#Mostly want to make his path harder if possible which is unlikely to be possible

[maeamian]

Switched my voter registration to vote in the Republican primary instead of the Democratic one considering there's at least a chance that'll be competitive by the time it gets here and all the non-presidential offices have top-two primaries rather than party based ones.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe—”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

[aboveallarescuer]

I love that Daenerys Targaryen has significant parallels with all the major ASOIAF characters (as well as with many of the minor and the historical ones too). I love that comparing and contrasting her with them almost always highlights her epicness and/or how special her place in the narrative is.

Daenerys Targaryen is not just a queen, she’s a queen regnant and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, i.e., a she-king. This means that she can be compared and contrasted not only with Cersei and Margaery or with Alysanne and the other Targaryen queens consort, but also (in fact, especially) with Stannis and Robb or with Aegon the Conqueror and the other Targaryen monarchs that succeeded him.

Daenerys Targaryen is not just a claimant to the Iron Throne like Stannis, Young Griff and Renly, she’s the only one of them who is a POV character.

Daenerys Targaryen is not just one of the POV rulers, she also happens to be the only POV ruler with power in her own right and who isn’t in a subservient position in any way (Jon is Lord Commander, but he’s also the king’s advisor and is running the equivalent of a penal colony, so the stakes are much lower than Daenerys ruling a city and dealing with opposition from half the world; Tyrion and Ned are Hands of the King; Cersei is queen regent, which means that her power stems from Tommen’s kingship). Also, Daenerys has the clearest parallels with Aragorn and her ADWD storyline was deliberately written by GRRM as a response to the lack of information from Tolkien about what makes Aragorn a good king. Finally, if one compares her ADWD storyline with Jon’s, one can see how many roles she occupies at the same time: the administrator (Jon), the monarch (Stannis), the most magical character linked to fire and prophecies (Melisandre) and the leader of the disenfranchised (Mance; note that Daenerys was forced to leave her homeland, was enslaved and currently doesn’t belong anywhere - that’s the exact same situation of many of the former slaves of Slaver’s Bay, who come from different places and have different races, ethnicities and backgrounds. Daenerys empathized with them right away because she is one of them. Her detractors may accuse her of being an outsider, but that’s because they prioritize the viewpoint of the Ghiscari slavers. The freedmen, like Daenerys, come from many different places and are outsiders to the noblemen too).

Daenerys Targaryen is an extraordinary conqueror and strategist. Aegon the Conqueror made the Westerosi bend the knee with the help of his dragons, 15-year-old Daenerys Targaryen overthrew the slave masters primarily thanks to her own battle plans, not her dragons. Robb Stark captured castles in the westerlands motivated by personal injury and his actions had local impact; Daenerys Targaryen conquered three cities motivated by her desire to abolish slavery and her actions had worldwide impact.

Daenerys Targaryen is not a typical member of her family, she is the main leader and representative of House Targaryen in a way that Jon/Bran/Arya/Sansa or Cersei/Jaime/Tyrion can’t ever claim to be. Their fathers Ned Stark and Tywin Lannister had large roles in the main story and, in the Starks’ case, their older brother Robb is more well-remembered than any of them (at least so far). Meanwhile, Daenerys’s father Aerys II was already dead before she was born and before the main story began, which allowed her to carve her own path outside of his influence. Moreover, her accomplishments are already greater than both of her older brothers’. She became the face of her family in a way that matches (in fact, even surpasses) Ned with House Stark and Tywin with House Lannister.

Daenerys Targaryen is not a typical mother, she’s both Mother of Dragons and Mhysa. Her motherhood is transcendental in a way that Catelyn’s or Cersei’s aren’t because it is not related to blood ties or to her fertility. Instead, it’s associated with her unprecedented feat of reviving an extinct species, with her ability to make up the magic as she goes along, with her leadership, with her revolutionary nature, with her compassion for thousands of people. Additionally, unlike the other major mothers, Daenerys is the only one who isn’t doomed to go “mad” despite all the losses and hardships she faced.

Daenerys Targaryen is a hero, which is especially clear when her actions are contrasted with House Stark’s, whose brand of “heroism” has been mostly to react to personal injury so far. Ned Stark participated in Robert's Rebellion because his father and brother were killed. Ned’s son Robb wanted Northern independence because his father was killed. Ned’s vassals want to start another war in the name of the Starks because of their loyalty and their outrage about the Red Wedding. Their motivations, sympathetic as they may be, have never involved the commoners. In contrast, GRRM had Daenerys empathize with the former slaves, start a war in their name and abolish slavery despite them not being associated with her through oath of fealty or blood relations or lands. She was specifically singled out by the author as the one leader who “wants equality for everyone”. It’s a stark contrast (pun intended) to the actions of the main family (at least as a unit) of the story. Sadly, it’s easier (for some fans) to root for the heroes mostly reacting to personal injury who never made any mistakes of large scale consequences since they never got to be in authority. Or for the heroes fighting against ice zombies (though, to be fair, Jon haven’t even faced them in ADWD, his main challenge was to conciliate the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch, so the stakes of his storyline are much lower when one compares his problems with Dany dealing with enemies from all over Essos raising armies to defeat her). It’s harder to do the same with the hero who takes an active stance against social injustices and who wrestles with hard questions about when political violence is justified (which never have easy, clear-cut answers) and all the negative ramifications that come with them.

Oh, and have I mentioned that Daenerys Targaryen is the character with the most overt clues of being Azor Ahai/Prince That Was Promised/Stallion Who Mounts the World? Like with the birth of the dragons, uniting all the khalasars and then leading humanity to victory against the Others will be two more unparalleled feats of hers among the characters of the current timeline. Additionally, as she becomes surrounded and influenced by prophecies, we get to see how Daenerys has a healthy relationship with them in contrast to other characters like Cersei and Stannis.

All these attributes and accomplishments are made even more remarkable when one contrasts them with what doesn’t necessarily make Daenerys Targaryen unique. Yes, Daenerys became the most powerful person in her world, but she also lived in poverty among lowborn people without the privilege of a castle or a formal education, which lends itself to comparisons with Davos and Melisandre. Yes, Daenerys is a queen, but she’s also a young girl who loves songs and stories and idealizes her family members, which lends itself to comparisons with Arya, Brienne and Sansa. Yes, Daenerys is a loving, compassionate mother, but she was also raised by her abuser throughout all of her formative years, which lends itself to comparisons with dysfunctional families like the Lannisters, the Greyjoys and the Cleganes. And so on.

Daenerys Targaryen has a very special place in the narrative, which I think should be acknowledged not only to appreciate her character, but also to understand why GRRM chose to isolate her from everyone else. Why would GRRM be confident that his readers would still be interested in Daenerys despite the fact that she doesn’t interact with any of his other major characters for most of the story? Is it merely because of her dragons, as her detractors say?

No.

It’s because, as the list above showed, Daenerys’s narrative importance and accomplishments are unmatched. They had to be. Daenerys’s character and storyline had to be connected to pretty much everyone else’s in significant, thematic ways in order for her to earn an entire continent, as well as her place as the Fire of ASOIAF. That is why Daenerys is guaranteed to have a major role in all the three main plotlines of ASOIAF. That is why Daenerys is so iconic and represents this book series in a way that no individual Stark could ever do. That is why Daenerys has to be so many things at the same time: a POV character and a claimant to the Iron Throne, a mother and the main representative of her family, the most powerful person in her world and a former slave, a ruler and a conqueror, a she-king and a young girl, quite possibly the story’s main hero and savior. That no other ASOIAF character can come close to her narrative importance or to her in-universe accomplishments is kind of the point because Daenerys had to encompass everything that is great about ASOIAF in order to carry her own storyline. And I'm excited for TWOW because, as she moves closer to Westeros, her importance will only increase more and more.

Daenerys Targaryen is like fine wine. She gets better and better the more time passes, the more you think about her and the more you realize how all the other ASOIAF storylines somehow lead back to hers. Dany’s storyline almost always looks that much more epic and greater in comparison to them because she carries her storyline on her own, so the author had to make sure she caught our attention.

[gakkubi]

Ame Trio Analysis: Konan

I want to share some thoughts on the Ame Trio/Ame Orphans because I do think they have one of the most complex, interesting and beautiful arcs in the Narutoverse. I will discuss their personalities and thoughts. This post is about Konan, there are also Yahiko and Nagato. (3/3): I'll end with Konan because she's the one who lives the longer and is impacted by both Yahiko and Nagato's death.

KONAN:

Also available in Russian: ссылка на русский перевод

Konan is possibly the hardest character to analyse because her stand-alone arc is the last one to appear, and the story doesn't dwell on her ideals and motivations until the very end - despite that, it's my personal belief she's one of the best female characters developed in the series. With a few exceptions, female characters in the Narutoverse will usually take the position of supporting the male characters - but unlike most of the other women, Konan's position of support actually makes sense with her character.

A person not being the "original creator" of the philosophy they follow or joining other characters to achieve a common goal does not mean they don't have a mind or will of their own; Konan is just as free to make her own decisions as the other characters.

While Yahiko takes the role of "fallen hero" and Nagato is the "unwilling protagonist", Konan is the ever-present observer; she's the last one to take the spotlight in the Ame Trio storyline, and with her, the last open ends are closed. Konan is the element which endured throughout all of the Ame Trio's different phases, from their start to their brightest and darkest points until the very end. She's the Angel, the one who will carry and reinforce the will she has received.

Konan has a moral trait which makes her strikingly different from Yahiko and Nagato; she is not loyal to abstract ideals, but rather concrete ones. Even though Yahiko and Nagato eventually digress on their philosophies, both dedicate their lives to the pursuit of peace and give up their lives to guarantee the survival of their goal, as abstract as it may be.

Konan, on the other hand, is loyal to people; of course she had beliefs of her own, but they mostly come from a local perspective, not a universal one. She's loyal to Amegakure; to her country, to her people, her citizens, her friends.

It's heavily implied in the story (more in the anime than the manga) that the people of Amegakure held her in high esteem (perhaps even more than they held Pain himself). This shines a new light on Konan, who early on the story was just an unknown villain of the Akatsuki - in fact, we come to learn most of the important aspects of her personality lie outside of the classic, evil Akatsuki.

To understand Konan it's important to understand the Ame Trio's dynamic as a whole; it's fundamental to consider that, just like Nagato, Konan owes her life to Yahiko's fierce will of surviving- her backstory alone with Yahiko is never shown but it's heavily implied that she was just as dependent on him as Nagato was. Like Nagato, her personality is much more passive and quiet until provoked.

Both Konan and Nagato were Yahiko's followers, and they were happy that way - they believed in his dream and his philosophy and found in the Akatsuki the meaning of their lives. It's important to understand that Yahiko's goals are also her goals, regardless if she was the one who created them or not; it's better to say he first inspired her into creating such dreams for herself.

Many other (very popular and loved) characters in the Naruto universe follow dreams and philosophies not originally created by themselves and are not perceived as mere "followers without opinion" like Konan sometimes is.

A common reason for the misunderstanding of Konan's character to claim she has no will of her own is that she continued to support Nagato even though he suffers an immense personality and philosophical shift after Yahiko's death. It's often wondered why Konan decided to stay by Nagato's side after Yahiko's death despite his radical change, and it's often associated with her having no ideas of her own. This is not true; the story builds a very logical and realistic reason for her to continue supporting him regardless of her truly agreeing with his new peace philosophy.

Very much like Nagato, Konan saw the people she loved and her reasons to live be taken away from her twice. The first time, it was Yahiko who gave both of them meaning and direction; the second time Nagato and Konan found themselves having nothing again - all they had was the legacy Jiraiya and Yahiko left behind.

Konan's life was saved by Yahiko twice; first when he helped her survive and second when he sacrificed himself so she could escape Hanzo's trap. It's important to realize the reason why Hanzo could trap Yahiko and Nagato is that they captured her first; although we have no evidence for this, it's possible Konan also felt guilt for "giving" the enemy a token to which they could manipulate Yahiko into obedience.

Yahiko being a key factor on her survival (both physical and mental) and her feeling responsible for his death are both factors that could result in her feeling immense guilt and a sense of debt with him. Like Nagato, Konan couldn't just let Yahiko's death be pointless after giving up his life for them.

Any reasonable person would have their hope shaken after seeing Yahiko get killed after his "non-violence, mutual understanding" philosophy failed. It would take an enormous endurance and faith to lose a person who she loved and keep on trying the same thing with the hope that "next time things will work as intended." Perhaps, things would never work as Yahiko imagined - perhaps his original plan needed adaptations.

However, unlike Nagato, Konan hadn't been conditioned by either Jiraiya or Yahiko to think that she was the one who would find the key to peace; she didn't spend her life pressured by the responsibility of coming up with a plan. Nagato was the one who the former leaders trusted would find the answer to end all the wars - and he stepped up to continue the "plan to peace" with his new ideas of how to get there.

And there's yet another important factor in all this; Yahiko had left her with a mission - the mission of supporting Nagato. The conversation where Yahiko entitles her with the responsibility of being by Nagato's side is highlighted in her fight against Obito to tell us, the audience, why Konan is so determined to help Naruto now - her mission of protecting the "savior of the world", originally given by Yahiko, had been transferred from supporting Nagato to Naruto.

Once we see the perspective of her feeling like she was in debt with Yahiko for saving her life twice - and adding love and guilt to the mixture, which makes it much harder for reason to overpower emotion -, it's easy to see why it could be hard to nearly impossible for her to dismiss the last mission she could actually complete; following Yahiko's will was a way of still being connected to him after he was gone.

Both Nagato and Konan nearly lost the meaning of their lives when Yahiko was killed and the original Akatsuki destroyed - both clinged to what they had left. Neither ever had a proper environment to deal with the grief they felt, a grief that echoed a childhood trauma that shaped all of their lives.

All of these factors are reasons why it would be hard for Konan to look objectively at what she was doing by supporting Nagato's new philosophy; however, Konan wasn't just guilt trapped into being by his side.

Konan, as I stated before, is much more pragmatic than her counterparts; she's loyal to what is hers - her friends, her nation. Even if we ignore the guilt or the "mission", it's safe to assume she would have stayed by his side anyway; Nagato was all the family she had left, and she was loyal to what was hers above all else.

Perhaps, if the mental conditions weren't so harsh, Konan could have resisted or opposed some of Nagato's new radical ideas more than she already did - debated with him, perhaps they could have convinced each other to stay in Yahiko's path. In the anime, Obito even says he relied on Konan for "calming" Nagato, which tells us that she reasoned with him to some extent - however, neither of them were able to keep their pain from overriding the morals they previously had.

Konan has a mind of her own, and it's shown to us in the moments where she disagrees either visually or verbally with Nagato's actions; Jiraiya's death, Konoha's destruction and the conversation with Naruto are moments where she confronts him. She is shown disagreeing with Nagato on multiple instances, which is proof that she felt she could voice her discontent with him - that she didn't feel completely trapped by guilt or that all she had to do was simply obey him; she was not just a voiceless "Angel" obeying her "God." We're also shown that Nagato disregards many of her opinions - by the time he becomes a villain, he is extremely narcissistic and confident in his hability to make the right choice - but that doesn't keep her from voicing her disagreement anyway.

It's not clear to us, the audience, how much Konan was hurt by Nagato's disregard (we're shown she is uncomfortable to some extent); it's the combination of her guilt, Yahiko's "mission" and her own faith in Nagato's plan that keeps her following their goal.

All the members of the Ame Trio value the search for peace above everything else, each in their own particular way.

Unlike Nagato, Konan has a much clear and objective way of thinking, interested only in what will serve them to achieve their goal and dismissing everything else that will not be useful.

Konan is never shown having any interest whatsoever in the other members of the Akatsuki (she never engages in the conversations they have), in the people of Konoha (which is why she condones wasting energy on being violent with them) or even in what Naruto has to say. All that she cares about is what is hers - her nation, her family; she's completely indifferent to everything else.

(That being said, I must note we don't know how her relationships with the other Akatsuki work as it would be impossible for her to spend almost 20 years without interacting with the other members. One of Konan's most important traits is her kindness, so it's "in character" to assume she would treat them respectfully and kindly, being fond of them to some extent; it's also safe to assume she didn't care about them at all, given her behavior in the manga. I think both interpretations are equally canonical because they lean on different aspects of her personality to fill a backstory we're never shown).

Although Konan is never shown being especially inclined to violence, her indifference and disergard for everything that is not hers - together with her own belief on Nagato's plan and the suffering which she endured - allows her to be the cold-blooded leader and killer she eventually becomes.

Konan believed in Nagato - like both Jiraiya and Yahiko did - while recognizing his flaws. When Naruto received recognition and acceptance from Nagato, he was incorporated to Konan's definition of what is "hers"; she aligns him in a sequence of "saviors" who she believed, a sequence that began with Yahiko and continued with Nagato. She makes the conscious decision of giving up her life for her dream of peace as Yahiko and Nagato have done before her.

Obito is the example of a person who Konan never incorporated on what is "hers" - this is clear on their fight where she says she studied his moves and his powers all the years they have worked together, and also clear on the passive-aggressive conversation they have after Jiraiya's death (Chapter 407). The way their relationship works - especially considering that she spent approximately half of her life working with him - also shows that Konan doesn't blindly support other characters for the sake of supporting them; for all we know, she trusted him much less than Nagato did.

It's also in Konan's fight with him that we see her analytical intelligence at full bloom - I dare say she is the most intelligent of the trio when it comes to strategy; first, for not ever truly trusting Obito to begin with (possibly because Yahiko also didn't), and second for being able to set a strategy that effectively killed him (hence why he used Izanagi - he was killed by her) with information based on her own observations.

Konan is extremely careful and precise; she pays incredible attention to detail, being able to draw accurate conclusions after analyzing just a little information.

Konan isn't ever shown to be hateful or angry, with the exception of her encounter with Jiraiya, where she treats him with spite, taunting him with the idea that following Orochimaru's suggestion could have avoided all the trouble he was going through with the Akatsuki. It's one of the few times we see Konan treating anyone in a way that is not kind or neutral, as if she held some type of resentment against Jiraiya - I like to think she blamed him, in a way or another, for not preparing them well enough for the cruelty of the world; for letting them be so naïve that Yahiko could be killed in a trap easily avoidable. It's obvious that Konan still held Jiraiya in some regard as it's easier for people to lash out on those who they like the most - after many years interacting with people to whom she was completely indifferent (outside of Nagato), Konan was finally talking to a person she had feelings for.

She is also - as described by Jiraiya and also viewed on the characters memories - a very kind, gentle, caring person; the very fact that she chose to save Nagato by sharing food with him shows her predisposition to helping others. Her kindness wasn't lost after Yahiko's death, but mostly replaced by the indifference she felt at everything that did not contemplate her goals, her family or her nation. After she accepts Naruto as being "one of her own" and sharing goals with him, she's quick to display kindness towards him and indirectly make amends with Jiraiya in the process.

As quiet, introspective person, Konan is very self-sufficient; although she is a member of the Akatsuki, she only interacts with them when necessary, probably spending most of her time alone or caring for Amegakure's business (as she shared both Akatsuki and Amegakure's leadership with Nagato and he was more active with the Akatsuki, it's safe to assume she cared for the other half). Her quiet, calmer nature matches that of Nagato; they could find understanding by having similar thought processes and also having a harder time processing their feelings, finding sympathy and comfort in each other.

Although I have mentioned that Konan might have felt a sense of debt towards Yahiko for saving her life, I want to highlight I see this feelings as possible only after his death because of its traumatizing circumstances; I don't think she felt she owed him anything while they were all alive, especially because it's never shown that he ever demanded such recognition. Yahiko and Konan have very distinct energies and personalities that complete each other, their relationship has a strong foundation because they share the same core beliefs and traits; loyalty and faith. I can see her falling in love with him for many reasons and one of them being by her admiring how hard he works to achieve the goal of peace.

Konan is a person that feels gentle and kind towards life as a whole; she doesn't seem to need much to be happy - as a child she made origami to pass time and have fun (and eventually used her intelligence to turn her passion into power); as an adult, the anime dedicates a scene to show her smiling to the rain while thinking of happy memories - happy for the sake of being in peace with the new direction she was taking her life after she and Nagato found someone to believe in again.

(Edit: Unfortunately I could not add another image to the post to illustrate this comment, but I wanted to talk about one aspect of Konan's personality that I like a lot and also forgot to mention. Despite her collected and serious demeanor, she also has a tendency to taunt people, a bit similar to Nagato's taste for ironic jokes. This is shown just a few times. In chapter 373, when Yahiko says he will save Nagato the next time something happens, Konan makes fun of him by remarking that Nagato is actually stronger than him, and she laughs when he gets annoyed. As I showed before, she also provokes Jiraiya with the hypothesis of things being better if Orochimaru had killed them. In her fight with Obito, despite his clear disinterest in what she was saying, Konan goes on to explain why Nagato and her betrayed him, and why he will never win. During the Water on a Frog's Face Training with Jiraiya she's also shown laughing at Yahiko's clumsiness. In my opinion, the way she evidently enjoys herself when she mocks people is strikingly contrasting to her generally unaffected personality, and personally I like that most of those times Yahiko was involved. Both in the anime, because of the animation, and in the manga because of Yahiko's surprise, I'm also under the impression that she was the one to initiate their kiss).

All of the Rain Trio's characters have very distinct and interesting psychologies; personally, I find Konan to be the most complex one because of the extreme discrepancies she displays, sometimes warm and kind, sometimes extremely cold and indifferent. I think the way she seems to only care about a very limited aspect of things is very attractive, as it shows how focused she is on her goals - as a nonviolent person, the most cruel act of Konan as a villain comes from her apathy to everyone else that is not part of what is "hers." Unlike Nagato and most of the other members of the Akatsuki who actively indulge in vile acts, she simply pursues her goals, removing anything and anyone on her way.

When he watch Konan's childhood, we see a child that is kind and light-hearted despite of all the pain she has endured, and only after being inflicted by yet another wave of suffering Konan's empathy and hope are shaken to the core; however, we learn her feelings were not dead but rather dormant, and it's by reconnecting to her core traits and beliefs that she finally finds peace in the very end.

[rjhpandapaws]

I Will Always Know You

Chapter 1: When the Sea Calls to You, I will Follow at a distance

Translations:

Tapt Sjel / Sjel: Lost Soul; used to refer to this version of Gavin.

Den Niende / Niende: The Ninth; used to refer to Nines

Time brought him his Wanderer again. In an era of Norse warriors. Those green eyes held more than a man of his age should know. Roads and paths, though unfamiliar in this life, still came easily to him. He followed the call of something that was lost to him, and Ennea followed him at a distance this time. Protecting him and feeling a painful mix of familiarity and love, as though his Wanderer had never died at all. There were differences in this life and Periplanomenos. His hair was closer to a shade of red than brown and was often braided. His eyes were harder and there was a scare under his left eye that lead back toward his ear. His voice was the same depth, but harsher when he spoke. Though he wandered, in this life he was not alone. Not physically at least. He traveled with a group, a family of sorts, though not by blood; but he was distant from them. He traveled with them because for now they were all called by the same thing and in the same direction. Battle, discovery, and the search for a home pulled Periplanomenos to this group, wanderlust would be what pulled him away eventually; and just as before Ennea would follow. This time, he vowed, there would be nothing left unsaid. This time he would love. His wanderer deserved it.

Periplanomenos stayed with this group longer than Ennea had thought he would. They took to the seas, fueled by Curiosity to conquer the unknown. Ennea took the form of a raven and followed. As he could not fly great distances, he became a companion of sorts to Periplanomenos. Which was how he learned that was not what he was called in this life. His Wanderer was called Tapt Sjel, Lost Soul. Something Ennea found fitting. He took his human for as Sjel rested, though he was no longer keeping his distance, this allowed him to keep up the illusion. Was he truly there if Sjel never saw him? If he never knew? The familiarity they had when he was a raven would have to be enough. Still, Ennea found himself running his fingers through Sjel’s hair as he slept. Familiar contact from another life, something he had missed desperately in the years he had been without Sjel’s company. Something he wondered if Sjel even knew about. They were alone often during the day. Sjel often spoke to him as an old friend and that must have seemed odd to his shipmates. Havin an animal companion wasn’t all that uncommon, but being this familiar with them seemed to be. Personally, Ennea loved it. It was reminisce of what they once had, the things they once did. As though on some level Sjel remembered him. As unlikely as it may have been, Ennea cherished the possibility.

“I have dreams.” Sjel confessed in the grey of the predawn hours, “They are of a man who is always traveling. I see things from his view I think. Most nights he is alone, but sometimes there is someone there with him. I am never able to see their face, just blue eyes. They are familiar.” Memories, Ennea wanted to say, not dreams. Though he was in thought for the time being, he was certain Sjel hadn’t said all of what was on his mind just yet. His eyes were distant. He was trying to sort through what he was remembering if Ennea had to guess. “I have seen them myself I think.” Sjel said in confidence as he turned to face Ennea, “Beside me while I rested. For a moment it almost felt like there was a hand in my hair.” He leaned against the wall of the ship and sighed, “When I woke up again he was gone, like he had never been there at all. But those eyes, I know them. They belonged to someone I loved once.” Ennea was staring at him in a way that might have been considered rude had he been human. Perks of being a bird he supposed. Sjel had seen him, so he needed to be more careful. More important than that though was that Sjel seemed to remember him. Or he remembered having been Periplanomenos at the very least. If it wouldn’t require explaining himself to so many other people he would have changed shape right then and there, taken Sjel into his arms, and confessed everything.

It was a lot to think about and Ennea found himself lost to his own thoughts in the coming days. Sjel remembered some form of him from his life as Periplanomenos. Moreover, Periplanomenos had loved him. In what way Ennea did not know, but what he did know was that as soon as they made landfall he would make his best efforts to make sure such feelings never went unspoken again. He would know Sjel again in this life, and for the first time he would actively love him. For now though, he would need to be a little more cautious. Sjel had seen him once in the place where waking and sleep met. Would he be looking now? Between that moment and his memories would he recognize Ennea when the time came? Would it be like carrying on from where they had left off or would they have to start over? Would it be like this every time? Ennea prayed for answers but received none. He took his human form only when he was certain Sjel was lost to his dreams now. He did not wish to be caught, but he couldn’t resist having such familiar contact with the man he had loved even still. As was known when one was tempting fate, good luck could only last so long. Though that night was not now, it would be soon.

His peace lasted a little under two weeks. He was able to watch Sjel without risk of getting caught for a good many nights. Ennea had every reason to believe that tonight would be no different. Perhaps he had gotten a little too bold because of that. Sjel had rolled over and Ennea had reasonably believed him to be asleep so he changed forms. Once he had settled Sjel turned back to face him with a pleasant smile. “I knew it.” Sjel whispered into the darkness, “You have been with me the whole time. I would know those eyes anywhere. Den Niende.” The Ninth, the name Periplanomenos had given him, but in the tongue of this life. “How did you know it was me?” He asked. “Even ravens don’t have eyes as all knowing as yours.” Sjel replied in little more than a hum, “The All Father might have given his messengers many things, but what you hold in your eyes I remember from my dreams.” Niende found himself smiling, “I was worried that you wouldn’t remember me.” “I don’t.” Sjel admitted, “Only your eyes and the name. I don’t know why you and that man are in my dreams. Or why being around you feels like having a place to rest. But I would like to.” He didn’t know that listening to someone speak could hurt so much, but here he was. “Me too.” He agreed, “I would love to get to know you all over again. Once we  reach your destination, I promise.”

Sjel gave him another smile, but this time it was broken by a yawn, “When we get there then.” “Rest.” Niende whispered as he reached out to card his fingers through Sjel’s hair, “I will be with you always.” He was still a raven during the daylight hours, but after that their nights changed. When Sjel was ready to rest Niende took his human form and keep him company. Their conversations were mostly nonsense as Sjel was usually pretty tired but that didn’t keep Niende from falling even more in love with him. A year passed like this and he could no longer keep these feelings to himself. He had contained them for one lifetime, he wasn’t about to do it for another. It was a night the same as many others. Sjel was getting ready to sleep and Niende was carding his fingers through his hair. “Might I confess something Sjel?” He inquired as Sjel’s breathing deepened. Sjel’s dark eyes fluttered open with a great amount of effort it seemed, “Of course.” Came the sleep heavy reply. “I fear I have fallen in love with you once again, but I want you to know this time so things might be different.” Niende admitted and stilled his fingers in Sjel’s hair as he waited on a response. A great many emotions passed through Sjel’s eyes before he quietly asked, “What happened last time?”

Niende had not been ready for that question, though he supposed that he should have been, but he supposed that honesty was probably the best way to go. “I travelled with you until the years on your body made you weary of it. I loved you privately for all of them and you died in my arms before I ever had the courage to tell you. So I promised myself that the next time I had the chance I would tell you.” Sjel looked more awake now and he sat up, “I loved you too then, I think. I know when I see you in my dreams I am overcome with it and I am unable to tell if it is from that life or this one.” He confessed, “I do not know you as well as I would like, but I know that I have a whole lifetime to get to know you better. It is a lifetime left, but Niende, I love you too.” There would come to be a legend of a man and his raven of war, and this night was where it would begin. With the knowledge that Sjel loved him as much now as he had then Niende promised himself that there would be nothing short of Death herself that would take Sjel away from him again. He would be the place where his Wanderer found rest, and the word would be theirs to discover. He had the world in his hands now that Sjel was his to keep. He had the one thing he had ever wanted, and if he had to guess, this was what happiness felt like. Something so intense that he understood why his brothers had been so devastated by the loss of it. He knew what was waiting for him when Sjel’s humanity got the better of him.

When they got to the New World he and Sjel broke away from the group that had brought them there and took of on their own. It was the happiest Niende could remember being. Havin Sjel by his side and a whole world to explore. There was nothing else he needed. It was old age that ultimately came for Sjel. His hair had gone white with time, and his eyes, though still beautiful as they had always been, they didn’t work as well as they once had. Niende hadn’t aged a day despite the decades that had passed, and while he loathed this small fact, he found that he wouldn’t have changed it for anything. Death came for Sjel in the night, but this time Niende had time to say goodbye and Sjel went into the Beyond knowing that he was loved. While missing him ached just as much as before, Niende was comforted by the fact he would get to meet, learn, and love Sjel again in another life. He was looking forward to it. To knowing him once again.

[thelibrarbian]

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 3249

Read on Ao3

or below the cut:

Papyrus was well aware that his lessons with Captain Undyne did not include every aspect of the training a future Royal Guardsman should receive. There was, as far as Papyrus was aware, usually more emphasis on fighting humans and less on cooking pasta, for instance. But the chapter on first aid was a section that she had taken him through in detail, and he was very grateful for that right now.

To be quite honest, he was somewhat surprised by his own knowledge of skeletal anatomy and medicine; he was reasonably sure that not all of it came from Undyne's lessons, but he couldn't remember where else he had learned it. He didn't dwell on it, though - he had probably just read a book at some point and then forgotten about it, or it was simply instinct from being a skeleton monster himself - it only meant that he was even better equipped to take care of the unconscious monster on his living room floor, even if he hadn't realized the extent of his own greatness before.

He couldn't say he felt particularly Great, though.

Fell might have been no longer in danger of dusting, but actually healing his wounds proved much more difficult than it should have been. Not only did attacks deal more damage the more harming intent went into them, it also made them harder to heal - and what Papyrus could feel lingering where Fell had been hit was outright murderous. Healing it wasn't impossible, most certainly not impossible for the Great Papyrus, but if he had hoped to fully mend any of the broken bones right there and then, that was very clearly not happening. The most he could do was to ease some of the pain and encourage Fell's natural healing to do its job perhaps a little faster.

Well! That was a minor setback, but no matter! They could still patch Fell up the regular way, and everything would be fine. And while Sans couldn't assist with healing magic, Papyrus was very glad for the extra hands.

It took longer than he would have liked to admit, but eventually they had cleaned all the wounds, set and splinted the breaks, and wrapped what felt like the majority of Fell's body in bandages. Fell never stirred throughout it all, and Papyrus decided to be glad that he was sleeping through what could not be a pleasant experience from his end if he was conscious. The alternative train of thought that his unresponsiveness prompted was not one that Papyrus wanted to follow.

If Papyrus was perfectly honest, it surprised him a little just how eager his brother was to help. Not that he thought Sans would refuse to assist a monster in need, of course not, but... For reasons that Papyrus didn't entirely understand, Sans and Fell… did not usually get along particularly well, to put it lightly. Yet now it was only on Papyrus' insistence that yes, he really was able to handle everything else on his own that Sans eventually left the injured monster's side, taking Red upstairs with him to let him sleep on a proper (albeit ketchup-stained) mattress.

Papyrus would have preferred to move Fell to a bed as well so he could rest better, but the thought of carrying him up the stairs in this state seemed daunting. Of course, it wasn't that he didn't trust his ability to maneuver a badly injured skeleton through the house, who was probably going to dust if Papyrus accidentally dropped him, or knocked his head against a doorframe, or jostled him just a little bit too much… But there was also now an unoccupied, reasonably comfortable couch only two steps away, and lifting Fell onto that did not come with nearly the same potential for highly unlikely fatal accidents.

He was exceedingly careful as he looped his arms under Fell's shoulders and legs and lifted him up, using a bit of blue magic to make the move go more smoothly for his alternate and avoid aggravating his injuries. Once he had double checked and triple checked and quadruple checked that Fell's HP really was stable now and would remain that way even if Papyrus left his side for a moment, he darted around the house, picked up any additional pillows from the other rooms (excluding Sans' room because he was not going to subject Fell to the ketchup stains he would inevitably find on his brother's pillows - and besides, Red was probably using those), and rushed back to the couch. He carefully arranged Fell a little more comfortably, supporting his upper body with pillows, making sure there was no pressure on his injured ribs, and draping a blanket over him. And then another, because Fell's state called for more than one blanket.

Finally, he brought a chair from the kitchen and sat down next to the couch, reaching over to lightly rest his hand on Fell's broken leg and continue to channel a slow, but steady stream of healing magic into him. It may not have been helping much, but Papyrus had enough magic at his disposal to keep this up for the rest of the night. And probably the next morning as well.

It was more disturbing than he wanted to admit, seeing his alternate so still in the pile of pillows and blankets. A few months had passed since their universes had crossed paths for the first time, but they had remained in somewhat regular contact since then - mostly due to Papyrus' own insistence to invite their rougher counterparts to a biweekly cross-universal skeleton game and movie night. And as much as Fell kept grumbling about those meetings and adamantly refused to host one in his own world, neither he nor Red had missed a single one so far.

Still, as much as Papyrus would like to, he didn't think he was allowed to call his alternate a friend yet. Red and Sans got along well, exchanging puns and knock-knock jokes and generally bonding over their terrible sense of humor, much to Papyrus' chagrin.

Fell was a different matter.

His grumbling may have noticeably decreased since their first meeting, but Papyrus suspected that he thought of the get-togethers more as strategic missions for potential cross-universal allyships rather than socializing. While Red, just like Sans, easily kept up a friendly (and pun-filled) conversation without sharing anything consequential, Fell made no pretense of always keeping the two of them at a metaphorical arm's length, always politely, but firmly turning down any of Papyrus’ suggestions to stay for longer than initially agreed. (Which, in turn, had led Sans to certain comments about sticks and pelvic cavities.) The few times Papyrus had seen his counterpart soften, for lack of a better word, was when the topic of conversation turned to either cooking or his cat, and those moments never lasted long before his carefully kept mask slid back into place.

Papyrus didn't take it personally, of course! Their rougher counterparts just weren't the kind of monsters to make friends easily, and with what Papyrus knew about the 'kill or be killed' universe they came from, he couldn’t expect them to be. It was simply going to be a challenge to earn their trust and friendship, and the Great Papyrus wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The Great Papyrus also wasn’t one to doubt his chances of success with that particular challenge. He wasn’t one to linger on how long his friend quantity had remained stagnant despite his best efforts, or on the fact that, while he himself had just barely obtained a semi-official job as a sentry, Fell had climbed up through the ranks of his own Royal Guard in record time…

Fell, who was now not only a full member of the Royal Guard, but the second-in-command, outranked only by Captain Undyne and the King himself. Who, if Red was to be believed, was single-handedly responsible for turning the previously lawless town of Snowdin into one of the safest places in his version of the Underground. Whose name was feared and respected from Snowdin all the way to the capital.

Fell… was not supposed to look this small.

He had still shown no sign of movement other than his shallow breathing. His face, the only part of him not covered in blankets, was pale, even for a skull, devoid of the faint glow of magic that was usually the sign of a healthy skeleton monster.

Papyrus swallowed dryly and increased the flow of his healing magic.

He very decisively did not think about what could have happened if Red had been held up, or if Fell had taken any more hits, or if Papyrus' magic hadn't been strong enough to stop the bleeding in time. Worrying too much wasn't helping anything right now. Besides, Red was going to do enough worrying for all of them combined once he woke up, whether he would show it or not, and apparently, there was a good chance that Sans would be joining him. So all the worrying in this house was already more than taken care of, and Papyrus didn't also need to think about things that hadn't happened, or question whether Fell remaining unconscious was to be expected with the severity of his injuries or whether it was a sign that he was- Yes, no, that was exactly what Papyrus was not thinking about.

In the same line of not-thinking, he really hoped that Red was alright.

With a sigh, Papyrus let his healing magic fade out. He needed to refocus. He sat up straight, stretching his arms and back until his spine popped; bending over his alternate like this wasn't the most comfortable position to keep for long periods of time, he realized. Not that it mattered - he would gladly take some minor discomfort if it helped Fell recover.

As quietly as possible, he scooted the chair over so he could better reach his alternate’s ribcage. But before he could even touch him, a faint noise, softer than what he would have expected, came from the end of the couch, and Papyrus' gaze darted over immediately.

Fell's head was turned towards him, his eye sockets were open, and he was staring at Papyrus with an unreadable expression.

Papyrus' shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, thank the stars you're awake! You had me worried there for a moment - not that I thought that someone as Great and Terrible as yourself could be kept down by anything at all, of course, what a ridiculous idea!" He gave a small and very much not nervous laugh. "But, I am rambling when I should instead be asking: How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Are you comfortable, or should I get more pillows?"

Fell gave no response, which, Papyrus could somewhat understand. That had probably been at least two questions too many for someone who didn't look like he was entirely awake yet.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated, fidgeting slightly with his hands and successfully stopping himself from continuing to ramble this time.

Fell still gave no response, although he stopped staring at Papyrus, his eye lights dim and unfocused as they scanned the room. Then, with a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking as if he was fully intending to get up.

Papyrus gave a noise of alarm and quickly reached out to stop him. "Oh, no, I believe that is not a good idea at this moment! You might hurt yourself - I mean, worse than you already - well…"

Fell let himself be guided back into the cushions without any resistance, and that was somehow more alarming than his attempt to get up in the first place. Papyrus was certain that, in any other instance, his alternate would have snapped at him for the mere suggestion that he should lie back down, and if Papyrus hadn't been concerned before, he certainly was now.

Trying his best not to let his worry show, he lightly patted Fell's shoulder and carefully tugged the blankets back up. "There you go, that's better! You just try to rest, and let us take care of everything else! I can even read you a book to help you relax, that usually works for me - although I do not know if you would enjoy Fluffy Bunny. Maybe 'A History of Puzzles'? Or maybe not, if it's too interesting to fall asleep to, that won't do, either!"

He paused his chatter to give his counterpart a closer look. Despite leaning back into the pillows again, Fell still looked tense, dim eye lights darting back and forth as if looking for something. Or searching the room for possible threats. Or both.

"Sans?" His voice was rougher and quieter than Papyrus remembered, closer to a whisper than anything else, but he supposed that was to be expected given the circumstances. Right now, Papyrus was glad to hear him speak at all.

"Your brother? He's upstairs, sleeping. He was exhausted when he came here, but Sa- Comic said he would be fine, he just needed some rest." Papyrus gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He brought you here, to mine and Comic's house, in case you were wondering how you got here. Or, er, where you were." He probably should have mentioned that right away, but, well, it couldn't be changed now.

Fell stared at him intensely, and Papyrus couldn't tell whether he was trying to judge the truthfulness of those statements, or if he just needed a while to process the words. Then he blinked a few times, looked over the room again, and something seemed to click in his mind. Some of the tension left his face as he exhaled, sinking back into the pillows.

For a moment, Papyrus considered asking what had happened to leave him in such a state, and he had already opened his mouth to do so when he paused. Fell didn't exactly seem like he was up for any sort of extended conversation at this point, and Papyrus decided to let him rest a bit more before he started needling him with more questions.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Papyrus cleared his non-existent throat. "Well! I was just going to heal you a bit more before you woke up, so if that's alright with you, I'll just get back to that?" When there were no objections, Papyrus brought his hand over his alternate's blanket-covered ribcage, fingers starting to glow green.

Faster than Papyrus thought his alternate could move, Fell's hand closed around his wrist before he made contact.

Papyrus stopped moving immediately. He wasn't afraid of his alternate, although he knew better than to underestimate him even in this state, if Papyrus' approach had somehow registered as a threat to him. Still, he really didn't want to startle him.

But Fell only stared at Papyrus' hand with a somewhat puzzled expression, slightly tilting his head. "Whadda ya..." He paused, frowning at his own slurred speech. When he continued after a moment, it sounded like it was taking him quite a bit of concentration to enunciate the words clearly. "What. Are you… doing?"

Oh. Right. Healing magic was… not much of a thing in Fell's universe. Not that Fell or Red had ever explicitly spoken about the topic - they very rarely spoke about anything regarding their universe, Red's occasional gushing about his brother's accomplishments notwithstanding - but Papyrus had come to his own conclusions. (Although he had wondered, with him and Fell being essentially the same monster… but that was neither here nor there.)

Papyrus straightened up slightly, as much as he could with his wrist still in Fell's grip. "Like I said, healing you! If you will allow me, that is. Which I very much hope you will, because despite my best efforts I'm afraid that you're still… not quite back to full health yet." And if that wasn't one of the biggest understatements to ever come out of his mouth, Papyrus didn't know what was.

Fell still looked confused, but he slowly released him.

"Thank you!" Papyrus gave a bright smile, which came a bit more easily than before. "Now, I'm just going to reach over there and place my hand on the blanket, alright? It shouldn't hurt, but please do let me know if it becomes uncomfortable at any-"

Another noise interrupted him, but he couldn't make out what Fell was trying to say this time.

"Pardon?"

Fell blinked furiously as if he was fighting hard to stay awake. Papyrus knew better than to tell him to go back to sleep; instead, he waited patiently for him to sort his words. "Why're ya… you… on th' chair?"

Papyrus blinked back. "Because I am planning to stay here for a while longer, and while I could stand the entire time, there wasn't really any need to, so I brought a chair from the kitchen?"

Fell huffed softly, his eye sockets starting to close before he forced them back open. "Not… what I mean… why'ren't ya on th' couch?"

"Because. You are on the couch??"

Fell stared at him - he had been doing a lot of that since he woke up -, then slowly raised his arm and patted the space behind his head. Which was mostly occupied by pillows at the moment.

"You… want me to sit on the couch with you?" Papyrus had to confirm. While they had, of course, shared the couch on movie nights before, Fell wasn't lying down on those occasions… and he didn't exactly strike Papyrus as the cuddly type.

Fell scoffed. "Obv'sly. If you're gonna keep… doin' this…" He vaguely gestured towards Papyrus, the chair he was sitting on, and the hand that Papyrus was still holding awkwardly over his ribs without touching him. "Don' need ta… need ta..." Then he let out a tired huff, clearly frustrated with his apparent struggle to finish the sentence. "Couch. Sit," he commanded, closing his eyes without waiting for a response.

Well. Alright. That was unexpected, but if Fell was this adamant about it, Papyrus couldn't really object, could he? It took a bit of shuffling, but in the end, he managed to arrange himself on the end of the couch next to Fell's head, with his legs under the pillows, and Fell seemed to have no objections to essentially lying in Papyrus' lap - or rather, lying in the pile of pillows that Papyrus had on his lap. In any case, the lack of protest was probably more of a testament to Fell's not-fully-conscious state than anything else, but it was certainly a more comfortable position for Papyrus than sitting on the chair and leaning over his alternate.

"Can I continue healing you now?" Papyrus asked again after a few moments.

He received a vague hum that sounded half like confirmation and half like Fell was falling asleep.

Papyrus took it as a 'yes'. He positioned his hand over the blankets around Fell's ribs, careful not to press on the injury, and focused on keeping his intent warm and soothing, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. Now, with one arm over his alternate, the position felt almost like a hug - another thing that Fell certainly would not have tolerated if he was fully conscious. As things were, though, there was another, even fainter hum as Fell shifted minutely in the pillows, and Papyrus got the strange impression that he was trying to curl closer.

[btsandvmin]

hi i really love reading your posts!! thank you for taking your precious time to write about my favourite pair <3

ok my first ever question: (sorry if you’ve been asked this already). what do you think about jimin and jungkook having the most screen time in the memories of 2019 dvd? we’ve seen how close vmin were in 2019 but there was only a very very few vmin moments edited in the whole 10 hour dvd.. the longest vmin interaction being when jimin pointed out a mistake tae made on stage and tae basically said: i admit but don’t exaggerate it. from the lack of seeing vmin together on the dvd, i was thinking if a new army were to watch it, they’d think vmin aren’t as close and cute as jimin and jungkook. whereas they showed us jimin and jungkook rehearsing, goofing around, eating, arriving and leaving together in their car in every part. i understand jimin and jungkook like to spend time together but they could’ve shown us the other members a little more including vmin.. what are your thoughts?

First of all I do think we did get Vmin moments and that often perspective on these things can vary a lot just on how you experience something. Here is another person who thought we got a lot of Vmin in memories 2019 just as an example.

It’s a bit the same as with people calling Vmin dead despite everything we might get. And I think comparing is sadly a big factor in this. But once again, one ship having more or less moments shouldn’t be an indicator of their status or closeness as long as they clearly show signs of still being close. Which Vmin always have done. We should also remember that shippers spread moments and the amount you see things might make it feel like it’s even more than it is. I am not saying Ji/kook don’t have a lot of moments, but they might feel like even more than they are. If we compare maybe they have similar amounts of moments with less popular ships, like Jin/kook, but we don’t hear about it as much. (In memories I also think most of those 10 hours won’t be ship moments in general.)

I think for the most time when we see something it’s because that’s what the members are doing. We should also remember their individual personalities, and that some members might show up more simply becuse they spend more time doing fun things in front of the camera.  I think Jimin, Jin and JK tend to get a lot more Bangtan Bomb time because they do “more interesting things” for example. Meanwhile Tae might be seen sitting on his phone in a corner or Namjoon might be resting etc.

I think using screen time to try an prove a ship won’t work on it’s own, but that screen time is a clear indicator of the bonds we see being genuine and that Ji/kook spend a lot together and are very close. But I don’t think lack of screen time definitely means the opposite. There can be many reasons we see more of various pairs. For example we also see a lot of Jin/kook, but their shippers aren’t as loud so we might not take note of it as much. We also get a lot of Vmin in other things like Bon Voyage, but that doesn’t mean that suddenly Ji/kook is dead. I really don’t think comparing is going to do anything good. I also think many ships get promoted in various ways, like being together for photoshoots or commercials etc. But for all we know they might partly get to choose themselves. Or it simply brings in good money to put some pairs together more etc. But even if there is a PR strategy or reason behind what we see, I doubt it has to do with a ship being real or not.

I think we see Ji/kook spend the most time together because they are together the most when they are surrounded by cameras. I think what we see is mostly what is happening. Because suggesting Big Hit editors are paying extra attention to any certain ship like showing them more or cutting away specific things based on only what members it involves would suggest an agenda. I recently talked about it in my post Can shipping turn into conspiracy theories? but once we start to question things being bent to deliberatly fool us it may allow us to take much bigger logical leaps. That’s how the narrative of Tae/kook being sepparated leads to them being more likely to also call other things fake or played up to hide tae/kook. If we add intention behind a moment we create a narrative, and in the end the more we assume and add beliefs into facts the further away we might end up from the actual truth.

My theory has always been that if a ship is real they would likely be careful and they might have their own reasons to act certain ways. Like Vmin seemingly being a bit nervous about being alone together. It’s still a theory of course, but I am always going to be much more careful with things that come from Big Hit and point it out as an agenda to create a certain image. For example saying Big Hit are forcing Vmin to stay apart or not do Vlives or put Ji/kook together more to “hide a ship with a ship”. Or even that moments in music videos are put there on purpose to either try to show a real ship or hide another etc.

For example if we assume the editors are cutting away Vmin on purpose I personally think we end up with a lot more problems. Like for how many people would know about Vmin? If editors and camera men and directors that might shift quite a lot all know to be careful about a certain ship, that is basically like outing them.

If there is video of them doing things “not fit for camera” that certainly means they aren’t very careful and would rely more on editing than just plainly being careful themselves. Which I personally see more signs of. If editors get instructions to treat one ship differently I personally think we would have much more rumors flying around. The more people know the harder a secret is to keep. So if there is a real couple in BTS I don’t expect general staff to know.

That’s also why I see it as more unlikely a real couple would openly live alone together, only share a car with each other or openly speak about being engaged etc. Of course this is all just me guessing as I am sure whatever strategy they might use could be very different depending on a lot of things. But at least looking at Vmin vs other ships there seems to be a carefulness in certain moments, and I think that has more to do with themselves rather than what Big Hit would force from them. Any relationship is basically a threat to BTS and their careers, of course they too would be aware of this. And I personally think they would put being careful above wanting people to know about them being a couple. At least watching Vmin and their personalities that’s what I think they would choose. Aka, not sending a lot of hidden signals for fans to pick up on. I think Tae might do it to some extent, only because he tends to get more frustrated and tend to sometimes express things even though he maybe shouldn’t. But even then it seems carefully done. Like the Christmas song to me was such a moment when he wanted to share his frustration. But the second time he mentioned it he didn’t mention Jimin at all. Or the way it took years for us to hear from Taehyung’s own mouth about 4 o’clock being partly about Jimin. I think they thread carefully not only with how they come across to fans, but also staff. That being said of course I do think that they can get away with a lot and that they probably are more comfortable when they know they aren’t being filmed or if there is an option to edit. I just don’t think most staff at Big Hit would know about a ship being real and work to present it in a certain way on purpose by order from Big Hit.

I think we see ji/kook together a lot because it’s easy and fun and comfortable. I am not saying they can’t be real, but I do ask why Vmin at the same time does seem to act careful and possibly even avoid certain things.

I don’t like to speculate about the moments we don’t get, because the reasons for why could be too many. For me I doubt the editors (and even less the captions) in BTS material are put there with an agenda. I think the editors view the material and pick what they might think is fun, though they likely also have their own bias and might be affected by what they see. For example I think Vmin being labeled as friends in captions has more to do with them and BTS calling them friends all the time which then editors pick up on and use.

Saying Vmin or any other ship is cut out to me opens a can of worms that lead down very dangerous paths. Paths we have seen other shippers walk. I also know that all ships have these “why are they the only ones edited out” or “why is this moment cut” agendas. Ji/kookers too say that we got to see Vmin and Tae/kook in bed in ITS but not Ji/kook because it would be “too much/obvious”.

I think we should go by what we see, but that we also shouldn’t make a big deal out of what we don’t see. So basically, seeing less Vmin won’t really change Vmin’s bond. That’s why I say looking at even small moments are a great indicator. We shouldn’t focus so much on amount, for any ship. But most importantly we shouldn’t assume amount is an indicator of Big Hit having an agenda. 

Let’s say Vmin get cut out and the effect is people wondering if Vmin is fake. Why would they create this problem to begin with just to have Vmin release Friends which in turn make more people ship Vmin? To me it’s always too flippy floppy. Like why would Big HIt hide Tae/kook but then have them do the dance in DNA together or leave in other moments “just to keep interest up”.

Again, I try to not add reasons behind things we can’t know much about, but for me I think editing and cutting away moments from a ship as a strategy would be weird looking at the full picture of BTS and what we actually do get to see. I could be wrong, but I also know the slippery road I could end up on if I start to suspect Big Hit trying to fool us on purpuse on such a big scale. In the end that would basically mean anything could be real or fake, which is the point I sadly see some tae/kookers believe. They think tae/kook has been edited out and kept apart for years, and still won’t trust they simply might spend less time together even after ITS. 

So, again, I think Vmin might act careful on their own to some degree, and I think Ji/kook and Jin/kook etc. like spending time togehter and also do things that are likely more interesting to show, like joke around or tease each other. Which then leads to more moments between them.

Thanks for the ask, and I hope you see what I am trying to say. I would have loved to see more Vmin, but we still got a lot of good moments if you ask me. Also, I am sorry for the messy state of this answer, but I will definitely talk about similar topics more in proper future posts. Thank you so much for liking my blog, and I hope you still do. 💜 (Also sorry for the late answer. )

[arandompostarchive]

Inure - Ch. 3

SAVED WORK

Summary: To some, The Specter is a serial killer. To some, a hero. But to everyone, you were entirely a mystery. You had no history, just a list of victims a mile long. No matter how many people searched your name, they could find anything. If only they had the spelling right. Now, you’ve come across some unfortunate information that drives you out of your usual shadows and into the path of the Avengers. Including two of the more reclusive members of the team. And it’s hard to pick only one of them.

***

You had finally showed up on the doorstep of a long awaited target. You had gotten the tip from a morally questionable FBI agent who really needed a break. Apparently, this target had been leading quite the operation.

Managing drug rings, human trafficking, and murder. Not to mention the amount of people she had killed on her own. Even that sounded like your usual case. A major criminal who you got to take out. Just your average job. Until you looked into her a bit more.

She didn’t just murder. She tortured. All of her victims had gone through days of torture, maybe even weeks. Apparently, even forensics investigators weren’t sure exactly how long these people had to suffer. It made you sick.

“Violet.” You said, rounding the corner. Unlike most of your targets, she had an office of her own. You had caught her at work late, one of the last people there. You didn’t mind people being in the building. There wouldn’t be any gunshots to hear. Maybe a scream or two.

“Yes? Can I help you?” You walked into the room. It was neatly decorated. The token and artifacts around the room were no doubt extremely expensive and probably stolen. Her accent stood out. It was heavy, though her words were still clear. She was certainly European, though you couldn’t remember what country and couldn’t place it from sound alone. “I have things to do so if you wouldn’t mind hurrying?” You walked a bit quicker, trying to avoid her yelling. You didn’t want her making that much noise just yet, it might attract unwanted attention.

You stepped into her office, walking toward her desk. The room smelled like lavender, a candle or two rested on side tables around the room. The smell was heavy, almost nauseating.

“What sort of outfit is that supposed to be? Are you one dressing up?” She gestured to your suit. It was less fancy than most suits you’d seen. Black with a few red accents. It made it easier to blend in and the hood and mask over your mouth helped keep your identity secret. There was a small filter on the side of the mask though, to help you breathe and disguise your voice when you spoke. Not that anyone would recognise you. In fact, you didn’t care much about people knowing your name, but if your face was plastered everywhere you’d never be able to be in public again.

“That’s not important. What is important is you, Ms. Wagner.” You said, your eyes focused on her. Your eyes were clear under the hood as you looked up at her. You were calm. You’d done jobs like this a million times, she wasn’t special. Though, you always appreciated time to exercise your powers. They were destructive and dangerous, so you only used them on the worst of the worst. Those people got locked up in a prison or mental institution, but as long as you were alive, they couldn’t be helped.

“What the hell do you want? Say it quick then get out.” She was short tempered, that was for sure.

“Alright then. You used to work for Hydra, then you got too much for them to handle. You torture and kill, you did this in your old home too. And now, you’ve moved countries to start all over. Not to mention the drug rings you’re tied to,” You said, your voice calm and steady. That was always the most terrifying part for them. You were so collected, sure of yourself. You knew they weren’t going anywhere. And the second they heard your mellow voice, they knew it too.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?! Accusing me of things like that.” She remarked, standing from the large leather chair she sat on. She was clearly nervous though, the slight shake in her voice gave it away. “Get the hell out. Now.” She pointed toward the door. You didn’t move. “I said now. Can’t you hear, bitch?” She said, this time crossing her arms. “I’ll call security.” She said. It wasn’t an empty threat, you could tell, but you weren’t worried.

They wouldn’t get here in time anyway.

You focused on her. Her mind. What she was thinking, what she felt, anything about her. Then you heard it.

“Who does she think she is? March in here like she owns the place. Pathetic.”

Her thoughts. You focused harder. This time on her fears. Everything she regretted, everything she hated, things she was scared of. You found every last one of the monsters in her closet. And then you made them real.

She looked left and right, probably hallucinating something awful. You could never completely see what you created, unless it was an illusion, but you could usually guess what was happening based on what they said.

“Mother?” She asked. She was only staring at a wall, a painting of flowers hung on it along with other paintings she had collected. The look on her face was horrified. You wondered what the story was there.

It was an ability you’d had since you were young, though it was much weaker before you ‘died’. Now, it was one of your most useful skills.

“Stop! Dear god, stop, please. Fuck. Please!” She said. There were tears forming in her eyes already and her voice was cracking. She looked up at you. “You! What did you do to me? What the hell did you do?!” She continued yelling at you but eventually her words became jumbled, the occasional scream cutting in. She’d glance from side to side occasionally before squeezing her eyes shut and looking down. They always acted like that. Strong, determined to stop you, then reduced to nothing but mumbling husks.

You focused on yourself now, this time disguising yourself with an illusion. Another woman walked into the office. Her skirt was short, though professional and you could see a red collared sweater tied around her hips. You’d left the door half open, her screams could be heard down the hallway, so it wasn’t a huge surprise to see someone else come in.

“Miss Wagner?” The woman said. She looked like a college intern, twenty years old at maximum. “Oh my god.” She walked toward the desk until she spotted the broken woman. Violet’s artificial tan didn’t help how pale her face had become. Her legs had given out and now her arms were struggling to support her as she sat on the ground, tears running down her face. She was mumbling things about her mother, father, and ‘the children’, which you suspected were the ones she tortured. Hm. Maybe she did feel some guilt about that. She’d glance back to where you stood. You made sure she could see you, though the intern was oblivious to your presence.

“Miss Wagner? Miss Wagner? Are you alright?” The girl asked, clearly unsure what to do. Violet didn’t respond. She continued staring down at the floor, mumbling and sweating. “Violet?” The girl tried using the woman’s first name instead. She flinched back like she was expecting some huge outburst. Her employees must be treated poorly as well.

“I-I…” the girl paused. It seemed like she didn’t want to help the crying woman on the floor. You figured Violet wasn’t a very nice boss. The girl shook her head a bit, standing up. She took a deep breath before speaking with confidence, “I’m going to call an ambulance. I’ll be back, I promise.” She ran off, back to her desk presumably to make the call. You nodded, appreciating her morals to do the right thing for an awful person. Sadly, you didn’t live by the same rules. You could hear her talking to someone as you made your way over to Violet.

“Awe, darling.” You lifted up her chin with your fingers. You met her eyes. They were filled with pure terror and they kept glancing over your shoulder. You laughed at her. The ways her eyes seemed unable to focus and how clammy her face felt.

“Please…” She started. “I can’t live like this, at least kill me. I understand. I’ve learned. Is that what you want? Learning?” You shook your head. Of course she tries now. Now that you’re torturing her like she once did to others and now she wants to ‘learn her lesson’?

“No. That’s not what I want. I want you to rot somewhere. And maybe someone out there, someone much nicer than me, will take pity. And kill you.” Your hand left her chin and she was left, crying out for as long as the strain in her voice would let her.

***

The next few days consisted of mostly theorizing with the team. Besides that, you and Loki had your own two person ‘book club’ and you learned about some new weapons with Bucky. He had an appreciation for the development in weaponry over the past decades and you didn’t mind learning with him. It also turned out the two of them were friends, so the three of you sometimes had lunch together, though you preferred having one on one time with either of them.

The rest of the team was anxious to find the new SPECTR machine as soon as possible and get you out of their house, not that you could blame them. A very small part of you didn’t want it to end that quickly though. You hadn’t had a real home since the 40’s and before you died you spent all your time in a military camp or in a science lab. That, and you had real friends, well, as close to ‘real friends’ as you’d had in decades. Of course, it helped that they were both extremely attractive, but hey. No one could blame you for that train of thought.

Most of the team still wasn’t happy to have you with them. Though it felt bad to be on the outside, you were used to it. If you had it your way, you never would’ve come there at all, but there were lives on the line and you really needed immunity.

“Everything alright?” Bucky asked as he adjusted the tape over his hands. The two of you had tried out sparing since you could take one hell of a hit so he was free to use his metal arm on you. He had even consented to letting you study it for an hour or two. The two of you got along well and both he and Loki had moved up from the position of ‘not-enemy’ to ‘associate’, though it wasn’t much of a leap. You were hardly ready to trust them, it had only been a few days.

“Just fine. Whenever you’re ready, Barnes.” You said, tossing aside your sweatshirt as you stood across from Bucky. You readied your stance and waited for him to say the word.

“Go.” You took a step forward but Bucky rushed toward you, taking a swing with his metal arm. You knew he appreciated an opponent who could take a hit from a weapon like that, though it took some convincing for him to go all out. You were certain he still wasn’t using 100% of his strength, but it was a start. You ducked, sliding next to him before getting up on one knee and taking a jab at his leg. He stumbled a bit, but stayed standing. Although it wasn’t as effective as you hoped, it gave you time to stand without interruption.

The second he turned to face you, you punched him in the chest, sending him back a bit. He stepped forward and swung his leg into your side, making you stumble too. You kept your hand out to help you balance. You lowered yourself and swiped under his legs. He tripped, but caught himself with his flesh arm. You stood up, jumping back.

He stood again, rushing toward you, metal fist raised. You caught his punch and you could feel the sting against your hand. You were definitely going to have a bruise or two after this. You threw his hand aside, setting him off balance and kicked into his side. He landed on his stomach with a small thud and you kept your foot against his back and kneeled down, arm held against the back of his neck.

“Not bad.” He said, you stood and helped him up.

“Same to you.” You nodded as a small sign of respect. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll need it before the rest of your group calls some sort of meeting.” You rolled your eyes and Bucky nodded. You could tell he didn’t really like you making fun of his ‘team’, but he never said much. It made you feel a bit bad, but on the other hand, the do-gooders were about as annoying as it gets.

The elevator felt slower than normal, though it was probably just the uncomfortable feeling of sweat on your skin. You stepped out onto your floor. You shared it with Clint and Natasha, probably so they could keep an eye on you. You didn’t mind too much, Clint wasn’t too bad and you had a certain amount of respect for Natasha. She used to have a similar career to you after all. She’d made her way onto your radar for a while, though there were bigger fish to fry and SHIELD was already on her tail. Still, you’d much rather be alone.

You were about to open the door leading to your room when you sensed something was off. Your abilities were helpful in your line of work. Sensing other people had become a skill of yours and right now, something was wrong.

You were on high alert, though you knew it was probably just a team member. You opened the door slowly, prepared to fight if need be. Instead, Natasha sat on your couch, cleaning some of her guns.

The weapons didn’t bother you too much. They were all disassembled for cleaning, the magazines sitting on the table, completely empty. You were sure she’d done that part on purpose, just so you’d know she wasn’t here for a fight, but she’d fight back if need be.

You walked often to your makeshift kitchen and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Whiskey was more your thing, but you’d make do with what you had. You poured a full glass, not caring much for how you were ‘supposed’ to pour it, Natasha was silent the whole time, waiting for you to come over to her.

You moved toward the couch and sat next to her, waiting for her to talk.

“Good to see you again.” She said, not looking away from her weapons. You smiled, taking a large sip of your drink. It burned a bit in your throat, though it wasn’t anything new.

“I’m glad you cleaned up your act.” You said, not offering her any greeting. You could see her smile.

“Why did you let me go that day?” She asked, this time looking up at you. She looked genuinely curious. She didn’t waste any time getting to the point, huh?

“You were finally on the right path. After spending so long killing who you were told to, Clint got you where you were supposed to be.”

She shook her head, not quite understanding. “I was about to kill him. That target, I was going to kill him, I did kill him, and you walked away and left him with me. Why.”

You relaxed against the couch, realizing your shower would have to wait a little longer. “He deserved it. SHIELD was right to send you after him, his death saved lives. I was just making sure you were staying on task. And staying on the right side of the tracks. So to speak.” You took another long sip, hoping you’d feel the effects sooner rather than later.

“You were watching me?” She asked. You were a bit surprised. Natasha was a talented assassin, someone capable and good at protecting herself. Though you doubted that she would know it was you, you did think she’d figure out that someone was watching her. It gave you a small confidence boost.

“I watch a lot of people, Natasha. I like making sure that people in powerful positions really want what’s best for society. Sometimes, they become a target.” You took another gulp of your drink, slightly anxious to finish it as quickly as possible. “Like that Stark.” Natasha began putting a few of her guns back together and into a small black bag next to her.

“Stark was a target?”

You shook your head. “No, but he was on my watch list. His dad wasn’t my favorite guy and for a while he made some rather destructive weapons. I had to make sure he wouldn’t turn into some power-crazed nut job.”

Natasha laughed a bit, “Yeah, pretty sure he did that anyway.” You laughed. Making fun of a Stark was something you did with Peggy. It felt familiar. Sitting down with ‘the other woman on the team’ and having a chat about your friends. Familiar, but not the same.

“Tell me, if I hadn’t been doing the right thing, if I had let him go or left him alive, would you have killed me?” You didn’t pause, you knew your answer.

“Without a second thought.” You took another sip, this one longer than your previous ones. Natasha nodded, understanding. Of all the people in the tower, she was probably the one who would understand most.

She finished up cleaning another gun before Friday’s voice was heard in your room. Great.

“Spectr, Miss Romanoff, you’re wanted in the meeting room. There’s been a robbery.”

You downed the rest of your drink, ignoring the burn in your throat. Natasha gave you a slight side glance, probably worried for your health. Not that it was a real concern for you anymore.

“Uh… do you guys usually answer robberies?” You asked, setting down the glass. Natasha grabbed her bag, bringing it with her out of the room.

“No, there’s something else to this.” You nodded, accepting her answer. You internally groaned at the feeling of sweat still on you. At this point, you’d even settle for a five minute shower. You ran to your room quickly, pulling off the tank top you were wearing and grabbing a t-shirt. At least you wouldn’t have to wear a soaked shirt. It was just you and Natasha in the elevator in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t a situation you wanted to be in.

The room was almost completely full, though Wanda and Vision were right behind you. You took a seat toward the end of the table next to Steve. You were sure they put you there just in case someone needed to knock you out in a worst case scenario, though you didn’t care.

Steve set down a few papers just as Wanda sat down.

“Alright, everyone’s here.” He pulled his seat closer to the table. “There was a robbery earlier today.”

“What, did some kid swipe a candy bar? How is this our problem.” Tony asked. He was wearing sunglasses despite being indoors. Though the normal assumption would be that he just came inside, you somehow doubted that.

“Not exactly. The focus is what was stolen. It was at a nearby museum, the owners themselves weren’t sure what it was since it didn’t have any sort of identification. Just that it was World War II memorabilia.”

“Oh I see, someone took your old helmet?” Tony said, interrupting again. Your eyes narrowed. You were getting annoyed with his constant comments, though the rest of the group seemed unbothered. That, or they had grown used to his obnoxious personality. You saw Loki’s face shift though, so he was probably feeling similar emotions to yours.

“The owners said it was part of an unfinished project, we think it might be a piece of Project SPECTR.” A few eyes turned toward you, including Steve’s. “Do you recognize this?” He asked, setting a photo down in front of you. It was most certainly a piece of your machinery.

“It’s what we used to stabilize our core. I built it forever ago just tinkering with supplies, no blueprints. It’s one of a kind. I doubt I could remake it myself.”

“Well, that explains why it was robbed.” Natasha said, just loud enough for the few people around her to hear. You were seated next to Loki on the end of the table. Bucky was across from you and avoiding your eye-contact, which is what he usually did during meetings.

“So, what now?” A man asked. You now knew him as Sam, or ‘The Falcon’, the other bird-themed hero.

“We find anything else we can.” You said, choosing to look at Steve. It felt odd talking to a room, so you tried to focus on one person instead. You were used to creating plans by yourself, not brainstorming with a group. “I left plenty of materials and blueprints behind. I never got a chance to examine why it malfunctioned, but I’m sure a good percent of the original machine is usable.”

“So, where is it?” Clint asked, contributing to the discussion.

“Well, it’s been almost 70 years so I have no idea. Didn’t have a reason to keep track of all that junk.” Steve nodded, though some of the group sighed out loud.

“Let’s check the site and see what else turns up. We hardly need the whole group for this, though.”

***

Steve had sent a group of only a few people. Natasha, who was acting as the temporary leader. Loki, who could use magic to help track down people with any evidence left behind. Steve had been against sending Loki since he was technically still confined to the compound with the exception of missions. Natasha however argued that this was a mission and that Loki would be a useful team member. Of course, she was right, so he was along with the group.

He had also sent Clint and Bucky along, more to act as guards while you, Loki, and Nat looked around the area. The police had done their job and found any evidence left behind, though Loki was trying to use magic to find anything else. So far, no luck.

The group of you were talking to one of Fury’s remaining agents at the site. SHIELD may have disbanded, but Fury still had quite a few people on his side. Some of which apparently still helped him out now and then. It was like a much smaller version of SHIELD.

“Best we got is some DNA evidence. We matched it in our system, according to the evidence, he was one of us, back when we were active.”

You were a bit confused. “An agent?” Natasha asked, sharing your confusion. You masked it better than her though, it was probably because she was more familiar with the former agent in front of you than you were.

The woman nodded, showing you her screen, a picture of an average looking 30-something year old guy looking rather bored in the picture.. “Jackson Hastings. Odd thing is, he went missing on a mission a while ago. Hasn’t been seen since.” Natasha took the tablet screen from her and you looked over her shoulder.

“Holy shit.” The group looked at you.

“You know him?” Natasha asked curiously.

“He was one of my targets.” You said, sure of yourself. He was a corrupt member of SHIELD. It was before SHIELD completely dismantled. You couldn’t prove that he was connected to Hydra in any way, though you had your suspicions.

“You’re sure?” She asked and you nodded in response. “Let’s head back, I think this is about as much evidence as we’re getting.” The group agreed and you thanked the woman on your way out.

***

“And you’re positive you targeted this man?” Steve asked, staring you down.

“Very. I don’t forget targets.” Besides, Hastings was a case you would remember. Fury had sent you a file or two himself, not that he’d admit it, including this one. He couldn’t prove Hastings was guilty. He knew you’d kill him if he was, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Hastings had access to files that could end important operations and expose several undercover agents. So, you just ‘happened’ to run into Hastings’ file. Sure enough, he was more than guilty.

“Some of your targets are still alive, right?” Clint asked and you nodded.

“Wait, so you just let some of these guys go? What, were they suddenly innocent?” Tony asked. Though his tone was sarcastic, the question was genuine so you decided to answer.

“Innocent? Hardly. But life holds things much worse than death. Much worse.” The group tried to ignore that statement, though you could see curiosity written over their faces.

“Is he one of them? The alive targets, I mean.” Steve asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

“No, he didn’t deserve punishment that bad. He’s only dead.” Hastings was one of the more straightforward cases. In any court, the way you got your proof wouldn’t be admissible. In fact, you’d probably get arrested too. That’s why you’d turned into judge, jury, and executioner.

“Alright. So, a dead man walks into a museum. Sounds like the set up to a shitty joke.” Tony remarked under his breath, though most of the table was able to hear the comment.

“If you killed him when he went on that mission, then he’s been dead for years. Now, he’s able to steal a highly guarded museum item but leaves behind blood?” Natasha said, posing the question to the group.

“Clearly, it’s not impossible for people to come back from the dead. I mean…” Tony gestured to you, Bucky, Steve, and Loki on your side of the table. Though your situations were wildly different, Stark did have a point. All of you had been labelled ‘dead’ at one point or another.

“Well, our cases are different, don’t you think?” Loki asked, actually contributing to the conversation. You were certain that was the first time you had heard him speak in a meeting. “The Sergeant, the Captain and I were never really dead in the first place.” You heard Thor grumble something on Loki’s other side, though you were unable to make out his words.

“I’m definitely an exception,” You continued, “but it took me about 50 years and a huge malfunctioning healing machine. Considering the fact that he’s trying to build SPECTR, I doubt he died the same way.” You concluded landing the group, once again, on ground zero.

“Okay, so no more zombies. What’s going on then? You sure you killed him?” Tony said, the last part directed at you.

“Certain. His head was very much detached.” You didn’t share too many of the details since the group never seemed to like that, but you had to slip in the occasional dark joke. Ask a psychopathic serial killer to join your team and you’re inviting in murder-based comedy.

“Alright. Any other ideas?” Tony asked, slightly disturbed.

“What if we have a shapeshifter? A dead man is a good disguise for a robbery, no?” Wanda asked in her accent. Her voice was pretty and the accent certainly helped. You wanted her to read something to you while you intently listened on, enjoying the sound. You did your best to stay focused though and thought over her question. The other scientists of the room looked like they were doing the same. Finally, you found a bit of a flaw.

“Down to the molecular level? Even after the material has left his body? Is that possible?” You questioned. A shapeshifting person was incredible on it’s own, now they can manipulate their form even when not connected to the DNA. A fascinating person indeed. In any other situation, you’d be itching to meet them. Maybe study them for a few hours. But this didn’t seem like the kind of guy who just wanted to have a chat.

Clint shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder.”

He did have a point. After all, you were sitting between a superhuman soldier who had supposedly died 70 years ago and a Norse god, things had changed since the 40s. Not to mention the fact that you were essentially a psychic zombie.

“So, what do we do now? Wait for the next robbery? If it is a shapeshifter, which is only a theory by the way, we have no way of finding anyone.”

Steve looked around, seeing if anyone had any ideas. When no one spoke up, he sighed. “Then I guess we wait.”

***

You walked out of the meeting with way more questions than you’d hoped to have. You made your way upstairs and finally took a decent shower and sat down with a proper glass of whiskey. You weren’t even sure if you’d drank water while you were at the tower. Not that you really needed it.

The TV was playing some new show you weren’t familiar with. You didn’t get any of the ‘comedic’ references, nor did you understand the plot, but you were too lazy to search for something else.

There was a soft knock on your door. You groaned a bit, not wanting to answer.

“What do you want?” You yelled, loud enough so the person on the other side could hear you from your couch.

“It’s me.” You recognized the accent and sighed, getting up without bothering to pause the TV. You opened the door, waving the person in and sitting back down, taking another long sip of your drink.

“I’m fairly certain drinking that much is bad for you.” Loki said in a joking manner. He didn’t get to do that too often. Everyone assumed there was some malintent behind the joke.

“It’s not exactly gonna kill me.” You sat back, finally grabbing the remote to find something more interesting.

“Still, I can’t imagine it being good for you. Maybe try something else?” He suggested calmly.

You rolled your eyes a bit. He may have been more fun than the other caped crusaders, but he was hardly close enough to give you health advice.

“What do you want.” You didn’t look at him.

He sighed, accepting that he wasn’t going to get a better answer than that. “You said that life holds things worse than death.”

When he didn’t continue, you responded. “Yeah. And?”

“What did you mean?”

You didn’t really want to have this conversation. The team already thought you were horrifying, talking about your abilities certainly wouldn’t help.

“Sometimes it’s better to just die than live in torture, that’s what I mean.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it was sort of true. That’s close enough, right?

He considered this. “So the people you leave alive, they’re worse than the dead ones?” You nodded.

“Yup. Are we done with this conversation now? I’ve got 70 years worth of movies to watch.” You flipped through more channels to find something tolerable.

Loki looked like he had something else to say, you were certain there was something else. “Yes, that’s fine.” He stood up, walking slowly. Though you were sure why, you thought it was because he was having some sort of inner debate.

He turned around and opened his mouth, but you spoke first. “Yes, you can stay. Grab some chips while you’re up though, I’ll find something decent.” He smiled a bit. He never really asked to stay, he just waited to be invited. You didn’t really mind, he was good company. And quiet for the most part.

For once, you didn’t mind spending extra time with someone.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

lol okay so I dashed off most of this the day of and then kept not posting it because I kept thinking I needed to add stuff, but then I ended up adding more stuff mostly in reblogs instead (should all be under the “my meta” tag if anyone’s curious) and now episode 2 is technically coming out tomorrow night in my time zone so obviously I need to just post this. bullet points of disconnected thoughts, some of which are probably at least slightly outdated by now but whatever, here you go

seems very possible Mobius left the tape with him on purpose because he figured Loki wouldn’t be able to resist looking at it

would have to check the timing but I’m pretty sure he started looking terrified as soon as Thanos came onscreen without really knowing the context (aside from the very basic outline of “it’s been several years and he reconciled with Thor”), which at least underscores that they weren’t buddies--Loki knew something awful was about to happen the second Thanos showed up sadly this is not true, the clip he sees first is him trying to stab Thanos, so...yeah it stands to reason that he’d know it was about to end badly no matter what

other people have mentioned this but I love that we got to see Loki just like...existing?? like I know he’s never been the protagonist before and seeing him as the protagonist has always been one of the things that’s excited me most about the show, but now that it’s here I’m just kind of struck by how HE’S THE PROTAGONIST so we’re getting all these emotions and little gestures and moments when he’s alone that we only got in tiny, sadly easy-to-overlook snatches before (and it also occurred to me that I don’t think we’ve ever seen Loki eat anything, which is something else that might change)

also his projection is fascinating, and so is the fact that he explicitly turned it around on himself, which seems relevant to all the theories about a lot of his other statements (”freedom is life’s great lie,” most of what he said to Natasha, etc.) being things that were drummed into him on Sanctuary rather than stuff he just came up with on his own, so that seems to cover a lot of the stuff he says in Avengers and here

on the other hand it seems unlikely we’re ever going to get confirmation that Bad Stuff happened to him on Sanctuary aside from what we already saw in Avengers, which is frustrating, although to be fair I also wasn’t expecting to see Loki crying about his family in the first episode (and the most I’m really hoping for, still, is that nothing will explicitly contradict the idea, so...we’re good on that thus far, I guess)

so the first half of the episode was...ehhh, I don’t know, but the second half was amazing. I know some people didn’t like that part either, but I felt like...okay, I don’t love him being humiliated so I would’ve preferred different framing for some of this BUT a lot of casual viewers still see Loki as a cackling caricature without having picked up on any of the stuff that very clearly showed otherwise, and this show wants to treat Loki as a person, someone worthy of audience sympathy, so they kind of had to go in hard and fast on that aspect to get everyone up to speed. like, yes, fans who’ve been paying attention know that Loki’s a person, that he’s wounded, that he doesn’t hurt people just because it’s fun for him, that he feels things very deeply, that he loves his family, but somehow the mainstream perception of him has missed like 85% of that, and the show’s just not going to have much impact unless it gets everybody on board with those very basic ideas. in terms of story structure it probably doesn’t make sense for this to be his lowest point, but starting from the bottom and eventually getting somewhere better is fairly standard, so at this point I can imagine tons of ways things could improve for him

yeah I do hate the whole Sacred Timeline thing, see also my posts about how much I loved that Endgame canonically (I thought) established multiple timelines where everything was fine, so yeah I’m pissed about that because it means those timelines were canonically pruned

like I don’t...hate it as a storytelling device? I just hate it for fandom reasons, and I’ve hated it in other fandoms when canon did something that seemed to open things up to all this incredible possibility and then went “actually no, we’re boxing it up again into this one specific Way That Things Happened” and for fanwork purposes it doesn’t matter all that much, I don’t think it’s actually that much harder to do AUs or go “okay well in this universe the TVA doesn’t exist, whatever” (in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if AO3 quickly develops a new canonical “not TVA compliant” tag for basically all Loki fic), but it is annoying that it’s now like “canonically, every AU is Not Allowed”, and if that ends up sticking as the status quo with the TVA considered good guys or at least a necessary evil then yeah, I’m going to be annoyed

HOWEVER

I don’t think that’s inevitable for a variety of reasons

this whole show is going to deal with multiverse shenanigans and so will Dr. Strange 2, so it seems completely possible that the end result could be a status quo of “there’s a multiverse actually and that’s fine” (...although yes, I’ll be doubly annoyed if the end result of this show is a restored multiverse of some kind and the end result of Dr. Strange 2 is condensing it back down to a single timeline)

the multiverse is a long-running comics tradition, which still seems to be the case even after...whatever event it was that collided a bunch of them and tried for a Highlander thing, look I wasn’t really following it and I know some characters ended up in other universes from where they started but I’m pretty sure we still have a multiverse of some kind

almost all the recent Loki-centric comics have focused on questions of fate and agency

Agent of Asgard in particular was about Loki eventually going “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” and forging a new path (and, okay, it does seem like runs other than AoA have been the most influential here but again we’ve only seen one episode)

Loki, specifically, is an agent of chaos and change, like that’s his whole thing going way back to mythology, because sometimes stagnancy is death and chaos is healthy, and of course myth!Loki (and earlier versions of comics!Loki) is always responsible for triggering Ragnarok, which isn’t just the end of the world but is also a natural, crucial part of a cycle of renewal, and yes the MCU already did Ragnarok but that doesn’t at all mean they can’t play more with those ideas

Tom Hiddleston has brought up this specific point several times in recent interviews, that sometimes chaos is the one thing that's really needed

also, on Jimmy Kimmel the day of the episode, he kind of...planted a seed about the TVA maybe not being uncomplicated good guys because seriously what gives them the right to make these decisions for literally everyone

so at the very least I think it’s completely possible that things aren’t quite what they seem, and that for instance we’re supposed to discover that Mobius is consciously manipulating him to turn him into the type of tool the TVA wants him to be

also “the timeline wants to break free” shows up on a lot of merch, which does seem to indicate a free will vs. predestination theme

I’m not at all familiar with comics!TVA, although I understand they’re considered villains (although to be fair, so were the Skrulls, and at least thus far that’s been inverted for the MCU), but their whole thing reminded me of a few other entities in a way that could be relevant:

the tape running out was like the Norns cutting the thread of somebody’s life

Those Who Sit Above In Shadow in AoA (and also maybe whatever was below the God Quarry in Infinity Wars although I’m less familiar with that)

the gods in Cabin In The Woods, who were also kind of audience proxies in that they really just cared about the sacrifice being entertaining, which kinda seems like the only logical reason for the Timekeepers to prefer any given series of events over another

my personal hope for the series: the Timekeepers are ultimately the Big Bad and the rogue Loki variant is ultimately right in trying to wipe out the TVA (because sure I realize it’s maybe dumb of me but I still don’t want any Loki to be completely a bad guy!!); the major named TVA characters realize they’re the baddies actually and team up with a whole army of Lokis to take them down and GIVE US BACK OUR MULTIVERSE

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Nevermore (A Joe Mazzello x Reader Smut Sprinkled with Angst!)

WARNINGS: SMUT, LANGUAGE, ANGST...

NOTES: Again I am sorry this took so long but yall know how it is. Writer’s block is a bitch! Anyway thanks for your patience and enjoy! Oh...AND MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES!!!

Dying is easy (or so I've heard), it's living that's hard. I learned that during a time when other kids were learning their multiplication tables. Well, hows this for multiplication: hatred x time= an explosion that destroys many, sending the innocent into the vast land of Nevermore.

My parents had gotten together in high school but hadn't meant for it to last long. In their minds the other was just something to kill the time until something better and long lasting came along. Then a moment of fun turned into a lifetime of hell. My mom found out she was having me the winter after she turned sixteen. Dad thought of it as a nightmare come true but stuck around because, “That's what a real man does.” He used that excuse a lot, mostly because of his religious upbringing. The same upbringing that led to him marrying my mom at eighteen.

Fast forward a few years....I'm eight, about to turn nine and my dad was packing up his things. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a long time coming...I just wish it hadn't come so soon. “Can I come with you?” I asked hopeful...my mother wasn't exactly parent of the year.

“Not yet Bun,” he said using his nickname for me. “Mom needs you.”

“Mom hates me,” I rebuked. Dad just sighed and continued packing.

He was gone an hour later.

Why did you have to leave me Why did you deceive me You send me to the path of nevermore When you say you didn't love me anymore

As he drove away I ran up to my room and curled up on my bed. I cried for a long time that day, and mom kept telling me to shut up...that I didn't know my dad like she did. I ignored the horrible things she said about him and the outside world in general...until a soft pitter patter of feet entering my room caught my attention.

“Y/N?” Joe called my name. Joe had been my best friend since first grade. He was goofy, sweet, and just the best human in the world. I sniffed back tears and looked up.

“Huh-he's gone.” Was all I said before breaking down again. My bed shifted as Joe climbed on top of it and drew me into his small twig-like arms. “Nuh-now I'm stuck with her.” I almost started wailing. “Why am I stuck with her? Why can't I be with a family that cares?”

“You are with a family that cares, Y/N,” he said. “I'm your family.”

I looked up at him curiously.

“I'll always be your family,” he said.

I sniffed. “Puh-Promise?”

He nodded.

He held me there for the rest of the day, until he had to leave for dinner. He was going to ask my mom if I could join him at his house but she was passed out on the sofa; beer bottle hanging from her fingertips.

Years passed and things didn't get any better. My mom got sick when I was twelve...Years of heavy drinking sent her liver into hell. She underwent treatments and for fours years it seemed that they had worked. When I was sixteen I found out she was still drinking and eventually her liver became too trashed to function and her doctor said the only hope she had now was a liver transplant. Weeks passed and we were still waiting. Mom was in the hospital, hooked to machines, while I was home alone.

One day the stress finally got to me and I called into school sick. I spent the day under the covers of my bed. I tried to sleep...shut my mind off and go away for a while...but I couldn't. Instead I just laid there wishing this was some sort nightmare that I could wake up from at any minute.

“Y/N?” Joe's voice drew me out of my reverie. I sighed buried myself further under my blankets. “I-um-brought your homework.” He said.

“Thanks,” I muttered. I thought he would get the hint and walk away but then I heard a soft thud and felt the bed shift. Joe draped his arm over me pressing our bodies together. “I-I'm gonna be alone Joey.”

“Don't say that,” he whispered.

“It's true...” I muttered. “Mom doesn't have much time...she knows it...I know it...the doctors know it but they won't say anything...and dad knows...but still doesn't want me to go with him after...said it wasn't a good idea for me...”

“Doesn't mean you'll have to be alone, Y/N,” Joe said his voice cracking. I looked over and found his eyes shining with tears. “You have me...you have us...you’re a Mazzello forever and always.”

“I am?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “I love you, Y/N. I think I’m always gonna love you. Even when you don’t love yourself.”

“Promise?”

He nodded. “I do,” he whispered bringing his lips down to mine. His lips were warm and soft...and stunning. I froze for a bit shocked at the feeling it gave. It was like it was the most right thing in the world. That even though I was losing the last of my birth family I would be okay...because Joe was with me, he was breathing, and he was loving.

I kissed back fiercely.

Eventually his tongue slipped in and massaged mine as our hands explored elsewhere. My hands snaked up his shirt, nudging it up until he got the hint. He shrugged it off. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’ve been more sure about anything,” I said before tugging off my own shirt, kind of grateful I was too lazy to at least put on a bra that morning.

“Wow,” Joe said. “You grew.” I slapped him playfully on his arm and he brought his lips back to mine. “Seriously though,” he said leaving kisses on my cheek, neck, and collar bone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so fucking beautiful in my entire life.”

I felt my face warm up at that as he went down to my breasts. He kissed them gently, sucking on my nipple. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

Joe chuckled and ventured lower. He kissed a trail down my stomach stopping at the waistband of my shorts. I lifted my hips so he could pull them off. Once he did he got between my legs. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my cunt.

I sucked in a breath as he started kissing and sucking at me. The feeling was intense… something out of this world even. “J-Joey I—.”

There was a stirring brewing within and it was suddenly getting much, much stronger. Suddenly my back was arched, my toes curled, and I could feel a warm liquid leave me. I moaned loudly. Joe gave my cunt a final kiss and climbed back up, smirking. “Huh-how the fuck..?” I asked panting. Joe laughed.

“You have your talents...I have mine,” Was all he said before lining himself up with my entrance. I peered down seeing if he needed any help and gasped. I didn’t know how he was ever gonna make that fit. “Ready, baby?”

I looked up and nodded.

He pushed in and we both cried out. He held still for a while so we could get use to the feel of one another. “You’re perfect…” I muttered. “You’re perfect for me.”

“I dunno about that,” he grunted. “You’re so tight.”

I smacked him playfully on his (cute as hell) ass. “Smart ass.”

“I was just kidding, babe.” he chuckled pushing in a little more. I moaned at the feeling. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Just take it slow...you’re insanely big for a twig.”

“Ha ha,” he said but still pushed in as slowly and gently as possible. Moments later he was all the way in. He held still for a while longer settling for just kissing me on my lips and neck. After a while I felt comfortable enough that my body was aching for him to move.

“Joey are you gonna fuck me any time soon or are you just gonna leave your dick in me?” I asked.

“Oh, uh…” He pulled out and pushed back in.

Our bodies moved together seamlessly. As though this is how we were always meant to be. Together, joined as one. I held onto Joe as though I were holding on to my life; which I was, I really was.

Suddenly the same stirring feeling from earlier started up again. Eventually I was writhing beneath Joe, moaning as I was pushed over the edge. It got worse when Joe started thrusting into a certain spot. I bit back a scream of extreme pleasure. Joe smirked.

“I take it I found your weak spot?” he asked. I nodded furiously and he continued to thrust there. He went in harder and faster, probably feeling the same tension grow within him that I did.

To say that I was almost seeing stars would be the understatement of the century. Finally it all became too much and I became undone. I moaned loudly as my whole body tensed up, and more liquid left me covering Joe’s length.

This sent him over the edge and with a groan he twitched inside me, filling me up. His body shuttered as he released while mine began to relax.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said panting once he collapsed beside me. “So, so, much.”

I cuddled up against. “I love you too, Joey.”

We were inseparable after that day. Mom passed soon after and his parents graciously took me in. Happily ever after doesn’t come easy though. The feelings I felt earlier that morning never really went away especially after mom died. It was hard for me to even leave my bed, and even Joe at times would spend the day holding me.

When we grew older and he filmed more movies and stuff, we got our own place. I still had those moments but they were far and few. Joe and I married soon after The Pacific premiered and a year later we were parents to a beautiful baby girl. A girl I swore to do right by, unlike my parents.

I swear on my every breath she will never know what it’s like to be lost in the land of Nevermore. She and her soon to be baby brother, Joey, will live happily no matter what.

I promise.

Taglist: @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @freddie-bulsara @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @hearttshapeddboxx @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[nissakii]

What do Mystic Messenger characters represent in society? [MysMe]

Mystic Messenger which is a game filled with a lot of action, drama and some sort of romance is still really close to our reality.

Especially the characters represent a lot of us and the many different situations people can be in and suffer from, as every and each of them offers us a route in which we can see more of the character and help them to achieve their ending (or not if you are curious to get the bad endings).

Yet what do those characters represent in our usual lives?

Where do we see each and every one of these characters in our society?

In the following blog post, we will see that every character shows us a certain place and piece of our reality that Cheritz put in their game.

Yoosung Kim

Starting with the youngest member of RFA let’s take the one who hasn't experienced the world of work yet.

As an uni student Yoosung is the very representation of someone who isn’t sure where life could lead him after achieving one big goal: getting into university.

Because despite the fact that standing on one’s own feet starts at that phase in life it is mostly the time where many feel lost as they see themselves stuck in their current life.

And Yoosung is one of those many cases that represent those people in Mystic Messenger.

Living alone for the first time and suddenly feeling the overwhelming force of being responsible for his own mistakes, he sees the sudden challenges of life that come with it.

On top of that with the death of his cousin Rika which he loved so dearly, nobody is very considerate of his feelings, depression and sadness that still lingers inside of him despite that they all claim it is understandable.

His dream job as a vet that was closely tied to the death of Rika’s dog is the more unattainable and painful to think about after the events as he requestions the morals and standards of society.

Being in the age of constantly being expected to give good results and succeed in order to become valuable to society’s standards, he starts to realize how unfair the chances in life are as he compares himself to Jumin Han who was born rich and with his future already set.

We already discussed a lot about Yoosung’s insecurities and general character in another blogpost, but referring to it Yoosung constantly sees no value in whatever he does beside in helping the RFA which as well due to the death of Rika became inactive until MC appeared.

When someone stops to value what he does or sees no merit in it, there are always the questions:

Why did I start this anyway?

What is the whole purpose of this?

Maybe it’s not for me?

And with those questions, with the heavy burden of a private life and social circles that also have a place in one’s life, sometimes there is a need to escape them all.

As a student just running away or taking holidays is not that easy leaving a bunch of responsibilities behind, so the next best way to stop thinking about the life around you is, immersing into another life- gaming.

Gaming may be a good coping mechanism but also a big threat for those who want to constantly flee from their reality slowly developing a game addiction without realizing, just like Yoosung slowly started to lose himself in LOLOL.

Studying, sorrow, wanting to flee but also wanting to become someone standing on stable footing.

They are all parts of finding oneself in the process, going through the harsh times of slowly diving into the world of adults and that is what Yoosung represents - the start of a new phase in life, probably one of the harshest.

Jaehee Kang 

Close, but still more experienced would be Jaehee Kang the only female of the RFA next to the MC, a chief secretary at C&R and  also the assistant of Jumin Han.

Jaehee is someone seen as a prime example and role-model, being a stable career woman who achieved a lot in her life and has a fairly high income to support herself.

In society’s eyes she is someone who contributes to success and as she is even an early top university graduate for which she got a scholarship in highschool making her extremely diligent and intelligent since her childhood.

Yet Jaehee gave up a lot to be in the position she is right now, she even cut her long hair and wears glasses despite her good vision since it is part of the demands Jumin made for the job as his secretary.

As she said herself her work contains a lot of tasks which some of them she isn’t even supposed to do and go beyond her ordinary secretary job, yet she does them and doesn’t complain since she gets paid for it.

In Zen’s DVD she tried to find a bit of happiness in her daily monotone routine as she works day in and day out, where she even eats out a lot and until late hours, having to take care of her boss’s cat when asked to.

In one of the chats in which Jaehee and Yoosung are talking about how successful and stable Jaehee is unlike Yoosung who is still feeling lost and doesn’t have that stability in life which she wouldn’t understand.

Jaehee on the other hand responds that despite having a job it’s not really that what she wanted to do and that she is still wondering what it is that she actually wants to do as she mentions that she used to go hiking a lot as her hobby, showing that despite being in a good position in society Jaehee still doesn’t feel fulfilled and rather a bit trapped in her monotone working routine which she basically devoted her life to.

Jaehee represents those of who seem like they have achieved a lot and do have a place in society job-wise but are still not sure what it is what they really want to do as they live in and out of their secure routine which they maintain and people expect them to be satisfied with.

Zen

Zen or how he is called by his real name, Hyun Ryu is one of the few characters that actually went through and made his dream his actual job.

Despite his looks he did not become a model but an actor depicting many emotions and roles in which he loses himself in while giving his best to show the audience the true nature of the persona he is currently playing.

We see Zen being a bit more on the easy-going side and encouraging Yoosung for example to follow his heart and dreams like he did, since it worked out for Zen. Yoosung encounters that Zen has the looks to follow the way he wants to which he won’t deny yet it’s not the only quality Zen bears.

He is a very hard-working person, strict on himself when it comes to working out or dieting and also tends to be a workaholic engrossing himself in constant development to fulfill his dream, which is not tied to his looks. Quite contrary Zen despises the fact that some people choose him a role only fitting for his looks and even worse asking him only to model instead of acting, as he mentions that it is acting that he wants to do and not modelling.

In that way his wishes often get disrespected or disregarded due to his looks, also he is being seen as shallow which may lead to people jumping to conclusions.

We see in Zen’s route what a harsh path he had to take in order to pursue his dream, it took him a lot of sacrifice, patience and work to be where he is and it’s only the start for him.

He ran away from home since his parents did not approve of his dreams, he was not the best at school and also dropped out renting an apartment for himself struggling through hard times to survive.

But despite that he never gave up since his dream was his passion and something he did with much eagerness and seriousness, even though many may call it foolish or risky.

Zen is the best representation of the people in our society who choose to derive from the usual path striving for a stable job and take many risks to achieve their dreams.

Because of those dreams life may get a bit harder and the chances are not high, yet Zen is the best example that it takes time, sacrifices and sometimes harsh circumstances to reach that what you want to do.

He is the hard reality of chasing your dreams.

Jumin Han

More or less in our category of society, Jumin Han is a less common case of working hard to achieve a high status and standard in that sense which doesn’t make him lazy or given everything for nothing, but makes his life sure easier from a materialistic perspective.

Cue materialism the first thing that not only RFA mentions when MC enters the chatrooms in the first days but also a misunderstanding from the start is that Jumin only sees numbers and facts, wielding his money to obtain whatever he desires and living an easy life.

Sure enough, money is one of the most fundamental problems that make life much harsher when it's lacking, also it’s the main cause of many stress factors since education, work and status are all basically tied to money. 

If the world is not about money in a certain sense why are we struggling that much anyways to get amazing jobs and maybe in some cases like Jaehee give up part of our life and identity?

But Jumin is the perfect example that the rich people who exist out there or at least some of them do not rely solely on their privilege of being born rich, yet still work hard to prove their position in society as Jumin still graduated as a top student, being part of MENSA which requires high IQ to become a member of and has a policy of working as efficiently as possible.

In that sense Jumin is a talented, intelligent young man who doesn’t want to simply rely on his background but also showcase his skills as he always strives to get the best results in the company to make sure he deserves the place as the CEO in line.

Since Yoosung constantly nags and complains about Jumin’s background being a bliss and that he had a comfortable and easy life, Jumin does not tell him he might be wrong but that he simply did not decide to be born that way and still encourages Yoosung that he has good qualities which Jumin finds appealing enough to hire him as an intern, showing him that it’s still important which skills someone hones.

Yoosung is just one example of people viewing him as someone who is just lucky enough to be born rich or the unfairness of status by birth, but they do not see the the dark side of Jumin’s life as he never had any stable relationships beside V that he cherishes so much also that people only put light on his status but not the work that he himself put into, visiting lessons since childhood not growing up like a usual kid playing freely without fearing to be kidnapped.

Therefore the concept of love is quite strange for him and beside in the good ending of his own route where he finally starts to learn about it, the box of emotions Jumin holds is always hidden deep within him projecting his own weaknesses on Elizabeth the 3rd who gives him the secure form of love and loyalty.

In any other situation love is not needed in the world he grew up in since facts and cold logic represented as results of success is what the people need to see from him, mistakes are a sign of weakness and incompetence especially him who everyone is constantly watching.

Jumin represents those in society who may seem to have high status, wealth and cozy life yet struggle due to the things that cannot be merely achieved by money alone, highlighting the importance of interpersonal relationships.

Saeyoung Choi/707/Luciel

That the world is not an easy place that can be seen only as black and white shows us the next character who suffered a lot through the dark and hidden secrets that society often tries to brush under the carpet.

Saeyoung Choi and his twin brother who we will examine later, show us the cruelty hidden in a small apartment living with an abusive mother who used to beat them up, verbally abuse them as a consequence of them being the illegitimate child of the prime minister.

Since Saeyoung was the more skilled one from a young age, he was treated badly but not as worse as his brother Saeran, which left him with no choice than using his talent to save his brother.

In order to that there was only one option and it was to leave his brother behind leaving him in the hands of V and Rika to protect him while Saeyoung would study to make sure when comes back he and Saeran could run away together.

And he took that option instead of fearing to be killed by his father one day or even by his mother.

In the end Saeyoung landed in an agency which stripped him of any identity and made him work like a machine even before he turned legal due to his level of skill and intellect.

With no place to escape anymore and the only light thinking that Saeran is safe and protected from some floppy disks he has with some pictures of him, he gave into corruption but not turning bad since his intentions kept him pure.

The RFA were a little safespace for him yet Seven never had the right as he claims for that since he doesn’t even have an identity anymore being neither Saeyoung nor any other person as his jobs demands for him to constantly change names and places if needed, therefore he doesn’t even have personal data anywhere.

He even forgot who he is at some point if it wasn’t for V and the floppy disks leaving him in an identical crisis and no hope to be understood by anyone as he constantly wears a mask and never is his true self.

In his eyes his is constantly extorted by his agency and even in some routes he claims that RFA puts a heavy load of work on his back which he likes to do but there are some endings in which Seven finds out that Saeran is under bad circumstances and even worse the hacker who infiltrated RFA and wanted to get rid of him, leaving him to lose trust in the last person he had, V.

Saeyoung Choi represents those who are mistreated, used and extorted in society, forced to live a life in which they cannot decide for themselves and were left to make choices that led them to an unfavorable position instead of helping them.

He is the one showing us that the shadows exist and fear of losing existence due to being nuisance and eyesore for people who have a more favorable place in the eyes of the government.

Saeran Choi/Unknown/Ray

Last but not least the other part of the shadows, Saeran Choi also known as either Ray or Unknown.

Unlike his brother he is at first not shown to have any special talent and since childhood he was a very fragile and kind boy who was seen as weak due to his nature.

A trait that made him prone to being attacked and mistreated not only by his mother but many other people.

But starting with his mother as he was less free than Saeyoung and even tied him up to avoid that he would roam around freely, his mother used to call him weak, useless and of no value as his brother is far better than him and skilled, at least making him worth to be kept alive.

She even deprived him of food and water at times, beat him up and made sure he would know his place in the world as she describes people like us comparing him to her.

Yet Saeran always looked up and trusted his brother since he was a good-natured person despite the fact that he started to manifest the idea that he himself is useless and a burden.

Even when Saeyoung left he was sure that he had a good reason and blamed himself for being useless, but due to certain circumstances and manipulation he was told that Saeyoung ran away from him.

It took a lot of torture and brainwashing to make Saeran finally give up the idea that Saeyoung will keep his promise and never ran away from him. which he later fueled his grudge with.

Rika who used him for mint-eyes plans made sure to keep him as Ray, the one who knew that he was of no merit or value to the outside world, and the moment he would leave the place he now belonged to would be the moment people would trample him, the weak down to the ground.

She also made sure to make him believe that there is no other place for him since he is someone unstable, someone who can only bloom if he worked for mint-eye and that his skills are not needed beside in here the place that would never betray him.

As we notice in Ray’s chats, the same exact words are used when he speaks to MC as he tells her if he doesn’t succeed he would be thrown away and that the world outside is an unprotected place full of people who are cruel.

Weirdly enough in one of the chats Ray shows MC a photo of two plants that sprouted in the from the same ground, but one was almost dying while the other one bloomed as he referred to Saeyoung and himself,  noticing that the stronger one used the weaker to survive therefore he cut the stronger one and used it as a fertilizer rejecting the idea that in any kind of way the stronger could win over the weaker one even in nature’s way.

MC who can be as nice to Ray/Saeran as she wants to be, he will always bring up the fear of being left behind as he has the stigma of being unstable by himself or unusable if not finishing the job as it’s the only thing he can bring any profit in and that he is no use if he doesn’t fulfill his role as a puppet.

Saeran Choi represents the undermined and discarded people of society who were not give a chance nor an option to show their ability, but were stigmatised or manipulated to act as puppets as they are only of worth when they can fulfill the needed tasks as their weakness is something unsightly and doesn’t have a place in this world.

The weak never survives, it’s the survival of the fittest… which means if there is no merit in what he does there is no need to keep him.

Are there any other characters which you see in society that are also part of the mystic messenger cast?

Do you feel especially tied to one of the characters in one of these aspects?

Until then - I just got a message

Makii

Original Source

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU! What lxc uncle think nhs behavior?

Worst engagement AU

I could have just answered but I’m procrastinating on stuff so...

1 Qingheng-Jun does not like the idea of an arranged match, but Lan Qiren insists. He points out the need for a strong alliance, the old friendship with Qinghe Nie, the casual aggressions of Qishan Wen against its neighbours, the mounting disrespect against its allies. 

He does not mention that, left to their own devices, people in their family have a tendency to choose horrible spouses for themselves. He doesn't say that he wants something safer for his nephew, one of the boys he's raising because their father decided to shroud himself in guilt and sorrow rather than do his duty to them and his sect. 

He knows he doesn't need to voice it to be understood. 

Qingheng-Jun does not like this, but he agrees to take Lan Xichen to Qinghe. When he comes back, he has an engagement contract in hand. Lan Xichen's future is set, and he will be protected from his own passions. 

It does not occur to Lan Qiren to ask for details about that Nie boy. He doesn't really matter. 

2 Lan Qiren is simply not prepared for his sweet, hard-working, obedient nephew of thirteen to go through teenagehood and all the moods it entails. He keeps hoping to be spared from it, but it's all in vain.

While returning from a visit to Yunmeng Jiang where Lan Xichen was brought along to learn the ropes of his future duties, they stop at an inn. Lan Xichen was pensive all day but it's when they retire for the night that he finally explodes into teenagehood. 

“There must have been better options,” Lan Xuchen says as they get ready for sleep, and while they were not talking about anything, it's easy to guess what he means. “If we need an alliance with Qinghe Nie so badly, why not Nie Mingjue?”

“It would be inconvenient for two sect leaders to marry,” Lan Qiren patiently points out.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen sees the logic of this. He also gets that this eliminates Jiang Wanying, who will someday rule his own sect. The same goes for Jin Zixuan, although since he’s in his own arranged engagement since longer than Lan Xichen, he could never have been an option anyway.

“Sect Leader Jiang’s ward then?” Lan Xichen suggests, removing the last of his outer layers. “If they adopted him, it would have been a perfectly respectable union.”

That idea gives Lan Qiren pause. Wei Wuxian was mostly kept at a distance for their visit, but he's heard rumours. He is not looking forward to teaching that child, and he would not want him to permanently live in the Cloud Recesses, not if he's anything like his mother.

“The Jiangs would never have adopted him,” Lan Qiren explains in a dry voice, unwilling to share certain details to his nephew of just thirteen. “And without a formal adoption, he is not a fitting spouse for a sect leader. He’s just a servant’s son.”

“Nie Huaisang is the son of a… a dancer! At least Wei Wuxian’s parents were both cultivators, shouldn’t that count more?”

“Nie Huaisang is the legitimate son of a sect leader. His mother’s weaker blood is unfortunate, but compensated by his father’s.”

Lan Xichen ragefully folds his clothes. He’s doing such a poor job of it that they’re sure to be wrinkled in the morning. Rebellion. Teenagehood. 

“Then… then the Wens! Why not…”

“The Wens only marry within their own sect, or with their most faithful dependant,” Lan Qiren cuts him, getting impatient. “Gusu Lan will not submit itself to their authority. They were never an option. Neither is anyone else. You will marry Nie Huaisang, secure us a good alliance with the second strongest sect in the country, and that’s it.”

“I don’t like him.”

Lan Qiren sits on his bed, glaring at his nephew. Why do young boys always make things so hard? 

“This is not about personal affections, Xichen,” he scolds. “You’re old enough to understand these things now. We need a strong alliance with another sect. It should fall on your father, he should remarry but… you know how he is.”

Lan Xichen looks struck, but nods. If Lan Qiren feels the absence of his brother, the burden of a duty that should not be his, he can only imagine what the situation is like for Lan Xichen, always kept at arm's length by his surviving parent. 

Lan Qiren sighs, and motions for his nephew to come sit next to him. Lan Xichen obeys. Teenagehood has not fully gotten him yet. 

“The Wens are starting to have dangerous ideas,” Lan Qiren explains patiently. “There is no way of knowing if it will come to a war or not, nor when that war might happen. But Gusu Lan cannot be left without friends, and Qinghe Nie wants to have support from somewhere that would be less exposed to Qishan Wen so they have a place to fall back to if they are attacked. You can see why that would be important, can’t you?”

“Why me? Why not Wangji?”

“His time will come as well, but for now you have to do your duty. The marriage will not happen for many years and even when it does, it will not have to impact you so much. You will continue living as you had before, with Nie Huaisang in your house… or not. If it turns out you two are too incompatible, we will give him his own quarters far from you, and you will see him no more than a guest. But this is important, Xichen. Our sect needs you to accept your responsibility so we can all live a little safer. It is a small price to pay.”

It is a lot to ask a boy of thirteen, but in spite of his newly discovered capacity for rebellion, Lan Xichen eventually nods. 

Lan Qiren feels proud of the boy. If they can kill any sentimentality in him, he'll be a great sect leader someday, unlike his father. 

3 Although Nie Huaisang is now a guest in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren has given him as little thought as if the boy were still in Qinghe. There is simply too much to take care of, between helping Nie Mingjue find his footing, keeping an eye on Wen Ruohan, internal affairs in Gusu Lan, pleas for help against evil, and his current batch of students. 

Once or twice, Lan Qiren does check on the boy, if only because his work is abysmal. Each time, Nie Huaisang trembles like a leaf and swears he'll try harder. It's a little concerning, a sect leader's spouse should have a little more backbone than this, but he's still young and there are also advantages to a quiet, obedient husband. 

They are well into the second half of the school year when Lan Xichen comes to find his uncle and tells him that Nie Huaisang is being bullied by some of the other boys, possibly quite violently. 

"Jin Zixun had his sword near his face!" Lan Xichen explains. "Nie gongzi says they were just playing but he'd been crying! I tried to make him complain against them, but he protected them!" 

"If he doesn't ask for justice, there's little we can do," Lan Qiren points out.

"He's an idiot. Does he think I'll come save him each time?" 

Lan Qiren shoots his nephew a warning look. It's no secret that Lan Xichen bears his fiancé little affection, but until now he's always been smart enough not to devolve into insults. This is a worrying development, even more than whatever cruel game Jin Zixun has invented this time. 

"Be kind, Xichen." 

"I'm trying. It's just hard to be kind to him. Whether I'm nice or not, he still looks at me with fear, so what's the point?" 

"If kindness were always easy, we would not need so many rules about it." 

His nephew pinches his lips and keeps silent, which is apparently the latest expression of teenagehood in him. Certainly it is better to say nothing than to speak unnecessarily, but Lan Xichen pushes that a little too far lately. 

That day Lan Qiren is too busy to deal with such rebellion, so he just dismisses his nephew. But the situation is concerning, and he starts paying more attention to what's happening with Nie Huaisang. 

It quickly becomes clear that, indeed, Jin Zixun has chosen the boy as his victim. It is equally clear that Nie Huaisang is aware of it, and flees from him as much as possible. The boy is not completely stupid. 

It is more alarming to see Lan Xichen consistently avoiding his fiancé, often going out of his way not to cross his path and have to so much as greet him. No wonder then that someone like Jin Zixun feels free to act however he likes with Nie Huaisang.

Lan Xichen, when confronted about it, denies it. He says he does not want to create problems for Nie Huaisang by showing him too much favour, so nobody will be able to say he only passed his year because the Gusu Lan Sect was treating him more kindly than other students.

A flimsy excuse if Lan Qiren ever heard one. 

It's a shame, almost, that Nie Huaisang’s efforts are starting to pay off. If he failed his exams, he'd have to stay another year in the Cloud Recesses. It would give Lan Qiren time to devise something so those children learn to somewhat get along. Love is neither expected nor desired for their match, but they need to be able to work together. 

It is really too bad that Nie Huaisang is doing better in class lately. 

Deceit is against every rule of Gusu Lan of course, but rules have been bent before. Nie Huaisang is clearly used to failure. How bad could it be if he failed again? 

4 Bad. 

It’s very bad.

At least now, they know that Nie Huaisang can show some character when needed.

5 It is evident, from the moment he steps again into the Cloud Recesses, that something has changed in Nie Huaisang during the few weeks he returned to Qinghe.

Some of the change is physical. He’s gotten a bit of a growth spurt, even if he’s still fairly short. The way he carries himself seems to hint that he has gained some muscle as well, meaning his brother probably punished his failure and outburst by making him train intensively. He no longer looks like such easy picking for whoever will be the chief bully this year, though perhaps that has less to do with teenagehood finally catching him and more with the way he looks at everyone and everything around him as if he’s ready to fight them if they say one single wrong word.

It’s not a bad development, Lan Qiren decides. After all, that’s an attitude very typical of Qinghe Nie, so it’s only normal that Nie Huaisang is giving signs he will develop into the same sort of strong man as his father and brother. And considering how well Lan Xichen gets along with Nie Mingjue, it’s certain that he will start liking his fiancé a little better now that he isn’t so meek. Combined with the weekly meetings that Lan Qiren has ordered for them, everything will sort itself out.

6 Nie Huaisang refuses to meet with Lan Xichen until Lan Qiren orders him to in person, and then debates how long those meetings are supposed to last until lan Qiren tells him that he has to stay for a incense stick’s time.

Later, Lan Xichen tells him that Nie Huaisang left the instant the stick finished burning up. His barely contained indignation is rather amusing, considering just days before he was complaining he did not want to spend any time with Nie Huaisang.

7 Somehow, Nie Huaisang appears to have become friends with Jiang Wanyin, which is excellent. Intersect friendships will serve them well in the future, if (when) the Wens make their move, and Lan Xichen has never been the best at making friends. If Nie Huaisang can do that for the both of them, he’ll already have done his part in the marriage that is to come.

It’s a little more concerning that Nie Huaisang seems to get along even better with Wei Wuxian, who is quite likely the worst trouble maker that Lan Qiren has ever had the displeasure to teach. But Nie Huaisang has shown in the past that he is a good, obedient, dutiful boy, so nothing bad should come out of this.

8 “Alcohol? In the Cloud Recesses?”

Nie Huaisang manages to stay as emotionless as his two friends, but his heavy blush betrays him.

9 “Breaking curfew to go to Gusu?”

Nie Huaisang blushes less this time.

10 “An indecent book!”

Nie Huaisang schools his features into perfect surprise, and doesn’t blush at all.

“Really? Who would dare?”

“You, apparently. The person from whom it was confiscated said it actually belonged to you.”

Nie Huaisang gasps, one hand on his heart, the very picture of wounded innocence.

“Master, I would never! I know the rules of the Cloud Recesses too well, and I know as well that my brother would never approve of me owning such books.”

“So it is no concern to you if it is destroyed?”

The half second of hesitation on the boy’s face is enough to confirm that he is, in fact, guilty of being the owner. Books like this don’t come cheap. And yet, Nie Huaisang manages to smile as he gets into a passionate discourse about the need to protect the youth, and how he simply doesn’t understand how anyone could ever taint their own mind with that filth.

Lan Qiren is more impressed than he would care to admit. 

11 Lan Xichen looks so shaken when he returns from the river that his uncle worries something went wrong.

“What were they doing, then?” he asks.

His nephew startles at the question and opens his mouth a few times, but can’t seem to get any sound out. He’s looking rather like a fish. A goldfish, with the way he starts blushing.

“They were just playing,” Lan Xichen eventually manages to say, carefully avoiding his uncle’s eyes.

“Playing… how, exactly?” Lan Qiren insists, doubt creeping in his mind.

Lan Xichen’s blush deepens.

“Just swimming and splashing each other,” he squeaks in a very odd voice. “Nothing forbidden, or I would have intervened.”

Ah.

So that means all this blushing and awkwardness is Lan Xichen’s own fault rather than that of Nie Huaisang and his two friends.

Teenagehood. 

It always ruins the best people and turns them stupid for a few months, a few years if they’re unlucky. Lan Qiren had hoped that his nephew, like him, would be spared the most embarrassing parts of it, now that the rebellion phase has calmed. 

That’s not a mess Lan Qiren wants to deal with. He sends his nephew away, reminding him to not skip his mediation time.

He’s going to need all the meditation he can get to survive that mess.

12 Wei Wuxian leaves the Cloud Recesses in disgrace. While it is always annoying to have failed as a teacher, Lan Qiren is glad to see him go. Without his bad influence, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Wanyin are sure to get in less trouble now.

13 Well, at least Jiang Wanyin gets in less trouble.

14 Lan Qiren notices how Lan Xichen looks at Nie Huaisang when he thinks nobody is paying attention, how he now makes subtle efforts to find himself on his fiancé’s path when possible.  He notices as well that Lan Xichen has bought some different incense sticks during his last trip to Gusu, sticks that burn a little more slowly than the old ones.

If Lan Xichen has to start falling prey to the sentimentality that plagues their family, Nie Huaisang is perhaps not the worst option out there. For one thing, they are already engaged, Qinghe Nie is a strong ally, Nie Huaisang is smart even if he has a strong aversion to cultivation matters, he is on friendly terms with the young masters of several sects small and big at this point.

It would be fine, if Lan Qiren didn’t see how Nie Huaisang is now the one who’ll walk away if he spots Lan Xichen nearby, how he instead exchanges looks with some of the other guest disciples (sometimes even with Lan disciples).

Lan Qiren thinks of his brother, so many years ago, constantly watching a girl who never spared him a second glance until he became her only chance to stay alive. He had hoped to spare his nephews from this pain. He tried so hard to make them reasonable, to teach them to put their feelings aside, all for nothing. Lan Xichen somehow manages to have unrequited feelings for his own future husband, and Lan Wangji… the least is said on that matter, the better.

Lan Qiren wonders how he managed to fail those boys.

Perhaps there’s just a curse on their family. He’ll have to seriously look into that.

15 Lan Qiren takes his poor, inebriated nephew by the shoulders. It takes a few seconds for Nie Huaisang to let go of Lan Xichen’s hand, and there’s something unusually serious to his expression.

“You won’t punish him, right?” Nie Huaisang asks after some hesitation. “It’s not his fault. We tried to make it so he didn’t drink anything, but somebody spiked his tea and tricked him. It’d be unfair to punish him.”

“I’m surprised you care,” Lan Qiren states, perhaps more abruptly than he should, but… it’s been a long day, and seeing his nephew in this state is not helping.

“Of course I care,” Nie Huaisang replies after checking around. They are, in fact, alone, but he’s right to be prudent.

Lan Xichen startles at the answer, and smiles so brightly that Lan Qiren feels a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“You really do?” Lan Xichen asks, trying to get closer to his fiancé, only to be kept in place by his uncle. He doesn’t appear to notice. “I’m so glad! I care about you so much, Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes go wide at the enthusiastic declaration. Lan Qiren has dealt with that boy enough to tell that for once, his surprise seems genuine.

Who knows, there might still be hope for this to not be a complete disaster after all. They still have a few years to sort themselves out, if they’re not too stupid, if they can just stop behaving like such teenagers...

But that’s a consideration for later. Right now, Lan Qiren’s only problem is to get his drunk nephew to bed before he embarrasses himself any further. He thanks Nie Huaisang and starts pulling Lan Xichen away, grumbling against the boy’s lack of cooperation and coordination.

When he looks behind as they turn around a corner, he sees that Nie Huaisang still hasn’t moved one inch. It’s hard to say from so far, but his expression seems serious once more.

With a little hope, a little luck…

Only time will tell.

[quicksilversquared]

Cookies and Croissants (chapter 1 of 3)

As a superhero, saving the world is standard fare. It's practically expected. But saving one's civilian friend from her best friend's off-target assumptions?

Somehow, that's almost harder.

links in the reblog

Ladybug could only wonder at how in the world she had ended up in this situation, standing on the rooftops of Paris surrounded by a strange combination of surveillance equipment and bakery leftovers, and watching Rena Rouge fangirl in front of a cringing Chat Noir with all of the queasy fascination of someone watching a car crash in slow motion- she didn't want to see it, but she couldn't look away.

How she had gotten here... well, that was something that had been several months in the making, and on a path that had taken more than a few unlikely turns. Maybe not all of them had been well thought-out, but she wouldn't have changed them for anything.

And it had all started with her dad. Her dad, his need to feed everyone who was hungry ... and maybe a bit of a lingering fixation on Marinette's 'confession' to Chat Noir.

If you feed a cat, you'll never get them to leave.

As Marinette had found out several months prior, that applied to cat-themed superheroes, too.

After an evening akuma attack that ended in front of the bakery, Mr. Dupain had offered the exhausted superheroes bakery leftovers. Ladybug had accepted a couple cookies- all the better for not having to sneak them for Tikki later- but Chat Noir had been entranced by the options. Eating everything would have made him sick, though- there was a lot of chocolate and sugar and butter, even for a teenaged boy- and so he had dithered, indecisive.

And then Mr. Dupain had suggested that maybe Chat Noir could come around a couple times a week in the evening and sample from the leftover bakery wares and perhaps even hang out with the family. Ladybug had thought that her partner would gently turn down that second part- after all, every minute they spent in their superhero forms meant another minute taken away from their civilian lives, another minute where they could be found missing, another minute of unexplained absence.

But Chat Noir seemed delighted by the invitation. Twice a week, he showed up and hung out for pastries and Mecha Strike or a movie. That inched up to three times a week after a month and a half, and Marinette started doing her homework with him, too. She had to be careful not to slip up- after all, he was her partner and so she knew more about him than a normal civilian would- but once she got used to it (and once she made sure that the Miracle Box was very thoroughly hidden), everything went smoothly.

Well. Mostly.

Three akuma attacks in oddly close succession that ended up affecting the bakery put both Marinette and Tikki- and the rest of the kwamis under her guard- on high alert. The next time that Chat Noir came over, he seemed twitchy, too, and confessed after ten minutes that he was getting concerned that somehow, Hawkmoth had heard about him coming to the bakery. Maybe it was just a coincidence, of course- after all, the bakery was located in the area of Paris that got hit with the most attacks- but it was just putting them all on edge.

So one evening, they set aside their video games and sat down as a family to come up with a plan that would let the superheroes find Hawkmoth and end the threat for once and for all.

It was simple, really, and in all honesty, the police force should have come up with it ages ago. All they needed was a grid of cameras set up across the city, allowing them to track where the akumas were coming from. Then they could figure out where the lair was, figure out who Hawkmoth was, and finish everything for once and for all. It would be a lot of work, though, and not something that the two main superheroes could feasibly pull off on their own, at least not without sacrificing a lot of sleep.

So they had tapped Carapace and Rena Rouge to help them, since the two of them had the most experience out of their array of superheroes. They were setting themselves up to a long night even with the two extra members of their team, but with every extra person they added to the mission, the possibility of someone talking and Hawkmoth finding out about it and adjusting his strategy rose.

...in retrospect, perhaps it hadn't been the smartest move to tap Rena Rouge if the goal was the information not leaking at all, but they couldn't call in Carapace and not Rena, since Nino would no doubt mention the outing to Alya and she might be sore about not being included. Hopefully Alya could appreciate the importance of the information not getting out at all until Hawkmoth was defeated.

In all honesty, Ladybug admitted to herself as she glanced around at her assembled team and the bags and bags of cameras they had to set up, she probably shouldn't be using her old backup teammates at all. After all, Hawkmoth knew their identities now, and even if this wasn't a battle- even if they were doing their best to not be spotted- having them out and about could result in their families getting targeted. It was fully possible that Hawkmoth hadn't immediately and completely exploited his knowledge of Chloe's identity to go after her family just because they were so famous and well-connected. Alya and Nino's families didn't have that protection.

But Ladybug and Chat Noir had needed more helpers, and she didn't want to put new people on patrol on their own. So they had to stick with their identity-compromised team for now, and just hope against hope that Hawkmoth wouldn't spot them and wouldn't attack Nino and Alya's families.

"Okay, so I made a grid of the part of the city Chat Noir and I decided should be covered," Ladybug told the others, handing out both set-up instructions for the cameras and the maps she had made. It had taken a bit of work to find and download a maps program that she liked and then figure out how it worked to get the grid placed over it, but it had been worth it. "This covers Hawkmoth's usual akumatization range, and shows which direction I thought the cameras should point. This will be the initial set-up, and then once we get a couple weeks of footage, that should be enough to shrink the grid down a bit and hone in on Hawkmoth's lair."

Rena Rouge accepted the paper and glanced over it with a groan. "This is so spread out! We're going to be going all night, and I'm gonna be exhausted. And I have my sisters to babysit tomorrow, too," she added to Carapace with another small groan. "They'll run me over, I know. But I'm happy to help!" she added quickly. "It's just going to be a long night."

Carapace nodded. "Yeah. Getting all of the cameras set up, and making sure that they all work- that's, like, what? Ten, twenty minutes per camera, probably, if you count in travel time between spots, which- well, I'm no math whiz, but with all of the cameras we have..."

"I would have spread things out over a couple nights, but I thought it would be best if we could get this off of the ground right away," Ladybug told them, glancing towards her partner. Her partner, who was digging behind the chimney for something. Ladybug continued regardless. They didn't exactly have much time to waste. "We'll split up in teams and work our way around the city. Hopefully after the first couple cameras, we'll have things down to a science."

Chat Noir nodded, popping out from behind the chimney with a bag in hand. "Yeah! And to help the night go faster, I brought pastries!"

…for some reason, Ladybug was starting to feel the faintest tendril of dread curling in her gut.

"Oh, sweet!" Carapace was up at once, a grin on his face. "Butter and sugar, the best late-night companions! I can buy next time. I know pastries can get expensive really fast."

"Oh, it's no problem," Chat Noir assured him with a grin. "I got these for free, actually, because I have this, uh, friend, and I told her dad that we were doing a stakeout all night, and so he gave me the leftovers from their shop." His smile turned smaller, entirely fond. "She- they're fantastic, really."

In the split second of silence that followed, Ladybug's brain picked up on Chat Noir's wording, that smile, pieced together exactly what conclusion Rena Rouge would draw from that, and strongly considered turning around and banging her head against the nearby chimney because really, what had she done to deserve this?

"She's actually your girlfriend, isn't she?" Rena Rouge demanded, a wide grin spreading across her face. She pointed at Chat Noir. "I can tell from your expression! She totally is!"

"No!" Chat Noir protested, but Ladybug could see the red seeping out from under his mask even in the dim moonlight and she muffled a sigh. Alya wasn't going to let this go, she just knew it. Her friend had convinced herself that the pastries were from Chat Noir's secret girlfriend, based on the world's flimsiest evidence, and now that he had blushed, she wasn't going to be convinced otherwise. "No, we're- we're just friends!"

"Denial!" Rena Rouge sang, trying to snatch the bag out of his fingers. "How very classic. Just 'fess up, you've got a girlfriend and you're trying to hide it!"

"I don't- I don't even understand how you even came to that conclusion!" Chat Noir protested, holding the bag up higher reflexively. "No, she's just a friend that I made in the mask, and we realized that it would be dangerous for me to keep visiting with Hawkmoth still at large after her house got targeted a few times. That's all!"

"You know, you're protesting waaaay too much," Rena Rouge said smugly, leaning right up into Chat Noir's space. "And don't think that I didn't notice that blush, Mr. Just-Friends, and- got it!"

Chat Noir yelped, scrabbling after Rena Rouge as she danced away with the bag. "No, wait-"

"It's from the Tom and Sabine bakery- wait!" Rena stopped dead in her tracks, jabbing a finger into the air. "That means- that means that Chat Noir's mystery girlfriend is Marinette! Oh, that girl has been holding out on me! She didn't tell me a thing! Oh my god I cannot believe this I've been trying to set her up with Adrien for forever and she's been dating you and- I can't believe that she didn't say anything! I'm going to end her-"

Ladybug wondered if it would be possible for her to move to, say, Antarctica. She was going to kill Alya. Could she not have spilled that particular secret to Chat Noir? Sure, maybe Marinette wasn't exactly the most subtle person in the world about her crush, but she had taken down most of her Adrien-focused posters after he had seemed to be more interested in Kagami, so it was possible that he hadn't figured it out on his own.

Also, it was so not cool that Alya was telling someone else about Marinette's crush when she had promised not to.

Next to her, Chat Noir had blanched, wincing as Rena Rouge ranted on. He knew as well as she did who was behind Rena Rouge's mask now, after Chloe's little expedition to the dark side, so he knew exactly what his little flub had gotten Marinette into.

Well. Time for some damage control, it seemed.

"And how are you going to explain knowing about anything in the first place in order to interrogate her?" Ladybug asked Rena Rouge, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the nearby chimney. "Because as I see it, there's no way to explain that away. If there's anything going on in the first place, which Chat Noir has already said there's not."

"Well, maybe her parents-" Rena Rouge started, ignoring the last bit of Ladybug's comment, but Carapace shook his head.

"Her parents would never tell anyone if she asked them not to, you know that," Carapace told her. "Admit it, there's no way to ask her about it unless you want her to figure out that you're Rena, because I just know that this dude is going to tell her that he told us." He jutted a finger at Chat Noir, who was still spluttering.

"Well now he will, because you said that!"

"I'm still not dating her!" Chat Noir insisted, properly red now. "I'm not, she is seriously just a friend-"

Rena Rouge just wagged a finger at him. "Deny all you want, but I saw the clues there and you can't fool me! I'm a reporter, remember? I catch clues that other people don't, even if you're trying to hide them!"

Ladybug hastily stopped herself from choking on her laughter. Right, Alya was totally super-observant. That was why she hadn't picked up on everything that was wrong with Lila and her stories yet. Or caught on to the fact that her best friend was Ladybug.

"No, seriously-"

"Okay, let's divide up the pastries then, one bag for each pair," Ladybug said loudly over Chat Noir. As much as she really didn't want Alya thinking that she- well, Marinette- was dating Chat Noir, arguing with Alya wasn't going to get them anywhere. It would probably make Alya even more convinced, actually, if Marinette's experience with trying to convince Alya that Lila was a big fat liar was anything to go by. Ignoring her entirely in favor of not reacting to her comments was far more likely to get results. "Rena, hand over the bag, please."

Smirking widely, Rena Rouge did just that. Chat Noir pulled a second bag out from inside of the larger one- apparently he had come prepared, smart kitty- and handed it over, then retreated to Ladybug's side with the larger bag.

"Okay, so I've color-coded which spots each team will take," Ladybug told her teammates, gesturing to the map in her hand. "One person installs, the other keeps watch. I know we want to go fast, but we can't take any risks. No drawing attention to yourself, either- keep hidden, no pictures. We can't have Hawkmoth catch on and adjust his location."

Rena Rouge saluted, cheeky smile in place. "Got it, boss!"

Ladybug sent her a Look. Carapace sighed and stepped in. "Right, we'll be careful. No tricks or showing off, I promise."

"Thank you."

"Marinette is absolutely going to kill me," Chat Noir groaned as Rena Rouge and Carapace dashed off with their bag. "Rena's her best friend, and when she thinks she has a scoop she never lets go. Never."

Ladybug winced, nodding. She could just see it now, her best friend leaning over into her space whenever the teachers weren't looking, dropping heavy-handed hints about dates and dating in a not-so-subtle attempt to get Marinette to slip up and admit that she was dating someone, since Alya wouldn't be able to accuse her of keeping her 'relationship' with Chat Noir secret without admitting to how she got the idea in her head in the first place. After that hypothetical slip, Alya would be relentless as she tried to get Marinette to then tell her who the secret boyfriend was, at which point she could then interrogate Marinette about what Chat Noir was like outside of battle, if she knew his secret identity, if Alya could interview him.

Even though Marinette wasn't dating Chat Noir, it was still going to be absolutely infuriating to have to deal with. She would have to do some damage control on her end, too, letting her parents know about Alya's assumption and making sure that her dad knew that he was not, under any circumstances, to make any jokes or say anything that would egg Alya along. How she would explain the whole situation and how she knew about it without giving away any secret identities, she didn't know, but if nothing else her time as a superhero had made her better at coming up with excuses.

Well. Sometimes she was better. Sometimes panic took over her common sense and she ended up blurting the first thing that came to mind, the rest of her brain already focused on something else.

"I don't even understand how she got girlfriend out of that," Chat Noir complained as he scooped up their share of the camera bags so that they could head for their first point. "Like, all I was doing was talking about how I got pastries from a friend's family and how nice it was for them to give us their leftovers, and the next thing I know, Rena's off with her theory."

"It was the way you said 'friend'," Ladybug informed him. "She was reading too far into your hesitation, and then you were smiling at the thought of your friend, and you mentioned the friend was a she."

Chat Noir whined. "But that's nothing, though! Doesn't everyone smile when they think about their friends? Unless they're fighting, I suppose, but the rest of the time?"

Ladybug shrugged the best she could as they swung through the air. "I didn't say that it had to make sense, just that that's how she was thinking."

"I thought that Alya wanted to be an investigative reporter, not a tabloid reporter," Chat Noir grumbled. "That kind of thinking seems more in line with the latter, not the former."

Ladybug hastily hid another grin. A lot of Alya's questions could fit better into tabloid thinking, honestly, and even more of her posts on the Ladyblog. Otherwise, there would be a whole lot fewer speculative posts about Ladybug and Chat Noir as civilians and a lot more posts looking into whatever clues they might have about Hawkmoth's identity. Still, they were still young, and so it was perhaps a little unfair to judge too much. "Don't let her hear you say that. She will end you."

"Oh, I know she will." They landed in tandem, Chat Noir starting to set up their first camera while Ladybug kept watch. The rooftop was quiet, just like she had hoped- their grid had gotten disrupted by the Grand Paris, because the chance of someone seeing them was way too high unless they waited until crazy late- and it wasn't too hard to find a spot to attach the camera, something that would have a good vantage point without being overly easy to spot in case a security guard came up.

Hopefully Rena Rouge and Carapace would take all of that into consideration. It was entirely possible that Rena would be too distracted by her 'scoop' to really give as much thought as usual to what she was doing.

"I did have a thought about the whole picking new holders thing," Chat Noir told her as he set up the camera, his fingers flying, and Ladybug jolted out of her thoughts to give him her full attention. "Hawkmoth knows who our current people are because they transformed into their normal outfits when they were under Miracle Queen's spell. But what if they just mixed up their transformations? It would have to be big changes, because otherwise that could tip them off, and maybe they would have to change hair color or something, too, but…"

"It could work," Ladybug agreed at once, happy with both the change of subject and the suggestion. She really liked that idea, actually. There were only so many people that she knew and thought could be good fighters, and about the last thing that she wanted to do right now was pick out and train in completely new superheroes, especially with Mayura showing up to fights more and more often. "New transformations, new names. We might want to re-introduce the 'new' superheroes gradually, though, or Hawkmoth could get suspicious. After all, it should be hard to find and screen new superheroes that we can trust, so having a bunch of 'new' holders all at once could be really unrealistic."

"Like keep some of the old ones for a bit, then have then 'swap out' for the 'new' ones," Chat Noir filled in. He grinned at her. "Nice thought."

"But definitely no more Chloe," Ladybug finished. Then she made a face. "And no Lila, either. I heard that Alya was talking about how good of a holder Lila might be, and…"

Chat Noir's face screwed up in disgust. "Oh god no."

"We might have to do a team briefing at some point and say no helping Lila at all, because she fakes injuries all the time to get help and take our attention away from the fight," Ladybug offered after a pause. She watched Chat Noir tweak one last wire, then check the camera before giving her a thumbs-up. They gathered up their bags, then made a beeline for the next spot before picking up the conversation right where they left off. "It'll sound bad, probably, but I don't want to risk Lila trying to steal a newbie's Miraculous."

Chat Noir looked startled. "You think she would?- actually, no, don't answer that, she would totally jump at the chance to get magic powers," he corrected himself before Ladybug could say anything. "And I don't want her anywhere near magic powers. She already gets akumatized enough, and the thought of her always having access to superpowers..."

Both of them shuddered.

"Well, with any luck, we'll take Hawkmoth down soon and Lila won't have access to any powers," Ladybug said after another minute. Chat Noir was finishing up with this camera, doing one more test to make sure it was running before they moved again. "Her or any other bully in the city."

Chat Noir grinned. "Yeah. I honestly can't wait."

  A week and a half later, Ladybug and Chat Noir got word from the police chief that the cameras had picked up enough butterflies to tighten their camera grid, which meant another late-night stakeout. Once again, Mr. Dupain and Mrs. Cheng insisted on sending bakery leftovers with Chat Noir, and he accepted the bag and went on his way with a wince.

This really wasn't going to do anything to convince Rena Rouge that he wasn't dating Marinette.

"I owe Marinette so many apologies already for this past week," Chat Noir told Ladybug when they met up. Behind her, he could see Rena Rouge and Carapace, plus Ryuko, a new Snake, and Chiron, who had joined them in a battle earlier that week. Clearly Ladybug had realized that there would be more work involved during this patrol, since they first had to gather up all of the cameras in order to be able to set them up in the slightly tighter grid. "Alya's been dropping hints nonstop to try to get her to admit that she's been secretly dating me. And now I have treats again, and she's going to take that as confirmation that I am dating Marinette and her parents are just trying to spoil her boyfriend, because that's just how her parents are."

Ladybug nodded, glancing over her shoulder. "Yeah, honestly? That's the least of your concerns. Alya spotted you running over to Marinette's house one evening with a giant blanket under your arm, so now she thinks that you were staying over."

Chat Noir spluttered, feeling himself turning even redder. How had Alya seen that?! "No! No, no, we were having movie night and I love curling up in a huge pile of blankets, so I brought one of my own and then one as a gift because I like taking naps over there in a huge blanket pile and I just wanted to expand Marinette's collection, I wasn't-"

Ladybug was giggling.

"Stop laughing," Chat Noir whined. "I swear, you're just as bad as Mari is. She'll offer up her blankets and pillows so that I can have a 'cat-nap in the sun', as if I'm an actual cat and not just a cat-themed superhero, and then offer me catnip tea-"

"But do you take the blankets and the naps and the tea?"

Chat Noir sighed. Something told him that Ladybug somehow already knew the answer. "...yes."

"Ah-hah, Chat Noir! Guess what I saw this week?"

Chat Noir cast a save-me look at Ladybug, then threw in some kitten eyes for good measure. His partner was unmoved.

...that was probably for good reason, honestly. He had gotten himself into this whole thing with his stomach- after all, while he tended to go to the Dupain-Cheng bakery mostly for the company now, since they gave him far more attention than his own father, he had started coming over largely because of the promise of leftover bakery treats- and now he had to get himself out.

Rena Rouge was oozing smugness as she sauntered towards him, the rest of the group watching as she did. "I saw someone visiting his girlfriend late in the evening. And that someone was carrying blankets with him- did you have a sleepover?"

"No!" Chat Noir denied at once, because that wasn't what had gone on, not at all, and seriously, how had Alya even seen that? "We were having movie night and I wanted to be comfortable!"

….from the way Rena lit up, that hadn't been the right thing to say.

"Oooh, he admits to having a date night!" Rena Rouge exclaimed, clearly delighted. "That's so cute!"

"No, it was a family movie night that I got invited to join and her parents were there!" Chat Noir protested, but he could already feel the conversation spiraling out of his control. Alya- Rena- was only going to hear what she wanted to hear, that much was obvious.

Also, the chortling kind of gave away the fact that his protests meant nothing to her.

"Oh, I know how that goes," Rena Rouge told him wisely, and Chat Noir only just managed to avoid her familiar elbow to his ribs. "The parents were there to keep things from getting too spicy!"

"No!" Chat Noir insisted, even though it was completely futile. He understood now what Marinette had muttered earlier in the week, about how Alya had a bulldozer personality. She just didn't stop.

"Your blush says otherwise!" Rena Rouge crowed, and Chat Noir cursed his burning cheeks. "Hah, I knew it-"

"He's blushing because you're insinuating that he's getting intimate with someone he's told you he's just friends with," Ladybug cut in with a long-suffering sigh, and Chat Noir almost melted with relief. If Rena had kept talking, he wasn't sure how he would be able to look Marinette in the eye when he went in for his regular visit tomorrow, or even at school on Monday. "And if you keep pestering him about it when he's already told you that there isn't a relationship beyond a friendship there, then maybe I'll tap someone else to help out in your place."

Rena went very, very still at that, and then took one careful step back away from Chat Noir. Behind her, Carapace's eyes were huge, and the other three superheroes had paused in their conversation to look over, too.

….well. Clearly all of them would think twice now about crossing Ladybug.

"Now, let's not waste any more time talking, since I know some people here can't sleep in tomorrow morning and we don't want to stay out forever," Ladybug continued, her flat tone vanishing in an instant and immediately getting replaced by something far more cheery. The difference was jarring, and Chat Noir couldn't blame all of the temporary heroes for taking a wary step back. "I've already given out maps of which teams have to collect which cameras and where you'll put them. A couple cameras will stay in place, but they have to be checked to make sure that they aren't running low on battery or anything."

Everyone nodded.

"And I have pastries," Chat Noir offered, because he really couldn't eat all of them on his own. "I just need to sort them so that we have three bags instead of two, because I didn't know that we would have more people."

"I'll help!" the Snake offered, pushing jet-black hair out of his face. Luka had apparently gone for non-colored hair and a completely different hairstyle with his new transformation, and it was a little unsettling. "Uh, do we need a third bag too, or…?"

With Cobra's help, it took no time at all for them to divvy up the treats, and then Rena Rouge and Carapace were off like a shot. The others lingered, and Ladybug raised an eyebrow at them. "Do you have a question?"

"Yeah, uh- what was that earlier?" Cobra asked, clearly nervous about asking. "If you don't mind us asking."

"Rena Rouge was making a mountain out of a molehill and wouldn't drop the topic," Ladybug told them with a sigh. "If she tries telling you anything about Chat Noir having a girlfriend, it's not true. She just took some stuff out of context and won't listen to anything we say to the contrary."

Ryuko let out a sigh. "I know people like that in my normal life. Exhausting, aren't they?"

"It can be frustrating," Ladybug agreed. "Hopefully she'll learn to be better soon, though, and I think I got her to drop it for now. So let's get going, team! Those cameras won't move themselves!"

As their group scattered, Chat Noir could only hope that Ladybug was right.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 13: Letters

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan lived up to his word and forced the princess to pull double duty in the kitchens. So she worked both the breakfast and the dinner shifts that week, leaving her exhausted and aching and irritable. But she took to the work well, not seeming to feel the punishment as it had been intended. Which irritated him.

Though he had a much better understanding of the girl, he still hadn’t figured out a way to turn that knowledge into anything useful. Therefore, every afternoon they sat for hours in the pouring rain while the princess tried and failed to find a way around those iron bars in her mind.

The girl was still infuriating, still arrogant and impudent and wild, but he didn’t hate her as much as he had before. If he had cared to think about it, he would have probably characterized his feelings as an antagonistic dislike.

She still aggravated him, and he still goaded her right back. But he understood her better now, and found that he couldn’t hate her.

No more dead demi-Fae turned up, but Rowan still spent every morning searching the woodlands and digging through papers for leads. He didn’t make any progress. The maps and missives just stared back at him, blank and unhelpful, while the forests remained infuriatingly empty.

But one morning, Rowan received news through the fortress courier.

Fenrys was back in Doranelle, having finished his assignment in Varese. And apparently, he missed irritating Rowan to death.

Rowan –

I arrived in Doranelle just this week. I didn’t realize you would still be at Mistward, or I might have stopped there on my way back. Not that I miss your pretty face – I just need to collect on the favor I did for you in Varese. You owe me.

Connall and I are the only ones currently in the capital, so there won’t be much help coming your way (we drew straws, and I received the absolutely wonderful pleasure of responding to your very thoughtful and not-at-all-grouchy message).

Lorcan is now with fleet along the southern coast, pushing east towards the rebel camps. As you know, it’ll be unlikely that he responds in time to actually be helpful – if at all. Vaughan is still on the other side of the world, doing whatever the hell Maeve asked him to do there, so there’s almost no chance of you reaching him. But I’m sure you knew that.

Gavriel on the other hand, we just got word from – he will be returning within the month, back from the outpost on the northern edge of the Cambrian Mountains. The soldiers he was stationed with were all killed – slaughtered by a band of rogues sometime after midwinter. He tracked the killers to their base, and executed their leader. But still, those were soldiers Gavriel had known for decades, some even longer. You actually probably knew some of their names, but I don’t, so I can’t relay them to you.

In his message, Gavriel said that he was looking for you, and had visited Lord Siarill’s court in the east where he thought you were still stationed. But of course, you weren’t there, and after checking with Lorcan in the south, he said he would be returning. I tried to send a letter his way, but we’ll see if he gets it.

Neither me, nor my brother, know anything – there have been no reports here of any strange bodies, missing people, or of whatever that dark creature was.

Are you sure that the bodies aren’t just from normal crime? Fae gone bad? And about that creature – you never actually saw anything, right? Just a weird darkness?

Maybe another Fae has been blessed by Hellas and is raging across the countryside. Though it’s hard to imagine anyone more unstable than Lorcan. Perhaps he’s just in a mood and decided to take it out on his demi-Fae cousins. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. Lorcan could probably dry someone up into a husk if he wanted to.

I refrained from asking our dear mistress, assuming that if you got that desperate, you could very well ask her yourself. Good luck with that.

I will, however, search through the library for you, but I doubt I’ll find anything helpful. What you had to say was too vague, and far too reliant on your own experience with the creature, rather than its identity, characteristics, or history – and you know what it’s like in there. Impossible to find anything you’re looking for even under the best of circumstances.

Let me know if anything interesting happens, its dead boring here – as per usual. Could use an evil demon creature to spice things up. Perhaps I could even set it on Connall – he certainly could use a good sharp shock. Brooding bastard.

Hope you’re enjoying training that pretty princess, because if you aren’t, I’d be glad to take your place. I’ve heard she’s fiery. Sounds like fun if I’ve ever heard of it.

Let me know of any developments, I will do the same –

Fenrys

Rowan’s jaw was clenched the whole time he read the letter.

Even so, he knew that the boastful male did actually care about the lives of the demi-Fae, and would help him if he could.

Not that it meant that he was excited to repay the favor the male thought he was owed – the last time Fenrys had called in a favor, the pair of them had woken up in an abandoned cottage nearly ten miles away from where they’d been staying, soaking wet, short two purses full of gold coin, and absolutely no memory of the night before.

Fenrys still told the story at every possible opportunity.

Rowan growled at the paper in his hands, forcing his thoughts away from the infuriating male. Instead they fell on Gavriel. Which honestly wasn’t that much better.

Rowan had known many of the soldiers in Gavriel’s company. Many of them had families, had mates that would now be mourning them. The emptiness in his chest twisted.

Rowan drafted a quick reply, relaying the information he had gathered on the appearance of the new bodies, as well as the inferences he had been able to make about the dark creature. It wasn’t much.

A few days later, another surprise. Lorcan had also received his letter, and bothered to respond.

Whitethorn –

So you ended up training the girl. My condolences.

I’ve never heard of anything remotely similar to whatever this creature is. It doesn’t sound like anything blessed by Hellas, or by any other of the gods. Are you sure that it isn’t just the skinwalkers?

I am still in the southeast, the rebels are proving harder to put down that originally thought. Don’t bother me again for anything unimportant.

– Lorcan Salvaterre

Rowan’s face twisted into a frown. Well, at least he’d responded at all.

Each evening he listened to Emrys’ stories, usually hidden beneath the stairs just out of sight. The girl's black eye and split lip had begun to fade, while her limbs had strengthened, her skin regained some color, and in general, she began to look healthier. More human.

Perhaps because of that fact, he didn’t overhear any more worried conversations between Emrys or Malakai, nor did he catch any strange looks from them. Though the girl still kept away from others in the fortress, it seemed that she was settling in to life at Mistward.

Nightmares still plagued Rowan, and every morning he was jerked from sleep well before dawn, sweat coating his limbs and images flashing behind his eyes. But occasionally, something different flickered through his mind. A set of lips, the taste of jasmine, a flicker of flame –

Whenever that happened, Rowan threw himself into the misty wind, coating himself in its icy touch and locking those thoughts away where he didn’t have to deal with them.

A week after the incident with the skinwalkers, Rowan collected the girl from the kitchens at noon as usual, and they made their daily trek up the mountain to the temple ruins, the girl’s mortal pace somehow having become even more irritating with time.

It was unusually sunny that day, and the echo of the power within the temple stones felt stronger, richer than usual. As did the girl’s. Not that it seemed to make any difference with her shifting.

They sat for just over two hours, mostly silent among the glowing stones, before the girl stood, groaning. She paced for moment, her hands on her hips, studying the stones.

She looked around as if she could feel the effect of Mala’s touch as well, could hear the whispered prayers of long-dead worshippers, begging the goddess for her blessing.

She broke through the heavy silence. “What was this place, anyway?”

Rowan dogged her steps, leashing his irritation at the impertinent question. “The Sun Goddess’s temple.”

She cocked her head. “You’ve been bringing me here because you think it might help with mastering my powers – my shifting?”

He nodded faintly.

The girl turned and placed her hand on the stones, soaking up their warmth, lost in thought. Only the vague outline of the temple remained, the barest imprint of a brick path, crumbling pillars strewn about like abandoned toys.

For some reason, its loss saddened him. An ancient place of fire and worship, destroyed and forsaken by time.

The princess broke through his reverie unexpectedly, “Mab was immortalized into godhood thanks to Maeve,” she ran a hand down the jagged block, musing aloud. “But that was over five hundred years ago. Mala had a sister in the moon long before Mab took her place.”

Deanna and Mala, sisters and eternal rivals, keepers of the sun and the moon. “Deanna was the original sister’s name. But you humans gave her some of Mab’s traits. The hunting, the hounds.”

“Perhaps Deanna and Mala weren’t always rivals.”

Rowan cocked his head. “What are you getting at?”

She just shrugged, running her pale fingers over the white granite. “Did you ever know Mab?”

He was quiet for a long moment, considering.

“No,” he said at last. “I am old, but not that old.”

“Do you feel old?”

The question was pointed, but not aggressive. She wasn’t asking as a challenge, or a taunt. For some reason, she wanted to know. It was a question to seek understanding, not dominance.

So he answered. “I am still considered young by the standards of my kind.”

She did not relent. “You said that you once campaigned in a kingdom that no longer exists. You’ve been off to war several times, it seems, and seen the world. That would leave its mark. Age you on the inside.”

Curiosity broke though him, threading its way through his ice like roots pushing into the earth. He turned his gaze towards her, “Do you feel old?”

She met his gaze calmly, measured and quiet as she considered the question. “These days, I am very glad to be a mortal, and to only have to endure this life once. These days, I don’t envy you at all.”

Her words were heavy things laid at his feet. But still, that curiosity did not let up. “And before?”

She turned away, looking at the distant horizon. “I used to wish I had a chance to see it all – and hated that I never would.”

The burden of royalty – of an heir. A burden he had never felt, though he was a prince. Before Lyria, he had passed his life attempting to escape just such a trap as the princess had been born into. But after her death, he had sold himself into his own gilded cage. It was strange - in a way, they were almost similar, both trapped.

Rowan formed another question, but before he could ask it, the girl spoke again, sidetracking him. “Is this where the stags were kept – before this place was destroyed?”

Just last night, Emrys had told the story of the sun stags, ancient beings who held an immortal flame between their massive antlers, so similar to their cousins in the west. The stags of Terrasen. They had once been stolen from a temple in this land, never to be seen again.

“I don’t know. This temple wasn’t destroyed; it was abandoned when the Fae moved to Doranelle, and then ruined by time and weather.”

“Emrys’ stories said destroyed, not abandoned.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Again, what are you getting at?”

She paused. Then shook her head at the ground and said, “The Fae on my continent—in Terrasen … they weren’t like you. At least, I don’t remember them being that way. There weren’t many, but …” She swallowed hard. “The King of Adarlan hunted and killed them, so easily. Yet when I look at you, I don’t understand how he did it.”

His mouth twisted into a frown. All those lives, snuffed out, because of one man’s cruelty. For the first time, he was angry at his queen for her pettiness, for her refusal to send aid. It wasn’t only this girl’s fault that Terrasen had fallen – he should have been there. Should have helped.

“I’ve never been to your continent, but I heard that the Fae there were gentler – less aggressive, very few trained in combat – and they relied heavily on magic. Once magic was gone from your lands, many of them might not have known what to do against trained soldiers.”

“And yet Maeve wouldn’t send aid.” Her jaw was clenched, her brow furrowed.

“The Fae of your continent long ago severed ties with Maeve.” He paused again, unsure why he was justifying, but still unwilling to admit to this foreign princess that his queen had been wrong, and needlessly cruel. “But there were some in Doranelle who argued in favor of helping. My queen wound up offering sanctuary to any who could make it here.”

She seemed to sigh, closing her eyes for only a moment as she stepped away from the ancient carvings and back to her usual spot, the scent of her boundless grief and guilt and ache wafting from her like a perfume.

They sat in silence until twilight descended and they returned to the keep, night blanketing them in its heavy folds.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[fancat-not-fangirl]

Heart Attack Blues

a/n: Tag to 2x19. Because I like hurting Dean and you can’t just almost have a heart attack without getting away unscathed. At least, not in my opinion.

Heart attacks were not fun.

That much Dean Winchester was certain of. 

He had experienced one the previous year when he and Sam had hunted that creature in the basement of some run down house in the middle of nowhere, and had almost died. He could still feel the pain sometimes. The tightness in his chest. The agony lacing through his body like lightning. The inability to breathe.

In short, Dean had never wanted to experience one of those again.

But, because he just happened to be a Winchester, luck was never on his side.

And so of course during their gig at the Green River County Detention Center, the spirit of Nurse Glockner had decided to jump start the memories by giving him another heart attack. Or, at least, beginning to give him one. Just in time, Dean had grabbed the salt and slashed it across her image, both freeing him and dooming Tiny in the process.

The guilt over letting Tiny die weighed heavy across his chest, as did the remaining effects of the almost-heart-attack the nurse had given him. It did not get better over time. Dean had hoped that the pain would have gone away after a few hours, but again, he was a Winchester. And Winchesters never got what they wanted.

So now the job was done and the brothers were sitting side by side in the Impala, mere minutes away from a hotel, and Dean wasn’t feeling any better. They had been on the road for hours and hours, hoping to put as much space as possible between them and the police, who were no doubt tearing apart the countryside looking for them.

It hurt to breathe, and if Dean tried to move, agony stabbed through him. The road blurred in front of him every few minutes, and at times Dean desperately fought the urge to hurl.

Sam had asked multiple times if Dean wanted to let him drive, but every time Dean refused, only to regret his decision minutes later when another bout of pain cut through him like lightning.

It might have helped to tell Sam, but Dean didn’t want to worry his brother. Sam had enough on his plate as it was, what with thinking about his “destiny” and how he could avoid turning evil. Which Dean was sure would not happen. There was no way, none at all, that his little brother was a monster. I mean, the guy would hit a squirrel with his car and mope about for weeks on end. It wasn’t possible that he could turn into a monster. It just wasn’t. Dean was sure of it.

But Sam wasn’t, and that was enough for Dean to keep his injury a secret. There was no need to lay that burden on Sam. He had been through enough.

Turning off the highway, Dean grit his teeth and kept down a gasp of pain as he turned the wheel, sending sharp twinges of pain through his chest and up his arms. Son of a bitch. Dean just crossed his fingers and prayed that Sam didn’t notice.

But Dean was a Winchester after all, and therefore nothing ever went his way.

“Hey man, you good?” Sam’s voice cut through the silence that had occupied the car previously, quiet and hesitant. To Dean, though, it sounded as if Sam had held a megaphone up to his ear and screamed the words.

Wincing, Dean forced his mouth into a grin and his eyes quickly flitted to Sam’s worried face. “I’m A-okay. I guess Deacon just walloped me in the stomach harsher than he had to. I don’t think I hit him back hard enough for that.” Sam didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, Sammy. No need to worry your pretty princess head.”

“It’s Sam,” His brother grumbled, and Dean chuckled. That was a bad move, because his heart clenched and his chest felt like it was on fire. Crap.

Through the pain, Dean almost missed the sign that pointed to the hotel, swerving at the last second onto the parking lot. Sam gave him a concerned look, but Dean just shrugged it off. The sooner he got some rest, the better.

Sending Sam for the keys to the room, Dean hauled himself out of the car, barely holding back a cry of agony at the movement. Leaning against the car, Dean caught his breath. Why wasn’t it getting better? Back at the prison he had felt fine. Well, mostly fine. There had been a lingering tightness in his chest, but nothing like this.

“Dean? You coming or what?” Sam’s voice broke Dean painfully out of his thoughts, and Dean grunted as he grabbed the bags from the trunk and headed for their room, trying not to stumble. 

Entering, Dean squinted his eyes against the brightness of the lights. Dropping the bags onto the floor, he made a beeline towards his bed, not even bothering to undress first.

“Do you want the shower?” Sam called over this shoulder as he untied his shoes. 

The words cut through Dean’s head like knives, and Dean made sure his back was turned to his brother as to try to hide the look of pain that crossed his face. “Nah, you go on. I want to hit the hay.”

Sam’s response was lost in the ringing in Dean’s ears, and the older hunter collapsed onto the bed. The darkness took him before he knew it, and Dean knew no more.

<><><><><>

Dean awoke with a need for water.

His throat was parched and sore, not unlike the rest of his body. Dean had hoped that after resting for a few hours he’d feel better, but then again, he was a Winchester. And nothing ever went right for him.

Except that the sounds of running water in the bathroom told Dean that he hadn’t, in fact, rested for a few hours. More like a few minutes. The shower was still on, which meant that Sam was still in there.

At least something was going his way.

Biting back whimpers, Dean pulled himself inch by inch into an upright position. If anything, his heart hurt more now than it did before. As did his head. It felt like it was splitting open, sending waves of dizziness through Dean’s body, making him sway as he got to his feet. And his lungs. Had it always been this hard to breathe? Dean didn’t think so.

What had he wanted again?

Oh, right. Water.

Putting one foot in front of the other proved harder than he had first thought, and through the haze of pain, Dean didn’t realize that the sound of running water from the bathroom had stopped. 

He made it across the room and closed his hand around a water bottle sitting on the hotel table. Bringing it to his lips, Dean closed his eyes and drank, savoring the way the cold liquid ran down his throat. It escaped his notice how most of the water had missed his mouth and had ended up dripping onto the floor. 

Content with the amount of water that had made it into his mouth, Dean turned on his heel, ready to go back to bed.

That had been the wrong thing to do, as he lost his balance and staggered, ramming chest-first into the edge of the table.

The reaction was immediate. Heart seizing, the air seemed to leave Dean’s body all at once, leaving him gasping for it. Falling to his hands and knees, Dean barely had the strength to support himself with one arm, as the other was busy clawing at his chest. The pain spread through his body like wildfire, burning everything in its path. It consumed him.

Dean had hoped that he’d be able to keep his injury from Sam, but the slam of a door and a shout of his name was enough to tell him that he had failed.

After all, he was a Winchester, and things never seemed to go as planned.

Which was why Dean didn’t even fight it when, again, the darkness pulled him under.

<><><><><>

Sam knew there was something wrong with Dean.

Ever since they had left the prison. Even before then, in fact. 

But it had only become blatantly obvious when Dean had relinquished the offer to shower first. Usually, Dean would be the one that would be shoving Sam out of the way and locking himself in the bathroom as soon as they’d get back from a hunt. But not today. 

Sam had wanted to ask what was wrong, but knowing Dean, the answer would have been, “I’m fine,” or “Nothing,”. So Sam had decided that, fine, if Dean wanted to stew in his own pain, then let him do so.

If he was being honest, Sam was still a little mad at Dean from when his older brother demanded that they stay at the prison, risking their lives to help one of dad’s friends. They were no use to anyone dead, and it didn’t really bother Sam that a few prison lowlifes would perish in exchange.

But maybe that was the monster talking.

No.

Sam showered in scalding hot water, as if he wanted to wash away all the evil in him. But then again, it hadn’t worked before, so why would it now?

He took his time, and was finished in a little over half an hour. Dean would kill him for that, Sam thought with a small smirk, brushing his teeth. They always did this. Fought over the smallest of things. Unlike other siblings, it was weirdly the way the Winchesters showed affection. 

Small jabs. Insults. Pranks. Those were all the brothers’ ways of saying, “I love you.” It was odd, yes. But they were Winchesters, which meant that nothing they ever did was normal.

And Sam was fine with that.

Except for the times his brother was an ass. A stubborn, pigheaded ass. One that wouldn’t accept help from anyone or anything. One that Sam got so frustrated with. One like he was now. 

It had been obvious that he had been having trouble driving. So why not let Sam drive? It was stupid. So very, very stupid. Kind of like Dean himself. Stubborn and stupid and sometimes Sam just wanted to throttle him.

Pulling on a fresh set of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Sam switched the lights off in the bathroom and opened the door, preparing himself for another long hour of trying to convince Dean to tell Sam what was wrong with him.

But nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.

Dean was on the floor, on his hands and knees, arms shaking. His head was bent, almost touching the floor. And the sounds. Sam’s heart broke with every choke and wheeze that left Dean’s mouth. Before he knew it, Sam was darting across the room and dropping to his knees beside his brother.

“Dean!”

Dean lifted his eyes and their gazes connected mere seconds before Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed forward into Sam’s waiting arms.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam whispered, knowing his brother couldn’t hear him. Grabbing Dean’s shoulders, Sam brought him up so that Dean was leaning against his younger brother, chests almost touching. Cupping Dean’s face, Sam tried to get his brother to wake back up.

“Dean? Dean, hey man, I need you to open your eyes, okay? Just for a second. Please, please, please just open your eyes.” Sam was pleading now, his mind a jumbled mess. What had happened? How had he missed something this serious? How was he going to help Dean if he didn’t even know what was wrong with him?

“Dean, open your goddamn eyes right now or I swear to god, I’ll sell the Impala. I will.” And just like that, Dean’s eyes were fluttering open and Sam was letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s it, Dean. That’s it. Now keep them open for me, can you do that?”

But Dean seemed to have other plans, and he tensed under Sam and lifted a hand to his chest, clawing the material covering it. His eyes were panicked, and Sam realized with an ever sinking heart that Dean was having trouble breathing.

“Oh god, Dean. You have to calm down. Take deep breaths, okay?” Sam pulled back a bit to give his brother room, but never loosening his grip on him. “Deep breaths, Dean. Just breathe. Breathe.” 

But it wasn’t working. Dean was wheezing, gasping for air, and nothing Sam was doing was helping. Gritting his teeth, Sam decided to try something else. Pulling Dean flush against him, chest to chest, Sam started breathing deeply, exaggerating his breaths. In and out, in and out, all the while mumbling a mantra of soothing words into Dean’s ear. “It’s ok, Dean. I got you. Deep breaths. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

One of his hands was on Dean’s backs, rubbing it comfortingly, trying to ease the tension in the muscles. The other hand was cupping the back of Dean’s head, his fingers running through Dean’s hair. Gently. Softly.

And it worked. Soon, Dean’s breathing slowed, became calmer. His hands that had previously had a desperate grip on Sam’s t-shirt fabric had relaxed, as did the rest of his body. His head was pressed into the crook of Sam’s neck, and Sam could feel the small pants that brushed against his skin.

Once he was sure that Dean’s breathing was back to normal, Sam pulled back and peered into Dean’s face. His brother’s facial features were tight with pain, and Sam couldn’t help but notice the tear tracks that had made their way down Dean’s cheeks.

Sam didn’t want to do this, but he had to know what was wrong with Dean. How else was he supposed to help his brother otherwise? “Dean, what the hell just happened?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, the silence stretching between them. Then, as though he was speaking through glass, Dean managed to get out, “‘m fine, S’mmy.”

That was it. The last straw. Giving Dean an enraged look, Sam fought to keep his voice from shouting, which he knew would only make the pain worse for Dean. “You’re fine? You’re fine? Dean, you were on the floor, barely breathing! If that means ‘fine’ in your book, then you need to check the definition of ‘fine’. Because you are certainly NOT fine.” Seeing Dean wince, Sam realized that his voice had climbed in volume, and he brought it down a few notches. Yes, he was angry with his brother, but not angry enough to want to cause him additional pain. “Dean, it looked like you were having a heart attack! Now, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but-”

And then it hit Sam. 

“You jerk. You big, stubborn, idiotic, jerk. You got attacked by the spirit, didn’t you?” The look on Dean’s face said it all. “I don’t believe it. And you didn’t even think to tell me? That you almost died on this job?” 

Dean seemed to be getting his bearings more, being able to breathe on his own. He glanced at Sam before lowering his eyes to the floor between them. “Didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

Sam scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. “Not a big deal? You do realize that you could have died, right? I could have given you painkillers, medicine. At least I could’ve done the driving.” Dean didn’t answer. “Dean, why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it would get better.” Dean’s voice was still rough, but even then Sam strained to hear it.

“You thought it would-” Sam let out an exasperated breath and took his hand away from its supporting grip on Dean’s shoulder, running it over his face. “Okay you know what. Whatever. I don’t care. But Dean,” His hand touched Dean’s chin and raised it so that their eyes would meet. “Next time you get hurt, you have to tell me, okay? I can’t do anything if I’m too busy being worried about you.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s usually me saying that to you.”

Sam glared. “Promise me, Dean.”

It didn’t look like Dean was going to answer and Sam was about to ask again before Dean sighed. “Okay Sammy. Next time I get a papercut, you’ll be the first to know.”

Sam smiled grimly at that, not even bothering to correct his brother at the nickname. It would have to do for now.

“Let’s get you up,” he said, standing and hauling Dean up with him. Dean’s face twisted at the pain that no doubt laced through him, but Sam had to get him to the bed. And then had to somehow coerce him into taking pills.

One step at a time, though.

Wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist, Sam supported most of Dean’s weight as they hobbled back to the bed, Dean letting out a muffled cry as he sank onto the mattress. Gently leaning him backwards, Sam commanded that Dean not move while he got the meds.

Coming back less than a minute later with pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other, Sam offered them to his brother, who took them without any fuss. If Sam needed a sign that his brother was most definitely not fine, then that was it. Dean must have really been in pain for him to not object being given medicine.

Swallowing the pills down, Dean then looked up at Sam. “I’m hungry.”

Oh.

When was the last time they had eaten? Hours ago, probably. 

Now that he thought about it, Sam was also hungry. He’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts and worries about Dean to even realize it.

Nodding, Sam shrugged on his coat and pointed a strict finger at Dean. “Don’t move. I don’t want to drag your sorry ass to a hospital just because you were stupid enough to try to get out of bed.”

Dean just gave him a smirk. “Get me a burger.”

“Not a chance,” Sam called over his shoulder as he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

<><><>

Coming back with a salad and a BLT sandwich as well as some coffee for himself, Sam was relieved that Dean hadn’t moved since he had left his brother a little over forty minutes ago. In fact, his brother had turned on the TV and was engrossed in some type of family drama that was currently on. At least something was going his way.

Setting his salad and coffee down at the table, Sam walked across the room and gave Dean his own food.

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was that Dean turned off the TV as soon as Sam sat back down at the table, and fixed his eyes on him. The look on Dean’s face was something that confused Sam. It looked sad, grave. A chill ran down Sam’s spine.

“Sammy, I have to tell you something.”

Sam froze.

Dean continued. “I thought about what you said earlier, about not hiding any injuries from you...” Did something else happen? Oh god, what if there were still injuries that Sam didn’t know about from when he had been possessed by Meg. Had he done something to Dean?

Dean looked down, fiddling with the corner of the blanket. “I didn’t know if I should tell you this, but…”

Sam couldn’t wait any longer. “What is it, Dean?”

Dean’s sullen look suddenly morphed into a sharp grin as his hand flew up into the air and flipped Sam off. “I have a paper cut.” And he did. There was a small, red line cutting across Dean’s middle finger, and Sam’s eyes immediately went to the small knife that was sticking out from underneath Dean’s pillow.

The next thing Dean knew, there was a water bottle thrown at his head, and he ducked, chuckling.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Sam growled, but he couldn’t stop the smile that fought its way onto his face.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

By that they meant ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m glad you’re ok’.

And, of course, because their last name was Winchester, they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​ @jamies-kpop-reactions​

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Note: This is the final ‘official’ part of 4 O’Clock! It’s kinda sweet how this story has wrapped up on SuperM’s one year anniversary! I can guarantee that you will see some of these characters again! I will likely revisit Lei and Taemin through drabbles; any questions or requests about them would be very much appreciated!

Epilogue: Part 2

6. Daydream

"I love you," Taemin whispers against my neck, tightening his grip around my waist and pulling me flush with him.

My room— our room— has been dark and quiet for almost an hour now, so he likely assumes that I have fallen asleep. I think I might have been sleeping, but Taemin’s voice is a blinding light that disrupts even the deepest darkness. I can't sleep while it shines, and I will never want to try. Without opening my eyes, I strain to make out every word muffled by my skin, warmed by his touch.

"My Lei, never forget that I love you. Never forget the road that leads to me. Never—"

He gasps, and I fear for a moment that he is crying. Before I can roll over to wipe his tears, he holds me closer and continues speaking in an unwavering voice. "If you see me in a time when our paths do not seem destined to cross, never forget that we will end every day together. Even when we are apart, we're looking at the same sky, counting the same stars, and reaching for the same moon."

My heart is caught somewhere in my throat, making it hard to breathe. What can I possibly say? Nothing.

There is nothing to say, so I lace my fingers through Taemin's to remind him that our paths have crossed and they will never separate; we have proven our love under the same sky; and I will never let go of his hand.

. . .

When I awaken, Taemin is sitting at the edge of the bed, tugging a white t-shirt— the one I wore yesterday, I think— over his chest. After wiping the sleep fogging my eyes, I squint to see that he is already wearing sweatpants and a pair of shoes. He is going somewhere before the sun has broken through the curtains or even through the clouds.

I'm too tired to mask the disappointment from my voice, too tired to control or question the tears welling in my eyes as I ask, "Where are you going, Taeminnie?"

My voice makes Taemin jump. Laughing at his overreaction, he bends to kiss my sleep swollen lips. "I tried not to wake you, baby. I meet Jongin at the studio to practice every morning." His voice is softer than ever; his gaze is gentler than ever; my heart beats harder than ever, and I know why.

This morning is the beginning of our forever together; the forever in which I have surrendered to him completely; the forever in which there is no part of me untouched or unchanged by our love.

As he pushes my hair out of my eyes, Taemin doesn't realize that I am falling for him again. He must not feel that I melt into him with every glance. He continues, "Then, this afternoon, I'm going shopping with Mom. The decor in that room across the hall is a little too gloomy for me."

"Do you have to go right now?" My voice sounds tiny, childish, and very much unlike mine. Weirdly, though, I don't feel embarrassed. I don't feel vulnerable or exposed. "Can't we— can't we stay in bed all day like we wanted to on my debut anniversary? Can't you stay with me a little longer?"

Because my eyelids have fluttered shut, and I am adrift in that beautiful place between asleep and awake, I don't see Taemin's reaction to my plea. I hear it; I hear the faint creaking of mattress springs as he lowers himself back by my side. I feel it; I feel the cold winter morning air raising goosebumps on my skin as he lifts the quilt; I feel his warmth as he tucks us in and carefully lays his weight atop me.

I pull him closer and tuck my face into the crook of his neck, seeking to fit with him perfectly. His skin muffles my question: "Will Jongin be upset?"

"No, baby." Taemin trails his fingertips from the tops of my shoulders to my wrists to lace his fingers through mine. "He won't be upset. He'll understand that we want to be together. He knows how much I love you. He knows that I'll do anything you ask."

"Anything?" I wish he could see how I smile around the word.

Taemin releases one of my hands to comb his fingers through my hair. "Anything, my Lei."

My heart swells and thunders. The subtle vibrations of his voice give life to the butterflies in my stomach. As if he doesn't know, I admit, "I'll do anything you ask too."

I daydream about his smile as he says, "Anything?"

"Anything, my Taemin."

"Then kiss me, please," Taemin pleads, tugging slightly on my hair to convince me to look at him. "Kiss me until you fall back to sleep."

"I can't fall asleep kissing you!" I whine, hooking my free hand around his waist, pulling him closer and closer still.

Closing my eyes, I remember it in perfect detail: the first time he laid beside me in that hotel room. It's almost like a dream, now. It's funny, beautiful, romantic, and a little bit tragic that dreams and memories can blur together.

Back then, he said, "We can sleep together if you want. What do you think, Lei? Do you think you could sleep like this?"

What was it that I didn't get to say? I'll say it now if I can remember.

"I could not sleep like this. Can't you feel how fast my heart is beating?" My eyes open to look at him. His eyes are smiling. Almost always smiling. "You'll kill me."

Taemin chuckles and argues in a whisper, "No, I won't. And no, I can't quite feel how fast your heart is beating." He connects both of his hands behind my upper back and lays his ear over my heart. "Be quiet now. Let me listen."

We are so close, but we have been closer. I love this. I love life like this. Me and my Taemin blending and blurring and melting together.

"Taemin," I breathe, fighting to keep my eyes closed. "You're waking me up."

Taemin lifts his head and strains to kiss my temple. "Well, baby, I've been wide awake for as long as I can remember. If you're asleep and I'm awake, how will we meet in the middle?"

If this is a riddle, I do not know the answer. I’ve never been good at thinking in riddles. I just know that we meet in the middle every time, and I always forget to count the steps.

7. My Best Friend

“I think I liked Taemin better when he was just your bias,” Lucas huffs while I am trying to enjoy my current favorite SHINee song (“Why So Serious?”).

My favorite SHINee song changes about every other week, and I have this (and every other) music video memorized better than my own choreography, but I don’t appreciate the rude interruption.

Without sitting up, mostly because Lucas’s comforter is almost as cloud-soft as Taemin’s had been in the SuperM house, I swat at Lucas’s shoulder exposed through a sleeveless shirt. His arm is as hard as a rock, so my hand throbs after striking him.

“First of all, that’s mean!” I glare as I blow on my aching knuckles. “What was the point of dragging me into your room to watch music videos if you’re gonna talk shit about my bias-turned-boyfriend the whole time?”

This is my first time watching SHINee since falling in love with Taemin because a.) I didn’t have time to watch very much of anything on tour and b.) I couldn’t comfortably fangirl right in front of Taemin once he insisted on holding me through the night. My heart has always pounded at the sight of him, but it’s different now.

Now, when I hear his voice, my stomach flutters with every memory we have made together. Now, a love-colored blush stains my cheeks every time the camera focuses on him, and I almost instinctively look away. Now, I can’t wait for him to walk off the screen and into my arms so I can melt into him a little more. Now, more than ever, the concepts of soulmate and idol have blurred to create this perfect picture of him: my Taemin.

Now, to be frank, Lucas’s uncharacteristically sour attitude is dampening my smile.

Rubbing at his shoulder, Lucas retorts, “You know I’ve never watched SHINee for Taemin! I like looking at Minho!”

Although my eyes roll, I can’t help but laugh. Lucas’s undying love for his own face manifests in a most peculiar idolization of Minho. I can’t bring myself to criticize him, though. Objectively, Minho is shockingly handsome— even more so in person (or so I’ve gathered from the one time I met him).

“Second of all,” I wheeze as Lucas’s weight leans into me yet again, “for the millionth time, get off of me!”

Using both hands and both feet, I pin Lucas against the wall. His arms and legs flail; he looks like a cockroach.

“Alright!” Lucas screams, so I release him.

I flinch away from him as a reflex. If Mom were home, she would fly up the stairs to defend Lucas at his faintest whimper. Then, I would be in trouble— grounded at 21 years old— all because Mom babies Lucas too much.

Lucas shovels a handful of popcorn into his cheeks until they puff out like a chipmunk’s. His voice is muffled when he grumbles, “You don’t tell Lucas to get off of you.”

“That’s it!” I reach for the remote at the foot of the bed, pause the video, and round on Lucas. “What’s your sudden problem with Taemin? I know you’re not jealous because I let him cuddle with me, so don’t try to pull any funny business. I know you’re upset that he drank your last beer—”

Lucas’s face goes red with rage at the reminder of Taemin’s dinner-time offense. “He didn’t even finish it!”

I shake my head at his pettiness. Maybe I’m missing something because I’ve never liked beer. “But you know Mom’s gonna buy more for you! You know she probably already has a new shipment on the way!”

Lucas’s frown deepens, and I try to continue in a softer voice. Lucas has always been so patient with me; repaying that patience now is the least I can do. “I get that Taemin’s moving in is a big change. It’s going to take some time for all of us to get used to. And believe me— I know it’s annoying that he helps himself to whatever he wants—”

“You got that right,” Lucas mumbles through pouting lips.

“— but that’s no excuse to be mean to him,” I say quietly. “Do you think I want to hear you talk negatively about him? Because if you do—”

My voice breaks as Lucas sits upright to rub at his eyes. Dread, originating as a sharp pang in my gut, washes over me. “Are you— are you crying?”

“It’s not about the beer.” He hugs his knees to his chest, shaking his head. “It’s not about the beer, Lei.”

Guilt is not a strong enough word to describe whatever emotion threatens to tear me apart. Nothing— nothing is worse than when Lucas is sad. Nothing is worse than knowing that somehow, accidentally, in chasing my own happiness, I have hurt my best friend, my brother.

“Well, Lucas,” I mirror his pout as I pat his arm comfortingly, “what is it about?”

His lips tremble before he cries, “I don’t wanna talk about it!” and collapses face-first into a pillow.

If I wasn’t so concerned— if I wasn’t so baffled by his sudden outburst of emotions (as I always am)— I would almost want to laugh at his theatrics. As it is, I tug the black cap from his head and toss it onto the floor so I can card a hand through his hair. This is something Mom used to do when I was upset as a child. The only difference is that she would make me rest my head in her lap; the only difference is that Mom would braid through my hair, and Lucas’s hair is too short to braid.

“We have to talk about it, Lucas.” I tell him what I have learned: “We have to keep our feelings out in the light, otherwise they will metastasize.”

When that doesn’t inspire him to open up, I take the first step forward. Another thing I have learned: taking the first step isn’t that hard when you’re moving toward somebody you love. “I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you about Taemin moving in. This is your home too, and I’m sorry that I didn’t ask about your feelings before he—”

“Dude, Lei.” Lucas rolls onto his back to show me his wrinkled forehead. “Don’t apologize for your happy ending! I’ll be okay! I’ll get past this! It’s just—”

His toothy smile dims as he admits, “I thought I was used to knowing that I’m not the main guy in your life anymore. I thought I accepted it, and I guess I have, kinda. I always knew that you would find Prince Charming and that he wasn’t me. I just— I thought I would always be your best friend.”

“You are my best friend!” I laugh because the idea that anyone could ever take Lucas’s place— even someone that I love as much as Taemin— is the most ridiculous thing I have ever considered. “You’ll always be my best friend! Who else am I gonna tell on the frequent occasion that Taemin tap dances on my last nerve? Who else am I gonna watch SHINee videos with? Who else am I gonna eat popcorn in bed with?”

“You could watch SHINee videos with Taemin,” Lucas claims, picking at a loose thread on his blanket. “You could eat popcorn in bed with Taemin.”

I shake my head so vigorously that I get a bit dizzy. “No, I couldn’t. Taemin talks constantly. You know I can’t stand it when anybody interrupts an Onew descant!”

While Lucas laughs, I add, “And I’m never letting Taemin eat in bed with me; he’s the messiest eater alive!” Rolling my eyes, smiling faintly at this most recent memory, I say, “Right after he moved in, he was eating one of those gooey McDonald’s cookies in my bed, and he got chocolate everywhere.”

Lucas gasps, coming alive with this tiny morsel of gossip. “He got chocolate on the quilt Grandma made for you, sewing love in every stitch?”

Taemin hadn’t actually gotten chocolate anywhere except his fingers, but I was all too willing to privately slander him if that would make Lucas feel better. Grimacing dramatically, I nod my head, and Lucas groans in disgust.

“Well, as annoying as he might be,” Lucas sniffles, “Taemin is the one, you know.”

I gasp not because I haven’t already realized that; I gasp because Lucas has always been opposed to the idea of one great love. He believes that we are shaped by every relationship— romantic, friendly, familial— and that we were not made for a sole soulmate, but he insists, “It’s true! One day, probably soon, you’re gonna get married, and—”

Were it not for the sad dimples forming in his chin, I would fear that Lucas is on the brink of more baby talk. “And you’re gonna be happier than we ever imagined anyone could be! And you know that whenever you’re happy, I’m happy, but—”

Tears glisten in Lucas’s eyes, so they glisten in mine too.

“I’ll feel a teeny tiny bit sad because then Taemin will be Mom’s real son, and I’ll just be a fake son!”

I should have realized that this would somehow lead back to Mom.

“You’re not a fake son.” Even though Mom’s obvious love for Lucas should require no evidence, I offer, “Do you wanna hear something Mom told Heechul one of those times he tried to convince her to kick you out?”

Lucas nods his head.

I force myself not to roll my eyes or shake my head or express any degree of annoyance as I relate, “She said, ‘Lei is my child by blood, but Lucas is my child by choice. I can’t imagine how dull this house would be without him, and I don’t want to, so—’” As Lucas cracks a smile, I burst into laughing— “‘so shut the hell up, Heechul!’”

To ensure that Lucas’s smile doesn’t fade, I say, “Taemin is one of Mom’s kids now because I’ve fallen in love with him, but you—” I poke him in the ribs, just below his armpits, right where I know he is most ticklish, and delight in his laughter that has painted all of my happiest days— “you have always been Mom’s favorite because you’re the brightest sunspot in the universe! You’ll always be her favorite, so—”

While I am blinking, Lucas tackles me onto his bed and spills the bowl of popcorn onto the blanket. It’s hard to breathe under his weight; he’s much heavier than he looks, and I wasn’t prepared to defend myself.

Although repeating this request— this command— is a waste of limited breath, the words tumble out of my mouth anyway, “Get off, Lucas!”

Of course, he doesn’t obey. He never obeys. He rolls me onto my back so I can watch his face contort with maniacal laughter, so he can watch the panic flashing in my eyes with the realization that I have started a tickle war.

My eyes tighten closed, and I hold my breath in anticipation of a touch that never happens.

From the doorway, Taemin clears his throat.

That sound sends Lucas flying off of me with the explanation, “We were just watching SHINee videos! We were just about to watch ‘Sherlock’ because— I doubt she has told you this— Lei has a thing for your long hair. I mean, she kind of has a thing for you with all of your different hairstyles. She told me that when ‘Replay’ came out, she thought you were the cutest boy in the world with your bowl cut, and—”

“Alright!” I pick a piece of popcorn from the bed and launch it at Lucas’s big head. “He gets it! Is nothing sacred with you, Lucas?”

“I see,” Taemin says, fighting the teasing smile determined to curl his lips. Focusing on the large frame in his hands, Taemin forces his face into a scowl. “Lei, have you talked to your fashion icon lately?”

Considering his recently expressed tension with Key, it’s obvious who Taemin is talking about, but I play dumb anyway. “Which one, Taeminnie?” I look up at him with wide eyes before sweeping Lucas’s popcorn back into its bowl. “I talk to Amber almost every day, and Taeyeon—”

Taemin interrupts with the rolling of his eyes. “Key! I’m talking about Key!” He whirls the frame around to reveal a particularly sensual poster of Key wearing some scantily clad leather outfit.

When I lean forward and squint, trying to make out which era this outfit is from, Taemin’s eyes widen. He turns the poster around and hugs the image against his body. “Stop looking at him like that!”

Lucas tries (and fails) to contain his laughter when I stand from the bed and walk to Taemin, arguing, “I’m not looking at Key like anything! I’m just trying to remember where I’ve seen that outfit before.” Closing my eyes and rubbing at my temples— that always helps me to concentrate— “I’m thinking that it was at that Tokyo Dome concert in 2014, but—”

Taemin breaks my concentration by shrieking, “You’ve seen this? In real life? With your own two eyes?”

“I was there, so yeah.” Taemin’s disapproving stare compels me to explain, “I wasn’t there to see Key in leather or anything, Taemin. I just happened to be doing promotions in Japan while you were performing there, and I begged Mom to let me go to the concert.”

Taemin’s brow furrows as he does math in his head. “2014— that means you were about fifteen years old! Fifteen is way too young to be looking at this filth!”

“Oh yeah” I laugh, “and your outfit for the ‘Danger’ stage was very appropriate, Taemin, very suitable for young viewers.”

As Taemin’s face flushes red with embarrassment, maybe feeling aware of our age difference as I am for the first time, I say, “Don’t worry. Mom covered my eyes, so—”

“We’ve seen it since, though,” Lucas divulges through a mouthful of popcorn. He never knows what to keep to himself. “Don’t let Lei’s fake modesty fool you! We watch that Tokyo Dome Concert DVD every other month, and I’ve never seen Lei cover her eyes during any of the stages, especially not ‘Danger.’”

While I glare at Lucas over my shoulder, Taemin laughs. “Whatever. That’s not the point. This—” He lifts the poster— “came in the mail today, addressed to me. And I haven’t told Key that we were dating, let alone that I moved in with you..”

“He’s been onto us for a while,” I say to deflect responsibility for having leaked the information to Key. “While we were on tour, he asked me about your ribbon bracelet because Amber recognized it and asked him to investigate.”

“Key and Amber,” Taemin shakes his head. “There was a note attached to this. I left it downstairs. It said something like, ‘Here’s your house warming gift! You can never have enough fashion icons — Key and Amber.’”

Although Taemin seems flustered by the attention, as I lay back on Lucas’s bed, Lucas and I erupt into raucous laughter. “That’s hilarious!” we wheeze, clutching our sides.

“It’s not that funny,” Taemin mutters, “and Key is crazy if he thinks I’m hanging this filth in my remodeled closet!”

Crawling to my side, Lucas shouts, “I’ll take it if you don’t want it!”

I narrow my eyes and argue, “Your closet isn’t big enough to hang a poster in! And Key isn’t your fashion icon; he’s mine! So if anyone deserves the poster—”

“Call me crazy,” Taemin says before setting the poster against the wall and lowering himself onto Lucas’s bed, where he crawls onto my back and whispers in my ear, taking my voice and breath away, “but I don’t really want my girlfriend to look at such a scandalous image every day.”

I say, “You’re crazy,” under my breath, growing red under Taemin’s weight and Lucas’s suggestive gaze.

“Well,” Lucas grunts as he reaches for the remote that fell on the floor during the short-lived tickle war, “now I can’t get that ‘Danger’ stage out of my head!”

My mouth opens to beg Lucas not to play that— especially not with Taemin in the room, especially not with Taemin clinging to me and dropping light kisses on my cheeks— but I bite into my tongue. This, bonding over SHINee, is a good thing. This, watching music videos together as a developing family unit, counts as living in the light.

8. Present

Taemin sings "Danger" around the house, I initially think, to tease me. He likes to see the cherry red color burning my cheeks at the memory of his performance; he told me so while we watched it with Lucas. Soon, however, I realize that Taemin's incessant singing could have been— should have been— taken as a warning. 

One day, he returns home from his daily practice with Jongin wearing a smile bright enough to distract me from my task of reading my story to Lucas, Mom, and Donghae in the living room. This is how Donghae decided to celebrate his return to the house: by listening attentively to my reflection on the last several months. 

Although I know that I will soon read these words to Taemin— although I know that he has heard them in my voice in past lives, and he has read them on his own maybe in the moonlight— I am not ready to read them to him now. I am not ready to tell him my recollections of that camping trip where he asked for my ribbon and I gave it, hoping only (desperately, with breathtaking intensity) to receive his genuine smile. The one that reaches his eyes. The one that I have received every day since then. 

Closing the book so suddenly that Lucas, Mom, and Donghae flinch, I beckon Taemin from his place in the doorway. "Taeminnie! Why are you smiling so brightly?" 

"I'm so happy!" He cheers as he shuffles in, lugging two tall packages. His eyes break from mine to smile at Mom. "The posters are here!" 

Mom, who has been melting into Donghae's embrace on the couch, straightens to sit on the edge of her seat. "Yay!" Her fists pump into the air, making her look very much like Lucas. "Open them here, please. I want to see!"

Mom's unrestrained excitement in no way prepares us for what we are about to say. Clueless, Donghae, Lucas, and I mirror her energy as Taemin lowers himself onto the arm of my chair, very nearly sitting in my lap. 

"Here, baby." The kiss Taemin presses to my cheek elicits a gasp from Donghae. Despite Mom's explicit warning that my boyfriend has moved in and— no— there is nothing he can say to change that, despite my interest in Taemin professed in what I have so far read of my story, Donghae must not realize that Taemin and I are together until we are right before his eyes. 

Taemin sets one package before me. "This one is for you!" 

It's awkward to unbox something under everyone's gaze, especially when Lucas grumbles from his place on the floor at Mom's feet, "I want a present too!" 

It's mortifying once I see what the present is: a full-body poster of one of Taemin's shots from the Ace photo shoot. 

It isn't as if this is my first time seeing this picture where he boldly stares into the camera, standing shirtless. It isn't as if I haven't seen and touched the muscles in his chest and abdomen— which are much bigger now, by the way. It's just— my face burns as I see him such a vulnerable, tempting, beautiful position without warning and in front of my family. 

I mutter, "Taemin," under my breath, intending to scold him. 

This issue is that my voice comes out as a fragmented whine that further humiliates me into speechlessness. The issue is that I can't meet my real Taemin's smiling eyes, and I can't quite break free from the poster Taemin's captivating stare, and I am on fire, and—

Mom and Lucas bark, "Let us see!" and I have to comply. 

Fixing my gaze down on my lap, I turn the poster around and remind myself to just breathe as Donghae (again) gasps, Lucas whistles, and Mom says, like some kind of art critic, "The contrast shows up a lot better than I expected." 

When my voice fails, Donghae asks in a wavering tone, likely afraid to speak too forcefully and risk eviction, "You approve of this?"

Shameless, perpetually unaware or inconsiderate of cues to be quiet, Taemin asks, "What's wrong with it?" He leans forward, brow furrowing, to study his image. "I'm really proud of this picture. It's not as pretty as the poster I got of Lei—"

My face flushes, and Donghae gawks at Taemin. "You got a poster of Lei?" 

Nodding eagerly, oblivious or immune to the daggers flying at him from Donghae's eyes, Taemin reveals the poster of me to the room. "Isn't she beautiful?"

It's a promotional picture from LX2. By no means am I as exposed as Taemin is in Ace promotional photos; still, LX2 is the most suggestive concept of my career. It's embarrassing to see myself like this, especially since I have passionately avoided the photos. 

The idol Lei wears a flattering white tube top (cut just above her belly button, of course) and matching white bell-bottoms. Over her shoulder, branded with LX2's logo, she casts a wide-eyed glance that is not at all innocent. For a moment— just a moment— I see her through Taemin's eyes. I agree: she is beautiful. 

Then, my eyes open when Donghae hisses at Mom, "You approved of this?" He must have been avoiding the pictures too. 

Cutting her eyes at his tone, Mom replies, "She is beautiful, Donghae! Of course, I approved this!"

If I think it's annoying how Mom babies Lucas, how do I describe Mom and Taemin's shared perspective on suggestive imagery? Weird. 

Lucas cries, squinting at my image, "I've been cropped out!" He flies forward to point at the black background. "I was standing right here, looking supermegafoxyawesomehot! I had my arms around Lei! We were looking at the camera like we got caught kissing or something!" 

He over-explains, forgetting that Mom and Taemin witnessed the photo shoot and that Donghae, judging from how he covers his eyes, clearly does not want to know. 

"Lucas, honey," Mom says softly, "Taemin didn't want a poster of you holding Lei, so we had to crop you out." 

Whirling around with tears caused by the sting of betrayal forming in his eyes, Lucas sulks. "You were in on this, Mom?" 

Oh great, my eyes rolled, another development in Lucas's competition with Taemin for Mom's attention. 

"Go look at the picture on the mantle above the fireplace, honey!" Mom encourages Lucas. "There, you'll find a framed unedited version of your picture with Lei." 

Donghae, Taemin, and I watch Lucas run to the fireplace, where he releases a deep sigh of relief upon finding the picture. 

Everyone except me and Donghae is weird. Lucas is weird for caring so much about a picture we took for work; Mom is weird for commemorating the products of the LX2 photo shoot like they are family portraits taken at a department store studio; Taemin is weird for wanting this poster of me enough to edit Lucas out of the picture. 

Pecking at my forehead, Taemin asks, "What are you thinking, baby?" 

Obviously, I won't admit that I am thinking that my family is comprised entirely of weirdos, especially not with Taemin looking at me so hopefully. I try to say something positive or make an objective comment about the composition of the photos, but I can't. 

Glaring at the picture of me, I complain, "My butt is huge!" 

When I look up at Mom, asking, "You approved of this?" Donghae is rising to his feet. He walks into the kitchen to escape the conversation; I can't say I blame him. 

Mom rolls her eyes. "Yes, I approved it! You look amazing, and judging by how well the LX2 package sold—"

"My butt is not that big!" I whine, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. "Why didn't you pick a picture where I didn't look like that?"

I regret saying anything when Taemin's face pales. He frowns at the picture because he can't bring himself to frown at me. In a voice so quiet that I am probably not meant to hear, he wonders, "What's wrong with it?"

The disappointed lines around his mouth deepen as he tries to see me thorugh my eyes. Suddenly, my stomach ties in knots. I never want Taemin to see me as I have always seen myself. I want him to look at me as he always has— with stars in his eyes— so I grumble, "Stop looking at it like that." 

Meeting my eyes, Taemin realizes instantly that I am upset. I don't think he understands why, though. He probably thinks that I am lashing out from the embarrassment of opening the posters before an audience, but I'm not. I'm not. I am begging him not to look at me after I have tainted his vision with my self-criticisms. 

Taemin means it when he says, "I'm sorry," as he rises to his feet, fixing his gaze on the floor. "I'll take these to my room. I'm sorry." 

When he leaves, he takes both posters with him. I don't speak up to say that I like the poster of him. I don't speak up to say that I know I'm being irrational. I just watch him carry both heavy frames up the stairs. I just hear the slam of his door that is too loud to be an accident. 

I have learned that Taemin does not cope well with rejection. I don't know anybody who does. He is more sensitive than most might expect, and I seem to have a talent for accidentally wounding his feelings. I never, ever mean to do it. I'm always sorry when I do. 

"I hate to tell ya, sis," Lucas says, collapsing on the arm of my chair that Taemin just vacated, "but you can't really blame Mom for that picture. Your butt is gonna look big in, like, every picture because—"

"Stop looking at my butt, Lucas!" I boss in a tired voice, too shocked by the sudden shift in the atmosphere to immediately chase after Taemin. "It's gross." 

Lucas raises his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Literally nobody thinks—"

He falls silent when he picks up on my glare, and Mom takes the opportunity to state the obvious: "I think Taemin's feelings are really hurt, Lei." 

I'm not going to mouth off to Mom just because I feel uncomfortable, I decide, so I bite down on my lip and listen as she continues, "Maybe it seems like he's overreacting. He probably is, but we already know that he's prone to passionate fits. Try to understand that he was trying to do something special for you. We spent hours looking through all of your pictures and all of his to find two that looked like a pair." 

I squirmed, imagining how many SHINee pictures they must have looked through before settling on that Ace one. I knew that Taemin was thoughtful; I knew that I hadn't meant to belittle his efforts; still, no knowledge could have defended me from the rising wave of guilt. 

As Lucas drops an arm around me to remind me that this isn't that big of a deal, to keep me grounded, to protect me from the downward spiral— his greatest talent— Donghae advises from the kitchen, "Give him some time to cool off, Lei. He'll be okay." 

. . . 

When Taemin hasn't returned downstairs by the time Mom and Donghae have finished making dinner like a cutesy couple from a drama— oblivious to the fact that they are the subject of Lucas's incognito photo shoot— Mom sends me upstairs to get him. She doesn't tell me to apologize, but I have an apology pressed to the tip of my tongue by the time I knock on Taemin's door. 

"Dinner is ready," I announce first. That doesn't compel Taemin to open the door, though, so I add, "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings. Mom explained—"

The door swings open, and Taemin pulls me into his room by looping his arm around my waist. His smile, coupled with the kiss he drops on my lips, implies that there are no hard feelings between us. He is not expecting an apology. 

I am relieved not because I am too proud to apologize but because— I don't know— maybe this is irresponsible or somehow unrealistic, but I like skipping ahead to the next happy moment with Taemin. I don't like standing in the dark for longer than necessary. 

"Look at how good they look together!" Excitedly, Taemin points to the ceiling above his bed (which is now decorated by white sheets similar to those he had at the SuperM house), where he has managed to secure our posters. 

Objectively, they do look good together. If I didn't know better, I might believe that both pictures were taken in the same place at the same time. There is something kind of romantic about drawing parallels between our separate art. My heart flutters. 

I don't know how to say that yet, but I will learn. For now, I ask, blushing and averting my gaze from the posters' "What will you do if they fall on us in our sleep? Do you even think you'll fall asleep with them staring at you like that?" 

"If they fall, maybe they'll knock some sense into me," Taemin jokes, laughing away my valid concern about, you know, the very real force of gravity. "And I don't mind them looking at me. You look at me like that—" he points at my poster— "all the time!" 

He winks just before I release the faintest laugh and swipe lightly at his shoulder. "I do not! Stop daydreaming and come on!" I grab his hand and pull him toward the door. "Everyone is waiting for us!"

Taemin insists, “You do so!” 

I don’t keep arguing; I am too happy that he lets me hold his hand on his walk downstairs. 

9. The Moon

When I refuse to sleep under the posters— at least until Mom guarantees that they are hung properly and their stares no longer make my stomach knot— Taemin agrees to sleep in my room again. 

While we wash our faces side by side because he loves this kind of domesticity, Taemin says, "You know you're beautiful, right?" His head goes aslant. "Even if you think the poster is weird, you know there's nothing wrong with your appearance, right?" 

Body image is an uncomfortable topic. I don't especially enjoy discussing it with anybody, probably especially not with perfect gorgeous ideal Taemin. I don't resent his perfection or anything; I admire it. I just don't like questions like his because there is only one acceptable answer. Anything contrary will arouse concern, and I don't want his concern. I don't need his concern. 

I nod my head because that is the right thing to do. 

Taemin keeps looking at me, so I profess, "Being pretty on the outside isn't important at all. Superficial beauty is overrated, and nothing as subjective as the words 'pretty' and 'handsome' can ever define a person." Turning my gaze to the counter, finding my reflection there too, I conclude, "Or, at least, they shouldn't. Those words are too small." 

Or, at least, that's something somebody I trust entirely taught me once upon a time. God, I so rarely trust anyone entirely. 

"That's true," Taemin nods thoughtfully. His tone softens like he knows that my heart feels tender. "But you are pretty on the outside. It's okay to say that. Your beauty isn't superficial. The surface and the depths are beautiful." 

I smile and say, "Thank you," because — why would I ever want to argue with kindness? "It goes without saying that I think the same thing about you." 

"Maybe it does." Taemin shrugs before drying his hands and standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leans so that his chin rests on my shoulder. "But I like hearing it anyway." 

It isn't difficult to smile at our reflection and say out loud, "You're beautiful inside and out." 

He whispers in my ear, reaching for my hand to ensure that the moon— our moon— is secured in my grasp, "I think you would benefit from saying that to yourself from time to time." 

And I know that he is right. 

I will try.