Jimmy?”

Turning around, you were shocked to see the person standing above you.

“I hope I have no resemblance to Mr Olsen.” The woman joked.

“I-Miss Luthor! I’m sorry-I thought-I mean. Why are you here so late?” You said, surprised.

The raven-haired woman chuckled as you fumbled over your words.

“Well, if my employees are going to be here this late, then why shouldn’t the following apply to me?” She smirked, accentuating her red-painted lips in the process.

“I believe we haven’t been introduced. I’m Lena Luthor, as you are already aware.”

“Y/N L/N.” You replied, standing up to shake her hand before leaning against your desk.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss L/N.”

“Call me y/n, Miss Luthor. I feel like a teacher if you call me ‘Miss’.” You corrected, smiling lightly when Miss Luthor laughed. It was a genuine laugh, one that seemed to reach her eyes.

“If we’re ridding ourselves of formalities then please, call me Lena. So what are you doing here so late?”

“I’m finishing my article on the new Presidential nominees. I’ve been in Washington all week with Miss Grant and other politicians so I haven’t had a chance to complete my article.”

“That explains why I hadn’t met you.”

“Yeah, I’m constantly up and down the country, following the political story as it were.”

“I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

“No, of course not. I was almost finished anyway. So, how are you finding it here?”

“It’s interesting. I’ve never really been involved with journalism. Been on the receiving end of scathing articles about me and my family, yes. But running a media empire, definitely not.”

“I do hate journalists sometimes. They just go with the crowd and join in on hating the new person of the week. People don’t realise that someone can grow up with their family but turn out completely different to them.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed, she appreciated your thoughts but knew there was more truth to it than it just being about her.

“I hope I’m not being too forward here but would you like to grab a drink from the bar down the street?”

You failed to hide your shock. You had only just met Lena and here she was already asking you out, as if she had known you for years.

“Yeah, sure. I would really like that Miss-Lena.” You said, correcting yourself.

***

“She didn’t?!” You gasped, holding your laugh.

“She did! She asked me if I was baptised and I just laughed and said no.” Lena chuckled. “She said she only sleeps with good Catholic girls.”

“Oh my god.” You couldn’t hold your laughter and almost spilt your drink in the process.

You and Lena were currently at the bar, hands nursing your respective drinks. Lena, much to your surprise, was drinking Scotch, and you were drinking Macallan Whiskey.

It was currently 3:30am and you had spent the past few hours chatting away, talking about your failed relationships among other things.

“So, y/n, tell me, what brought you to CatCo?” Lena asked, her chin resting on her hand.

You were about to give her your usual prepared answer that you gave everyone else who asked the question. But whether it was the fact that you had been drinking, or the fact that you had a beautiful woman sitting in front of you, you decided to actually tell her the truth.

“Truth be told, as much as I loved writing, I was actually studying to be an accountant.”

“Really?” Lena said, shocked.

“Yeah, my father always said journalism wasn’t a feasible career choice and pushed me towards accountancy so I could look after the family business. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed maths. It was reliable. There was a right and a wrong. Just plain facts. But, I don’t know.”

Lena listened intently as you continued.

“There was just something about writing. With words, you have this...this power where whatever you write can actually influence someone. It allows someone to see themselves in your work. And that’s what CatCo was to me. I started off at the Daily Planet but I think I knew that it just wasn’t for me and it was the same with James. So Jimmy and I both moved here and never looked back.”

You looked up at Lena when you had finished and saw her brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry. That was such a long explanation.” You began apologising before Lena interrupted you.

“No, don’t be sorry. That was just...very truthful. I appreciate your honesty, y/n.” Lena smiled, her eyes staring deeply at yours.

“Thank you. You’re one of the few people who do.” You added under your breath, as an afterthought, but Lena had heard you.

“What do you mean, y/n?” She reached over to place her hand on your arm and you felt your stomach clench. Such a simple embrace, but so caring.

“My father. Let’s just say he didn’t appreciate my change of career, among other things.” You stated, not really wanting to explain further but when you looked into Lena’s eyes, you saw truth and understanding and the next thing you knew, you were spilling the entire story.

You told her how your mother had died when you were young, leaving just you and your father. You explained how he pushed you to be the best at everything and how any failure was punished. How he controlled your life, preventing you from socialising, and instead, made you focus on work and furthering yourself in accounting. How, when you had told him that not only were you pursuing journalism but that you also were bisexual, he had slapped you and disowned you.

“It was for the best,” you shrugged, “don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the fact that he pushed me to always be the best, but I’m glad that we no longer speak.”

“I’m sorry about your father, y/n. He sounds like a horrible person to me.” Lena said, both horrified but also with understanding as she was treated similarly by Lillian.

“Thank you.”

Lena almost screamed then. You had explained how awful your father was and here you were, thanking her for sharing your sentiment and for believing you. She reined in her temper and brushed her thumb against the back of your hand.

“I’m really glad you decided to follow your dream, y/n.”

“Me too.” You smiled softly.

It was getting quite late, well, technically early, so Lena had called her driver and was insistent on dropping you off home.

You were now outside your apartment so you turned to face your boss.

“Thank you, Lena. I really enjoyed tonight.”

You moved to give her a hug and kiss her cheek but when you pulled away, you both sat there, faces inches away from each other.

Her eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, but you caught it and just stared at her. Before you knew it, her lips were on yours, soft but demanding.

This time when you pulled away, Lena huskily whispered in your ear, “Come home with me.”

You considered the consequences.

She was your boss after all.

Lena placed a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth and then brushed her thumb against your lip, most likely removing her red lipstick.

“Well?” She breathed out.

Her hand slid across the back of your neck. Sending a hard shiver down your body but not forcing you close to her. That was exactly what you needed to close the distance once again.

You pulled back and murmured “yes” causing Lena to smirk and tell the driver to take you back to hers.

***

You woke up in Lena’s bed, moaning lightly at the feel of Lena’s soft silk sheets against your skin.

You felt arms wrapped around your waist and then slowly remove themselves from you. You turned in Lena’s arms and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, beautiful.” Lena said, making you blush.

“I’ve been called into work early but you can sleep a little bit longer before you have to go into work.”

“It’s alright. I’ll leave with you. I have to go back to my apartment anyway. But I’ll meet you at work?”

“Sure.” Lena chastely kissed your cheek before you both got ready and left.

***

After Lena dropped you off at home, you showered and got changed. You sat down on your bed and thought about the night you had spent with Lena.

You did have a few doubts because of the fact that she was your boss but she honestly was one of the most honest people you had ever met.

And she was great in bed too. All you would say is that she’s very giving.

You stood up, deciding to make your way into work.

***

Walking onto your floor, the quiet of the lift was immediately eradicated and replaced with the ringing of phones, people typing on laptops and a lot of chatter.

As you made your way to your desk, you saw a familiar blonde sitting in your chair.

“Hey, blondie.”

Turning around, the blonde jumped up and hugged you.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you’re back. How was DC?” Kara asked, pushing up her glasses.

“I’ve missed you too, Kara. It was quite good actually. I’ve just been so busy. But I’m going to be staying for at least a month now before I need to travel again, so that’s good.”

“Oh my god, yay. I’m so happy. Hey, you can start coming to game night again now that you’re back.”

“Oh, the iconic game night. How I’ve missed you.” You said dramatically, making you and Kara laugh. “Is it the same old gang?”

“Mostly yeah. Alex and Maggie will be there, as will Winn, James, Sam and Ruby but now Lena comes along.”

At the mention of the latter, a light blush rose to your cheeks, luckily going unnoticed by the superhero.

“Oh that reminds me, Lena wanted to see you. She’s in her office.” Kara said, nodding her head in the direction of the large office now occupied by the business woman.

Giving Kara another hug, you made your way to Lena’s office where the former was sitting on her sofa. Upon seeing you, she gestured for you to sit beside her.

“Y/N, how are you?”

“Well, thanks. And yourself?”

“Very well. Especially after last night.”

Another blush rose to your face but this time, Lena noticed and smirked.

“Do I make you blush, L/N? It’s good to know that I have an effect on you.”

“I really enjoyed last night, Lena. I know that you’re my boss and that it’s not exactly appropriate for us to have such a...personal relationship.”

“I know, y/n. But after last night, I don’t think I can keep my hands off you. You’re a very caring person, y/n, and I really would like to get to know you better. I think we have something between us.” Lena explained, placing her hand on yours.

“I do too. I can feel something between us but I don’t want it to be awkward in the event we don’t work out.” You said, expressing your worries.

“I don’t think it will. But how will we know unless we try?” Lena countered.

“That’s very true. I think you’re right. We’re both adults and we can see where this goes. And last night...Wow. But I do have to tell you one thing about last night.”

Lena raised her brow, trying to hide her concern.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but I’m not baptised.”

Lena burst out laughing causing you to laugh too.

“Oh god,” Lena said, trying to stop herself from laughing.

Once she had, she gave you a sober look, “I know we’re at work but-”

She cupped your cheek to bring you in for a sensual kiss which you happily reciprocated.

Pulling away, a wave of shock hit you as you realised something.

You were dating Lena Luthor.

[calamity-bean]

the angry prince of goofs

I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, which was probably my first mistake, and especially about one little detail that’s demonstrated repeatedly but not really explored in depth: Ziggy is good with technology. 

Better than most of the characters in his orbit, at any rate; he understands computers, understands the internet, has to explain digital cameras and search engines to Nick, who still seems confused. And while, even for 2003, I wouldn’t claim he’s a technical genius, this detail stands out to me partly because it’s one area in which he’s expressly shown to be more capable than his cousin — typically the far more competent of the pair — and partly because he tends to get written off, both in-universe and out, as, well... an idiot. A stupid guy who does stupid things simply because he’s stupid, with no greater character depth or complexity than that.

And that... kinda irks me! Look, I get why Ziggy’s not exactly a fan favorite. He’s not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s immature and abrasive and makes a lot of frustrating decisions, and I get why so many viewers find that annoying, I really do. But although he can certainly be a dumbass, I’m honestly not convinced that he’s dumb, and I think it does a disservice to the writing of the season and to James Ransone’s performance (easily among his best work, imo, out of the roles I’ve seen him in) to boil Zig down to just a clueless annoyance with no regard for why he acts the way he does or his value to the overall narrative.

So I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, and types of intelligence, and finding one’s place in the world, and how Ziggy’s character arc relates to The Wire’s overarching theme of a changing city at the dawn of the new millennium.

Twice, over the course of the season, Ziggy’s mentioned in connection with college.

The first time is in 2.06, as Frank chews him out about literally burning money at the bar — definitely one of those moments that baffles and enrages viewers, cause oh my GOD, Zig, Nick goes to all that trouble for you, and then you burn a hundred dollar bill? What the heck, man. But I love this scene with Frank. It’s Ziggy at his most subdued and collected; it’s one of maybe two substantial conversations between father and son all season; and it reveals that Ziggy is capable of being far more observant than he often seems. Frank, frustrated with the lack of employment available for Ziggy, vents, “Maybe if I’d have listened to your mother, cause she’s the one always talking about you should do the community college, like your brother.” Why would Frank let one son continue his education, but not the other? Well, I have to read between the lines here, but I don’t think it’s outlandish to guess that it’s because Ziggy is — or was supposed to be — Frank’s heir. We know he’s Frank’s firstborn, and we know that for Frank, working on the docks is more than an occupation; it’s a cherished family legacy going back generations and a huge point of pride. Ziggy was probably always earmarked to follow in his father’s footsteps, and he probably always knew it. “You wanna know what I remember?” he says, and describes the education he did receive: a life spent paying careful attention to his father’s world. “Everything. Everything.” College just was not a necessary part of the life planned for him.

But there’s absolutely no future on the docks for Ziggy, and by this point, father and son both know it. It’s a rapidly dying profession with scarce shifts available for L-series juniors, so maybe it’s no surprise Zig puts a lot more effort into being a thief and drug dealer than he does into being a checker. Unfortunately, despite seeming fairly adept in logical-mathematical intelligence (technical knowledge, facts/figures, coming up with plans), Ziggy fumbles in all these pursuits because of one type of intelligence that he definitely does lack: interpersonal/social skills — i.e., the ability to read a room and to play well with others. He constantly annoys people, never realizes he’s being tricked until it’s too late, and lets emotion get the better of him, leading him to be irresponsible and impulsive and seek instant gratification. This is, again, in contrast to Nick, who is much less tech savvy than Zig but far more personable and reliable. People like Nick. They trust Nick. Even Frank seems to have a closer relationship with his nephew than with his own son.

And this feeds into a critical difference between Nick and Ziggy. Nick, with Aimee and Ashley to support, is primarily motivated by a need for money; Ziggy, on the other hand, cares less and less about money as the season progresses and is primarily motivated by a desire for something Nick already has: respect. More broadly, Zig craves the validation of others, whether that validation comes to him as respect or approval or even just attention. This, more than immaturity and definitely more than a simple lack of intelligence, is what drives his behavior, including his most reckless or seemingly inexplicable acts. In some circumstances, it inspires him to act like a tough guy; in others, it manifests in childish clownery like whipping out Pretty Boy or waltzing around with a seeing-eye duck, as though he were a comedian playing to a crowd. It’s why he wastes his money on showy status symbols, like Princess and a $2,000 coat, or on buying rounds for the bar. And of course, it manifests in trying to show up his father, who seems to have plenty of time and money for all the other stevedores and yet, by his own admission, pays scant attention to his own son except when Zig screws up... which, needless to say, Zig has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about.

The irony, of course, is that the harder Ziggy tries to impress people, the less it works. His attempts to act tough get him trounced. The other stevedores are happy to let him buy drinks and play class clown, but they are very much laughing at him rather than with him, and the same guys who egg him on and flatter him always turn right around and scoff at what a fool he is after it blows up in his face. His biggest attempt to prove himself is the car heist... which actually goes off without a hitch! Like I said, Zig’s not bad at logistical planning; he comes up with a clever scheme and carries it out successfully. It should’ve been a triumph for him — proving that he could handle himself, that he didn’t need Nick or Frank looking out for him and deserved to be treated like a valid player in the game. But Glekas, like everyone else, saw Ziggy as easy to take advantage of and too weak to effectively retaliate. If it were earlier in the season, he’d have been right, just like every other time Zig wound up tricked and humiliated. Unfortunately for everyone involved, though, by that point, Ziggy — impulsive, hotblooded Ziggy — was “tired of being the punchline to every joke.”

The Wire: Truth Be Told (which I haven’t gotten to read beyond previews) calls Ziggy the “angry prince of goofs.” I think that, more than anything, Ziggy is someone who keeps trying on different costumes and never finds one that fits. He was supposed to carry on the Sobotka stevedore legacy, but the profession is dying, and even if it weren’t, Nick is far more an heir apparent to Frank than Ziggy is. So he tries to be a tough guy, but isn’t; tries to be the sort of cool, funny guy people like and admire, but can’t; tries to prove himself as a player, but makes mistake after mistake until he screws up so horribly that there’s no coming back from it. When Frank tells him that what he did to Glekas and the store clerk isn’t him, Ziggy replies incredulously, “It ain’t?” — because it is him, he did that! But he’s not suited to being a killer, either; he immediately falls apart with horror and remorse. So what is he? Who is he? Was there anything he could have succeeded at, any way he could’ve made better choices than he did?

In 2.10, shortly after Ziggy’s arrest, we meet Priscilla Katlow — the same girl listed on the fake paternity papers Zig gets pranked with in 2.07. In the earlier episode, Nick implies that Prissy is, to be crass, kind of the neighborhood bicycle, making it sound like she was nothing more to Zig than a one-night stand. I have a lot of feelings about the fact that it turns out she’s actually a childhood friend who’s visibly in tears over Ziggy’s situation when she finds Nick grieving on the playground of their old school. They’re maybe the only two characters we see who seem to not only care about Ziggy but genuinely like him, and they reminisce about a time, years ago, when he was supposed to buy them all some SoCo and Pikesville Rye. Instead, he bought Boone’s Farm — because, he claimed, “that’s what the college kids drank.” Then, while drinking it on that same playground, he shouted, “College kids ain’t shit!” And I know I’m really galaxy-braining here, really reading a lot into just a few lines, but I can’t help but wonder, like… This seems to have taken place toward the end of high school, since Prissy was driving her mom’s car and Ziggy could pull off a fake ID. Ziggy probably already knew that he was bound for the docks right after graduation, if he wasn’t working there already; Frank wasn’t even entertaining Zig’s mother’s wish that they send him to college instead. And I wonder if, to some extent, Zig resented that? Or resented not having a choice? Because this anecdote implies a mixture of wanting to emulate those college kids (drinking what he thinks they drink) while simultaneously deriding them — perhaps because he knew that he couldn’t be one, no matter whether or not he wanted to, and therefore had to act like the entire concept was beneath him.

I don’t know whether Zig would’ve done better in college anyway. I think that, contrary to popular opinion, he did have his own areas of intelligence and competence, but despite being in some ways the more “book smart” of the Sobotka cousins (Ziggy’s technical knowledge vs. Nick’s common sense), maybe he’d have been too immature to put in the work for school, too lazy or too proud to try. But I just wonder if he might’ve had a better chance at life that way, both in terms of staying out of trouble and of possibly finding a field that would’ve better rewarded his skill-set. Insofar as The Wire in general is about the changing face of Baltimore and how the shifting infrastructure of the city impacts the individuals within it (particularly the economically marginalized), and insofar as season 2 specifically is about the death of American industry and of the traditional blue-collar working class, Ziggy is an exploration of someone who fell through the cracks of that shift and, in that respect, was sort of doomed to failure from the beginning. James Ransone has described him as “very castrated” in terms of his power and potential for social mobility, the game being rigged against working-class people like him even with the advantages of being a white male. Ziggy’s brother, armed with a college education, might fare better in the 21st-century workforce... But even if Zig hadn’t ended up in prison, he probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer in the family business anyway. Johnny Fifty, a more senior checker, is homeless by season 5, and unemployment is the implied fate of nearly all longshoremen in the near future.

And honestly? Although I really like Ziggy, I appreciate that he’s a failure. I think one of the reasons I do feel so deeply for him is that the narrative never rewards his errors or glorifies his misdeeds. If it did, he’d risk coming off as one of those edgy, disenfranchised white guy antihero types, and I doubt I’d have found that nearly as sympathetic or interesting. By the standards of The Wire, Zig’s relatively small-time in terms of how much damage he causes and pretty notable for how extremely he regrets what harm he does do, but that still doesn’t excuse his actions, and the narrative doesn’t pretend that it should. Nor does it pretend that he’s not also worthy of our interest and pathos anyway.

Ziggy Sobotka is not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s not any of the things he tried to be during the season, and he’ll probably never get a chance, now, to be anything other than a murderer locked up for life. And I know he wasn’t entitled to any fate other than the one he earned for himself, but I wish he’d been able to find a better path.

[sengenweek]

SenGen Week: Day 02

Day 02: December 30

Cell phones / clothing/palette/role/etc swap

-’-

Title: Unfulfilled Reality.

-’-

A/N: Five fun facts about this chapter before beginning (you can skip them if you wish, they’re not really relevant, I just wanted to mention them):

01. A key to rescue Aeryn Sun from Katratzi, was John Crichton’s knowledge of unfulfilled realities, that series of episodes and events inspired today’s chapter, hence the title. (Fuck, I love Farscape. I gotta finish ‘Prolonged Insanity’, I’ve been delaying writing it for far too long).

02. The tale is 'Jack the Cunning Thief’ (the idea to use this tale came from 'And the Fables of Doom’ an episode of The Librarians. Because I think Senkuu would be just like Ezekiel Jones if he were to switch places with Gen).

03. In Newsradio the chapter 'Led Zeppelin Boxed Set’, Catherine Duke teaches Jimmy James how to beat a crooked 'three card monte’ dealer. During the episode, they repeat 'Find the lucky lady’ 'Where is the lucky lady?’, when practicing the scam.

04. This version of Gen was actually inspired ever so vaguely by Subaru in Houkago No Pleiades (Wish Upon The Pleiades). Mind the word ’vaguely’.

05. 'Black Holes Apocalypse’ is a documentary that explains in simple terms, what black holes are, and their role in the universe. Thanks to this documentary, black holes are briefly mentioned here.

-’-

It had been one of Byakuya’s many attempts to distract the newly arrived boy in his home. He’d read him a story, from a very old book Byakuya had no recolection of ever buying. The story told the tales of a rogue in old times, who used his cunning to deceive people –thieves, farmers, chiefs–, and gain money as well as the hand of a lady in marriage. Senkuu was marveled at the many tricks and ruses the man used to get what he wanted, how he tricked everyone to obtain his goals, with no actual harm done to anyone.

“Byakuya, I want to be like him” he said with sleepy eyes.

“Sure, kiddo. If you go the steady constant route, I’m sure you can be just like that rogue” he answered the boy.

-’-

The very next day, Senkuu went to the library, and he read everything he could find that came close to teaching how to deceive people. Naturally, these were psicology books, explaining human behavior. He absorbed the knowledge as best as he could, and tested it on field experiments.

Like, one time at school, he would tap his desk three times quickly when the teacher announced it was lunch time. He did this constantly for a few weeks, until one day, he did it about an hour before lunch time. A kid was halfway to his things when he realized it wasn’t time to eat yet, several more turned their heads in the general direction of their lunch, and another kid cried, she didn’t understand why it wasn’t lunch time yet. Senkuu was thrilled with his accomplishment.

The next step were deceptions, and what a better example of deceptions, than the ones magicians would pull off. Once more he went to the library, and read. Then he turned to TV to get more information. Then, the field experimentation.

He had practiced a long used scam with cards, a three card monte.

“Find the lucky lady. Where is the lucky lady?” he vociferates.

He scamed a couple older boys at the park, naturally he wasn’t skillful enough just yet, so he ended up being caught. Luckily a kid named Taiju came to his aid. Taiju was marveled when Senkuu’s tricks would work, so he stayed by his side, they became best friends in no time.

Slowly, but surely, Ishigami Senkuu became excellent at his field of work, especializing mostly on human behavior, he wrote a few books about it –some of them aimed just for sales–, he did presentations, and became well known amongst the youth. He was cunning, and arrived at the top not only with hard work, but with tricks and deceptions. Just like Jack had done.

-’-

Gen would often be lonely at night, so he counted the few visible stars that he could make out, the many artificial lights of the city making them almost invisible, so he had to use a telescope to see properly. He tried counting them one by one, until he knew their place –and their names– by heart. It all begun with stars, and loneliness for him.

When the stars were no longer enough, he had to find another thing to occupy his mind with, so he started to formulate questions about the sky, the typical ones, like: ’what’s out there?’, ’why is there so much color?’, ’why is it so quiet in outer space?’.

So he searched, finding answers with numbers and big complicated words he does not understand, and he goes from physics to chemistry to biology, and from there on onto everything else that a rhymes with the stars, with the sky, with the world. He reads, and writes, until he can trace some sense into this chaotic nonsense of unintelligible words and equations.

He dismantles –dissects– the mechanical devices he has on hand until their busted organs are bleeding out from their torn coppery veins. And like a mortician, he finds the cause of death: ’Curiosity’. It hangs from their plastic –sometimes metallic– toes.

-’-

’What is the world made of?’

The periodic table answers this question, with it’s many elements lined up in their ranks, subdued into their defined hierarchy. And Gen wants to bring this hierarchy down. He is unsuccessful. So he simply goes back to watching above him. And he finally dives into the dark stars. The dead ones, the collapsed supernovas that made points of amassed gravity –black holes–. He thinks they are as beautiful as the ones that still have light.

He wonders if his curiosity will end up crushing him one day –tampering with the elements until he creates iron–, and he will go out in a violent explosion of light, creating so much strain in the fabric of space-time that a black hole will be born where he stood.

He writes all of this down, going from his curious dissections, to his anarchistic tendencies, unto the flickering thoughts of destruction. He makes one or two important discoveries, which put him in a spotlight. But he remains as anonymous as he can, writing books, and papers, giving a conference here and there. Traveling around, making the name Asagiri Gen to be noticed.

-’-

Awards. They mean recognition for one’s actions. And people like recognition so much they make a big fuss about it, throwing parties, and making a show of being given an award. Such events tend to gather recognizable names into one place, mixing them up and stirring them together. There is no need to specify that parties are the favorite go-to method.

Asagiri Gen didn’t hate parties, rather he simply had a distaste for being around so many people, he had so little knowledge about social interactions that he grew awkward with each passing minute. Naturally, he pulled away from everyone else, and went out into a balcony, he did what he always did, he observed the sky.

He wore an elegant suit, a purple bowtie strangling his neck. He heard the crystal door to the balcony being opened and closed, heard the faint footsteps approaching; still, he didn’t turn back.

“Lovely night isn’t it?” questions a sultry voice behind him.

He turns to look at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. It’s a young man, a strand of white-green hair falling in his face, the rest of it tied down in a ponytail. His suit is black, with a white shirt that lacks a tie –the first button is undone–. The young man gives an image of formal-casual, leaning more towards casual, given that his hands rest inside his pockets. He knew him. ’Ishigami Senkuu’. A sort of mentalist, a magician, he’d read one of his books out of curiosity –as he did most things–, it didn’t perk his interest.

“Yes, it’s unusually clear” he answers out of politeness.

“Why are you so secluded, the party is inside” he asks halting to a stop next to Gen.

“I get anxious around crowds”

“Hmm”

Senkuu gives him a sideways glance, as he leans his forearms on the railing, looking down at the fast moving vehicules that leave a stele of red-orange-yellow lights in their wake. Gen’s eyes are locked up into the inky mass of heavens, clouds gathering around the moon like a nightdress.

“You know corals get stressed too”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, they get real stressed because of the current events”

Gen looked at him dumbfounded for a second, and then laughed.

“You know, if you’re stressed, they say laughter is the best medicine” says Senkuu.

“That is a terrible joke!”

“It made you laugh” he points out pleased. “Ishigami Senkuu” he introduces himself as he extends his hand.

“Asagiri Gen” Gen takes the offered hand.

“So, Asagiri Gen, why did you come if you dislike it so much?”

The scientist grimaces a bit.

“I was sorta… ” he begins. “Blackmailed, a co-worker stole my favorite bracelet, and she’d only give it back if I came tonight”

Senkuu laughed –it was a throaty, raspy laugh–.

“Clever woman” he praises.

“Unfair woman. She insists I have to get out more”

“These kinda parties aren’t so bad”

“They’re okay, I guess. They just don’t have anything I like to drink”

“Oh. And what do you like to drink, Gen?”

“Cola” he smiles.

Senkuu looks strangely delighted, as he pulls out a medium bottle of cola out of his suit. He offers it to Gen, who practically beams with happiness.

“Thank you!”

He opens it, and takes a long swig. Then he gets aware of himself, sheepishly, he offers the bottle back to Senkuu, who takes a gulp.

“I prefer cola myself, too” explains the magician.

“Sweet black nectar of life” sighes Gen.

The other laughs again. They share the drink, until it runs out, and the scientist fumbles lazily with it in his hands. His phone rings, his co-worker send him a text. And he sighes.

“What’s the matter?”

“My co-worker. The one who blackmailed me. Well, she’s asking where I’m hiding”

“Hmm” Senkuu holds his chin. “I think I can help you out with that. Give you an excuse not to answer yet”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Give me your phone”

Gen cautiously gives it to him, and Senkuu then takes the emptied bottle of cola. He presents both objects in his hands, as if he were in front of a crowd. He clanks them together a few times, before hitting them hard against one another. When he hands them back to Gen, his cellphone rests within the plastic bottle. He examines the bottle astonished, the phone is indeed inside, the bottle has no damage on the outside.

“How did you even do that?!”

“A magician never reveals his tricks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a producer in there that I must go charm up” he parts, while blowing Gen a kiss.

He stared at his back, both amused and annoyed, holding a cola bottle with his cellphone inside. Gen decided he preferred to stick to his science and his stars –although, magic didn’t seem so bad–.

-’-

A/N: Also on fanfiction:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13464121/2/SenGen-Week-2019-2020

[hungline]

kiss, kiss, fall in love

pairings: namkook, side taejin and yoonminseok  genre: fluff, angst, smut, uni au, rated e  warnings: trans male character, explicit sexual content, cross-dressing, strap-ons, anal sex, gender dysphoria, jeongguk crying a lot  words: 19278 

summary: Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should. 

Namjoon is currently having difficulty getting air in and out of his lungs at the moment.

His chest aches and his fingers keep fumbling with the ends of his black tie.

Weirdly enough, his nipples are actually chafing against the binder that he wears underneath his royal blue button-up.

There’s a strange feeling building up in the pit of his stomach as he looks up towards the stage where the university’s drama club is holding their annual play and he only has eyes for Jeongguk. Never mind the fact that Namjoon’s best friend, Seokjin, is playing the male lead. All Namjoon can see is the lights reflecting off Jeongguk’s black hair, his slender arms shining in the spotlight, and lightly tanned legs twirling about with the ends of his dark blue skirt fanning around them.

If Namjoon had really been born with a penis, like he’d always wanted, he’s sure he would have popped a semi in his jeans.

No one can really blame Namjoon for how he’s feeling though. Anyone would react the same way if they had seen Jeongguk in a beautiful blue skirtーin a shade that just so happens to match their own shirtーand they were also crushing big time on said sophomore student. So it’s understandable, but Namjoon is still very pleasantly surprised about the way he’s reacting to seeing Jeongguk in a skirt.

He can sit through it though, definitely. It's not hard. Not one bit. This isn't affecting him at all.

He's just peachy.

And then Jeongguk is looking him right in the eye, a nervous glint in his brown sparkly orbs as he delivers his line flawlessly and lets the skirt twirl around him a little bit. Jeongguk looks like he's actually quite enjoying prancing around in that skirt onstage and Namjoon figures that he’s screwed. Either way, he still manages to shoot Jeongguk a supportive smile and a thumbs up before the young actor looks away to continue on with the play.

Namjoon kind of wants to die as his eyes follow Jeongguk's lithe figure around the stage, and when the younger looks in his direction, the feeling only increases by tenfold. And he is so not okay. He didn’t know that Jeongguk was supposed to perform that night. He knew the younger was Soyou’s understudy, but he hadn’t known about the young actress breaking her leg until he’d been standing in the lobby of the auditorium, waiting for the doors to open. Seokjin had run up to him and whispered fervently in his ear about what happened before he ran off to get Jeongguk ready to go on stage. Namjoon hadn’t thought that Jeongguk would embrace the role so diligently either, but the younger had been surprising him since day one

Namjoon figures that he’s really screwed.

The play is over in the blink of an eye and Namjoon doesn't know whether he should get up and go find Jeongguk or Seokjin or maybe the both of them or just remain seated until everyone has filed out of the auditorium so no human being is able to bear witness to Namjoon struggling to find his composure. He's trying his best to not think about the way Jeongguk’s tanned legs look like in a skirt, but when he looks up and all he sees is those said legs, he feels his heart jump into his throat as he makes eye contact with Jeongguk.

“I was wondering where you were,” Jeongguk says shyly, quite literally toeing at the ground with his hands clutched loosely together behind his back.

Namjoon stands up fast enough to feel vertigo and almost stumbles forward, but Jeongguk catches him and sets him back upright. Both men’s hearts are beating a mile a minute in their chests as they stand before the other. Namjoon isn't really sure what he should say to the younger, but he has to say something. Jeongguk is looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass and yeah, okay, so Namjoon knows that Jeongguk likes him, he isn't that dense, but he’s not really sure that Jeongguk would actually enjoy being with him.

A lot of Namjoon’s exes have said he was too standoffish, too intelligent, too well spoken, too independent, and when Namjoon finally made his transition, he suddenly became too weird. But Namjoon, he knows that he's worth more than what other people think or say about him, he knows that. It still doesn't mean that he can say he isn't hurt by the opinions people have about him though.

So Namjoon has trust issues, understandably so, but Jeongguk doesn't seem to quite get that. The younger fawns over him often and sometimes it makes Namjoon uncomfortable. Namjoon may really like Jeongguk, but he isn't ready for what Jeongguk may have in mind and Jeongguk doesn't quite grasp that, so now they play a game of hide and go seek where Namjoon usually hides more often than not.

But Jeongguk is nervous, and not the kind of nervous that he usually is around Namjoon. It's the “I might break down and throw a fit any second” kind of nervous. Namjoon thinks he might know why.

“Youー” Namjoon pauses to clear his throat before he tries to speak again. “You were great out there, Gukk-ah. This skirt really suits you.”

Jeongguk blushes and fuck, Namjoon is screwed with a capital S.

“Taehyung said the same thing. I didn't really think he was telling the truth though,” Jeongguk mumbles, his cheeks a blazing red and Namjoon really wants to kiss him all over his ridiculously adorable face.

“Gukk-ah, would hyung ever lie to you?” Namjoon tilts his head just so and gives Jeongguk the most dashing smile he can muster.

Jeongguk’s face only burns a brighter red and he shakes his head in response. Despite his better judgment, Namjoon can't help but take Jeongguk’s hand as he starts to lead them towards the side stage where he can see the top of Taehyung’s ridiculous high hat that he sported for the later part of the play. Jeongguk goes willingly, not really saying anything, and hand curled tight around Namjoon’s.

It's nice, the comfortable silences they tend to fall into whenever they're together. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk is a sweet kid, mostly inexperienced, incredibly intelligent, and generally quiet, but it's exactly why Namjoon is able to get along with the younger so well. Jeongguk swallows up everything Namjoon tells him without preamble and Namjoon would be worried if he wasn't also constantly forcing himself to not kiss Jeongguk.

Jeongguk in a skirt that contrasts so gorgeously with his legs is really as far as Namjoon’s limits can go. He's faring well though, much better than he thought, and much more better than Taehyung thought if the surprised look on the fashion designer’s face gave Namjoon any kind of hint.

Namjoon thinks Taehyung looks absolutely ridiculous in his steampunk get up, but the amused look on Jeongguk’s face when he sees Taehyung makes up for it.

“You're matching,” is the first thing Taehyung says when Namjoon and Jeongguk finally reach him.

Namjoon already knew this, but he still smiles when Jeongguk makes a small, surprised noise because the sound is unbearably cute. It's cute in a very non-romantic kind of way. Totally.

Taehyung is squinting at him when Namjoon meets his eye. Namjoon audibly gulps and feels his smile start to crumble under pressure.

“I guess we are,” Namjoon manages to say, his hand starting to feel sweaty in Jeongguk’s grasp.

He distantly thinks he should let go of the younger man’s hand. Friends don't hold hands for this long, they really don't. Yoongi had assured him on many occasions that friends don't do that. But Namjoon knows that if he pulls his hand away, then Jeongguk is going to become sulky and pouty and start making grabby hands at him and Namjoon is positively weak for that. So he just squeezes Jeongguk’s hand but doesn't make any move to let go.

Taehyung is still squinting at them and Namjoon feels himself break into a nervous sweat. Namjoon knows that look in Taehyung’s eye. It usually means he’s going to try and play matchmaker and Taehyung hasn’t been wrong about his matches yet. Namjoon is split down the middle with hoping that Taehyung might be wrong just this one time about Jeongguk and him, but then there’s also that other side of him that’s banking on Taehyung’s abilities to see the compatible connections between the people he sets up.

Taehyung looks like he’s going to say something, but Jeongguk is speaking before Taehyung can even let out a breath. “Are you still up for pizza right now, TaeTae-hyung?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung grunts, his eyes swiveling from Namjoon to Jeongguk and back. “Is Namjoon-hyung coming too?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s gaze on him and the light squeeze of his hand around his makes something spasm in Namjoon’s chest. He allows himself to stare at the younger man and he has to visibly restrain himself from kissing Jeongguk again. Jeongguk is biting on his bottom lip, the hand not intertwined with Namjoon’s fiddling with the pleats of the skirt he’s still wearing and all Namjoon wants to do is kiss him senseless. Kiss him until he’s never nervous again and doesn’t look at Namjoon with that hopeful glint in his eye. Namjoon’s nodding his head before his brain really filters what’s being asked of him, but the delighted smile that lights up Jeongguk’s face is definitely worth it.

“Great!” Taehyung exclaims, throwing an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, his trademark rectangular grin spread wide across his face. “Gukkie-ah, you should probably change.”

Jeongguk looks down at the skirt for a short span of time and Namjoon feels the need to say something, but Jeongguk is already smiling back up at the older men before he can.

“I think I’ll just go like this. You guys don’t...mind, right?”

The youngest man’s cheeks are a blazing red and he’s probably drawing blood from gnawing on his bottom lip and Namjoon really just wants to pick him up, kiss him all over, and tell him that of course he doesn’t mind, he would never mind, and Jeongguk is allowed to wear whatever his heart desires. But Namjoon doesn’t do that. Instead, he stares at Jeongguk like a fool and allows Taehyung to respond for the both of them instead.

“That’s fine with me, Jeonggukkie. If anyone says anything while we’re out, I’ll kick their ass, alright?”

Namjoon finally speaks up then. “Shouldn’t you be the one changing, Tae-ah?”

Taehyung stares at him affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Namjoon trills.

The giggle that Jeongguk lets out in response absolutely breaks Namjoon’s heart.

He is smitten for this kid. He can’t deny it, not one bit. A blind person would be able to see that Namjoon is head over heels for Jeongguk and Namjoon, even with an IQ of 148, thinks he’s an idiot for trying so hard to keep his distance from the younger. It obviously didn’t work, not even a little, and it probably just made him like Jeongguk even more.

Kim Namjoon can admit he’s an idiot. He can also admit that he likes Jeon Jeongguk more than he should.

Jeongguk smiles up at him like the sun shines out of Namjoon’s ass and Namjoon knows he has it bad.

Namjoon pushes Jeongguk’s hair out of his face and lets the younger man lead the way out of the auditorium with a buzzing Taehyung who’s still wearing the ridiculous high hat right beside him. Jeongguk hesitates once they step outside and see that there are still people milling about, but Namjoon just squeezes his hand and waits for the younger man to start walking again before he follows dutifully after.

They’ve only just made it down the main steps when Seokjin flings himself at Namjoon.

“Hyung!” Namjoon whines, struggling to hold up the older bulkier man that always shows up just when Namjoon thinks things are going his way. “Get off!”

“No. I’m glad you made it though. You need to quit moping around and support your favorite hyung with every chance you get, Joonie,” Seokjin pouts, pulling himself closer to Namjoon and ruffling Jeongguk’s hair as he does. “Hey, Gukkie-ah. Where are you guys headed to?”

Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t answer Seokjin’s question. And if he does, then he really hopes that Jeongguk doesn’t let his bleeding heart convince him to invite Seokjin along with them. They’re co-stars and friends and all, but Namjoon really hopes that Jeongguk won’t let himself be so lenient, at least for the rest of the night.

“We’re getting pizza, hyung. Do you want to come with?” Jeongguk has a bright grin spread across his face and Namjoon wants to scream and fling himself off a cliff.

Seokjin, of course, accepts the offer and stays latched to Namjoon’s side for the entire walk. Namjoon doesn’t hate or even dislike Seokjin. They’re best friends actually, but Seokjin is a very a touchy person and Namjoon always notices when Jeongguk watches them interact just a little too closely, his eyes lingering on Seokjin’s arms slung around Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon really doesn’t want Jeongguk to start feeling less confident now that he’s out and about in a skirt. He knows how much that’s going to affect Jeongguk’s self-worth in the long run and Namjoon just hopes that Seokjin can keep his touching and hand-feeding to a minimum tonight.

Of course, that’s exactly what Seokjin doesn’t do.

Namjoon does his best to refute Seokjin’s offers of pizza slices and buffalo wings dipped in different sauces, he really does, but when Seokjin offers him a slice of his Hawaiian pizza, Namjoon can’t help but cave in. He leans in and takes a bite from the slice that Seokjin is holding out to him. He takes a bite and chews as the sweet tangy taste of pineapple and smoked ham explodes over his taste buds and he might have closed his eyes and breathed out something close to a moan. Maybe.

When he looks up to meet Jeongguk’s startled gaze, he knows he definitely did. He blushes and ducks his head, avoiding Taehyung’s penetrating gaze on him.

Seokjin pats him on the back with a pleased smile. “There’s my cute dongsaeng. Always eat well. Here! Take another bite.”

He’s holding the slice out to Namjoon again, but the irritated look on Taehyung’s face makes him shake his head and lean away from the elder. “Hyung, stop. I’m not a baby.”

Seokjin merely laughs that high windshield-wiper laugh of his and lets his free hand pinch Namjoon’s cheek. “You’re Seokjinnie’s baby.”

Taehyung makes a gagging noise and Namjoon pushes himself forcibly away from the eldest of their group. “Hyung, don’t refer to yourself in third person. We’ve talked about this before. People think you’re going loopy with old age.”

Seokjin slaps his arm just a bit more harshly than he should and pouts at the blonde-haired senior. “I’m not that old, shut up, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and makes the mistake of looking in Jeongguk’s direction as he does. Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon feels something clog his throat. His laughter turns into choked gurgles and Taehyung leans over the table to clap a hand on Namjoon’s back way harder than what is necessary. Namjoon offhandedly thinks that Taehyung is taking this chance to release all his pent-up frustration that he has with the whole Jeongguk-crushing-on-Namjoon-and-Namjoon-acting-weird-about-it situation. Namjoon can’t really blame him. He knows that if he were in Taehyung’s position he would do the same thing to the object of his best friend’s affections.

Seokjin takes it upon himself to shoo Taehyung’s hand away from Namjoon’s back once Taehyung’s hand has taken to slapping him. He gives Taehyung a warning look and the fashion designer merely gives an innocent smile back from under his stupid hat then throws an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulders, but Namjoon still catches the blush that slowly creeps its way across Taehyung’s cheeks as he holds Seokjin’s gaze. Namjoon knows he has no right to, but he feels jealous when he notices how quickly Jeongguk relaxes under Taehyung’s touch. It’s no surprise though, ever since Jeongguk enrolled into the university, he and Taehyung had been attached at the hip, childhood best friends and whatnot. Of course, Jeongguk would be relaxed around Taehyung. Taehyung doesn’t make the younger feel nervous and jittery whenever they talk like Namjoon does.

Taehyung whispers something to Jeongguk, his gaze still on Seokjin and Namjoon has to put visible effort into looking away from Jeongguk to pierce Seokjin with his gaze instead. The elder is frowning at the young pair seated across from them and Namjoon has known Seokjin long enough to tell that the upward pull of his frown means he’s jealous. It’s the same frown Seokjin wore whenever Yoongi would come around to their dorm last year and demand that Namjoon spend time with him. It settled down once Yoongi started dating Jimin and, by extension, Hoseok, but Seokjin has never liked Namjoon in that kind of way before. Back then, Namjoon was still trying to get used to his new life as a man and Seokjin had been there for him through it all.

Namjoon can still remember the time that Seokjin fought two drunks when they tried to coerce the younger into an unwanted threesome. Seokjin had come out victorious from that fight and Namjoon had had to talk their way out of getting arrested before he got a cab and made sure he and Seokjin got home safely that night. Seokjin is sturdy and strong and Namjoon looks up to him. He’s Namjoon’s best friend and Namjoon knew him well enough to think that Seokjin might be crushing on Kim Taehyung, the elite, wanna-be fashion designer who only went to school because his parents had forced him to.

When Taehyung whispers something else into Jeongguk’s ear and the bright, childish giggle Jeongguk lets out meets Namjoon’s ears, Namjoon is absolutely certain that his best friend likes his crush’s best friend.

Namjoon tugs on Seokjin’s sleeve and offers him a buffalo wing silently. Seokjin takes it, gives him a soft smile, then bites into the wing without any kind of preamble at all. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin sets the wing down and there’s sauce covering his lips and chin. He hands the elder a napkin and laughs again when Seokjin mutters something about how Namjoon should’ve just cleaned his face himself.

When Namjoon turns back to grab another slice of pizza, Jeongguk is looking at him. Namjoon doesn’t know him well enough, he doesn’t know Jeongguk at all really, but Namjoon knows that there’s a jealous gleam in the younger man’s eye when he watches the exchange between Namjoon and his best friend. Namjoon gulps and holds his slice of pizza out towards Jeongguk.

“Say ah,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice low and throaty and Jeongguk’s pupils dilate and Namjoon is fucking screwed.

Jeongguk opens his mouth obediently and takes a bite out of the slice of pizza, twisting his face up once he starts chewing.

“Ew, pineapple,” the younger man whines.

Namjoon laughs. “Pineapple is good for you. Here, have the rest, Jeonggukkie.”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose at Namjoon’s words, but takes a few more bites out of the slice that Namjoon is holding out towards him before he groans about it tasting too gross to swallow. Taehyung makes some sly response about Jeongguk being able to swallow other things just fine and Jeongguk smacks his arm. Suddenly, Namjoon is thinking that maybe Jeongguk and Taehyung are so close because they’ve fooled around before.

He really hopes that isn’t the case when Jeongguk looks back at him with an adorable smile on his face. Namjoon finds himself leaning in, lips pursed, before he catches himself and settles himself back into his seat. Seokjin gives him a knowing look and pats him on the head before he reaches out to take the last buffalo wing. Taehyung complains about ‘Seokjinnie-hyung’ eating all of their food and Namjoon is pretty certain that Taehyung might just like Seokjin in return. He belatedly realizes that this is an impromptu double-date and is left jittery for the rest of their time spent together.

He forgets about being nervous when Jeongguk stands to pay for the bill and walks off to get into the line that’s queueing up right in front of the cash register at the front counter. Seokjin pulls out a few crumpled bills and lays them on the table as a tip before he stands to join Jeongguk in line. Namjoon moves to follow until Taehyung puts a hand on his arm and gently pushes him back into his seat.

Namjoon shouldn’t be confused, but he kind of is anyway when Taehyung leans forward on his elbows and gives Namjoon a shrewd look. He almost laughs when Taehyung’s hat falls to cover half his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Namjoon tries.

“Ha-ha. Funny,” Taehyung grumbles. “Listen, we need to talk.”

Namjoon snaps to attention. “About what?”

“You and Jeonggukkie.”

Namjoon stiffens then. “There’s nothing to talk about Tae.”

Taehyung shakes his head and looks over his shoulder where both of them can see Jeongguk and Seokjin eyeing them warily. “I know you like Gukk-ah. He likes you too, you know.”

Namjoon bites his bottom lip and blurts the first words he can think of in response. “Yeah? Well, I know you like Seokjinnie-hyung. He likes you as well.”

Taehyung laughs. “Good. I’ve been meaning to ask him out to dinner. Glad to know I won’t have to worry about his answer.”

Namjoon blinks. “Is it really that easy for you?”

“Yep. It should be that easy for you two as well.”

There’s a short silence before Taehyung sighs and gives Namjoon a concerned look. “Look, I know that your first few months after transitioning were tough and I know that your exes were pretty much scum, but please don’t let that affect what you can have with Jeongguk. He’s a really nice kid, albeit a bit antisocial and shy as hell, but he’s sweet and he’s very easy-going, Joon-hyung. Please, just give him a chance. He likes you a lot, more than you probably know. You could insult him and he’d still be willing to suck your face off.”

Namjoon laughs at the analogy and pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Thanks. I don’t think that last one is a good thing exactly, but thank you.”

“No problem.” Taehyung nods his head and stands up. “Now let’s go to our men, they look like they’re going to storm over here. Plus, I promised Gukkie I would stay by his side until he took off the skirt. He’s paranoid.”

Namjoon stands up and opens his mouth to say something, but he jumps when Seokjin yells something out and punches a guy that Namjoon has never seen before while Jeongguk stands nearby, a watery look in his eyes and his hands curled so tightly into the pleats of his skirt that Namjoon thinks he’s never going to let them go. Taehyung dashes off towards the commotion, his hat askew, and easily takes Jeongguk’s hand as he pays their bill before he leads the younger man outside into the nice, cool air. Namjoon is left to deal with trying to get Seokjin off the stranger and ends up being elbowed in the face. He can feel the first drop of blood drip from his nose and Namjoon groans when someone kicks him in the chest then, right into his left boob, which is much more painful than normal thanks to how tightly his binder is on today. Seokjin is somehow by his side suddenly, a hand on Namjoon’s waist as he presses napkins that he got from who knows where to the younger man’s nose and leads them outside where Jeongguk and Taehyung wait with the manager of the place following them and telling them they aren’t allowed to come back again.

“Wouldn’t dream of eating in a place where men with fragile masculinities can’t handle seeing another dude in a skirt,” Seokjin spits out through his teeth, his body practically plastered to Namjoon’s by that point and Namjoon is starting to feel a bit suffocated.

Namjoon doesn’t like people being so into his personal space. Hugs are horrible for him and he avoids them often, but there’s Seokjin with his hand clenching on too tight to Namjoon’s waist and pressing the damp wad of napkins to his nose, his front side pressing into Namjoon’s back. Namjoon has his head tilted up and back so it ends up on Seokjin’s shoulder and then Jeongguk is suddenly in his line of vision. There’s tears in his eyes and his hand immediately replaces Seokjin’s on the wad of napkins until Namjoon is finally free from the elder’s grip on him. There’s a look of awe on Taehyung’s face and he barely notices that one of the employees is trying to press more napkins into his hands for Namjoon’s nose.

“Did you really punch that asshole in the face ‘cause he made fun of Gukkie’s skirt?” Taehyung asks as he hands the napkins off to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk is too busy pressing the new napkins to Namjoon’s nose to really pay attention to anything else, but then Namjoon’s hand is on his waist and there’s a small smile on his lips when Jeongguk looks into his face. Meanwhile, Seokjin is dusting off his shirt and sending worried glances in Namjoon’s direction before he looks back towards Taehyung.

“Yeah. It pissed me off.” Seokjin shrugs, like punching a stranger to defend the feelings of his best friend’s crush is an absolutely normal thing to do.

“Wow,” Taehyung sighs, his eyes shining with admiration as he throws his arms around Seokjin’s neck, his hat falling completely off, but Taehyung doesn’t care about that right now. “Wanna have dinner tomorrow?”

Seokjin laughs. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Taehyung grins and leans in, letting his lips brush briefly against the elder’s before he pulls them towards Namjoon and Jeongguk. Jeongguk is crying by this point and he keeps apologizing profusely to Namjoon who merely stands there, swaying a little, but saying nothing, the blood finally having stopped flowing. Seokjin detangles himself from Taehyung and wraps an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Hey, you alright?” Seokjin asks his best friend.

Namjoon sighs and closes his eyes, sagging against Seokjin’s side. “No. One of you kicked me in the chest and I’m swallowing my own blood.”

Seokjin, bless him doesn’t laugh and merely crouches down so he can hook his arm under Namjoon’s knees and pull him into this chest, carrying the younger, bloody man bridal style. “I’ll take you home, Joon-ah, don’t worry.”

“That’s the least you can do after you kicked me in the boob, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice frail and eyes closing of their own accord, the blood on his face stiffening.

Seokjin laughs and shakes his head with a fond look on his face before he looks back up at the younger men in front of him. “I’m gonna take him back to his apartment and set him up with an ice pack and aspirin. Sorry for ending the night like this.”

Taehyung nods his head and smiles, throwing an arm around Jeongguk’s waist and pulling him into his side. “It’s no biggie, hyung. Thanks for defending Jeonggukkie. Take Joonie-hyung home and please convince him that he and Jeongguk-ah are absolutely made for one another.”

“Tae!” Jeongguk sputters, tear tracks staining his face as he rips his eyes away from Namjoon to pin Taehyung with an accusing stare.

“I can hear you,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes still closed.

Jeongguk blushes and wipes at his eyes, unable to say anything. Seokjin only laughs again and leans in to give Taehyung a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be off now. You have my number so just text me about the date tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye, hyung!” Taehyung replies cheerily.

Jeongguk looks glum when he says, “Bye, hyung. Sorry about everything.”

Seokjin laughs. “It’s fine, Jeonggukkie. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, okay?”

Jeongguk nods and Seokjin shoots him a fond smile. “I know Namjoon-ah can seem really distant, but that’s only ‘cause he doesn’t want to get hurt again. Be patient with him, alright, Gukkie-ah?”

“Okay, hyung.”

“I can still hear you,” Namjoon speaks up then, a frown on his face and the blood spurting from his nose, now completely dry. “Take me home, hyung. My boob and my nose fucking hurt.”

“Shut up, you big baby.”

“Your big baby,” Namjoon mutters, hefting a sigh into Seokjin’s chest as the elder begins to walk away.

Namjoon isn’t sure if Jeongguk is still in hearing distance, but he doesn’t hesitate to yell out, “Jeongguk-ah! You looked cute in that skirt!”

Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh meets his ears and Namjoon can distantly hear Taehyung whooping in the background, but that’s the last thing he remembers before he’s being laid on his bed, face now clean, and an ice pack wrapped in a clean rag being pressed to his throbbing nose. Namjoon isn’t sure when it happened, but Seokjin had pulled off the younger man’s shirt and his binder and pulled a hoodie on him before he settled in beside Namjoon on his bed and spooned him through the night.

Namjoon doesn’t say it, but Seokjin knows that he’s the only person Namjoon would let do that.

That night, Namjoon dreams of dark blue skirts and pretty pink blushes adorning a certain bunny-looking boy that makes his heart beat just a little faster than normal.

He wakes up to a bare chested Seokjin who’s dressed in a pair of Namjoon’s sweats as he makes breakfast in his kitchen. Namjoon smacks his butt as he walks past. Seokjin tsks at him in response.

  The next few days Namjoon has to listen to Seokjin gush over his new boyfriend.

He isn’t really annoyed though. Namjoon is happy that Seokjin is happy and Taehyung’s a good kid.

Still, Namjoon wouldn’t hesitate at all to kick Taehyung’s ass if he somehow hurt Namjoon’s best friend, but he knows that the possibility of that happening is unlikely.

Taehyung is too engrossed with the way Seokjin talks and speaks and the way his face scrunches up whenever he’s trying to with hold his laughter while telling a lame dad joke. It’s kind of cute, Namjoon thinks, how Taehyung is noticing such little things and claiming that he’s fallen in love with them. Namjoon just laughs though.

He doesn’t take Taehyung’s bold declarations of love to heart. It’s just Taehyung being Taehyung and Seokjin laughs and kisses Taehyung’s nose every time he says he’s in love.

It’s cute. It really is.

Except, now that Seokjin and Taehyung are together, all they do is pester Namjoon about getting together with Jeongguk. Namjoon is annoyed by that. He doesn’t have the time to deal with them playing cupid, he has a final to study for and he needs to meet Jeongguk in the library for their tutoring session in less than twenty minutes. So he collects his things, picks up his bag, and ducks out the doorway of Seokjin’s apartment with a rushed excuse of meeting Jeongguk. The pleased looks on their faces are a bit much, Namjoon thinks, but whatever gets them off his back.

Seokjin doesn’t live far from the university. He actually lives in the same apartment complex as Namjoon, but his apartment is on a floor lower than Namjoon’s own, so they see each other often.

Namjoon is breathing harder than usual by the time he steps onto campus, but he wastes no time at all to admire spring’s effect on campus life. He needs to be in the library in five minutes so he and Jeongguk can start their tutoring session. Jeongguk still needs work on getting his pronunciation right for his English class and Namjoon, as an English speaking person, was paired with Jeongguk in the first term.

Jeongguk is an honors student double majoring in theater and dance and minoring in photography and art. Namjoon doesn’t know how the younger man does it, but since Namjoon is a double major himself, he gets why Jeongguk might need a tutor. Jeongguk had skipped a few grades during primary school, same as Namjoon, but he was still just a kid most of the time. It was hard to believe that Jeongguk was only twenty when his face still had that round of youth to it.

Namjoon had been captivated by Jeongguk from the very first moment their eyes met.

Everything Jeongguk seemed to do had grabbed his attention and Namjoon knew he was treading in dangerous waters from the very beginning, so he’d told himself he wouldn’t get invested. He’d stay as far away from the younger as he could and he would not under any circumstances let himself dive head first into his feelings for Jeon Jeongguk.

Of course, that was unknowingly the first thing that he did.

Namjoon pushes that thought to the back of his mind as he finally reaches the library and spots Jeongguk leaning against the wall beside the door that leads to the library’s study rooms. He’s talking to a guy that Namjoon has never seen before, but he doesn’t think anything of it since nothing about Jeongguk’s posture says that the stranger is bothering him.

Jeongguk spots him and the smile that graces his lips could blind Namjoon. Namjoon feels his own lips pull into a small smile in return that quickly lowers into a frown when the guy Jeongguk is talking to takes a step towards Jeongguk and is suddenly too close for comfort. Namjoon sees the immediate change in Jeongguk’s body language and he can tell that the younger doesn’t really like the man being in his personal space and Namjoon is quick to step in between them, pulling on Jeongguk’s hand to lead him towards the study rooms.

The man follows them, a disgruntled look on his face at the sight of Namjoon, but he opens his mouth to speak anyway. Namjoon wishes that he hadn’t.

“Jeongguk, you never gave me an answer. Do you want to go out with me this Friday to the movies?” His voice is low and somewhat nasally and Namjoon decides then that he hates him.

Jeongguk looks like a deer caught in the headlights and his gaze keeps flicking from Namjoon to the man behind him. Namjoon stops in front of the door that leads to their scheduled study room but makes no move to open it. The stranger is still waiting for Jeongguk’s answer.

“You really want to go out with me?” Jeongguk asks, a confused expression on his face. “We’ve barely spoken at all, Yugyeom-ssi.”

The now named Yugyeom smirks and leans in towards Jeongguk again. Jeongguk goes still and Namjoon stiffens beside him before he pulls Jeongguk behind him.

“Listen, could you stop getting so close. It makes Jeonggukkie uncomfortable,” Namjoon murmurs, his gaze holding Yugyeom’s.

Yugyeom frowns at Namjoon and scoffs. “Who are you? His boyfriend?”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk’s eyes on the back of his head and he knows that the younger is hoping for Namjoon to say yes, yes he is Jeongguk’s boyfriend. Namjoon knows that Jeongguk wants him to be and Namjoon thinks he wouldn’t really mind it, but Namjoon isn’t ready for a relationship. Ever since the night Jeongguk had worn a skirt, Namjoon and Jeongguk had both been made aware of each other’s feelings for the other, but neither have done anything to take a step forward. They haven’t brought up what Taehyung or Seokjin said either and instead have been tip-toeing around each other. This is Namjoon’s chance to take a step forward and really start something with Jeongguk, but he isn’t ready. All Namjoon can think about is every one of his last break ups and the reasons behind them. He doesn’t want to go through that again, no matter how much he may like Jeongguk. So he bites his lip and lets go of Jeongguk’s hand.

“No. I’m his tutor and his friend and I don’t appreciate you harassing him.”

Namjoon can feel Jeongguk visibly deflate beside him, but he doesn’t say anything to draw attention to it since Yugyeom is inspecting them so shrewdly.

“I don’t think it’s your place to decide how Jeongguk feels,” Yugyeom says, his frown still in place as he glares at Namjoon. “Anyways, Jeongguk, how about it?”

Jeongguk grips onto Namjoon’s arm as he steps forward and gives Yugyeom a shy smile. “I guess it would be okay.”

“Awesome. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow in class. See ya,” Yugyeom exclaims, a large smile on his face as he takes a few steps backwards before he turns and walks through the door that they came in from.

Namjoon gingerly pulls his arm out from Jeongguk’s grasp and turns to face the door to their study room again. On the whiteboard are their names with their time slot underneath. Namjoon can’t tear his eyes away from their names linked together with a single, small plus sign and he thinks that Jeongguk can’t either.

Kim Namjoon + Jeon Jeongguk 13:30-15:30

They’ve got two hours together. Namjoon doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

He opens the door anyways and lets Jeongguk pass by first before he steps through the door. Jeongguk is silent as he takes his usual seat at their usual table and Namjoon sits down warily across from him, which is different since Namjoon usually sits beside Jeongguk instead, but Namjoon needs the distance. They’re both unusually quiet and Namjoon doesn’t want to look the younger in the eye, but they have to get started on studying some time. So he lets out a deep breath and tilts his head upwards to meet Jeongguk’s gaze.

“So, have you been working on your pronunciation lately?” Namjoon asks and Jeongguk looks like a kicked puppy again.

“Uh, no. I’ve been a little busy,” Jeongguk murmurs.

Namjoon regrets it the instant it leaves his mouth, but he can’t keep his big mouth shut. “Oh? Too busy doing what? Wooing a certain boy named Yugyeom?”

It’s below the belt, Namjoon knows it is, but he’s insanely jealous and he knows he has no right to be. Jeongguk looks like he might cry and Namjoon thinks flinging himself off a cliff would be a good idea right about now.

“Hyung, why are you being like this?” Jeongguk still looks like he’s going to cry and Namjoon feels something spasm in his chest.

He shifts in his seat, his nipples chafing against his binder again and Namjoon wants to scream. “Gukk-ah, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jeongguk is crying now, but the way he’s pitifully wiping at his eyes makes Namjoon rise from his seat and come around the table.

“I know you like me, hyung. I can see it on your face every time you look at me,” Jeongguk hiccups, tears still trickling down his face no matter how often he wipes at them. “If you didn’t want me to go out with Yugyeom-ssi, you could have just said so.”

Namjoon twists his hands in his lap and gives Jeongguk a sheepish grin. “Even if I do like you, Gukk-ah, it isn’t my place to tell you what to do. You’re allowed to date whoever you wantー”

“I want to date you, hyung,” Jeongguk sniffles, wiping at his nose before he pulls at Namjoon’s arm, drawing the elder closer. “Hyung, I really want to date you.”

“Why’d you say yes to that guy if you want to date me?” Namjoon knows he’s treading into dangerous waters again, but if he doesn’t go along with the flow, he’s going to drown in his feelings for Jeongguk and that might be even worse.

“You said it yourself. We’re just friends, hyung. I want to date you, but you don’t want to date me.” Jeongguk is crying again and Namjoon’s heart hurts.

Namjoon wants to deny what Jeongguk is saying, but he knows that’d be lying and Namjoon doesn’t want to lie. “Jeongguk-ah, I can’t tell you you’re wrong.”

Jeongguk’s tears have come to a standstill as he stares at Namjoon and suddenly his face is too close and Namjoon isn't sure how he's even able to breathe. Jeongguk’s nose is brushing against his and his vision has gone cross-eyed trying to keep Jeongguk in his line of sight. But the younger is too close and Namjoon can feel his hand on the back of his neck and his lips are a hairsbreadth away from Namjoon’s and Namjoon. Namjoon freaks out.

He pushes away from the tableーaway from Jeonggukーand is left staring up at the ceiling, suddenly on his back. Jeongguk leans over him and pulls Namjoon up, an unreadable look on his face. Namjoon knows he's just thrown their progress five steps backwards, but Jeongguk kissing him isn't something he's ready for in the slightest and he can't bear to have Jeongguk so close to him right now. Namjoon needs to get away, he needs time apart from the younger man who looks like he’s just had his heart trampled on. Namjoon knows that look well. He’s seen it too often in the mirror.

“Hyung, I-I’mー” Jeongguk starts.

But Namjoon is already up and grabbing his things. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have an important thing to go to that I completely forgot about. You'll be alright studying on your own, right?” Namjoon’s voice is gruff and hoarse as he speaks, but he's trying very hard not to let his panic show as he rushes towards the door.

Jeongguk doesn't say anything and Namjoon thinks he doesn't have to. The expression on his face says it all.

“Have fun on your date, Jeonggukkie,” Namjoon says as he steps through the door and closes it behind him.

He stares at the whiteboard on the door for a moment and erases his name with the sleeve of his shirt. He runs off before Jeongguk can follow him.

Seokjin and Taehyung are going to kill him.

  Taehyung refuses to talk to him for the rest of that week.

Namjoon’s surprised when Seokjin follows suit. He knows they're dating and all now, but still. Namjoon never thought that his best friend would side with his love interest over him.

But Namjoon knows that he's justified in doing so. Seokjin has finally grown tired of putting up with Namjoon’s moping and pining and then blatant disregard of his own happiness. It's been like this for so long and there’s a lot that Seokjin can put up with, but even Namjoon knows that the elder is at his limit now.

Still, even Yoongi thinks it's cruel when Seokjin and Taehyung talk about Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom in front of Namjoon like he isn't even there.

“For a best friend, he isn't really acting like one,” Yoongi growls, his fingers burrowing into Hoseok’s hair as he lets his legs spread out and tangle with Hoseok’s.

Namjoon currently has his head in Jimin’s lap with his knees drawn up to his chest. Jimin is running his fingers through his hair and murmuring little things that only Namjoon can hear. Hoseok and Yoongi sit across from them, not huddled up together like they do with Jimin because Namjoon understands that they aren't technically together, but it's hard to think that when Hoseok blushes whenever Yoongi touches him.

Namjoon’s been feeling shitty ever since he woke up that morning and remembered that Jeongguk’s date was to take place that night. But he’s also feeling shitty for the usual reasons as well. He has a paper due Sunday night and he’s barely gathered his resources on it, but he knows he can’t work on it today. He feels too awful. It's why he came to Jimin’s apartment, to seek comfort from the only other person he knows understands the way Namjoon feels about his body sometimes. Jimin’s touch is soothing and his words of encouragement hold more weight than Seokjin’s usually do.

Jimin had transitioned in his final year of high school, back when he’d only been dating Hoseok. Hoseok was an amazing guy, still amazing really, and had even helped Jimin buy his first packer. Then Jimin had met Yoongi through Namjoon and they’d been tip toeing around each other until all three of them sat down and discussed the parameters of their relationship the year before. Hoseok and Yoongi agreed that they didn't really want to date each other, but they wouldn't mind dating Jimin. Namjoon thinks that they must really love Jimin if they're willing to put up with each other and the weird stares they always get whenever they go out together. But it's sweet and nice and Namjoon’s really glad that Jimin is happy.

Still, they have their off days and when Namjoon’s get particularly bad, he comes to Jimin. Yoongi and Hoseok know not to say anything and just let Jimin work his magic on Namjoon, but Namjoon always feels guilty about needing the help anyways.

“Why won't you just date him, Joon?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon closes his eyes with a heavy sigh.

He feels really shitty, the worst ever since he embraced who he really was and he really doesn't want to talk about Jeongguk right now. It's all he can think about though. Whether Jeongguk will actually go through with the date or not, what he'll wear, whether he'll break out that special cologne or not. Namjoon really hopes that he won't, but he knows he has no right to say or even think that. It's his own fault for being too cowardly and he was the one who ran away when Jeongguk tried to kiss him. It's his own fault. All his fault.

“Hobi-hyung, please don't bring him up right now,” Jimin whispers, his voice is soft and musical and Namjoon feels like crying.

He coughs and Yoongi throws a pillow at him. “If you start crying, I'm kicking you out.”

Namjoon blinks back his tears to stare at the elder and closes his eyes again when Jimin’s fingernails scratch at his scalp lightly. It's soothing and it takes Namjoon's mind off the nausea and disgust he's feeling.

“You're mean, hyung,” Namjoon murmurs.

Yoongi sniffs. “The only one being mean to you is yourself, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon sighs. “Please don't, hyung. Not right now. It's really bad, okay?”

Jimin shifts underneath him and taps Namjoon’s cheek. “How bad, Joonie-hyung?”

“The worst. This is the worst I've ever felt,” Namjoon whispers, his face pillowed by Jimin’s thigh.

Namjoon hears someone get up from the opposite couch and he opens his eyes to see that it's Hoseok making his way towards the kitchen. It may be his imagination, but Yoongi looks reluctant to see Hoseok leave his side and when Namjoon looks up to question Jimin, Jimin just gives him a knowing smile before he goes back to massaging Namjoon’s head.

“You know, hyung,” Jimin starts, a thoughtful tilt to his head as he looks down at Namjoon. “Maybe your feelings for Jeongguk are what's making today so bad for you.”

“Not you too, Jiminnie,” Namjoon groans and sits up, pulling the pillow that Yoongi threw at him into his arms to hold up to his chest. “Please, drop it.”

“Just hear me out,” Jimin says, his palms held out towards Namjoon. “It's never been this bad before, right? And you said that today was Jeongguk’s date with that Yug-guy or whatever his name was.”

“Yugyeom,” Namjoon murmurs glumly. “His name is Yugyeom.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Yugyeom, whatever. That's not important right now.”

“Then what is? ‘Cause I don't get what point you're trying to prove, Jimin-ah.”

“Well, maybe you're just feeling even more depressed because you feel like you've messed things up with Jeongguk for good.”

“I still don't get it.”

Yoongi throws another pillow at him as Hoseok walks back into the living room, cups of tea in hand. He hands one to Jimin, then Namjoon and doubles back to the kitchen to grab the last two cups. Namjoon is definitely not imagining it when Hoseok whispers about making coffee for Yoongi instead of tea since the elder hates it and hands him his cup while Yoongi blushes fiercely and mumbles his thanks. Hoseok sits down beside him and instantly tangles their legs together like they were beforehand and Namjoon knows that they've finally swallowed their pride and are dating now too.

Jimin is giving him that knowing smile again when Namjoon looks back at him, but it's none of his business so Namjoon says nothing.

“I think what Jiminnie means is that your feelings for Jeongguk are being piled on top of your other usual feelings and that's why you feel so shitty right now,” Yoongi says, taking a sip of his coffee and giving an appreciative sigh as he does. He turns to Hoseok and murmurs, “This is great, by the way, SeokSeok.”

Yeah, they’re definitely fucking now.

Namjoon sighs and sips some of his tea. “It doesn't matter. Jeongguk already made a choice and he's going to go out with that guy tonight and him doing that has nothing to do with the way I'm feeling about my body right now.”

Jimin sets his cup down and takes Namjoon’s before placing it beside his own. He then pulls Namjoon’s hands into his own hands and turns so that his whole body is facing Namjoon's. Namjoon gulps and prepares himself for the lecture that Jimin is about to give him.

“That's not what I'm saying at all, Namjoonie-hyung. What I'm saying is that you feel so awful today because both your body dysphoria and your feelings for Jeonggukkie have combined. You're blaming yourself for this date happening and honestly, I blame you too, hyung.” Jimin’s voice is hard and unrelenting and Namjoon feels like crying again.

“Jimin-ah, I don't think that's helping,” Hoseok says quietly, his gaze fixed on Namjoon’s face and the tremble of his bottom lip. “You're gonna make him cry.”

Jimin tsks at Hoseok and waves a hand at him. “That's what I'm trying to do. Namjoon needs to cry this out so he can feel better and he needs to face the music about his feelings for Jeongguk. I'm tired of having the both of them come in here crying ‘cause Namjoon-hyung is too much of a pussy to just ask the kid out and get it over with.”

“That was so mean,” Yoongi breathes out before his gummy smile breaks out over his face. “I’m so proud.”

“Stop it, Jimin. You're going to make things worse for Namjoonie,” Hoseok murmurs, a disapproving look on his face. “Look! You made him cry.”

It's true, Namjoon is crying, but it's long overdue and he's already cried twice today so crying some more isn't really a big deal for Namjoon anymore. He knows Jimin is right and he knows that Hoseok is just trying to spare his feelings, but Namjoon’s feelings are all over the place and he isn't even sure what he wants to do anymore. Jimin sighs and pulls a few tissues out from the tissue box on the coffee table and dabs at Namjoon's face with them.

“I'm sorry, hyung. You know I don't like it when people cry, but I'm really really tired of this thing between you and Jeongguk-ah. He's gone searching for me five times this week, always crying about you running away from him when he tried to kiss you and how you probably hate him and some other nonsense. And now you've come over today moping about Jeongguk’s date and I'm sick of it. Either get your shit together and pursue Jeongguk or forget about it and cut off all ties with him,” Jimin exclaims, angrier than Namjoon's ever seen him, but then his voice and his face soften and Namjoon just can't stop his tears from falling. “I'm sorry, hyung, but I'm tired of seeing you two hurting so much over this.”

Hoseok is beside Namjoon then, a comforting hand on his back. “I know Jimin-ah is being harsh, but we're all worried. You've liked Jeongguk for so long and you've done nothing to make him yours. We're concerned that you're letting your past relationships affect your chances with Jeongguk and none of us want to see it when you finally crash and burn. You're nearing your breaking point already, Joonie.”

“Yeah, what they said,” Yoongi mutters as he wiggles his way onto Namjoon’s lap before he starts wiping the younger man’s tears away for him. “Namjoon-ah, you deserve to be happy and none of your asshole exes cared enough to prove that to you, but Jeongguk-ah can. You just have to let him.”

Namjoon sniffles and buries his face into Yoongi’s hair and let's the three of them comfort him until Jimin is pushing a box of his favorite takeout into his hands and swaddling him in a blanket as they settle down for a movie. Jimin lets Namjoon sit between him and his boyfriends and Namjoon eats as much as his stomach will let him before he nestles himself into Jimin’s side and lets his gaze focus on the television instead of Yoongi and Hoseok who are definitely making out beside him.

Yoongi catches the smirk that Namjoon gives them and frowns at him before asking, “What?”

Namjoon only smiles wider and shakes his head. “Nothing. I'm just happy you finally let Hoseok into your heart, hyung. It was weird watching you guys get jealous over Jimin.”

Yoongi blushes and mutters something Namjoon can't make out. Then Hoseok is patting his cheek and smiling softly. “You should let someone into your own heart sometime, Namjoon. It's scary as hell, but it's nice and it makes you feel all warm inside and out.”

Namjoon stares at Hoseok for a little while before he nods his head slowly and finishes watching the rest of the movie. Once it's over, Jimin kisses him on the cheek and offers to make Yoongi give him a ride home, but Namjoon’s apartment isn't far and the sun is barely starting to set so he should be fine. Hoseok kisses his other cheek and gives him the leftover takeout before he runs off into the kitchen again. Yoongi mutters about not needing to be coerced into driving Namjoon home because he was going to offer anyways and blushes when Jimin pats his cheek in consolation before leaving to join Hoseok in the kitchen. Yoongi looks at his socked feet for a few seconds then goes on tiptoe and kisses Namjoon’s nose unexpectedly.

“Don't let your past fuck up your future, Joon-ah, please? I don't like you being by yourself,” Yoongi murmurs, his voice the softest Namjoon has ever heard it.

Namjoon smiles and nuzzles his nose into Yoongi’s hair. “Okay, hyung.”

Yoongi hugs him briefly and offers to walk with him up to the front gate of the apartment complex, but Namjoon tells him it's okay and gives the elder a kiss on his forehead before he bids farewell. Yoongi watches him walk down the hall and take the main steps down until he's in the courtyard. Namjoon waves as he reaches the front gate and isn't surprised to see Yoongi flanked by Jimin and Hoseok as they wave goodbye back. Namjoon grins and steps onto the sidewalk, letting the gate close behind him with a loud clang.

Namjoon’s walk home doesn't take long and he spends a lot of time looking at the spring flowers that adorn a few front gardens and shop windows. Namjoon distantly thinks that he's in the spring of his own life right now and should embrace new things, but he's scared and he doesn't want to get hurt again. Jeongguk is a really sweet kid and Namjoon likes him a lot, more than he's liked any of his exes, but whenever he thinks about being in a relationship with him, all he feels is crippling fear.

He's scared of being hurt. He's scared of being left again. No one he's been with has ever wanted to stay and while Jeongguk likes him back, Namjoon knows that it's just Jeongguk’s young mindset that’s keeping him from thinking of the future. Jeongguk certainly isn't ready for commitment, but it's what Namjoon wants. It's what he's always wanted and no one has been willing to stay long enough to give it to him.

Namjoon makes it home without any preamble at all. He’s barely walked past Seokjin’s door before it's being opened and Seokjin is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a wary look on his face as he notices Namjoon’s red-rimmed eyes.

“What happened?” Namjoon gives out a sigh when he realizes that the elder is worried.

“Nothing. I was over at Jimin’s today is all,” Namjoon murmurs, his fingers clenching tightly around the food Hoseok gave him before he left.

Seokjin takes in his appearance. The dumpy dark gray sweatshirt Namjoon wears when it's one of those days, the dirty washed out converse, the black jeans that leave nothing up to the imagination, and the tired look on Namjoon’s face before Seokjin is drawing him into a hug. Namjoon doesn't cry, but he feels like he might again because Seokjin hasn't spoken to him in a week and now he's in his arms and he can feel his chest against his own and Namjoon has missed his best friend.

“I'm so sorry, Joon-ah,” Seokjin whispers.

Namjoon pats his back. “It's okay.”

For the first time in a while, Namjoon doesn't think he's lying when he says those words.

  After Seokjin treated him to a home cooked dinner and some gross beer, Namjoon makes his way up the stairs to his own apartment.

He unlocks the door, takes off his shoes and closes the door behind him as he flicks the lights on.

“I'm home!” He calls out to no one in particular.

He should work on his paper, it isn’t going to write itself. But he decides that he can’t concentrate enough to even look at it. So he sighs and stretches his arms above his head.

Then he shoves his leftovers into the fridge, takes a nice, warm shower and looks at his naked body in the mirror. His hands skim across his chest, disappointed to still feel a softness there that he doesn't want to feel again, but he can admit that his chest looks flatter and his hips aren't as noticeable as before.

Namjoon is pleased to see that he's less curvy than he was a year ago.

He dresses in boxers and a white undershirt then throws himself into bed where he falls asleep.

He wakes up to soft knocking on his door that he isn't sure he really heard. He might have just imagined it, but then the sound rings out again and Namjoon grunts as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

Namjoon doesn't remember about his choice of clothing until he opens the door to a crying Jeongguk clad in a pretty black skirt and a tight shirt with a collar that dips downwards in a severe V to show off his clavicle. Suddenly, Namjoon is very aware of the fact that his shirt is very, very see-through and there's a reason why Jeongguk is trying hard not to look at his chest.

“Jeongguk-ah? What's wrong?” Namjoon asks, his arms not so subtly coming up to cover his chest.

“Hy-hyung, can I come i-in, please?” Jeongguk cries, wiping at his eyes to try and stop his crying.

Namjoon wordlessly steps away from the door and lets the younger man in. “Uh, give me a moment to put something on.”

Jeongguk nods his head and takes off his shoes politely before he sits down on Namjoon’s couch, staring at nothing and still crying. Namjoon closes his door, pushes the tissue box towards the younger as he passes by the couch, then rushes into his room to pull on a hoodie. He's back in the living room where Jeongguk is still crying and Namjoon’s not really sure what to do.

“Do you want some tea or coffee?” Namjoon asks, his voice low and soft.

Jeongguk looks up at him and mumbles, “Can I h-have milk instead?”

“Of course. Warm or cold?”

“W-warm.”

Namjoon nods and walks into his kitchen. He doesn't really spend a lot of time in here considering he can't cook for jack shit, but he can make tea and coffee and he can definitely heat up some fucking milk.

He can still hear Jeongguk crying, but he pushes that to the back of his head as he sets to work on the milk and making some tea for himself. He knows his hair must look like a birds nest so he uses the back of a spoon as a mirror while he tries to tame the rebellious blonde locks. He uses the same spoon to mix honey into his tea before he carefully makes his way back into the living room and hands Jeongguk his cup of milk. Namjoon sits as far as possible on the tiny couch as he can and tries to figure out what he should say as Jeongguk continues to cry and takes shallow sips of his milk.

“Do you, uh,” Namjoon starts, then clears his throat once he realizes how gruff his voice sounds. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Jeongguk sets his cup down and Namjoon figures he should do the same. “Do y-you promise not to t-tell Tae?”

Namjoon feels his brow furrow and he turns so he's facing Jeongguk all the way. “Depends. If it's something I think Taehyung should know, then I’ll tell him, but that all depends on what it is. So tell me, what happened Jeonggukkie? Weren't you supposed to be on your date right now?”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and stares at his hands. “Yugyeom made f-fun of my skirt.”

Namjoon feels a heated coil of anger begin to rise in his stomach. “He did what?”

“We were g-gonna go midnight b-bowling. I agreed ‘cause I didn't really c-care where we went as long as I-I got it over with. I showed up early where we were supposed to m-meet and when he finally showed up, he s-started telling me that I shouldn't have worn the skirt, that it w-was weird for guys to wear s-skirts and it's gross and he doesn't w-wanna be seen with a t-tranny,” Jeongguk manages to say.

Namjoon bolts to his feet and stomps to his bedroom to pull on socks and some sweats. When he steps into the living room again, Jeongguk is watching him with wide, teary eyes. He doesn't say anything until Namjoon is shoving his feet into his shoes.

“Where are you g-going?”

“To beat the shit out of that asshole,” Namjoon spits through his teeth as he finally get his second shoe on.

“No, you're not.”

Namjoon stills and turns to look at the younger boy who’s still crying and who looks absolutely gorgeous in the skirt he wears and Namjoon really wants to just fucking kiss him.

“Why the hell not? He deserves it!”

Jeongguk makes his away around the couch and lays his hand on Namjoon’s forearm before he starts pulling the elder back into the living room. Namjoon should kick off his shoes, but he's afraid he’ll fall if he tries to do that while Jeongguk is leading him back towards the couch.

“He may deserve it, but if I wanted his ass kicked, I would've gone to Taehyung’s.”

Namjoon stills and Jeongguk comes to a stop beside him.

“Why are you here then?” Namjoon feels like it isn't him who’s speaking right now, but it's definitely his mouth that's moving as he forms the words.

Jeongguk is staring at him like the sun shines out of his ass and Namjoon is screwed.

“Because I'm not making the same mistake twice. I know you like me, hyung, and I know why you don't want to date, but can you at least let me try, please?” Jeongguk bites on his bottom lip and Namjoon very much wants to kiss him.

Namjoon is beyond confused and he doesn't know how Yugyeom being a total jackass to Jeongguk made the younger think he should try to fix things with Namjoon, but Namjoon knows he's in no position to refuse Jeongguk’s offer right now. He can still hear Jimin’s voice telling him to either get his shit together or forget about Jeongguk once and for all.

But Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk at all. He doesn't want to forget about the tiny mole underneath Jeongguk’s bottom lip. He doesn't want to forget about the way the younger man’s hair curls around his ears when he lets it air dry because he’s in a rush. He doesn't want to forget how Jeongguk always bites on his bottom lip when he's nervous or when he thinks that he's asking for too much or when he's just shy. He doesn't want to forget about the gleam that forms in his eyes when he gets competitive. He doesn't want to forget the feeling of his hand in his, the sound of his voice. He doesn't want to forget how he sounds like when he sings, when he laughs, and when he slips into his natural Busan dialect. He doesn't want to forget about how Jeongguk looks like a bunny when he eats. And he definitely doesn't want to forget about the way it feels to have Jeongguk close, by his side, and in his arms.

Namjoon doesn't want to forget about Jeongguk.

So, Namjoon, he nods his head and lets Jeongguk pull him close until their chests are bumping against each other and their lips are a hairsbreadth away from one another. Namjoon lets his eyes flutter shut when Jeongguk's soft lips press against his own and he feels a hot flash of something rocket straight towards his groin. He lets Jeongguk lead them to his bedroom and kick off his shoes. Namjoon lets the younger push him into the mattress and straddle his waist and kiss him breathless. He lets his hands pull the younger closer until all he feels is Jeongguk pressed against him and then suddenly Namjoon is pulling his hoodie over his head and he’s guiding Jeongguk’s hands up his undershirt until they're cupping his chest. Namjoon lets the younger kiss him and fondle him, but he doesn't let them go any further than that.

Jeongguk doesn't push it. He knows that this is as far as Namjoon will go and he lets the elder tuck him into his bed with a few good night kisses before Namjoon throws himself onto his couch. Namjoon didn't expect for his day to end so eventfully, but he can't say that he regrets it really. He closes his eyes and lets sleep envelop him for the second time that night.

When he wakes up, he’s greeted by a mess of black hair and a warm body pressed against his on the couch. Namjoon smiles and kisses Jeongguk’s nose before he lets himself sleep for a little while more.

Jeongguk nestles into his chest and sighs into Namjoon’s neck and Namjoon’s really glad the younger didn't wear his special cologne for his date with Yugyeom last night.

  Jeongguk becomes clingy after that.

Namjoon wouldn't mind it if he also wasn't a person who needed their space from to time to time and Jeongguk was always in his space.

He really likes the kid and he likes that they kiss and hold hands now and lay sprawled out across Namjoon’s living room studying and working on homework, but Namjoon needs space. Jeongguk can’t always be wrapped up in his arms and in his apartment and sleeping in his bed with him. It's nice having someone to keep him company when he's at home in his tiny one roomed apartment, but it's terrifyingly domestic seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen more often than Seokjin.

Jeongguk even has overnight clothes in Namjoon’s drawers now. Despite the fact that Namjoon isn’t one hundred percent happy about all the time they spend together, he still washes Jeongguk’s clothes come laundry day.

They aren’t even dating. Not officially, but it's not like Taehyung cares. He's just happy to see his best friend and his boyfriend’s best friend finally happy. Jimin tells Namjoon not to screw it up, but even Yoongi is concerned about how much of his time is spent with Jeongguk. Yoongi understands about Namjoon needing his space, he gets the same way most days and usually locks himself up in the studio until Jimin or Hoseok drag him out, but Namjoon has never had to worry about that. His apartment has always been his place and his alone. Namjoon needing his space is the only reason he and Seokjin don't live together anymore, even though they live in the same apartment complex.

But Jeongguk is always in his space and Namjoon feels like screaming.

Jeongguk asking for a key to his place is when Namjoon finally puts his foot down.

“Gukkie-ah, don't you think we're spending too much time together?” Namjoon is going for the gentle approach, but Jeongguk is overly sensitive so Namjoon has to pick his words carefully.

Jeongguk’s excited grin falls into a pout and Namjoon wants to kiss him until he’s giggling. “What do you mean, hyung?”

“I mean, when’s the last time you hung out with your friends? With Taehyung?”

“Hyung, we saw him yesterday, with Seokjin-hyung when we went out to eat at that diner,” Jeongguk says and tilts his head like he’s confused about why Namjoon is asking him this.

Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. Jeongguk’s resorting to the dreaded “we” now and Namjoon feels his fingertips start to tingle. “When was the last time you hung out with Taehyung, just the two of you, Jeonggukkie?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Namjoon gasps dramatically, aiming for scandalized and probably only reaching comedic. “No wonder Taehyung has been giving me dirty looks. He thinks I'm stealing his best friend and keeping him all to myself.”

Namjoon pulls Jeongguk into his arms and tries to cackle, but ends up choking instead and Jeongguk has to pat his back in between his giggles.

“Hyung! Tae doesn't think that. Are you kidding? He practically moved in with Seokjin-hyung already and they've been dating a month. When's the last time you saw Jin-hyung, just the two of you?” Jeongguk asks, an amused look on his face.

“Five weeks ago,” Namjoon says sheepishly and then a thought strikes him. “Actually, Seokjinnie-hyung wanted me to go to the movies with him this weekend. Said he misses me terribly and hates not being able to see me when he wants anymore.”

Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip as he looks up into Namjoon’s face. “He said that?”

Namjoon nods. “Mhhm.”

“I guess I have been keeping you all to myself recently, but it's just thatー” Jeongguk pauses and only continues when Namjoon coaxes him into talking again. “I’m not used to having things to myself. I've always had to share and I-I really like you, hyung, and I didn't think that anybody would m-mind if I took up most of your time.”

Namjoon feels guilty now and undoubtedly so since he kind of just lied to Jeongguk, but Namjoon really needs one night away from him to clear his head and get himself into gear. He needs to think about whether they should make things official or not, but Namjoon needs to think about that away from Jeongguk. Whenever they're together, Namjoon is drunk off the smell, the look, and the feeling of Jeongguk in his arms. Then he goes insane over the fact that all his stuff is being touched by Jeongguk and nothing he owns is sacred anymore, even the packer he never uses. Jeongguk had put that on his head and chased Namjoon around his apartment asking for a kiss until Namjoon tripped on the couch and Jeongguk had to ice his ankle with the damn packer still on his fucking head.

Namjoon needs a clear head if he's going to take a step forward with Jeongguk.

Namjoon kisses the younger, long and sweet and his blood is thrumming in his veins when Jeongguk kisses him back.

When they break apart, Namjoon keeps his eyes closed and lets their noses bump against one another. “Sorry, Gukkie-ah. But I do kind of need this night with hyung. I wanna think about certain things with you not around ‘cause you drive me insane and it's hard to think whenever I have you like this.”

Jeongguk pecks his lips and nuzzles his nose into Namjoon’s cheek. “What is it that you need to think about hyung?”

Namjoon smiles and Jeongguk pokes one of his dimples. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

The younger man pouts and Namjoon laughs before kissing him again. “That's not fair, hyung.”

“Don't worry, baby.” Namjoon doesn't realize what he just said until Jeongguk is looking at him wide-eyed and in awe.

“What?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You called me baby.”

Namjoon freezes. “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“D-do you mind if I call you baby?” Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk smiles and draws Namjoon closer into his embrace. “No. I like it.”

Namjoon lets out a breath in relief and laughs again. “That's ‘cause you are a baby.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“You're mean, hyung.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Baby,” Namjoon huffs.

Jeongguk just giggles and kisses Namjoon before he walks off into the elder’s kitchen. “Your baby.”

Namjoon doesn't say anything.

  Seokjin readily agrees to the impromptu movie date with Namjoon for that Friday and that makes it easier for Namjoon to breathe whenever he and Jeongguk are together.

Jeongguk cuts back on his time spent with Namjoon though and Namjoon is glad that the younger is giving him some much needed space. Still, whenever Jeongguk isn’t around, he gets a bit antsy and starts twisting the ends of his hair in his fingers.

Namjoon knows he's gotten attached, but Jeongguk is just as attached if the constant Kakao messages from Taehyung about Jeongguk not shutting up about him are anything to go by. It might be a little unhealthy the way they tend to gravitate towards one another, but Namjoon has been waiting really long to have the younger in his arms. He needs his space, he really does, but he’s starting to not mind having Jeongguk around. It's comforting and Jeongguk is nice and he’s warm.

Namjoon thinks he might love him.

It doesn't stop him from knocking on Seokjin's door that Friday night at 20:30 on the dot. Seokjin answers and gives Namjoon a hug that's a bit longer than usual since they haven't been alone together ever since the night of Jeongguk’s date with Yugyeom. Namjoon pats the elder’s back then coughs awkwardly and Seokjin lets him go, his face a bit pink. They walk down the steps and into the garage where Seokjin’s car waits for them.

Seokjin, ever the gentleman, opens Namjoon’s door for him and Namjoon slips inside the car. The elder is quickly buckling his seatbelt in the driver’s side and Namjoon waits silently for Seokjin to start the car, his seatbelt already buckled.

Then they're off and Namjoon laughs when Seokjin smashes his hand on his console to change the radio station since a song he hates came on.

“Shut up,” Seokjin mutters under his breath, his eyes on the road now that the light has turned green.

Namjoon can only laugh louder as he sings off-tune to the rock song Seokjin put on. Seokjin has a small smile on his lips as he drives and Namjoon rolls his window down to let the wind blow through his hair. Seokjin grumbles about his hair being ruined, but Namjoon just laughs again and ruffles the elder’s hair. Seokjin shoots him a disapproving stare until he’s pulling into the movie theatre’s parking lot.

They park and Namjoon links his arm with Seokjin’s as they walk down the steps and make it towards the main exit of the parking lot. Seokjin pauses to stare at his hair in the window of a bar and Namjoon laughs as he helps the elder fix his hair.

“Brat,” Seokjin murmurs before he pulls Namjoon into his side as they walk under the bright marquee displaying the newest movies being shown at the movie theatre.

Namjoon wiggles beside him, not really minding that Seokjin has a hand on his waist since this is their usual way of being together, but now that they both aren’t technically available, Namjoon thinks he should feel weird about the way they look like a couple right now. They’ve always been perceived as one though and Namjoon takes a deep breath and lets it go. Seokjin rubs his thumb into Namjoon’s hips like he can read his mind and he probably does have an idea about what’s on his mind, but he says nothing about it and Namjoon lets the elder lead him towards the short line to buy their tickets.

Seokjin shoves his hand into Namjoon’s back pocket and Namjoon opens his mouth to say something until he realizes that the elder is pulling his wallet out to pay for their tickets.

“That broke, hyung?” Namjoon asks.

“You invited me, so you’re paying,” Seokjin chuckles as he unwraps his arms from around Namjoon and takes out the necessary won he needs to pay for both their tickets.

Namjoon scoffs when Seokjin shoves his wallet back into Namjoon’s back pocket and wraps his arms around the younger again after getting their tickets. “Fine, but you’re paying for food.”

Seokjin grunts and awkwardly pushes Namjoon forward towards the doors. “I’m only buying it now. If you come in to get food during the middle of the movie, you have to pay for it yourself, Joonie.”

Namjoon laughs and pushes Seokjin until the elder is back at his side again instead of uncomfortably plastered to his back. Seokjin pouts and Namjoon pats his cheek before he gives the employee that waits just past the front doors a sheepish smile. Seokjin hands the girl their tickets and waits for her to tear off the stubs and hand them back before he herds Namjoon towards the concession stand. Namjoon lets Seokjin cling to him as they order their food, but tears the elder away from him once they’re being given their nachos and slurpees and salted pretzels with cheese. Seokjin mumbles something about having a sleepover with pizza after the movie’s over. Namjoon chuckles and gives the elder a maybe.

They’re a bit early for their movie, but that means they get first dibs on what seats they want. Namjoon leads the way up the steps to the topmost row of seats and plants himself right underneath the projector. Seokjin sits on his left and hands him his slurpee while Namjoon puts his pretzel in the elder’s lap. Namjoon laughs when Seokjin remembers they forgot to buy popcorn.

“We don’t need it, hyung,” Namjoon chuckles.

Seokjin lets out an overly-dramatic scandalized gasp as he stands up. “Popcorn is a vital factor to having a terrific movie experience. You’re not the dongsaeng I raised.”

Namjoon cackles and Seokjin leans over to press his lips to the younger’s hair. “I’ll be right back, Joonie.”

Namjoon blushes and watches Seokjin leave, barely taking notice of the person who slips into the movie theatre after Seokjin has left. They’re wearing a red hoodie that Namjoon thinks he’s seen before and they move quickly, taking a seat at the end of Namjoon’s row where Namjoon is, like, ninety-five percent sure that person isn’t able to see the trailers that are being shown. He forgets about it when Seokjin returns with a large tub of popcorn and a hand ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he sits down. Namjoon frowns at him and vainly tries to fix whatever damage Seokjin has done to his hair before he lets the elder feed him a tortilla chip lathered in cheese and chili. Namjoon gives him a sip of his slurpee and then he’s made aware of three girls who are sitting in front of them laughing as they turn in their seats to stare at Namjoon and Seokjin.

Seokjin tenses beside him and Namjoon doesn’t like the way the girls are looking at them.

“Just ignore them,” Namjoon whispers, his eyes on his food as he starts to tear his pretzel into tiny, bite-sized pieces.

He dips a piece into his cheese and holds it out for the elder to eat. Seokjin eyes it warily, gives the girls who are still staring at them a heated glare before he leans in and takes the piece of pretzel into his mouth. Namjoon coos appreciatively and wipes at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth with a napkin and Seokjin, despite the staring girls in front of them, smiles and wipes at Namjoon’s nose where chili from his nachos has ended up.

“Cute,” one girl says, practically sending them heart eyes and Namjoon, even in the near dark of the movie theatre can see that the back of Seokjin’s neck is turning red.

Namjoon coughs and thanks every deity out there for the lights finally turning off and the big screen becoming brighter, filled with flashing images that he doesn’t really pay attention to. Namjoon’s not quite sure why Seokjin picked out this movie to watch, but it’s dreadfully boring and halfway through he’s finished all his food. Seokjin gives him a pitying look and hands him a few won to buy a soda from the concession stand. Namjoon smiles and tells the elder to not waste telling him what he missed if he comes back.

He’s hyperaware of the fact that the hooded person is following him, but he chalks it down to coincidence. They may just have to go to the bathroom and when he gets into line, his suspicions are balked when the hooded person makes a beeline for the men’s restroom. Namjoon sighs, inexplicably relieved and orders his soda. He forgets about the hooded person and loiters about for a bit near the concession stand until he sits down on the bench that's in front of the restrooms.

Then Red Hoodie is stepping out of the bathroom and Namjoon almost drops his soda when he realizes it's Jeongguk. He's wearing a fake mustache, sunglasses, and a snapback on under his hoodie. Namjoon would laugh at how ridiculous he looks if he also wasn't just a tiny bit pissed off.

“Jeongguk-ah.” Namjoon’s voice is rough and there's a tenor to it that shows he's mad.

Jeongguk stills and reluctantly sits down with Namjoon on the bench when the elder pats the empty space beside him. Jeongguk sits on the far end of the bench and Namjoon sets his drink down so he can glare at him.

“What are you doing here?”

The younger takes his sunglasses off and pushes the hoodie back. Namjoon wants to be mad, he really does, but Jeongguk looks like a knock-off Mario and Namjoon finds it absolutely hilarious.

“Came to see the movie, hyung,” Jeongguk answers timidly.

Namjoon tilts his head to the side and stares at the younger man beside him. “Oh yeah? So you just happened to be here wearing that ridiculous disguise? Sure you're not spying on me and hyung, Jeongguk-ah?”

Jeongguk bites his lip and finally nods his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Why are you spying on us?”

“Becauseー” Jeongguk pauses and takes a deep breath. “Because I thought you two were on a date and the way you've been touching each other tonight only made me think that more. Why do you let hyung touch you like that, but you won't let me?”

Namjoon is definitely pissed. He doesn't have time for this kid’s overactive imagination and he one hundred percent does not have time for Jeongguk’s petty jealousy. Not now or ever. It's not “hot” having the younger be possessive enough to follow him and his best friend to the movies. It's disgusting and it's unhealthy.

“You had no right to follow us, Jeongguk-ah. Just because you're jealous doesn't give you any actual reason to do this. It's gross, Jeongguk-ah. Relationships are about trust and if you're going to get like this,” Namjoon waves a hand at the younger, pointing at his get up, “then I think we should break up.”

“Break up?” Jeongguk’s voice is low. “But w-we aren't even dating, hyung!”

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “And we never will if you keep this up.”

Jeongguk takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair and over his face. “Hyung, I'm sorry. I was justー”

“You were just what, Jeonggukkie?”

“Scared,” Jeongguk whispers.

Namjoon sighs and holds his hand out for the younger to take. He doesn't like jealousy in a partner, he really doesn't, but he really likes Jeongguk and he knows that he’d really like to date him. If Jeongguk is going to be like this though, then Namjoon doesn't want to waste his time stuck in another unhealthy relationship. He should let the younger man know what he's doing is wrong though. It's wrong to do something this extreme when he's feeling jealous. Namjoon isn't an object, he's a person with a mind of his own and he has feelings. Jeongguk needs to know this.

“Jeongguk. It's wrong to do this. Do you understand that?” Namjoon waits for the younger to nod his head. “I'm not your property. I'm a human being with crazy emotions and I make my own decisions. You can't do this every time I go out somewhere with Seokjin-hyung, or maybe Jimin-ah, or even Tae! It's wrong and it's embarrassing and it makes me mad, Jeongguk-ah.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk ducks his head and Namjoon thinks he might be crying again, but Namjoon isn’t going to let him off the hook so easily like that.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry. I’m telling hyung and Tae-ah what you did.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket and starts scrolling through Kakao to find his conversation thread with the two men he just mentioned. Jeongguk says nothing and scoots a bit closer as he squeezes the elder’s hand.

“Hyung, I was scared, okay?” Jeongguk begins. “I’ve never dated before and the only times the people I’ve liked have seemed to like me back is when they wanted to use that against me to hurt me. High school was the worst. This one senior I thought was really cute kissed me in front of everybody during gym class then pulled my shorts and underwear down. Taehyung kicked his ass once he heard, but the possibility of Taehyung beating them up hasn’t stopped the other people who pretended to be interested in me.”

Namjoon feels sick now. He understands what Jeongguk means though. Every person he’s ever been with has been toxic for Namjoon and he guesses that he has that in common with the younger. The thought makes his heart churn and Namjoon wants to make sure that no one hurts Jeongguk ever again.

“I know people have been shitty to you in the past, trust me, I understand that much more than you think, but that doesn’t excuse what you did here, Jeongguk-ah,” Namjoon says, still trying to press his point with the younger.

Jeongguk scoots even closer and cups Namjoon’s hand with both of his. “I know it doesn’t hyung and I know you do, but I was scared. I really thought that you and Seokjin-hyung were on a date and I started thinking that maybe you both were just stringing me and TaeTae-hyung along for fun.”

Namjoon’s palm itches and he kind of feels like slapping Jeongguk for thinking so low of him and his best friend, but Namjoon understands, he really does. He’d done this exact thing to Seokjin on his first date with Taehyung and Seokjin had given him a long, long lecture about not thinking the worst about people. Taehyung was nice and he treated Seokjin like a king and Namjoon is still pretty ashamed about following them on their dinner date, but at the time he was just trying to protect his friend. Jeongguk followed them tonight because he was trying to protect his friend and his own heart. Namjoon sighs and pulls the younger closer until he’s sitting on his lap.

“I’m still mad at you, but I can forgive you. You have to promise you won’t do this again, Jeongguk-ah. It’s really unhealthy and I don’t want us to have a toxic relationship. I really like you and I want to be with you, but you have to trust me and my feelings for you. I wouldn’t let anybody kiss me you know,” Namjoon huffs, burying his nose into Jeongguk’s hair. “They have to be really special to me and I don’t like it when people touch me either. I want to make this work with you, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, alright?”

Jeongguk nods glumly and nestles himself into the elder’s chest. “Okay. I’m sorry, hyung, I really am. I promise not to do this again. Next time, we’ll talk about it like civilized adults. I was just scared.”

Namjoon laughs. “You have no reason to be scared, baby. I like you and you like me and that’s it. Put your trust in that.”

“Tell my brain that.”

“I’m telling you this, Jeonggukkie. I like you and I want us to date, but we need to talk about a few things.”

“Like what?” Jeongguk asks.

“About how much time we spend together. It’s reallyー” Namjoon bites his lip and pauses before he continues. “It’s really suffocating having you so close and in my space so often. It freaked me out at first, if I’m being honest. I’m a person who sometimes just needs to be alone so that I can function properly, but you were always around and it drove me crazy. Don’t take it as I don’t want you around, because I do want you near me, just not all the time.”

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, I-I kinda figured, hyung. You’d get this panicky look in your eyes sometimes when I’d go to hug you or when you’d find me in your kitchen making food. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I promise to cut back on our time together.”

Namjoon kisses the top of his head and hugs the younger man tightly. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. And remember, if you’re worried about anything, you can talk to me and we can discuss it together. That’s what relationships are about.”

“Are you saying that you’re finally ready to date me, hyung?”

Namjoon tilts Jeongguk’s head up, pulls off the fake mustache that he still has on and kisses him. Their lips slot together softly and Namjoon kinda feels like his bigger lips drown Jeongguk’s smaller ones, but it’s fine. Jeongguk still makes his presence known by letting his hand trail up to cup Namjoon’s head and bring it down so he's closer to the younger and breathes out a tiny sigh when Namjoon’s hand grips his waist. The kiss is indescribably soft and Namjoon feels a haze begin to cloud his thoughts as Jeongguk continues to kiss him. Jeongguk is warm and pliant in his arms and Namjoon is suddenly aware of the younger man’s barely there erection pressing into his abdomen as he leans over Jeongguk. Namjoon’s mind flashes to the fact that he doesn’t own a strap-on that’s supposed to be used for sex and then he remembers that Taehyung took his measurements for new pants last week so he can just ask the fashion designer to share those with him tomorrow.

Jeongguk is the first to pull away and there’s a soft smile on his face that makes Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“Hyung?”

“Hmm?” Namjoon hums.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not mad about what you did though,” Namjoon says.

Jeongguk smiles and nods. “I understand. I’d be upset as well. Despite that, thank you for agreeing to be my boyfriend.”

Namjoon laughs and kisses the younger again. They sit on the bench and wait for Seokjin to finish watching the movie and stand up together, hand-in-hand, when the elder steps out into the main lobby. He spots them and Namjoon is only slightly surprised to find Taehyung trailing after him.

“Yours came too, huh?” Seokjin asks as he nears them and lifts a brow in question.

Namjoon nods and grunts when the elder throws an arm around his shoulders and turns them so that they’re facing their boyfriends. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

“I don’t know about you, but a massage sounds really good right about now,” Namjoon murmurs wickedly and slips his arm around the elder’s waist as they start making their way towards the exit.

Seokjin laughs. “You read my mind.”

The two older men laugh when Jeongguk and Taehyung rush to open the doors for them and follow them dutifully outside.

“How’d you guys get here, anyway?” Seokjin asks as they walk towards the parking lot.

Taehyung shrugs. “A cab.”

“Then you can take a cab back,” Seokjin chuckles and waves goodbye as he leads Namjoon towards his car. “See you at my place!”

Namjoon waves at the two younger men with a smirk on his face, but he can tell that they aren’t going to complain. They’re both on thin ice and are being punished for following them tonight, so they are going to do as they’re told.

Seokjin cackles just a tiny bit too gleefully when they pull out from the parking lot and see Taehyung and Jeongguk struggling to get a cab. He shows mercy by pulling over and telling them to hop in before he changes his mind.

Namjoon rolls his window down and sings along off-key to the radio at the top of his lungs with Seokjin as they drive back home.

  His fingers are tingling a little and his knees shake. Namjoon feels like he might just vomit, but he needs to knock on this door and he needs to get his wits together.

Namjoon takes a deep breath and knocks.

Jeongguk opens the door almost immediately, as if he was waiting behind it for Namjoon to knock. He’s wearing a shimmery black dress and Namjoon feels his heart splutter in his chest. They’re going on their first official date and Namjoon feels like he might go insane if he has to look at Jeongguk in that dress all night.

“You look really, really cute,” Namjoon manages to say between his wheezing breaths.

He’s completely thrown off-guard when Jeongguk drags him inside and attacks his lips. The door is being kicked closed behind Namjoon as the younger leads him towards his bedroom and Namjoon is overly excited.

They haven’t been intimate yet, but Namjoon has been prepared for a few weeks now just in case. Except that everything he prepared is back at his place, not in Jeongguk’s dorm room. But before he can really say anything, they’re in Jeongguk’s room, the door locked and Namjoon awkwardly sprawled out on Jeongguk’s bed.

Jeongguk is straddling his lap then and his lips are persistent against Namjoon’s and the elder feels like he’s swimming. Jeongguk is soft and warm and Namjoon is drunk off the feel of him. He really wants to bed the younger, but this is the night of their first date and Namjoon is going to take Jeongguk out for dinner no matter what. So he grips onto the younger man’s wrists and rolls them over so he’s looming over the younger who’s now pinned to the mattress. They’re both breathing heavily and Namjoon swallows, his throat feeling dry as he tries to speak.

“Baby, we’re going to dinner,” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk pouts and easily wiggles out of Namjoon’s grip on his wrists. “But I want you, hyung.”

“I know, baby, trust me I know.” Namjoon doesn’t mean to roll his hips down on Jeongguk’s erection, but it kind of, just, happens and the moan Jeongguk makes spikes a hot flash of arousal through Namjoon. “But I promised you a proper date and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“But, hyungー” Jeongguk whines.

Namjoon kisses him softly and rises from the bed. “No buts. We’re going to dinner and then we’re going to go back to my place afterward.”

Jeongguk sits up on his elbow and quirks a brow up in question. “What will we do at your place?”

“Well, I bought a new strap-on, more lube, and a box of condoms with our names on them,” Namjoon says with a straight face as he fixes his shirt. “And maybe we’ll be able to try them out if you behave and let me take you out on a proper date, Jeonggukkie.”

The younger man’s pupils dilate and he nods his head fervently before he gets up from his bed and excitedly takes Namjoon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Namjoon laughs and lets Jeongguk drag him towards the door where he has to stop and remind the younger that his semi is noticeable in the dress. Jeongguk blushes and Namjoon takes off his jacket so Jeongguk can hold it in front of him as they walk out into the dorm’s hallway and steadily make their way outside where Seokjin’s car awaits them. Seokjin let Namjoon borrow it for the night and is supposed to knock on the elder’s door as soon as they get to his place to return the keys. Namjoon isn’t sure he’ll get the chance to do that though since Taehyung is supposed to be over tonight and he knows that those two are loud when they get together. He shakes his head and pushes the thought away to open Jeongguk’s door for him and waits until his boyfriend is properly seated before he shuts his door. He quickly walks around to his side of the car and climbs in. Then they’re off and halfway through the ride, Jeongguk gives Namjoon his jacket back.

He doesn’t say anything, he does his best not to laugh, but Jeongguk still pouts once he catches sight of the amused smile on Namjoon’s face.

Neither of the two men say anything until they’re pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot and Namjoon is opening Jeongguk’s door. Jeongguk hesitates and Namjoon leans in to give the younger a peck on the lips.

“If anyone says anything, I will kick their ass. Don’t worry, baby. You look magnificent in that dress. Did Tae-ah make it for you?” Namjoon whispers.

Jeongguk smiles and takes the hand the elder gives him. He steps out of the car and Namjoon closes it behind him before he locks the sleek vehicle. Jeongguk stays close to Namjoon’s side as they walk towards the bright lights of the restaurant.

“Yeah, Tae said the material and shade really suited my skintone,” Jeongguk murmurs.

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Namjoon chuckles and then they’re inside and face-to-face with the maitre’d. “The Kims.”

Jeongguk is positively glowing by the time they’re led to their table near the back of the restaurant. Namjoon feels like he isn’t going to make it to dessert if Jeongguk doesn’t stop trying to play footsie with him under the table. Jeongguk just smirks and orders a dish that’s filled with phallic food and takes his time sucking on an array of things as they eat. Namjoon gulps and tries to focus on the fact that no one even looked twice when they saw Jeongguk in a dress.

Namjoon has asked before about whether Jeongguk may identify as a girl, but Jeongguk had told him that wasn’t the case at all. He just likes skirts and dresses and he likes being a boy too. Namjoon had nodded, he understood, and they hadn’t talked about it again. He has to admit, Jeongguk looks really, really handsome in his new dress as well so he tells the younger this and theyー

They end up skipping dessert.

  Jeongguk bounces as he flops onto Namjoon’s bed, the skirt of his dress is hiked up around his thighs and Namjoon’s shirt is unbuttoned as he climbs atop the younger.

Namjoon lets his lips press briefly against Jeongguk’s chapped ones before he’s taking off the rest of his shirt and slips out of his jeans as well. Jeongguk sits up to push Namjoon’s briefs off and looks up at the elder in question when he reaches for his binder. Namjoon nods and Jeongguk smiles before he peels it off the elder and lets his tongue stroke the pert, brown nipple of Namjoon’s right breast. Namjoon groans and brings the younger closer.

The mattress shifts under their weight as Jeongguk turns them over so that Namjoon’s head is resting on the pillows now. This is the first time that Namjoon has been naked in front of someone ever since he really became a man. This is also the first time that Namjoon has had sex in over two years.

There’s a feeling in his chest that engulfs him when Jeongguk stands to let the dress slide down his figure and Namjoon’s mouth is left watering. Jeongguk wears nothing underneath the shiny material and Namjoon isn’t sure how he didn’t notice that before.

Jeongguk’s naked body makes Namjoon’s mouth go dry. Namjoon is aware that the younger man exercises and weight lifts sometimes, when he has the time at least, but seeing the proof of it right in front of him makes Namjoon go weak in the knees. Jeongguk’s abdomen is toned and lined and all the elder can think about is licking it. Jeongguk’s body is lanky and muscular, but it's barely noticeable and Namjoon is a hundred percent certain that Jeongguk could pick him up and throw him clean across the room if he wanted to. Namjoon wants to mark up the V lines leading towards Jeongguk’s groin with tiny little love bites just to prove to anybody else who sees them that yes, Namjoon was there and Namjoon will be the only one there for a long time, thank you very much.

“Wow,” Namjoon lets out appreciatively.

Jeongguk smiles and slowly straddles Namjoon’s legs. “Wow yourself.”

And Namjoon, despite always being the one to be so collected, blushes like a schoolgirl and hides behind his hands. Jeongguk laughs and kisses his chin and forehead and whatever else he can reach before Namjoon is laughing too and his hands have fallen away from his face.

Their lips slot together with a strange squelching sound that Namjoon wants to laugh at, but is too busy drowning in his feelings for Jeongguk to really do so.

It scared him before. To let himself feel what he already knows. He likes Jeongguk more than he should, but it isn't one-sided and it's far from unbalanced. Jeongguk is right here with him. Not in front leading, or behind following Namjoon’s lead.

Jeongguk is beside him and over him and under him and all around.

They're matched and perfectly paired.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to let Jeongguk help him into the harness and put the strap-on correctly. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to focus on Jeongguk and the telltale signs his body is giving while Namjoon pleasures him. The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to lay there on his bed, naked, and let Jeongguk stare as much as he wants without a hint of self-loathing marring Namjoon’s thoughts.

The realization makes it easier for Namjoon to accept that he's in love and he isn't scared anymore.

After Namjoon’s been buckled into his harness properly, Jeongguk suckles on the toy, keeping eye contact with Namjoon as he does. Namjoon doesn't exactly feel it when Jeongguk’s mouth sinks lower on the toy, but Namjoon does feel it in a strange way. It's the same way that someone is aware of when the soles on the bottom of their shoes are skimming across pavement or grass or sand or hard packed dirt and even gravel. It's the same way that someone is able to tell when their hair is caught on something or when they feel the slightest touch of a fingertip caress the tips of their strands. It isn't any different, Namjoon thinks, but the effect is. The effect is Namjoon left gaping as Jeongguk takes pleasure in deepthroating Namjoon’s strap-on.

He takes his time stretching Jeongguk open once the younger has let the strap-on slip from his mouth. Jeongguk doesn't complain. He merely whines and groans and bucks his hips downwards to meet the crook of Namjoon’s fingers scissoring him and pressing against the spot that makes Jeongguk keen the most. It's awkward doing it while Namjoon lies flat on his back, but Jeongguk is flexible enough for it to be doable. Jeongguk is fucking himself on three of Namjoon’s fingers and Namjoon doesn't think he's ever been this aroused before in his life.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk groans. “Hyung, Iー”

Namjoon stills his fingers and stares at the younger who’s still moving, still riding Namjoon’s digits. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” Namjoon whispers.

When Jeongguk smiles, it's like the dawn has risen over a new day and Namjoon can’t quite catch his breath. There's a glowing flush spreading across Jeongguk’s cheeks too. Namjoon can only stare as the younger rolls a condom on him, slicks him up with a bit more lube and slowly lowers himself atop the toy.

Namjoon cries out when Jeongguk leans down and bites his nipple. It sends a rush of arousal and slight pain through his system and then he feels the pressure of the younger’s weight on his hips and he knows that Jeongguk is moving. Namjoon should help, he should put some effort into this as well, but all he can really do is wiggle underneath Jeongguk. Jeongguk’s face is a light pink and covered in a barely there sheen of sweat and Namjoon thinks he looks gorgeous.

“H-hyung.”

“Hm?” Namjoon hums.

Jeongguk bites his lip and Namjoon takes it upon himself to kiss the younger’s lip free. Jeongguk blushes and gyrates his hips back onto the toy, letting out a moan that sets Namjoon’s skin on fire.

“C-Can I eat you out once I come?”

Namjoon feels his heart stop beating. Jeongguk stares at him, his hips stilling once he catches sight of the look on the elder’s face.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hears himself speak.

“Did you hear me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“Yes,” Namjoon breathes.

Jeongguk bites his lip and starts to move his hips again. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jeongguk sighs, relieved, and pulls his knees up so that his hands are clamping down on Namjoon’s thighs now. He bounces on the toy and Namjoon groans as Jeongguk’s weight lands on him.

“Oh, fuck,” Namjoon groans when Jeongguk picks up his rhythm and keens.

It comes as a shock to Namjoon when Jeongguk moans, “Hyung, your cock feels s-so good.”

Namjoon doesn’t realize that he’s pulling the younger man down to grip his neck and throw an arm over his back until Jeongguk cries out. Namjoon has him pinned to his chest as his hips begin to move and pick up speed. He vaguely feels Jeongguk’s fingernails running across his shoulders, but Namjoon is too focused on finding the younger man’s prostate to really care. He pulls Jeongguk up a bit by the knees and pushes his way into the younger harshly, smiling when Jeongguk curses above him.

He's found Jeongguk’s prostate.

There’s sweat beading on his face as Namjoon continues to push his hips into Jeongguk, but it’s worth it when Jeongguk murmurs, “I’m gonna come, hyung.”

Namjoon keeps his pace and slows when Jeongguk cries out again, tears forming in his eyes, as his orgasm blows over him at full force. Jeongguk spurts out hot, white liquid in between their chests and Namjoon does his best to milk the younger through his orgasm.

Before Namjoon can catch his breath, Jeongguk is unbuckling the strap-on and lowering himself until he’s at eye-level with Namjoon’s crotch.

“Jeongguk-ah, you don’tー” Namjoon begins.

“I know,” Jeongguk interrupts before he smiles up at Namjoon and kisses his inner thigh. “But I want to. It’s only fair that we both get off anyways. So can I, please?”

Namjoon returns the grin and nods his head. “Alright.”

That’s all it takes for Jeongguk to dive right in and run his tongue from Namjoon’s taint up to his clitoris. Namjoon’s hips buck and he groans out as the younger uses his tongue to circle around Namjoon’s clitoris with sharp little movements, doing his best to touch where Namjoon wants him to. Namjoon’s skin feels on fire and watching Jeongguk fuck himself on the toy had been arousing enough that he could feel the sharp pain of his arousal, but it’s touching how persistent Jeongguk is on pleasuring Namjoon as well. He’s never had a partner like Jeongguk before and he hopes that he’ll never have to find a new one as well.

Jeongguk isn’t as inexperienced as Namjoon thought. He uses the rough pads of his fingertips to stimulate the elder and lathes his tongue where Namjoon is sensitive the most, grabbing hold of the lube that Namjoon hands to him soon after. Namjoon is taken aback at how skilled Jeongguk is and Jeongguk smirks up at him with a gleam in his eyes as he dribbles lubricant into his palm and blows on it to heat it up before he runs his hands all over Namjoon to drive him even closer to his own oncoming orgasm.

“Mm,” Jeongguk hums once he presses the flat of his tongue to Namjoon's crotch again. “You taste amazing, hyung.”

Namjoon grips the younger’s hair and pulls him closer to his groin, his toes curling with pleasure as Jeongguk continues with his ministrations. He cries out and feels his hips begin to move to match Jeongguk’s movements, feeling as if he's going crazy, and pretty soon Namjoon's orgasm crashes over him like waves beating upon the shore.

It’s intense and it’s hot and Namjoon doesn’t really know what’s going on because Jeongguk is still toying at his folds where the elder is considerably dripping a bit with the lube from before.

Then it’s over and Jeongguk is slowly pushing them into the shower where they help each other clean up and Namjoon props himself against the shower wall because his knees are still shaking.

Jeongguk laughs and kisses him and Namjoon kisses him right back.

  By the time that Namjoon is graduating, he and Jeongguk have been together for almost four months.

Namjoon should probably be worrying about whether his relationship with the younger will last now that they don’t attend the same university anymore, but he doesn’t. Namjoon’s been offered a position as a teacher’s aide for the English department and after two years of experience, he can try aiming for a teaching position as a Linguistics professor. It’s rare for a student to be taken on so suddenly, Namjoon knows that, but he also knows that the school appreciates his work and is heavily considering his potential enough that they’re willing to forgo all the rigorous requirements he should have fulfilled before becoming a professor. Jeongguk congratulates Namjoon on his achievement and they go out to celebrate with the others.

Seokjin and Taehyung are attached at the hip, in the midst of the whirlwind of their relationship. Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok act like an old married couple. Jeongguk grips Namjoon’s knee underneath the table and Namjoon is really glad to have these people by his side.

Everyone is doing well. Seokjin is working on getting a loan for the theater he wants to open up downtown and Yoongi’s songs have been picked up by a record label so he now works as a songwriter and producer. Hoseok is already making plans for the dance studio he wants to open up once he graduates from the university next year and a year after that, Jimin will join him. Taehyung’s designs have been noticed by one of his role models and his parents are finally going to let him drop out of school so he can really chase his dreams. Taehyung assures them all that he’s going to take his classes online though so he can at least have his degree. And Jeongguk, he plans to join Seokjin’s theater and Hoseok’s dance studio once he graduates in two years time.

Namjoon is glad they all have good things going for them and that they all have a plan about what they’re going to do with their lives.

That joy seems to pale in comparison to the joy of Namjoon realizing that Jeongguk has been slowly moving in over their few months spent together.

Namjoon hadn’t realized that Jeongguk’s red toothbrush or his favorite brands of shampoos and conditioners are in the bathroom. He’d barely noticed that Jeongguk’s shoes seem to clutter up his front door or that some of Jeongguk’s favorite things to eat are hidden away behind foods that Namjoon would never even dream of touching in the cupboards, pantry, and fridge. There’s more of Jeongguk’s clothes in Namjoon’s drawers and his closet and Jeongguk even washes both their clothes once laundry day comes around. The sweet old lady that lives next door to Namjoon is on a first-name basis with Jeongguk and often bakes him cookies that are honestly not half-bad.

Jeongguk spends more time over at Namjoon’s place than he does at the apartment he and Taehyung always share over the holidays, that Namjoon just got used to it.

He got used to waking up beside the younger man most mornings, sometimes naked, but usually not. He got used to brushing his teeth alongside Jeongguk when they get ready for the day and when they get ready for bed. He got used to seeing Jeongguk in his kitchen and on the couch watching a movie and lying on his stomach on the floor as they play a board game, or when they slept on the floor three nights in a row because of finals, or when they’re both reading. It was just natural to Namjoon when he came home late one night and found Jeongguk already asleep in bed, a bit of drool slobbering down from the corner of his mouth.

Namjoon got used to Jeongguk being in his space. It didn’t feel wrong anymore and it didn’t make the elder feel suffocated either.

It’s easy for him to shove a copy of the key to the apartment into Jeongguk’s hand on one summer morning. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word. He merely smiles and gives Namjoon a peck on the cheek before he strings the key onto his Iron Man lanyard.

Namjoon smiles and holds him after that.

He holds Jeongguk close for a long, long time.

[the-metal-reaper]

An Eye for an Eye - Chapter 4

What’s up bitches, I’m back. And I WILL have a consistent posting schedule now, I promise. Chapter 5 of this beauty will be up Friday the 4th, and for the next couple of weeks there will be actual art!! (Look forward to October, folks, big things are happening).

Anyway, here’s An Eye for an Eye: Chapter 4!

---

The warm glow of the streetlight illuminates Michael, casting dark shadows that make him look even less human. If there was anyone else out this late at night, he would surely give them nightmares. Michael’s footsteps echo through the empty streets. He stops in front of Fazbears and fumbles around in his pocket for the key. The metal ring is cold in his grip. 

Michael says, “Are you ready?” as he pulls open the door to face the four tall animatronics staring down at him. Their eyes are dim, flickering candles checking again and again to make sure that Michael is really there, that he’s really going to give them what they want. 

“Yes,” Freddy steps aside and ushers Michael into the dining area, where a toolbox is waiting for him. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all.” Michael lies. He has no clue how closely connected the children’s souls and their respective robots are, and can only hope that his lie isn’t exposed the moment he puts a wrench to one of the animatronics. Sitting in the booth seat closest to the door, Michael opens the rusty toolbox and takes a wrench out from the bottom drawer. 

Foxy sits down next to him and glances at the clock on the wall. “Where’s the night guard? It’s after midnight.”

Removing Foxy’s arm from the rest of the animatronic, Michael chuckles, “Right here. Fritz Smith, at your service.” He winks, much to the amusement of everyone in the room. 

“You used my name!” Foxy’s smile widens, reminiscent of the gap-toothed smile that Fritz always wore.

The beginnings of a grin bud on Michael’s face. “It is quite a good name.” Michael detaches Foxy’s head, and Fritz, pale skin radiating light, floats out.

“Look at me! Look! I’m—” Fritz cuts himself off when Michael places a finger of warning over his lips, and mouths, he’ll hear you. To vent his excitement, Fritz instead bounces around the room.

Michael quickly removes Chica and Bonnie’s heads, releasing Suzy and Jeremy from their robotic caskets. Gleefully, they spin in circles and figure-eights above the table. Freddy sits down in front of him, and Michael tries to remove his head, but one of the bolts in his neck is jammed. Michael twists the bolt with all of his strength, nearly snapping the wrench, but still no dice. 

The double doors of the Fazbear restaurant fly open, smacking the walls inside with a metallic clang. “Michael? What are you doing?” Charlie whispers, eyes wide with fear and horror that Michael cannot place. 

“I’m—” Before Michael can finish, Fritz squeals.

“Charlie, look!” Fritz floats over behind Charlie, gesturing at himself wildly. “I look like me!”

Her gaze brightens considerably. “You look amazing, Fritz.” Then, Charlie turns to Michael, her usual cheerful smile back on her face, and whispers, “You’re… helping them?”

“We’re helping him. We’re going to give William what he deserves.” Freddy corrects.

Charlie swallows, hard, and her blood runs cold again. “Gabriel, can you— can you go wait with the others for a minute?”

“Michael has to remove my head first.” 

With quick, jerky movements, Charlie snatches the wrench from Michael’s hands, detaches a hinge from the other side of Freddy’s neck, and yanks out the jammed bolt. Gabriel, finally free, joins his fellow spirits in the opposite corner, where they chatter quietly.

“What are you doing?” Charlie hisses, grabbing Michael by the wrist. 

“I need your help, Lee.” 

Her voice hardens. “Answer the question.”

“They’re going to help me take care of William.”

“Mike, you can’t do this. Especially not with the kids.”

“Why not? He more than deserves it.”

“They’re children. You can’t make them kill someone.”

“He won’t die.”

Charlie falls silent.

“And I mean, look at what he did to your dad. Henry just wanted to help him. Imagine what he’ll do to us.”

After stuttering a few words, Charlie turns away from Michael, turning this plan over and over in her head.

“Besides,” Taking slight advantage of his friend’s turmoil, Michael puts an arm around Charlie and continues, “I’ll be right in the doorway of the storage room the entire time. Nothing will happen to you or the children.”

Ignoring the increasingly insistent voice in her head telling her that no, this was an awful idea, Charlie murmurs, “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Lee. I promise that you won’t regret this.” Michael pulls her to her feet and leads Charlie down the hallway, where her fellow phantoms are lurking. “Now, everyone, you’re not aiming to kill him. Just terrify him as much as you can.” His voice falls to a whisper, and Michael looks increasingly uncomfortable the closer he gets to the door.

“You guys don’t need to worry. I’ll do the talking.” Charlie naturally takes the lead role and helps to lower the nervous energy crowding the hallway. A litany of skittish thoughts too fast to decipher run through her head, and she glances back at Michael, but his stony face does little to calm her nerves. 

Charlie opens the door slowly, but still fast enough that it creaks. From inside the storage room, William jumps at the noise, wide eyes darting around the room, trying to locate the source of sound in an otherwise silent room. He moves quickly to shut the door, revealing the yellow springlock suit that he has been tinkering with. Charlie’s voice catches in her throat as she stares down her killer for the first time in fifteen years. She can tell that the rest of the spirits share in her terror. Even Michael, lingering at the end of the hallway in case William decides to bolt, feels a slight twinge of nerves as his only remaining friends disappear from sight.

With shaking hands placed carefully behind her back as to not reveal her fear, Charlie approaches William from behind. “Afton,” she says, voice strengthened with resolve. 

William practically leaps out of his skin. He turns on his heel to stare down at his victims, and Charlie sees the war between terror and anger playing out in his eyes. “You—how are you here?”

“You need to atone for your crimes.” Desperately grasping at straws, Charlie tries to think of what Michael would say to him. “Pay for all of the horrible misdeeds you’ve done.”

William takes a few steps back. “No! Not yet! I’m so close! I just need more—”

“You’re out of time.”

“You don’t understand!” His voice rises to a feverish pitch. “I’m going to be with her! I have to be with her!”

Charlie swallows hard. She’s becoming wrapped up in the act. “No. You’re going to stay here, alone and outnumbered. Just like you deserve. Just like you left us.” With a final step, the spirits have him pinned against the wall. William turns and bolts across the room. Not towards the door, like Charlie was expecting, but towards a yellow springlock suit laying limply in the corner. He has it on in less than a minute. 

The children take a few stumbling steps back. That was no longer just a monstrous man standing in front of them, it was the monster that had taken their lives, that had haunted every corner of the waking nightmare they had lived in for the past ten years. Sensing the sheer terror radiating from his best friend, Michael plants himself in the doorway. He doesn’t doubt that Charlie has everything under control, but he doesn’t trust William to not do something completely insane.

Now in his armor, William’s mask of fear turns to a hideous snarl. His gaze turns to Michael, and his snarl deepens. “I won’t be the one dying here tonight.” 

Charlie begins to growl, “Stay away from—”

A loud snap, followed by a gurgling, guttural scream cuts her off.  In front of her, William crumples like a rag doll, his wretched screams slightly muffled by the mask of the suit. 

Still in the doorway, Michael stands silently, his stony expression twisting into a grin. Not a genuine smile (a rare yet comforting sight from him), but something more sinister. Something that made a piece of himself buried under miles and miles of scar tissue twinge with regret. Like father, like son. The monstrous smile shatters as soon as the thought crosses his mind, and Michael snaps back to reality. He blinks a few times, and the idea sinks back down out of sight once again.

William is kneeling in a pool of his own blood, his agony-filled screams echoing through the room. Charlie careens away from him in horror, accidentally hitting into Michael as she falls. He catches Charlie right as her hair brushes the floor, and realizes that she’s quivering from head to toe. 

“They’re gone… I don’t know where they went.” Following her gaze to the empty space where Gabriel, Jeremy, Suzy, and Fritz used to occupy, Michael realizes what Charlie’s murmuring about. 

Michael sighs, “They must’ve moved on.” They both stare at the floor for a minute, worry clouding their minds, but ragged breathing from the corner of the room helps Michael pull himself together. “Just go wait outside, Lee, alright? I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“No!” Charlie nearly screams, “I can’t leave you alone with…” 

A menacing chuckle rings out from the corner of the room. Michael pulls Charlie behind him, even though William doesn’t move from his crumpled position. “I’m trapped in my own skin, slowly dying. Sound familiar, Michael?” His voice is grating and strained.

“Why did you cause all this? All this pain and suffering; what’s the point?” Charlie whispers, eyes still bloodshot with old tears.

William cocks his head to the right. “I didn’t cause this mess. That was all your friend over there.”

“You’re insane.” Taking a step forward, Michael spits, “You can’t possibly think all this is my fault. Elizabeth, Mother, Charlie, Gabriel, Jeremy, Suzy, Fritz, even Henry and I, to some degree, our lives were decimated because of you.”

“You know what they say: like father, like son.” William’s grin is menacing now, with no trace of his usual hysteria.

“I’m nothing like you. You’re a delusional monster who kills for fun.” Michael stares a hole through William, blocking out the nagging knowledge that William was correct, and it was only a matter of time before Charlie realized that too.

“Well, the heroic justice-seeking vigilantes don’t usually send their moral compasses to murder the big bad in cold blood, do they?”

“You son of a—”

Suddenly, Michael feels a hand grab the back of his coat and drag him out of the room. Michael turns, ready to face down any ally that William may have brought with him, but instead, he finds Henry staring up at him.

Henry’s voice is quiet and cold. “What are you doing? Why did I hear—” When Henry’s eyes settle on the bloody, mangled mess he once called his friend, he freezes. “Oh—oh my lord.”

“Henry…” William whispers weakly. 

Henry doesn’t respond. 

“Please, help me.”

As he embraces a sobbing Charlie, Michael shoots Henry a look of warning. 

“You know Michael can’t be trusted. Look at what he did to me, and I’m his father.”

Michael desperately wants to snap at William, to hit him, to do something, but doing anything rash would prove William’s point.

“He doesn’t have a soul, Henry. He doesn’t actually care about you or Charlotte. You have to stop him now, before he hurts her.”

That’s it. Michael moves forward to stop William’s lies, but feeling the rise and fall of Charlie’s chest on his hip sharpens Michael’s thoughts. He needs to be smart about this.  

As Michael takes a deep breath, a spiteful smile settles on his face. “The  fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves.” 

Henry turns back to Michael, smiling gratefully at him. He moves to close the door to the storage room, locking William inside. 

“Henry, wait, please...” William’s shaking hand stretched towards the door suddenly goes limp, and his head droops. Shakily, Henry closes the door with a  resounding bang and clicks the lock shut.  

Henry turns to Michael and Charlie. “What happened to everyone else?” 

“They…” Charlie says quickly, avoiding eye contact with both Michael and  Henry, “They moved on, to the afterlife.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Charlie nods politely, a false smile plastered on her face. She pulls closer to Michael’s elbow, which she had snaked her arms around after Henry had shut the door.  

“I think we’re going to go home,” Michael says, eyes on Charlie. “get some  rest.” 

“I’m going to call Fazbear Headquarters and report a springlock failure.  They deal with those all the time.” Sighing, Henry toys with his new prosthetic hand. It’s not yet finished; the fingers twitched without intent, and the cold steel was exposed for all the world to see.  

“Goodnight, Henry. Will we be seeing you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you.” Henry’s tone had a note of melancholy as he looks one last time at his daughter before turning and walking away toward the office. 

Michael leads Charlie towards the door. “Are you alright?” 

“I killed him, Mike.” Tears begin to drip down her face again. “I’m a  murderer.” 

“Hey.” 

The edge in Michael’s voice makes Charlie look up. 

“Do you remember what happened to Luke?” Michael says. 

Luke. Michael’s little brother had been a quiet kid, and always looked up to Charlie as the big sister he never had. Charlie had died before Luke’s passing, so she didn’t know the details, but she knew that Michael blamed himself for it. That he played a large part in Luke’s death. “I remember.” 

“Does his death make me a killer?” 

“Of—of course not!”

“Then that means that you aren’t a killer either.” 

“I… guess.” Charlie leans her head on Michael’s shoulder and smiles up at him. The smile is almost genuine. “Thanks, Mike.”

---

Previous | Next | Where it all began

[moviegroovies]

brad majors: a character study

ok i think it probably says something when the first time i tried to make this post the power to my entire house went out, wiping my progress and turning off my dvd player, but fuck if i’m gonna let prognostic signs stop me from being on my bullshit. 

the point is: y’all ever devote a few hours worth of time and effort to making something that nobody is ever, ever gonna read? if you do, then we here at moovie groovies dot tumblr dot com feel sorry for you, although naturally we can’t relate. no, you don’t need to check how many notes we get on these stupid posts. don’t worry about that. ANYWAY

sometimes you just wake up and, despite knowing that your classes start up again in less than a week, you just have to spend some of the precious few hours you have left on deconstructing everyone’s favorite asshole’s fragile, fragile psyche. and by you, i mean me. and by sometimes, i mean now. 

let’s go! 

so, i’m gonna start with the scene in front of the church (let’s start at the very beginning, the beginning’s a good place to start...). brad’s introduction is the first time we meet any of the major characters of the film (unless you count patricia quinn’s lips and richard o’brien’s voice as an intro to magenta and riff), and it sort of sets him up as our “protagonist,” a role he... doesn’t quite maintain for the duration of the film. obviously, the second frankie shows up, he’s the main event, babey, but even for our “hero” and “heroine,” brad, who seems to be the main focus for the first act, gets less on-screen development than his female counterpart. plus, janet’s solo song wasn’t cut. sorry brad ): 

regardless, i like the church scene quite a bit in terms of brad's character. the movie isn’t entirely huge on the character development kind of thing, so you have to take it where you can get it, but imo, introducing brad with ralph as a counterpart/sort of foil was a good choice, because it lets us compare our hero with what i’m just going to assume is the standard for the society he’s living in. we jump in: the first conversation we see in the whole movie is between brad and ralph, who we learn is a friend of his from high school. it seems likely that brad and ralph aren’t as close as, perhaps, betty and janet are (this is just my speculation, but if you look at the other wedding guests, there’s at least one other girl who’s wearing the purple dress that janet is in, which could be the bridesmaid’s dress, while i don’t see anyone else wearing brad’s little outfit, making him not one of the groomsmen), but brad initiates the conversation, struck by social norms, if absolutely nothing else, in the need to be polite. their conversation seems awkward (asshole boxing!), but more so for brad than ralph, who just steamrolls on totally oblivious to how fake brad’s laugh is. brad comes off as the more thoughtful, conservative one of the two--he’s kind of cringing under his smile at the conversation, and everything he says is sort of.... stiff. also, did you notice his face when ralph says the only reason he showed up to the science class was because he was trying to get in good with betty? brad, who actually likes science, has sort of a blank/disappointed look while he announces this, which he turns to an awkward “ha ha ha” laugh. when betty throws her bouquet and janet catches it, ralph tells brad it could be his turn next, which he seems to somewhat brush off (”who knows?”), but once ralph leaves, he’s definitely caught up in thought again, perhaps contemplating the timing of his proposal (who the fuck brings a ring to someone else’s wedding??). 

side note about that scene: both betty’s dress and ralph’s suit are white, which, at a wedding, symbolizes virginal purity. even the lewd message on the car (”wait til tonite--she got hers, now he’ll get his”) implies that both betty and ralph have been waiting until their wedding night to, y’know, consummate their relationship, which brad and janet initially parallel, but...

the conversation then switches to brad and janet, and their first interaction together is kind of,,, tense. janet is gushing about the wedding, but once again, matter-of-fact brad majors is kind of awkward, and his comments are all very forced. “everyone knows that betty’s a wonderful little cook.” “ralph himself, he’ll be in line for a promotion in a year or two!” both of these come off as commentary on what he thinks people are supposed to be thinking about--brad, at this point, is a man who has a framework of what life should be (domestic wife, upward movement at a respectable job, white wedding) and who is doing his absolute best to fill his role in all of that. his stoicism even fits that, because, as we’ll see in a moment, he does have real, giddy emotions around janet--he’s just doing his best to keep them down until the very moment of his proposal.

and that brings me to: dammit janet! it’s really very cute, and kind of the closest thing to a brad-centric song we get if you’re watching a version that doesn’t have once in a while which.... you probably are. brad gets flustered while he just tries to start the proposal, and compare his wide, shameless smiles at janet throughout this song with the way he kind of grimace smiles at ralph beforehand. he’s in love! and you know he’s in love, because he says it outright six times over the course of the song, while janet only explicitly says it once. maybe he just got luckier with the rhymes (dammit janet, i love you is the same syllables as brad, i’m mad, for you too), but tbh i think it’s sort of telling--brad’s playing the emotionally stunted prototype of the american man, but deep down he’s deeply in love and thinks his girlfriend is the most special person in the world. meanwhile, janet clearly cares for brad, but i think what she’s really in love with is the idea of marriage (she’s so enamored with betty monroe’s transition to mrs. ralph haphshatt, and in the scene beforehand she’s definitely anticipating brad’s proposal and waiting expectantly for it)--but this is a brad character analysis, so i’m going to try to stick to his side of things. he beams at her while he fumbles through the first bit (“hey, janet, i’ve got something to say”), and has to lean back on a tombstone once he gets through it. i love him! i love how he drops his composure and starts jumping and running around (backward!). also, peep that bit where janet leans in for a kiss and he pulls away at the last minute... telling? maybe not, he does kiss her in a moment. 

the most excited janet seems throughout the duration of the song is when he pulls out the ring. in his excitement, brad fumbles trying to put it on her, and falls over while spelling her name and telling her how much he loves her--meanwhile, she leaves him on the church steps while she goes inside to admire it. all of brad’s lyrics in the song have been about their courtship and how much he loves her, while hers are about how her ring is better than the one her friend got, and how it’s good that he’s already done the proper thing and met her parents. this isn’t janet hate, really, but i think the comparison is interesting--brad was introduced with somewhat awkwardly stunted emotions, but he’s the more open, idealistic one of them when it comes to romantic feelings. janet, meanwhile, knows exactly what she wants--but maybe it doesn’t matter so much who gives it to her, as long as she ends up in that dress she’s built up so well in her head. basically: he wants to plan their future, she wants to plan their wedding. 

that theme is showcased pretty well in this exchange toward the end of the song: janet leads with her “brad, i’m mad,” bit, which he eagerly answers with “i love you too,” though janet has yet to say that she loves him. also, i wish i had screenshots, but if you watch that scene, he’s looking adoringly at her, while she’s looking adoringly at the ring. the song is about different things for the two of them.

it’s pretty cute to me that brad’s immediate first thought upon getting engaged is not that they need to announce it to their family, or their friends (like betty and ralph) of similar age, but their tutor. also, look at them when he says this--i think that maybe the two of them were on different pages when saying “there’s one thing left to do.” janet probably did want to tell family and friends, because she’s finally getting her dream, she’s getting married, she has a beautiful ring, and she wants to tell people! brad wants to tell one person, because he thinks his whole relationship is owed to his teacher, whom he admired, and he wants to share his happiness with dr. scott. we learn later that the two of them had been working together on scientific pursuits even after dr. scott was his teacher in high school, which i like for brad. i love his devotion to science! i don’t love his devotion to dr. scott, because he’s the real villain of the movie, but brad doesn’t know that. i don’t blame him.

anyhow.

i bring all that up because janet looks a little disappointed when he starts talking about dr. scott, doesn’t she? maybe i’m totally reading too much into it for the sake of my theory, but she looks sort of blank until “made me give you the eye and then panic,” where she dutifully giggles and looks down at the ground. 

they do kiss at the end of the song, but it’s close mouthed and brief, and the screen cuts away to riff raff, magenta, and columbia (or their actors playing bit parts, at the very least) for most of it. this is probably more about the stand up american kid’s sexual repression than lack of attraction, if we’re being honest. i’m not saying at any part of this that brad wasn’t in love with janet. the two of them, at that point in the movie, are very dutifully filling roles they think they should be filling, and that means they’re being the perfect distant WASP couple. no impure thoughts until the wedding night. and so forth.

next up: the police statements. i actually hadn’t read them until just now, which marks the two hour mark of me writing this analysis... and i’m about 15 minutes into the movie. funny how that happens, right? don’t worry, i’ll have less to go on soon so i can shut up. until then, though: brad’s police statement is a fun ride because the whole thing is written like his first stilted conversation with ralph. also, it reveals his name is bradley j majors. what’s the j for? that’s for you to decide. he introduces himself and mentions that janet is still his fiancee (which is backed by janet’s police statement), and explains that everything started at ralph and betty’s wedding. he goes into some backstory with dr. scott’s class, and gives this line in relation to his first thought about janet: “she’s just the little help and support I’m going to need throughout my life.” god, brad, that was straight of you. it’s perfectly in character (fitting his comment re: betty that she’s a “wonderful little cook;” he’s thinking about women in a supportive, domestic role, and not so much as people, although his actions when janet are actually around make him a little less of an asshole about it), but it makes me want to slap him a little. at the same time, in the context of him having a perfected ideal in his head and trying to stick through it, that’s just about love at first sight for him. i think it might just be that janet is in love with the idea of marriage, and brad is in love with the idea of janet. he thinks he’s found the perfect woman to round out his fantasy american home life. she’ll give him support, and cook his meals, and pop out their 2.5 kids. meanwhile she’ll get to have her wedding and be a nice little homemaker, and if that’s not exactly what she wants, well, it’s what she seems to think she wants now. 

both brad and janet’s police statements are funny because you can see them projecting their thoughts and actions on each other while changing the occurrences of the story. i’ll scatter references to the stuff that happens after along with my commentary on the stuff themselves, but brad says that janet “got sort of excited and kind of did a bit of a hop and a skip – she gets a bit carried away when she’s excited – and skipped into the church.” yeah, brad. janet was the one who was carried away. he mentions that he should have noticed that there was a funeral going on while they were in the church (janet doesn’t comment on that), and that he would have noticed, had he “been so confused by her saying yes.” brad. darling. she was saying yes in her eyes before you even pulled out the ring. in her police statement, she says she “thought he’d never get around to it,” but that she “couldn’t hint to him. but anyway he did it.” janet’s been trying to get him to propose probably since they graduated high school. brad says that “ralph and betty got engaged and then married before [he] had the nerve to ask Janet if she would kinda get married to [him]. You know what it’s like ? You don’t like to take these things on until you’re sure.”

side note: i like his little “kinda get married.” he does that a lot in this--kinda, sort of. i think it’s his way of downplaying his emotions and what he wants. it’s sad, but it shows a lot about him, i think.

his full explanation for not noticing the funeral until he thinks back on it later is that he and janet “kissed, and [he] felt so hot and cold that [he] just didn’t notice.” once again, i say brad. DARLING. i love you. you are so so emotionally stunted.

their next scene is the car, driving to dr. scott’s house. i know i take the opportunity to wax poetic about my great love for brad majors just about every other line, but i LOVE how he’s got nixon’s resignation speech taped and playing on the way there. it’s such a funny little detail, and also it begs some questions in my mind--does he like listening to it out of some kind of respect for nixon? (i ask this mostly because the way nixon presents the speech is reminiscent of brad’s early dialogue/his police report) or does he just like hearing the bastard step down? (more likely, since brad would probably find unamerican actions quite heinous, and regard the whole watergate scandal as entirely treasonous) either way, it shows a trait i just want to call attention to: brad is a NERDDDD. i love him.

janet seems much more casual and chatty in this scene than he does. brad’s a man on a mission, or maybe his persona just doesn’t allow room for unnecessary chatter. either way, it makes for an awkwardly quiet car ride. janet tries to break the silence, first by offering him chocolate (this is also part of her seeming younger than him, though if they were in the same high school class i suppose they really can’t be), then by commenting on the motorcyclists. brad takes this opportunity to show his disdain for their “type,” probably meaning rebels, junkies, and general counterculturalists. oh, brad. you have no idea what you’re in for here, do you?

not that relevant, but i find it funny that while janet recalls that brad told her to wait in the car (which she uses to bring up the fact that she “wasn’t going to risk losing him if there was a sophisticated, seductive woman in the castle,” a comment which i find more indicative of her devotion to her wedding than her devotion to brad), brad describes leaving together as a joint decision. maybe it’s just not that important to him, maybe his ego smarts a little from her brushing off his attempt at protecting her, maybe he just wants to portray all their decisions as a joint effort. man and wife. awwww.

his actions in this scene are mostly focused on his protective element. he does the “mom hand” across janet when they first get the blowout, and then tries to convince her to stay while he wanders off into the darkness alone (which, let’s be real brad, would have resulted in a man door hand hook car door kind of thing, wouldn’t it have?). basically this scene is full proof that brad majors would 100% be “white dad in a horror movie” material if he wasn’t changed by the experience, which he seems not to have been, if the police statement is anything to go off. so, they both get out of the car. part of me likes to think about what it would be like if brad really had gone in alone, but at the same time, the au necessitates that janet be alone in that car all. fucking. night. so.

i don’t have any commentary on him in “over at the frankenstein place,” particularly, except that he’s a dork who doesn’t take off his glasses in the rain. seriously, brad, you have to be completely blind at this point. what the hell are you doing.

unrelated side note: amanda seyfreid should have played janet in the 2016 remake, i always think that susan looks a little bit like her in this scene. plus i just... didn’t like victoria justice in the role. whatever.

brad kind of ignores janet’s worry and fear from that point on for a while. on one hand, asshole! but on the other hand, like, why go all the way to the castle just to turn back at the door? maybe because castles don’t have phones, but he doesn’t know that yet. 

brad falls in to introducing janet as “my fiancee janet weiss” very quickly. in my heart, i’m going to say that this is because he’s been doing it for a while in his head. brad and janet seem a little uncomfortable with riff raff, but brad reassures janet it’s just a weird hunting lodge, and they go inside, still holding out hope that they might use a phone here before the night is over. oh, brad’n’janet. if only you knew. magenta (who both brad and janet call “madge” in their police reports) slides down the banister, and they get a little startled. both of them find this important enough to note in their police statements, with brad commenting that her maid’s outfit “somehow didn’t look right;” in fact, he felt “a bit embarrassed by it actually.” i think this is another instance of him downplaying every emotion/feeling he reports on. janet, meanwhile, just comments that her dress had lost some buttons, which i feel goes along with a common theme in her report--brad’s sexually frustrated, janet judges other women. it goes along with pitting herself against betty (”it’s nicer than betty monroe had!”); janet comments that the wedding was perfect, except betty’s train should have been longer. just little details like that. 

next: the time warp! janet Does Not Like the time warp. she faints twice, and another time right before sweet transvestite. brad is initially as startled and disturbed (?) as she is, but by the time columbia’s verse is over, he’s smiling and he seems sort of into it--bobbing his head and so forth. janet’s the one who tugs on his shirt and tries to lead him out. interestingly, in her police statement, she switches the blame for their inching out of the room and puts it on brad--“i would have quite liked to see the dance right through but brad insisted we leave and he’s so strong and brave.” brad, again, presents this as a joint decision he and janet had: “janet and i backed out of the room.” at this point, i really am just thinking that he wants to believe that he and janet are unified in their decisions, maybe as a kind of mental block to the shit they’ve been through. it’s cute. he still loves her quite a bit. 

oh, before i go on. i want to pull your attention to this bit from the police statement: “now, this bit is going to be a bit hard to believe but you’ve gotta believe i’m telling the truth. I mean I had a very upright honest christian upbringing and I don’t lie about anything. no sir. i never lied to my mother about whether I’d cleaned behind my ears or not.” 

i don’t like, have anything in particular to say about it. i just love him.

so, the time warp ends. janet urges brad to say something; apparently, him asking the transylvannians if they know how to madison isn’t the something she wanted him to say. that’s one of my favorite brad lines, honestly. it also proves that brad’s a lot more comfortable here than janet is--for now, at least. he defends the strangers’ rights to act strange by suggesting that they’re foreigners with different ways from their own, and seems to be a bit irritated by the fact that janet’s reacting so harshly (”get a grip on yourself, janet!”). his thought process at this point is probably that she’s behaving like a hysterical woman, while he’s a paragon of rationality. funny how those roles kind of switch by the end, no? right now, though, it’s still brad’s turn with the calm juice, so janet faints again when the elevator comes down--brad, to her right, says in his police report that he “was about to get angry with her” for screaming. harsh much, brad? 

these next parts are going to be hard to analyze because watching brad when frank is on the screen is... hard. i’m a man of simple tastes; i see tim curry in drag, and i watch him. ah, the things i’ll do for a completely pointless character study. 

anyway, frank’s first appearance has brad kind of stammering. frankie is going through the “how do you do’s,” and brad is just standing there, working his jaw. he didn’t catch janet that time. interestingly, though janet noticed from the start that frank was a man “who looked like a woman,” brad apparently didn’t catch that until he saw the corset--up until that point in his report, he refers to frankie as a woman, saying that janet fainted, and he “decided that there was nothing to faint about – there was just this woman getting out of the lift.” he goes on to say “yes, she was about 6’1”” which, baby, i don’t know who you’re kidding but tim curry is 5′9″ and that’s generous. i guess he was factoring in the heels, but he mentions the heels in the next line: “but wearing very high heels, a lot of makeup and a shiny black cloak with a silver collar. She motioned us back in to the ballroom and I thought we could follow her.” at this point in janet’s statement, she notes that “brad says that [she] went of [her] own volition, but he was really pushing [her]” to follow dr. furter. huh, brad, i wonder why you were so intent on following...? he goes on to say that “when we got there she started talking about being a transvestite. now, I don’t keep up with the modern trends that happen in new york and all those big cities and i wasn’t quite sure what a transvestite was.” brad... never change. didn’t frank only start talking about being a transvestite once the cloak was off? maybe this is one of those things where not all the song sequences happen in universe. whatever. anyway, he notes that frank is a man, and finishes with “yes, i did get further confirmation of this fact later and i’d rather not go into it, if you don’t mind,” which is the only allusion he makes to sleeping with frank.

brad is pretty stiff/shocked for most of the song, but by the time he remembers himself and recovers enough to ask for a telephone (brad, babydoll, you are never going to get a telephone here), he gives an awkward little nod/smile at the “well, babies, don’t you panic.” then it’s back to freaky & awk. he’s self consciously feeling his hair at the insinuation that he might not be shivering because of the rain. still, when he’s getting stripped down by magenta, he’s pretty cool again, introducing himself (asshole!) and janet (slut!) even while she’s pulling his shirt over his head. to columbia, he’s a little rude: she tells them they’re very lucky to be invited up to the lab, and that some people would give their right arm for the privilege. snidely, brad asks “people like you, maybe?,” which i think goes back to his “life’s pretty cheap for that type” comment from the car. he’s very us (clean, straight american kids) versus them (motorcycle junkie amoral delinquents) here. still, though, he’s not protesting too violently when they get put in the elevator. in the statement, he seems to be asked about whether or not frank’s castle was a gambling den because of his “we’ll pull out the aces” comment, to which he replies that it wasn’t, and furthermore, that gambling is evil--his mother told him. that makes a lot of sense--he seems quite a bit like someone who never questioned the morals his parents instilled in him. this is probably the first experience in his entire life that ever gave him reason to question them, and he still comes away swearing he tells the whole truth, and that gambling is evil, and so forth. even if he’s been shaken... he hasn’t been shaken that much.

when they get up to the lab, brad (who is, by the way, wearing the world’s ugliest underwear) does a little “ladies first” gesture and lets janet out in front of him. and they say chivalry is dead. he still gets out before columbia and magenta, however. 

brad gets to do his “i’m brad majors (asshole!), and this is my fiance janet weiss (slut!)” bit that i’m sure he’s been rehearsing in his head since tenth grade for a third time, but fucks it up this time with “vice,” which shows you exactly where his mind is. it’s interesting that this is where he fucks it up, and not when he was introducing them to columbia in the last scene--columbia being a scantily clad young woman watching while he was being stripped naked, while frank in this scene is still crossdressing, yeah, but is much more moderately dressed since he put on the gown thing. funny, no, which one elicits his freudian slip? i don’t think brad is completely gay, since i’ve already gone into how strongly he feels for janet, but i think a lot of his attraction to women is based around his idea of what he’s supposed to do, while when he’s not keeping a close grip on his feelings, he lets attraction to men just sort of... slip out. he’s back to being his dominating american man persona in this scene tho (it’s a bird, it’s a plane... it’s super asshole!), and seems awfully jealous when frank flirts with janet, probably because janet does very little to seem unreceptive. he also gets pissed as fuck when frank mentions how hospitable and generous he’s being by letting brad’n’janet stay here, which... there’s still no phones in the castle, asshole. he’s more reserved and a little bit self-conscious both when frank compliments their underclothes (don’t listen to him for a moment, brad, you area still wearing the world’s FUGLIEST underwear) and when his outraged “hospitality!” speech is met with frank telling him how forceful he is (which the conventionalists find ENTIRELY amusing). i guess it’s understandable--this is almost definitely the first time in his life he’s been hit on, by a man or otherwise really, and he’s repressed enough that he kind of shuts down. you can’t just be openly sexual in brad’s mind. that’s not how it works. the question about the tattoo brings him back to himself, though, which again shows his distaste for counterculture. tattoos are things that type has. not him. 

janet giggles when frank asks her, and he stares at her in disbelief for a while. when janet claps along with the transylvannians for frank’s experiment, he just stands and watches before holding her so she can’t do it anymore--but when janet starts getting scared of the lights and the noises, he’s back in his a-game, reassuring her there’s nothing to be scared of. he really does like being the one with power--he thinks he has it when he’s yelling about hospitality, frank brings him back to earth by looking at him, for lack of a more tasteful phrase, like a piece of meat. while he’s reassuring janet, and she’s thinking of how strong and protective he is (a comment that she makes many times in her police statement, and which frank is perceptive enough to have picked up to use in the seduction scene), he’s okay again, and he starts looking in shock at the machines frank is using. that’s another thing about brad--he can get used to these situations pretty easily, and he’s still easily distracted by his interest in science. it’s just frank himself and janet’s flirtations with frank that are throwing him off his groove. 

side note. in the police statement, brad implies that he thinks rocky was just “having a snooze” in the tank, though whether he says this because that’s actually his impression or because he legitimately does believe that the story he’s telling is too fantastic to be true is kind of unclear. if he did believe that frank was able to create life, i think his dislike at this stage would be pretty easily overcome by his dorky science questions--but maybe that’s just me. 

brad totally checks out rocky. he puts on his glasses and does this whole once over--subtle. in the police statement, he comments that “frank got very concerned about his being frightened and kept telling him he was beautiful. he wasn’t a bad looking guy – but i wouldn’t have called him beautiful.” suuuuure. maybe rocky’s just not brad’s type, though; he does go on and on about eddie.

when frank asks what brad and janet think of his creation, brad smiles briefly at janet for her (flat out lie that) she doesn’t like men with too many muscles; before frank even reacts, though, his face falls when the spectators laugh, and he seems a little embarrassed. i would have liked to see his answer--although, like i said in the last paragraph, it may simply be that rocky (whom he calls “rock,” citing rock hudson, who, side note, was gay, altho i have no idea whether or not they knew that in the 70′s) is not quite his taste. we don’t see brad’n’janet for all of i can make you a man, but we do see them again in hot patootie--eddie seems to flirt with rocky and janet and maybe even brad, a bit (if he was one of frank’s conquests, eddie must be bi too, right?). brad’s face seems mostly just flat out baffled for the duration of the song, but all his comments in the police statement seem pretty positive--“this guy who burst out on the harley sang his song. i held his sax for a while he was singing. good voice”--which is somewhat strange, given that eddie embodies all the stereotypes of the “other” that brad has been shitting on since the beginning--he has a motorcycle, he’s got tattoos, he’s part of frank’s little circle, and he pretty much humps columbia right there on the floor. brad doesn’t seem actually distraught by the murder, though, saying not much beyond “god rest his soul” like a good little christian boy would. he does note that he would have thought that eddie “could have made a lot of money as a singer,” which is again, cute, because he really doesn’t seem to believe all those stereotypes as much as he seemed to think he did. 

side note, if he was attracted to eddie, and we know he’s at least somewhat attracted to frank, doesn’t that mean brad has the exact same taste in men as columbia? which could be related to him thinking that rocky wasn’t anything to write home about--neither of them seem to be that interested in muscle.

brad’s not even slightly subtle about checking out frank when magenta and riff raff take the gown off him. he looks away, as if that helps anything about it. he also looks absolutely betrayed by janet’s announcement that she’s a muscle fan. dammit, janet.

he takes the time to mention frank and rocky’s “wedding,” which he makes sure to detach from the other one we see in the movie by assuring the police that it was nothing like ralph and betty’s, although he praises them on about the same level: about the haphshatt’s wedding, he says “very nice wedding it was,” while in regard to frank’s, he says “it was quite nice, i suppose.” i appreciate that he never really expresses disgust for any part of the night except for the cannibalism--he never demonizes frank as a q***r or anything like that. in regard to what happened after the wedding, he either is ignorant (unlikely) or feigns it--he says that he “didn’t think it was [his] business,” which i feel like is the polite streak that was pounded mercilessly into his head jumping out. 

off topic, but he wasn’t completely accurate in saying the wedding was nothing like ralph’s--at the end, the transylvannians throw flower petals and chant “rocky, rocky, rah rah rah!,” which parallels the wedding guests cheering “haphshatt haphshatt, rah rah rah!” at the end of ralph and betty’s wedding. is that a custom i didn’t know about, or was it a nod to the fact that the guests were supposed to be played by the transylvannians?

next: sex! i probably don’t have to say anything for y’all to know that this is one of my favorite scenes--i’m predictable like that. the seduction of brad and janet go pretty similarly, with mostly the same lines--frank changes “i think you’ll find it quite pleasurable” to “i think you’ll really quite enjoy it” for some flair, and brad gets angry (nevernever. never!) while janet gets weepy. janet protests that she was saving herself (for marriage, which she’s built up in her head), while brad gets pissed because he thought it was the real thing--it’s notable, though, that while janet was already getting hot and heavy when she thought it was brad, brad doesn’t get into anything sexual until after he knows it’s frank; he was only holding “janet” and petting her hair. frank gets smart after janet makes him promise not to tell brad and leads with the fact that he won’t tell janet, and after making sure that frank promises he won’t tell, brad’s out there arching his back and moaning. can’t say i blame him--i wouldn’t have even said no in the first place. in the statements, brad seems to have either blocked out the entire memory (which i doubt) or just refuses to say it, much like he did with what frank and rocky did in their room; first of all, he leads with “well, janet and i went off down all these corridors and things and were shown to our bedroom. one each. even if we hadn’t been given a room each, i would have insisted on it. you’ve got to do the right thing.” yeah, sure, brad--that’s why you let janet in so quickly, huh? anyway, he continues with “a few things went on during the night. no, i’d rather not talk about it. no, i can’t remember. yes, i think someone did come into my room. no, i’ve got no idea who it was. i was asleep at the time.” what was it that brad said earlier about always telling the complete truth? not that i really blame him--look man, it was the 70′s, and even if he didn’t have a 100% upstanding citizen’s image to maintain, casually announcing that you’re a fag probably doesn’t have amazing consequences for anyone involved. janet, in her report, is free with the fact that she knew it was frank, though she still doesn’t acknowledge that she had sex: “i thought it was brad at first, but then it was frank so that was o.k. i mean i would have been shocked if it had been brad. he’s always been so respectful towards me.”

basically, “i would have been shocked if brad touched me like that. he’s way too repressed to go beyond closed mouth kissing.” 

but i digress. 

we see brad again on the television monitor, smoking a “we just had sex” cigarette and looking back at frank casually. they seem to be talking, and frank seems super pleased with what he’s done. i suppose he would, he’s just gotten off two (three?) times in the last hour or so. like, fuck, that’s pretty impressive. especially if you have a dick. brad seems a lot more chill with what they did than janet does--janet’s crying and guilty at first, then crying and betrayed, which is... strange. janet, did you somehow forget that you fucked the exact same man in the past twenty seconds? maybe she just wanted to believe that his will was stronger than hers, or that he was straight. how would she have reacted if it was, say, columbia in that bed? i guess we’ll never know. 

maybe she’s just thinking about her ruined marriage, if we’re being honest.

anyway, brad, unlike janet, seems content to follow frank after they make it, and doesn’t really seem unsettled by what they did. he does seem unsettled by watching frank whip riff raff, but once that’s over and the three of them are looking at dr. scott on the television monitor, he’s gotten over that, too, and he’s happy to announce (with no mind for reading the room) that he knows scott--that’s an old friend of his! frank gets apprehensive and angry, concluding rationally that dr. scott (who he knows as a UFO investigator, and who would naturally prove dangerous to his continued stay on earth) sent brad and janet to his castle to spy on him. brad tries to reassure frank that he’s there because his car broke down--and here, he’s still smiling a little, until he drops to a serious “i was telling the truth.” maybe he should tell frank that thing about washing behind his ears? frank doesn’t believe him, and starts jabbing him backward (but not hitting him) with the handle of the whip. brad gets increasingly angry at this disrespect, and seems (like he did in the lab earlier) about to snap out, until he trips backward, and frank raises the whip, at which point his weird relation with power dynamics saves his ass. he almost forgot, before, where he stood, but now he’s looking up at a man with a whip who’s clearly not afraid to use it, and so he chills out quite a bit. frank asks him to confirm that dr. scott works for the US government in the investigation of UFOs, and brad shoots back that he might, which angers frank, until brad drops his own anger and submits in a more placating “i don’t know!” frank chills out, and then summons dr. scott up to the lab.

despite being threatened with a very real whipping, brad seems no less excited to see dr. scott than he initially was. he really is quite devoted to his mentor, and has no shame when offering his hand to shake--like, how does he not realize his robe has blown open and dr. scott can definitely see his dick through his ugly tightie whities? no idea. but damn if he’s not happy. frank makes a comment about how adaptable he is, and only then is brad embarrassed enough to look away. scott saves brad’s ass a little by assuring frank he had no idea that brad was going to be here, to which frank seems a little surprised, but probably pleasantly. it’s better to know that the dude you just fucked wasn’t secretly a spy conspiring to out you to the planet earth, right? 

brad seems hurt and confused in the rocky horror role call bit by janet’s betrayal--which is a little fair. after all, brad only fucked one guy, but janet’s been caught in bed with at least two. still, infidelity is infidelity, and neither of them has much room to judge at this point. brad probably gets this, because, while he still seems a little miffed when they sit down to dinner, he’s not trying to confront her about it or anything. in fact, he doesn’t try to do any confrontation at all until frank-n-furter implies that dr. scott is a nazi (which. doesn’t really work if he’s been doing the german accent the whole time, but whatever), and brad, who doesn’t know that it’s true, gets righteously angry on his behalf. poor baby. might want to get a better fcking mentor.

he still seems a little upset when dr. scott starts singing “eddie,” but makes his peace, i suppose, enough to get into the song by the end, where he sings with what i’m just gonna assume is righteous anger at how bad eddie was. i think at this point he’s more or less loyal to frank, at least in the eddie department. less so when frank slaps janet a second later; then he’s back in the “righteous anger” department. he takes off his glasses and then is apparently so blind he can’t see which way they went. that’s not how glasses work, brad. 

he’s pretty impressed with the science in the latter half of “planet schmanet janet.” like yeah, they’re glued to the spot, but he doesn’t seem as upset about that as janet does, and knows exactly what dr. scott’s impression of the transducer means. once again, i just want to emphasize how much i’d like a fic of frank and brad talking about science and machines and stuff. brad’s a scientifically minded guy! he’d be fucking fascinated with all this shit if he had time in between his bouts of righteous anger to be! 

despite being trapped, brad tries to get a hit in while frank sings the sexiest line of the movie. respect, i guess. and another after janet beats him for a little! 

there’s protective!brad again. he’s trembling with anger while he threatens frank... completely ineffectually. you’re trapped, dumbass.

ah, well.

then, the floor show! the floor show gives us kind of a jump in brad’s character. according to his statement, he wasn’t conscious for the part where he sings on stage--he says he doesn’t really remember anything between the dinner (which he refuses to answer questions on: “oh yes, we did have dinner at some point. no i feel ill when i think about it. i didn’t eat anything. at least not very much. i’ll be sick if you keep asking me about it”) and waking up in the pool. the little segment in the show itself tells a lot about him though: here, though brad seemed pretty cool & collected up until this point, we learn that he’s massively uncomfortable with the role he’s found himself in--the sex, the company, and probably above all else, the corset and the fish nets. he calls on his mother to save him, which supports that bit in his report when he says that his mother told him that gambling is evil--he’s kind of a momma’s boy, and he’s reverting back to that while finding himself in a situation he can’t control. at the same time, though, he doesn’t totally seem to hate it--he does admit to feeling sexy dressed like that, and once he gets in the pool, everything gets blissed out. even in his statement, he doesn’t try to hide that part of his evening--“yes, i did have a nice swim. it was warm – it was beautiful really.” that’s probably the most glowing review he gives of anything that happened that night, and his actions in the pool consisted of... licking frank’s chest, rubbing his head on rocky’s dick, and getting dipped by columbia. yeah, i think beautiful pretty much sums it up, actually. he returns to his “it’s beyond me” chorus for a moment in the pool, but columbia puts an end to that. 

oh, i love his pose while frank is singing, too. i know i’ve used the word repressed like fifty times in this review, but... 

all i can say about the rest of the song is that i’m really feeling his legs in the chorus line. he’s got more devotion to the dance than rocky does, at least. 

then there’s protective brad again; he pulls janet away from frank when riff raff and magenta start threatening him (and gets a heel to his foot for his trouble). during “i’m going home,” he looks appropriately sad at frank’s departure. maybe even more than appropriately, since this isn’t exactly his closest friend in the world, is it? still, we also get protective!brad protecting someone other than janet for the one and only time when riff raff announces frank’s death and brad yells out “you’re going to kill him? what’s his crime!” there’s that righteous anger again... and like, even though this is a man that brad has seen murder one man, brutally whip another, and who has threatened him and his beloved mentor and harassed his fiance... brad really can’t fathom why they would kill him! it might be a side effect of the mind control ray frank was using, but dr. scott was under the same stuff, ostensibly, and didn’t find a single problem saying that they had to kill frank for society’s protection. 

i love that short little scene with brad burying his head in janet’s hair while he holds her. i think he’s a little disillusioned with his mentor by the end, or at least i would hope so. poor frank ):

brad’s part in superheroes is mostly just about him being sexy for me. like. the words he’s saying mostly just tell me that he’s freaking out because of what happened. but the way he’s sitting and writhing around in the smoke.... undeniably hot.

anyway, holy shit, i’ve been working on this for like seven hours now. tl; dr: brad majors loves janet weiss a lot, or at least the idea of her, but is completely sexually repressed and can’t deal with it when he has his gay awakening and then subsequently tries drag for the first time before watching the dude who fucked him dying. i probably should have gotten more out of that, and maybe i did, but that’s in the past now. FUCK i wrote too much. ok.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

An Argument

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Final Fantasy XV/Ignis Scientia

Rating: PG-11 (for arguing)

Original Idea: The argument Talcott tells Noctis about in my last one-shot: The Original Story.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one has some arguing so if you don’t like that sort of thing, be advised it’s here. Also, I swear I didn’t mean for it to get this long... (2,250 words XD)

^^^^^

“Princess?” Talcott asked quietly, the door to my bedroom opening. I turned around.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?”

“The meeting’s about to start. They’re just waiting for you.”

“Ah shoot. Totally spaced it started now. I thought it was in a half-hour. Thank you so much, Talcott. Let’s go!” I followed him out of my room and through the halls of the hotel—which really was functioning as more of an Insomnia city hall. In Lestallum. Most of the government of Insomnia who made it out or was being rebuilt tended to meet in the Leville.

In the conference room, there were seven other people, not including me and Talcott. Iris, Ignis, Prompto, Gladiolus, Cor, Cid, and Cid’s granddaughter. I could never remember if her name was Cindy or Cidney.

“Sooo sorry I'm late. I thought the meeting was in a half-hour,” I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. Ignis sat at my right hand, as he always had. He was brilliant and a fantastic strategist, and he’d taken up the role of “royal advisor” flawlessly. He’d been training for it since we were kids, after all. “To the matter at hand, Miranda and her son Garrett went missing two days ago and haven’t been seen. Last anyone saw them they were venturing away from Lestallum for a brief search for a specific type of plant that doesn’t grow domestically.”

“Correct,” Ignis said.

“All things considered, two days is a long time in a daemon-infested eternal night. I don’t want to assume the worst, but I’ve been trying to abide by the philosophy of ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst.’ So, I'm thinking a search party. As many people as we can get. The more the better. No one will be allowed to go alone and unarmed. Groups of two or three, maybe more, and everyone has a weapon,” I said. “There are a lot of daemons out there.”

“Very good,” Ignis agreed.

“By the way, Cindy, Prompto: thanks for making your way here from Hammerhead for this. We’re gonna need some skilled people on the party.”

“Well, sure thing, Highness,” Cindy—I'm sticking with Cindy because she didn’t correct me—said with a smile.

“Yeah, you got it,” Prompto said.

I nodded with a smile. “Now, we need to gather people. Volunteers. Everyone needs flashlights as usual. And we’re going to start sweeping after the dinner shifts are over.”

“Princess, if I may,” Ignis piped up quietly. I turned. “You keep saying ‘we,’ implying that you’re joining the search party.”

“A Lucian mother and her son have gone missing. Of course I'm joining the search party.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” I challenged in frustration.

“Noctis has been missing for a year. At this point it’d be a good idea to prepare for his absence enduring an even longer amount of time,” Ignis said. “With that in mind, our people are looking to you as the leader, princess. It would be wise for you to remain behind.”

“‘Remain behind’?” I quoted in disbelief. “C’mon, Ignis. You know me better than that. Noctis would be the one leading the charge out into the darkness.”

“Noctis is not here and you are not Noctis—as you always seemed keen on reminding me,” Ignis said. I clenched my jaw to rein in the flare of my temper. “We lost King Regis and Prince Noctis within an extremely short time of one another. Noctis is not dead, of course, but who knows how long he will be cradled within the Crystal. The people of Lucis need a strong, constant leader. They need to see that you are strong and you will be here to serve them through this darkness.”

“And the best way to serve the people is to show it,” I insisted.

“Not if you die out there!” Ignis exclaimed.

“Awkward…” Prompto whispered to Talcott. Ignis and I ignored him.

“Princess, you are the closest thing we have to a monarch right now. The closest thing we have to… to Noctis,” Ignis continued. “You must stay here. It’s dangerous out there and the Lucian people cannot lose the last remnant of the throne so soon after Regis and Noctis.”

“Are you going to stay here too, Ignis?” I demanded. “I mean, after all, you can’t see!”

Talcott gasped. Prompto looked surprised. Everyone exchanged looks.

If I wasn’t so angry I would have clapped my hand over my mouth and immediately apologized for being insensitive. As it was, I wasn’t thinking too much about that. Ignis was a big boy. He could take it.

“This isn’t about me, princess!” Ignis snapped. For the first time in my life, he used the title Regis had given me in a derisive, sarcastic tone. Gladio called me “princess” in a mocking tone all the time to tease me, but Ignis had always used it to be respectful. “This is about you! Whether you like it or not, you are acting Queen of Lucis right now. You cannot take unnecessary risks to your life.”

“And being branded a coward?”

“Living to lead another day is not cowardice.”

“I don’t get it, Ignis!” I exclaimed. “You know me! I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. Noctis might have been a slacker when we were in our late teens but I wasn’t! I never skipped training. Or lessons. I studied for my exams. You know I’d be just fine out there! You’d let Noctis go! Why are you fighting to keep me here?!”

“Because I let Noctis risk his life and now look what’s happened! He’s gone and unlikely to return in the near future. I was raised and educated to be an advisor to the True King and in his absence, to you. I intend to advise you to the best of my ability and wisdom, princess,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me, Ignis,” I snapped. “You were protective of Noctis too—but this is going too far. This is overprotective! Why are you being so overprotective?”

“Because I love you!” Ignis shouted.

The whispers and uncomfortable paper shuffling in the conference room went absolutely silent. All I could do was sit there in stunned silence as well. I stared at Ignis’ dark glasses, jaw hanging open. His head was facing me, but his eyes weren’t quite at mine. He appeared to be looking at my upper lip.

“I… I…” I tried to say. All words seemed strangled in my throat. I couldn’t even come up with a response to that—not one that didn’t sound totally stupid, anyway.

I was pretty sure I saw Prompto and Gladio exchange a few gil across the table in the corner of my vision.

“What?” I finally said.

“You heard me,” Ignis said.

Years. Literal, actual years of awkward half-flirtations and acting like I totally didn’t have a crush on him leading to that. I’d developed a schoolgirl crush on Ignis about a week after I met him when King Regis took me in. He was around Noctis and I all the time when we were kids. He was smart and four years older than me and cute and I was six when I first jokingly told Noctis when we were supposed to be in bed, but weren’t, that I was going to marry Ignis. Noc had given me a look like I was crazy and told me I couldn’t marry Ignis because he was four years older than me and wore glasses.

Oh, the good times when things like that were the reasons I couldn’t marry Ignis.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I said, pushing away from the table. “Iris, I'm leaving the planning to you.” I ran out of the conference room.

“Princess!” Talcott called, running after me. How old was this kid? Like, ten? Max? “Princess what’s wrong?”

“Go back to the meeting, Talcott,” I said, fumbling in my pocket for the key to my hotel room. “Ah crap. Musta dropped it or left it in my room.”

“Princess, you and Ignis are friends, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah we are.”

“So why were you mad at each other? And why did you run away when he said he loved you?”

“Ignis wants to keep me safe—for some of the right and wrong reasons. But I want to do the right thing by my people and I can’t just leave a mother and her child out in the wild without looking for them myself and I understand the reasons he wants to keep me safe but he can be so… stubborn.”

“It’s a good thing he loves you, though, right?”

“Yeah kiddo,” I said, going back along the path I’d come trying to find my key. “Gosh dang it. Where did I leave it…?”

“Looking for this?” a familiar voice asked ahead. Ignis held my key up in his free hand—the one that wasn’t holding his cane. There was a slight smile on his face. “Heard it fall from your pocket as you fled the conference room.”

“Attentive, as always,” I said, taking it from him.

“Princess, I am sorry for how that meeting turned out,” he said.

“Talcott, head back inside the conference room. Help Iris plan the search parties. I’ll explain everything later,” I told the kid. He nodded and ran off. I looked at Ignis. “Me too. I got angry. I shouldn’t have said what I did about your vision. If anything, you’re better-suited to all this eternal nighttime business than I am. I'm sorry, Ignis. Can you forgive me? Eventually?”

He smiled. “I can forgive you right now if you can forgive me eventually,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about my feelings. It was unprofessional. Especially in front of an audience. I swear I didn’t mean to manipulate you in any way.”

“No, no. I know,” I said. I pulled on his shirtsleeve towards my room. He followed after me. “I can forgive you right now too.”

We made it back to my room.

I opened the door. “C’mon in. I think we need to chat.”

“Fascinating that you didn’t say ‘talk.’”

“Well ‘we need to talk’ sounds like it’ll always be followed by bad news,” I said.

“Indeed.”

I kicked the door closed and sat on my bed. Ignis perched next to me. “Iggy… well. Full disclosure: I’ve had a crush on you since I was six. Started out as a simple schoolgirl crush since I was so young, but it grew and developed over the last… thirteen years.” I told him the story about me telling Noctis that I was going to marry Ignis. Which made him laugh. “The thing is, though,” I carried on, “with Noc gone… it seems… wrong, almost—to find happiness when the world is full of despair.”

“I agree, actually,” Ignis said. “That being said, I know Noct better than I know myself. He would want the two of us to find happiness. Whether it be together or… not.”

I sighed. “I know,” I said. “I just… I don’t want everyone to think I'm… unfocused. They want me to be the acting queen. You want me to be the acting queen. I don’t want our people to lose faith in me because they think I'm distracted by romance.”

Ignis nodded. “I understand that completely. If you should wish to pursue a relationship, perhaps at this particular juncture a private one would be most beneficial.”

I stared at him for a moment. “What, like, secretly date?”

“That is one term for it.”

I bit my lower lip and thought. “I don’t like the idea of lying.”

“You wouldn’t have to so long as no one asked. And why would they? We have greater problems to deal with than your love life.”

“Right.” I scratched the back of my head. “I'm in love with you, Ignis. I probably shouldn’t be for the sake of our people and I feel bad that it’s now. But I'm done keeping it to myself. Done fighting it down. So yeah. Yeah. If you’re willing, let’s play the secretly-dating game. I hate the idea of Noctis not being here but you’re right.”

Ignis smiled. His hand reached out and found my elbow. His glove was softer than it used to be—more well-worn—as it slid up my bare arm to my short sleeve and paused. After a moment, he let go and brushed my hair behind my shoulder with surprising accuracy.

“Of course I'm willing,” he said.

I shook the hair on the other side of my head out of my face and cupped the side of his face in my hand. “Then let’s try.”

“Yes. Let’s,” he agreed.

We both leaned forward at the same time. I closed my eyes and let my hesitations go—just for a few minutes—to kiss him without caring about how this would impact everything else. Nothing would ever be the same between he and I, but I wasn’t sure I minded. Not yet anyway. Sometimes change was for the better—something Ignis had told me growing up that I’d never liked. I didn’t like change. Getting adopted by the king was a huge change and it frightened me back then.

Ignis had comforted me then with the same warmth he kissed me with now.

My heart soared and I had a feeling that, for now at least, some things would turn out alright.

[daughter-of-the-prophet]

Alistair (Tv Tropes “Origins”)

Adaptation Dye-Job: Becomes increasingly red-haired in the next two stories, and red-haired and blue-eyed in the comics.

Adorkable: As Leliana comments in a conversation with him, his sense of humor, coupled with his awkwardness and nervousness around women, makes him strangely endearing and is a large part of his charm. This is one of the things that make Ilona attracted to him.

Always Save the Girl: He makes it clear he values Ilona’s life over his own. 

Amazon Chaser: Ilona knowing how to kick ass and fight with a blade is one of the things that makes Alistair attracted to her. He even fondly notes in Awakening "I married an indestructible goddess."

Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking: His description of what’s wrong with Orlais at the moment during his cameo in Dragon Age II.

                 Alistair: “Oh the usual: attempted assassinations, uprisings, fancy parties with stinky cheeses..”

Battle Couple: He’s this with Ilona.

This is also combined with Royals Who Actually Do Something as he becomes King and marries her as well. 

Berserk Button: Loghain becomes this to him after his betrayal of Cailan leads to the death of all the other Grey Wardens, and Duncan in particular.

Big Eater: It’s a Grey Warden thing, apparently.

Breakout Character: He has appeared more in more Dragon Age media than any other character. Thus far he’s been in all three stories, a trilogy of comic miniseries, and the novel The Calling, where he appears as a newborn.

Broken Pedestal: Like most, he holds Loghain in high regard before the Battle of Ostagar, privately admitting that while Cailan is the King, it’s Loghain to whom they have to look for victory. Then Loghain retreats from the battle, leaving the King, the Grey Wardens, and Duncan to an ignoble death, and then blames the Wardens for regicide. From then on, Alistair has an undying hatred for the man and it becomes very personal.

Buffy Speak: Tends to lapse into this at times.

           Alistair: “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re some sort of… sneaky… witch-thief!”

Butt-Monkey: Everyone gets a turn to mock him. Even Brutus. Ilona is the only person who doesn’t treat him this way, which is possibly one of the reasons why he loves her.

Contemplate Our Navels: Morrigan accuses him of doing this while traveling to Lothering, in so many words.

Corrupt the Cutie: After meeting the woman he believed was his maternal half-sister and being treated uncharitably by her, he loses many of his squeaky-clean morals, but the loss of naive idealism makes him more understanding of his subjects when he becomes King.

Covert Pervert: He apparently spends a fair deal of his time ogling Ilona’s ass. Wynne teases him about it.

The Creon: Alistair intentionally avoids mentioning the fact that he is actually the senior Grey Warden - because he doesn't want to lead. In fact, he didn’t want to become King of Ferelden for exactly the same reason.

Crouching Moron, Hidden Badass: Despite the fact that he’s… well, Alistair, he is very much capable of holding his own in a fight, being able to take on numerically superior opponents and even dragons. 

Dare to Be Badass: Ilona invokes this in Alistair after convincing him to take the throne.

Deadpan Snarker: Like father, like son: Maric snarked just as much as him.

Deuteragonist: The secondary storyline (Ferelden's Succession Crisis) pretty much revolves around him.

Disappeared Dad: Although he understands why King Maric couldn’t acknowledge him as his illegitimate son. He is also this to his son Kieran.

Dork Knight: While Alistair is heroic, noble, and brave, he also lacks confidence and fumbles when talking to women.

Ensign Newbie: During the Korcari Wilds mission, but he soon makes it clear that he’d rather have Ilona take this role. Morrigan even lampshades it. The Darkspawn Chronicles shows what would have happened if he hadn’t been able to pass the buck. He manages to make it all the way to the Archdemon. But then it ends badly.

Entendre Failure: He’d happily hop borders with Zevran given the chance - after all, he’s never even been close to leaving Ferelden.

Evil Laugh: He has a very impressive playful one that he breaks out on a couple of occasions, such as when jokes about having a nefarious plan to make the other party members mutiny and have him take over as group leader. In a subversion, he once breaks into a cough mid-evil laugh.

The Fettered: As much as Ilona, especially when he becomes king.

First Girl Wins: Ilona was the first woman his own age he ever encountered after having been sent to the Chantry at age ten to be a Templar and then being a part of the Wardens (who, in Ferelden, had no women currently in the order until Ilona came along). Unless you count that one time in Denerim… but those women were not like Ilona.

Foil: To Zevran. Two orphaned boys who were raised communally (Alistair in a castle, Zevran in a whorehouse) who were shipped off to an organization at an early age (Alistair to the Templars, Zevran to the Crows) without their consent, which largely defined who they became as an adult (Alistair a duty-bound warrior, Zevran a loose and easy assassin). They both even have prolific (often deadpan) senses of humor. However, while Alistair is an adorkable virgin who hides his pain behind a shield of duty, honor, and lame jokes, Zevran is The Casanova who Really Gets Around and hides his pain behind a charming smile and a devil-may-care attitude.

Generation Xerox: Potentially to both of his parents. He’s a Grey Warden like his mother Fiona and becomes King of Ferelden like his father Maric. He also conceives a son out of wedlock with Morrigan, a mage like how his father conceived him out of wedlock with Fiona, an elven mage.

The Good King: Alistair turns out to be an excellent monarch, having a common touch which makes the people of Ferelden love him, and quickly learns the finer points of administration. Combined with Ilona as his queen, Ferelden ends up with one hell of a Ruling Couple.

Good People Have Good Sex: Alistair is a sweetheart, and falls for Ilona who is also loving and kind. After his first time having sex with her, Alistair comments that the Chantry sisters had him half-expecting to be struck by lightning for doing what they just did. His beloved reassures him: “Not for that performance.” Ilona also has a “girl talk” with Leliana and Morrigan, where she assures them (out of his hearing range) that he is very good in bed.

Half-Human Hybrid: The Calling reveals that Alistair’s mother is Fiona, an elven Grey Warden and lover of King Maric. This makes Alistair elf-blooded. The children of elves and humans are always born human looking. In Inquisition, Fiona herself vaguely hints at her relationship with Alistair, but never outright says it

Happily Married: To Ilona, it’s stated in the epilogue that he openly adores his wife, much to the delight of the people of Fereldan.

Henpecked Husband: In Dragon Age II, it’s made clear that Ilona is the one who wears the trousers in the relationship. It’s treated very lightheartedly, however, and when Alistair calls her “the old ball and chain,” it’s said with obvious affection.

       Alistair: "Just because she killed an Archdemon, she doesn’t scare me!“ 

      Teagan: "You just keep telling yourself that, Your Majesty”

Heroic Bastard: And a royal bastard at that. He notes he should use that line more often.

Hidden Backup Prince: He’s a bastard, and in line to the throne! His claim is apparently roughly equal to that of his half-brother the king’s widow.

Hidden Depths: After he becomes king, he turns out to be better suited to the job than he expects to be. In Dragon Age II, he demonstrates a willingness to allow fleeing mages to enter Ferelden so long as they follow the laws of the land. Meredith is annoyed that the new king does not immediately comply with her demands. In Inquisition, his codex entry notes that the people love him.

Hunk: Quite manly. Quite handsome

Hurting Hero: He rarely says it outright, but the massacre of Duncan and the other Wardens scars him pretty deeply, to the point that he harbors an intense and bitter hatred for Loghain. He’s lucky to have Ilona be there for him and to listen to him without judgment.

Idiot Hero: Morrigan and Anora both accuse him of being one. Although he has his moments, they’re never at critical junctions. He even calls himself an idiot hero at times.

          Alistair: "Look, I can’t be king. Some days I have trouble figuring out which boot goes on which foot.“

In Touch With His Feminine Side: Mostly in terms of his open, emotional personality. Alistair is very expressive of his feelings, doesn’t even try to hide his grief over the deaths of the other Wardens (often sounding on the verge of tears whenever it’s brought up), often approaches Ilona to talk about his grief, and invites her to talk about her grief as well. This annoys some of the more stoic party members (particularly Morrigan and Sten), who feel he ought to suck it up since Real Men Don't Cry, though it doesn’t deter him any. Alistair is also pretty unashamed about his less-than-manly moments, going so far as to joke with Ilona that he should wear a dress to distract the darkspawn, and mentioning a girly scream he once emitted when he first joined the Wardens

This is also a point in his favor with the romance, since Alistair gives Ilona a rose he had sentimentally picked earlier for different reasons but which now reminds him of her, wants to wait to have sex since he wants his first time with her to be special, and is very open about his budding romantic feelings toward her (even if he’s not always the most eloquent about it).

Intergenerational Friendship: With Wynne, who becomes something of a surrogate mother to him.

Irony: Alistair is a Human Templar Grey Warden. His (real) mother is an Elven Mage Grey Warden

It’s Personal: Towards Loghain for causing the deaths of the Grey Wardens and Duncan in particular.

This is also the reason why Ilona allows him to be the one to kill Loghain when she chooses to have the General be executed for his crime.

Knight in Sour Armor: Although he’s aware that Grey Wardens often must do pretty bad things for the greater good, and lives in a world that has rarely shown him any kindness, he still feels as if it’s still worth being a decent person and protector.

Knight Templar: He was training to be one, though only in job description; he flat out states that a life devoted to single-mindedly hunting down apostate mages was not for him, and it wasn’t his choice to pursue that future.

Lady and Knight: It’s more accurately Knight and Knight, but after starting a romantic relationship with Ilona, he definitely behaves like a White Knight to a Bright Lady towards her.

Lethal Chef:

When Morrigan joins the party, one of the first things he asks is “Can you cook?” Then he explains that if he has to cook, they’re all as good as dead.

Leliana later asks him in a conversation what was in the dish he made for the party’s supper the previous night. When he tells her it was a lamb and pea stew, she comments that it had a texture she doesn’t normally associate with lamb. He explains this by telling her that this is the way all Fereldans cook.

                  Alistair: "We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that’s when I know it’s done.“

Love Interest: To Ilona.

Manchild: At times, his decisions are more reminiscent of a temperamental teenager than a defender of the whole land. These are often potential Jerkass moments. He also gets called a lad/boy several times.

Mr. Fanservice: He's adorkable, handsome, and a hopeless romantic. The voice doesn’t hurt either.

Nature Abhors a Virgin: While Alistair himself is pretty okay with the idea (aside from teasing), the plot is most definitely against him. In order for him to have a happy ending with Ilona, he must impregnate Morrigan by sleeping with her. Apparently, a man can be a virgin, but can’t remain one for long and can’t have just one woman in his lifetime for things to work out to his benefit.

Odd Friendship: Despite being a former Templar, he quickly strikes up a friendship with Wynne and seems closer to her than any of the other companions. This is rather understandable, as he freely admits he was terrible at being a Templar and never wanted to be one in the first place.

Orphan’s Plot Trinket: Averted - he had an amulet that use to belong to his mother, but threw it at a wall and smashed it in anger as a child after he was sent to the monastery to be trained as a Templar. Ilona later finds it in the study of Redcliffe Castle, having been glued back together by Arl Eamon and gives it to Alistair as a gift, but it has no further relevance to the story.

Parental Abandonment: Repeatedly.

Both his mother and father weren’t present in his upbringing, primarily due to reasons of death (or so he was told) and not being able to recognize him due to his illegitimacy.

After Arl Eamon married an Orlesian woman, who took an immediate disliking to him, Alistair was sent to a monastery.

And then Duncan, who was the closest thing he ever had to a real father, dies in the battle of Ostagar. If Alistair has abandonment issues, they’re not hard to understand.

The Pig Pen: According to Wynne, he smells just as bad as the dog. When he mentions being raised by flying dogs in a joking way, Ilona playfully tells him “That would explain the smell!”. This whole conversation takes a turn for the tragic once Ilona learns that Arl Eamon used to make Alistair sleep in the kennels in order to keep him out of the way; to a small extent, he actually was raised by dogs.

Properly Paranoid: To the point where some of his dialogue may well be Foreshadowing.

His suspicions that Flemeth had ulterior motives for sending Morrigan with the party are completely correct.

In DAII when he meets Hawke, he urges her to continue protecting Kirkwall; Hawke responds by asking him, “Protect Kirkwall from what, exactly?” Alistair expresses the opinion that Knight-Commander Meredith is probably the biggest threat to Kirkwall - and he’s absolutely right.

Raised by Wolves: He jokes about this to Ilona. He was raised by dogs. With wings. Who were devout Andrastians. And hated cheese. She eventually learns that Arl Eamon had him sleep with the hounds as a child, so this actually isn’t far from the truth.

Reluctant Ruler: Though he’s the senior Grey Warden, he’s not at all interested in being the party leader. Despite, or perhaps because of, his lineage, Alistair is very clear that he does not want to be a leader. Nevertheless, he is given the crown and proves to be good at the job of being king.

Rousing Speech: Gives a damn good one to the army before the battle of Denerim.

Royals Who Actually Do Something: After becoming King at the Landsmeet, he makes it perfectly clear that he’ll be on the front lines and leading the charge during the Battle of Denerim and the assault to take down the Archdemon.

Sad Clown: He sometimes uses humor to cover up his grief. Ilona isn’t fooled but completely understands and jokes along with him. None of the other party members are fooled either, and his humor is often irritating to other people; Shale says as much outright.

Shout-Out:

Seeing as the series was heavily inspired by it, Alistair is one for Jon Snow from A Song of Ice and Fire. Each one is a bastard from a respected royal family who doesn’t know who his mother is and who suffered mistreatment and neglect at the hands of their stepmother figure. Each one is offered the throne and is part of an elite group that slowly is dying out but are vital to the survival of the world in the face of the reawakening ancient evil they were created to fight.

Also, with Buffy the Vampire Slayer serving as additional inspiration, it’s possible that Alistair’s jokey mannerisms and Butt-Monkey status were based on that of Xander Harris.

His romantic relationship with Ilona is also somewhat similar to Steve Trevor’s romantic relationship with Diana in the 2017 film Wonder Woman.  Both are soldiers who fall in love with a warrior princess who can clearly kick ass and while not completely helpless are usually the ones who need saving and particularly by that said love interest.

Sibling Yin-Yang: Unlike Cailan, who merely thought himself the Warrior Prince, Alistair proves to actually be one.

Sickeningly Sweethearts: His romance with Ilona comes close to this if Wynne and Morrigan are to be believed. Wynne doesn’t seem to mind; Morrigan is another story.

Single Woman Seeks Good Man: His benevolent personality is one of the reasons why Ilona fell in love with him.

Spare to the Throne: Unfortunately, he’s a bastard, so he wasn’t raised to the task. Needless to say, he’s not happy about the idea of becoming king after being trained for something completely different and being quite forcefully assured that his illegitimate status would prevent the question.

The Talk: Wynne starts giving him one when he begins an intimate relationship with Ilona. Once he realizes what she’s going on about, he interrupts with a highly embarrassed, “Andraste’s flaming sword, I know where babies come from!” She delights in the fact that she gets him to blush.

Trademark Favorite Food: Jokingly admits to having “an unholy obsession with very fine cheeses.“ The fandom has kind of run away with this one.

Turn Out Like His Father: Oh yeah!

Undying Loyalty: Has this towards the Grey Wardens and the woman he loves.

Unexpected Virgin: As a result of growing up in the Chantry and then being recruited directly from there into Ferelden’s Grey Wardens (which currently had no female wardens until Ilona showed up). Alistair is reluctant to talk about it (for understandable reasons), so this is treated as a minor revelation during his romance with Ilona.

Warrior Prince: Unlike Cailan, he actually fits the warrior part as well as the prince.

What’s Up, King Dude?: After being made king, the epilogue potentially states that he frequents taverns, endearing him to the common folk.

The Wrongful Heir to the Throne: He sees himself as this.

Younger Than They Look: He looks and sounds to be in his mid-twenties to early thirties, but he’s actually 20-years-old at the start of the story. See Manchild above 

[jedifighterpilot2727]

Just in case you're taking prompts: Lena, Cat, and Kara. Lena finds out Kara is Supergirl by accident, and is very upset. She bumps into Cat at a glamorous benefit dinner (Kara is there, sad puppy, but they don't talk) and Cat drops some wisdom on Lena that leads her to understand (if not forgive just yet).

Hope you like it!Read on AO3- http://archiveofourown.org/works/11854206

“It isn’t about trust, you know.”

The voice at her elbow startles her, drawing her gaze away from Kara and to the figure standing at her left.

Cat Grant is standing there, glass of champagne clutched lightly in her fingers.

Lena follows her gaze to see that the other woman is also watching Kara, only without the brooding pout that she knows she herself has.

“I’m sorry?” She raises an eyebrow and fixes the older woman with a disinterested expression - unimpressed with having her musings interrupted.

She came to this party to distract herself; she didn’t expect to see Kara, and she certainly didn’t anticipate having to deal with Cat Grant.

She’s in no mood to deal with conniving members of the media.

But Cat’s face is softer than usual, and the sharp lines that Lena usually associates with the media mogul are replaced with a look of gentle concern.

“It isn’t about trust.” Cat repeats with conviction. “Her not telling you.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Lena holds, although she’s pretty sure she knows exactly what the other woman is referring to.

Just because she’s upset doesn’t mean she’s going to betray Kara’s secret.

Cat rolls her eyes.

“Please, you and I both know that little Miss Sunshine over there moonlights as the caped crusader and you’re upset because she didn’t tell you.”

She searches Cat’s face for any hint of trickery, any indication that she’s working off a hunch and simply looking to Lena for confirmation. She sees nothing but concern, however, so she lets her shoulders sag.

“She told you.” The words sting as she says them, because of course Kara told her boss before she told her best friend.

Alleged best friend.

“Ha! Of course not. In fact, when I confronted her about it last year, she showed up at my office with some sort of optical illusion doppleganger to prove that she isn’t Supergirl. But once you see it, it’s impossible to to unsee.”

Lena ponders that for a long moment.

“And you’re okay with that? Kara denying the truth right to your face?”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt my feelings, I mean I’m her mentor - both as Kara and Supergirl - but I realize that she needs to keep them separate. For her own sanity.”

Lena is silent, pondering, and eventually Cat speaks again.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

She feels a gentle tug, the same that she has felt time and again for Lillian, and also with Rhea - that longing for mentorship and guidance. She wants to draw back, to pull in on herself; but Kara trusts Cat, and she so desperately need direction -  if only to keep herself from self destructing.

“Everyone is always hiding something from me, or using me, or abandoning me… I though Kara was different.”

“Hmm, you do realize that you’re doing exactly what Kara was afraid you would do when you found out; pushing her away, hurt and upset that she didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I AM hurt and and upset!” Lena protests, but it sounds weak even to her. “Do you know how I found out the truth?”

Cat shakes her head.

“Kara wouldn’t give me the details.”

“I kissed her.”

If Cat is shocked by that little detail, it doesn’t show on her face.

“I kissed her, and barely a second later she pushes me away, stuttering about the truth and who she has to tell me something. And then she just stands there, like she’s trying so hard to find the words. And my I don’t know what she’s about to say, but I have an idea - that she likes being my friend but she isn’t gay, that I’ve been misreading signals . . . that, I could have handled; that, I was prepared for.”

Lena hesitates and looks up, only to find Cat watching her intently, listening without judgement. Taking a deep breath, she continues.

“And then she just starts unbuttoning her shirt. Which, given the circumstances, is very confusing. Only the super suit is there underneath, and she’s refusing to look at me … It takes me a minute, for everything to work itself out in my brain, that two of my only friends …” She trails off for a moment. “It just hurts to think that I had shared everything with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to tell me who she actually is. I trusted her - I thought she trusted me!” She chews her lip. “So I told her that I had a meeting to go to and I sent her away.”

“And you haven’t answered any of her phone calls or text messages since.”

She feels a pang of guilt at Cat’s accusing tone, but she tries not to look scolded as she meets the older woman’s gaze. She doesn’t respond, simply waits for Cat to weigh the details.

It’s nearly impossible not to look away; Cat’s eyes are narrowed, and she studies Lena as if she’s trying to find the most scathing way to tell her that her shoes don’t match her dress. But she doesn’t back down, she’s dealt with worse than Cat Grant all her life.

Finally, Cat speaks, her tone almost dismissive.

“So let me make sure that I’m understanding you correctly. Even though you’re a certified genius, and you rival even myself in the realm of CEO’s that completely terrify their their board members; you still lack enough confidence to ever consider that perhaps Kara’s inability to tell you her secret had to do with her own insecurities and absolutely nothing to do with how much she trusts you?”

Lena shakes her head slowly, and Cat rolls her eyes.

“Really, you two are just perfect for each other, the both of you out there doing amazing things but still so afraid of what the other really thinks of you. And honestly what has the world come to that I now have to play matchmaker? Don’t I have better things to do with my time?” She flutters a hand. "Well, my new assistant finally learned how to deliver a decent latte, so that frees up at least half an hour.” She pauses, as if she actually contemplating the logistics of her new role as self-proclaimed love guru; and Lena is left unsure of what exactly she’s supposed to say in this situation, so she stays silent, arching an eyebrow pointedly. It’s a long moment before Cat seems to remember that she’s still there.

“What are you still doing here? Go talk to her, settle things before I have to replace the floor of my balcony from all her pacing.” She turns Lena towards the main floor of the gala where Kara is staring forlornly at the potsticker dangling between her fingertips.

“That’s it? That’s your grand advice? I’m just supposed to forget that she hid her identity for so long?”

“In instances like this, you have to weigh your options. Which is more important to you? Your relationship with Kara? Or your frustration at being lied to?”

As she watches Kara, she feels a sorrow made worse by distance. She’s hurt, of course, but she misses her best friend.

“Now, we should do lunch sometime. I’ll have my assistant call yours and set something up.”

Without waiting for a response, Cat turns and saunters away, only stopping when Lena calls out after her.

“Kara was right, you know, you are the master at backhanded compliments.”

Cat doesn’t turn, but Lena would swear she sees the older woman shake her head before she resumes her stalk out of the ballroom.

Once Cat is gone, there’s nothing to distract her from her own thoughts - at least nothing that doesn’t involve staring pensively out at the crowd; and every time she does that, she finds herself watching Kara. So instead, she she excuses herself to the bar and flags down own of the servers for a glass of merlot.

She thinks about what Cat said, thinks about how she feels; but she’s had days to figure out how she feels, and she knows deep down what she wants, she’s just afraid.

Only that’s ridiculous, because she’s Lena fucking Luthor, and she isn’t scared of anything.

Not her mother, not hostile board members, not assassins.

Except her best friend not trusting her, or rejecting her.  

Of that, she’s fucking terrified.

But she swallows her fear with the last of her wine, tossing back the half glass and rising to her feet. As she heads back towards the main room of the gala, she’s struck with the thought that Kara might have been called away by her … alter ego duties, and she feels the dread in her stomach swell. If she doesn’t do this now she may never -

Only Kara is still there, still staring at the various appetizers spread out in front of her. Lena takes a deep breath and begins weaving her way through the couples swaying on the dance floor. She’s surprised that Kara doesn’t notice her coming, but the other woman jumps when Lena touches her shoulder.

“Lena!” Kara fumbles her glasses back up her nose and Lena can’t help but think about how adorable she looks. “I didn’t realize you were here tonight! No, I take that back. I knew you were here, I saw you, I just - I was trying to keep my distance, I didn’t know if you would want to talk to me after - I mean you haven’t been answering my calls -“

“Kara.” Lena interrupts her softly, smiling because Kara is still her Kara, regardless if she’s Supergirl too. “The other day, when I kissed you, did you pull back because you didn’t want to kiss me? Or because you need to tell me about your side job?”

Kara’s eyes flicker to her lips.

“Oh, Rao; Lena, I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, I just didn’t want to mislead -“

Lena doesn’t let her finish, instead she takes advantage of the extra height her heels give her and leans forward, tracing Kara’ jaw with gentle finger tips and tugging her into a searing kiss.

It’s longer than their first, but still short; because Lena is mindful of the fact that they’re at a public event and that there are paparazzi around every corner.

Still, her heart feels infinitely lighter, and as she begins to lose herself in Kara’s hooded eyes she knows, in that moment, that she made the right choice.

Her relationship with Kara is more important to her than any lingering frustration over hurt feelings will ever be.

“Lee, I’m so sorry, I never wanted to keep it from you, I just-”

Lena stops her again, this time with her thumb - tracing along the lines of Kara’s lip.

“I appreciate that we need to have a long conversation,” She lets her eyes follow her thumb for a moment before smirking. “about a few thing actually.” Kara grins, and oh if Lena thought she felt giddy after that kiss…

“But maybe here isn’t the best place.” She finishes, and Kara glances around the room, seeming to realize that they aren’t alone. “But …” She draws Kara’s face back to hers with a gentle finger. “I hear that  L-Corp’s rooftop looks beautiful this time of night.”

Kara’s face lights up, and she leans forward until her lips are nearly brushing Lena’s ear.

“Are you going to let me fly you?”

“Of course, what’s the fun in having a superhero best friend if she never flies you anywhere?”

Kara giggles and drags her towards the stairs, neither of them noticing Cat Grant watching them from across the room with a knowing smirk.