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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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peeping tom(mina)

— Mina finds a peephole in her room that looks directly into your room and discovers a sight that slightly rocks her entire life.

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pairing: ashido mina x fem!reader

warning: 18+, smut, voyeur!mina, mutual masturbation, vibrator, dildos, finger fucking, cursing, peephole, lesbianism

word count: 2,815

a/n: sorry its a day late!!!! have some pervy roommate mina rn and some abo shiggy in about a few hours!!!!

kinktober day 11 main kink: voyeurism | kinktober masterlist

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Mina has a dirty secret.

And just thinking about it makes her shy, and she has never been a shy girl.

Since she could fully understand what sex was, she had always been someone who was incredibly sex-positive. Mina was also a full-body worshiper, someone who found everyone’s bodies hot and attractive. It never really surprised anyone when they found this out. She was always the type to point out how that person’s ass looked hot in jeans, or how that shirt made that person’s boobs look full, soft, and luscious. She held back at absolutely nothing, making sure to let everyone know her opinion on how and why she currently found them attractive.

So the ones she would eventually bring to bed were also unsurprised by the enthusiasm she held when she kissed down their bodies, fingers massaging every piece of skin and muscle as she moaned praises. To Mina, bodies were a temple, and when she was visiting, she was going to make sure you knew how fascinating she thought it to be.

Even now, at twenty-two, she never hated pointing out what she thought to be positive about people’s bodies. It was almost second nature.

“Can you please tell me why your legs look hot as fuck in those sweats?!” Mina practically screamed, dramatically fanning herself when you walked into the kitchen.

It was Saturday night, and Mina found herself in her apartment, blinds are drawn open, blankets were strewn around the living room, and hot homemade food sizzling on the stove. You were her roommate, and you’ve been her roommate for about seven months now. Both of you had met in a college class, being paired up multiple times for a few projects in the year had created an unlikely friendship that resulted in a roommate contract because you were moving to Tokyo after graduation, and hey! So was Mina!

You snorted by the stove, flipping the sweet crepes you had been making for the both of you in the pan. Turning your head to look at Mina, you playfully winked at her, posing your body in faux-seductive ways while you dipped your head back.

“What can I say, the sweats of a heartbroken ex always look hotter on a champions fat ass.”

Mina laughed loudly, her hands bringing her sweet rosé to her lips, taking a long, deep drink of the alcoholic beverage. “I can’t believe you keep your exes clothes! I burn all of mine,” Mina states as if the two of you hadn’t already had this conversation a thousand times.

“I don’t think you can talk!” you scoff, spatula in hand, flipping the light sweet into a roll. “You’re the one who goes and buys actual metals for every successive man you fuck! And you have sooo many metals!”

Also, something that had been repeated a million times, and yet never failed to get either one of you two in some laughing flush.

“I do have so many metals,” Mina sighs, the grin on her face bright and proud while you walk over, crepes in hand. Thanking you for the food, Mina waited for you to settle down next to her before resuming the movie the two of you had decided to watch. “I promise, y/n, if you just look a guy in the eye and tell him you like his shoulders and his thighs, you’ll get him in bed in a blink of an eye.”

You hum, taking a chug of the rosé straight from the bottle, releasing it with a small pop that made Mina’s eyes rest on your swollen, wet lips.

“Yeah, no. You see, I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff,” you admit, taking a bite from the crepe as the movie slowly becomes background noise.

“You haven’t dated anyone since high school,” Mina more than points out, tugging at the indeed high school logoed sweatpants. “That was like, four years ago, and you don’t sleep around?! What is it? You waiting for the Prince of some unknown country to come and wed you without you realizing he’s a prince? I mean, you can totally do that, especially with that hot bod of yours, but I know all the princes our age, none of them are even remotely hot!”

Mina watched as your eyes dropped to your food, the smile on your face small, maybe a bit... sad?

“It’s not that,” you shrugged, your eyes moving to lock on Mina. “Mina, I’m gay.”

What?

Processing Data…

Data Processed. Please Continue.

“WHAT?!”

A shit-eating grin spread on your face, and you nodded, taking another gulp of the rosé and shoving more crepe in your mouth.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU ALLOWED ME TO HAVE HETEROSEXUAL SEX WITH YOU IN THE APARTMENT AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!” Mina shrieked, suddenly mortified with her actions as her fingers clenched her curly pink hair. “WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE MEN I TRIED HOOKING YOU UP WITH?! I mean, I know you didn’t fuck any of them, which ended up all fine because I would have cried if Kiri, Denki, or Sero stopped showing up.”

“Mina!” you laughed.

“I can’t believe you allowed me to force men on you; I’m so sorry, sweetie!”

Mina froze when your warm fingers suddenly grabbed onto hers, pulling her cold palms near your chest as your slightly glazed with alcohol eyes took her in.

“Listen, Mina, I’ll say this once, and I’ll repeat this. I didn’t tell you because I don’t care to share my sexuality. Not only that but all those men you introduced me to almost made me wish I was straight! Almost, but they’re a bit too…” Mina watched you trail off, your hammering heart a gentle smooth on her fingers.

“Stupid?” Mina tried, and you laughed as you nodded.

“Yeah, stupid.”

Mina gulped, her head nodding while you finally let go of her hands and sighed.

“Don’t be weird about it, Pinky,” you muse, shoving your shoulder against her. “I won’t hit on ya.”

Mina scoffed, clearly offended, “I think you should, though, my body is hot, and my kisses are just as good.”

It was said in jest, and Mina’s heart fluttered at the way you laughed with her in good spirits. That was normal, right?

Eventually, the contents of the rosé disappeared between the two of you, the movie long done, and the crepes sitting warm and sweet in your stomachs. Mina smiled brightly as she waved at you a simple goodnight as she needed to reorganize her snacks cabinet. Hearing the small click of your room door, Mina slumped against the counter, a weird feeling in her brain at the sudden revelation from you.

It didn’t make you any different in her eyes, she wasn’t a bigot, but there was something different.

Something new.

The cabinet wasn’t fixed up at all, Mina’s attention span forbidding her from reorganizing the cabinet until she turned off the lights and dragged her feet back into her room, conveniently located directly next to yours.

The apartment layout was weird.

Instead of a typical hallway separating the two rooms, it was a single, thin wall.

Now, Mina would categorize herself as many things, but dramatic was never one of them. But the way she had slammed her door in an attempt to clear the muggy storm of her thoughts might have been dramatic of her. Maybe a bit too dramatic.

A loud tear came from the right side of her room, and Mina gasped loudly as the shelf showcasing her plethora of medals for all her sexual conquests tore the wall as it fell off. Stupid heavy bitch! Racing over to the wall, Mina frantically grabbed at the tearing cheap wallpaper, her eyes wide with worry as she tried to fix the shelf to no avail.

“M-Mina, are you okay?” a gasped breath came from the direct another side of the wall.

“It’s all good!” Mina laughed loudly, her heart pounding because she was going to confess what was going on the second you asked again, as you usually do. But the only thing that followed was the roaring of her blood and heart as she stared at the wall.

Weird.

Mina didn’t dwell on it for too long, her hands throwing the medals off the shelf and onto the bed as she picked at the wall. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She grazed the center of the wall and watched in horror as the wall crumbled at the touch, and she bit her tongue to keep from hysterically sobbing as a hole opened up from your room to hers. All things considered, it wasn’t a big hole, no bigger than the diameter of her pinky, but it was still a hole in the wall.

Despite the crack in the wall, Mina swore or prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Pressing to the hole, she peered in and froze immediately.

There weren’t many things in the world that made Mina freeze, but this was one of them. Her eye pressed to the wall saw that you were on the bed. Your sweats dropped around your ankles, shirt bunched above your breasts so that your fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples. The other hand held a vibrator to your clit.

Your face was scrunched up, the low hum of the vibrator suddenly piercing through the small crack in the wall, alerting Mina of a straight fire that erupted between her thighs as she watched you fuck yourself. The arch of your back when you come off the mattress makes her thighs rub together, and how your lips part in what she knows to be the most delicious moan, she’s ever managed to hear.

Mina isn’t sure when you stop masturbating that night, or even more importantly: when her panties became as fucking wet as they are.

She manages to put the shelf back onto the wall, her face absolutely red as she turns off the lights, ashamed to even go to the bathroom despite the discomfort of the slick between her folds. She dreams of having your mouth between her legs that night.

It doesn’t stop there, Mina’s ashamed to admit.

As a matter of fact, she’s probably obsessed.

She definitely didn’t keep her ear to the wall, desperately waiting to hear the low hum of the vibrator through the wall. She definitely didn’t pull the still broken shelf from the wall to peer through that crack to watch as you fucked yourself. She definitely does not, and she means, does not rub her fingers against her clit as she watches you.

But what was she currently doing when she heard the all too familiar consistent humming of one of your plenty of vibrators? She was stumbling off her bed, throwing the shelf off the wall, and using the crack in the wall to stare into your room. Except as she now unashamedly moved her fingers into her swats, fingertips grazing her already humming clit, she froze at the new sight she saw.

Typically, when you masturbated, you would lay along your bed. Your body laid out flat from the side for Mina to see. She never actually saw the slick of your cunt, or the way your pretty cunt would look like as you fucked yourself against a dildo. But today? Oh god, today was different.

You were propped up against the wall, your legs pressed open for Mina to see in all your glory. Your slicked, pretty pussy revealed for her eyes, and your head leaning against the wall as she watched.

Mina moaned as her fingers began to rub her clit, the already fluttering, simmering sensation radiating from her bundle of nerves too tight, too demanding to ignore. She circled her clit as your fingers dipped into your core, and she bit her lower lip at the refined look of elation that wiped over your face.

Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, and Mina was hooked on the very exact angle your fingers were going in. Her mind wandering as she imagined that it was her in there with you. That it was her holding her fingers to your cunt, and not just fantasizes that drove her insane. Mina gasped as suddenly the dormant warmth in her legs sparked into a growing fire that made her legs shake and had her resting her forehead upon the wall.

Her eyes struggled to open when your feet kicked up off the mattress, toes curled to the balls of your feet as you keened loudly. A whimper left her lips at the way you moaned, the soft, beautiful sounds making Mina sink an impatient hand in her core.

She fucked herself, her eyes fluttering, lips gasping for air as she pressing her warm fingers against her even warmer walls. Mina gasped your name, her eyes trying to focus on that wall, and was absolutely frozen at the sight she saw next.

You were holding a double ended dildo to your cunt, fucking your sopping wet cunt that Mina swore she could hear from her room. The vibrator was still on your clit, and Mina snapped her hips further, stronger into her scissoring fingers. It felt like you were teasing her with the toy as if you knew she was watching in and were teasing and testing her limits. Mina could feel herself shoving that dildo as far up her cunt as she could get it, her hands holding on to your beautiful thighs and bringing you in so that your slick cunts could grind against each other, fuck each other properly. If her brain wasn’t so muddled, she wouldn’t be thinking you were looking at her right now through the peephole, and she wouldn’t be thinking about the million different ways she’d fuck you given the opportunity. She wondered if you had a strap. Would you wear it if her fantasies were to ever come true? Would she?

Mina couldn’t dwell on the secrets she wished to know because suddenly, you let out one of the loudest, most lewd moans Mina had ever heard emitted from your swollen lips. The slick of her heat and the wet of her essence easily letting her fingers glide about her clenching walls with practiced, well-known ease. You gasped, your eyes fluttering to the back of your head as your hand holding the dildo became more frantic, sloppier, before stopping altogether, and although you had reached an orgasm — Mina swore she saw god.

Your orgasmic euphoric face was unlike anything Mina had ever seen.

The flustered, quiet pleasure reeking from every small line in your face, the way your mouth dropped just enough so that your pink tongue was on full display, the way you fought between biting down on your lip or letting yourself moan in your high. But it was the way your eyes crossed that sent Mina’s forehead slamming against her fist on the wall, muting the way Mina felt her walls clench wildly and tightly around her curled, lithe fingers.

She breathed in her descent, her cheeks burning with the same and bliss she always felt after orgasming. It wasn’t fair she came so soon watching you fuck yourself, especially as she knew she typically took so long in bed with men to make cum.

“Do you want to try it out?” your voice slipped into the room, and Mina froze, her blood suddenly turning ice cold. Her eyes snapped back to the dirty peephole to see that you were, in fact, staring into the hole, hand sliding the dildo into your cunt still, still willing and ready to go more round. “It gets a little lonely putting on a show for you night after night, Mina, and for you to never come and collect your prize.”

Mina swallowed, her eyes blinking owlishly at the way you shifted forward, turning so that your ass was in the air, knees, and chest on the mattress.

You knew.

“Come and collect your prize, please.”

“Y-Yes!”

Mina learned two things that night.

One: she especially and equally enjoyed having listless amounts of body worship mantra on her skin. The feeling of wet lips and hot breathes with things she was so used to giving made her cum around your pretty little fingers much more than she’d ever thought possible.

Two: you had known after the first night that she had caught you masturbating. Apparently, Mina was much louder than she thought herself to be, and when whining your name — she doesn’t remember even speaking — you had known and did all you could to finally getting your impulsive roommate to fuck you.

Oh, and I guess there is one more thing too!

Three: Mina had the absolute hots for you and was going to take you out for a proper date, tomorrow.

#mina x reader #mina smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

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Amazing Together

Pairing: Bang Yongguk x female reader

Genre: fluff / enemies to lovers

Warnings: mentioning of alcohol

Prompt: “I’ve always loved you.” - #16 of Idea Starters

Word count: 1429

“I’ve always loved you,” you murmured into his skin, delighted when a husky chuckle responded. Peering up at the handsome man, you smirked. “So maybe it wasn’t love at first sight.”

“I think contempt would be a better fitting word, don’t you?”

“I didn’t exactly hate you either.”

“It was close,” he answered, and you shrugged playfully. Toying with your bare skin, he smiled. “But now, we’re close in another way.”

“Intimacy suits us,” you agreed, and he chuckled again.

“I don’t want you in any other way.”

If someone had told you eighteen months ago that you would end up laying in Bang Yongguk’s arms whispering nothings at one another, you’d laughed hysterically. You would have been convinced something like this would only happen with you held at your own will or under the influence of something strong. Because when you first met the man, you had no time for him.

The feeling was mutual.

“Do we really need to hang out with him?” you implored Youngjae, who checked his watch before shooting you a look. You sighed heavily. “You know, I don’t get how someone like you is friends with someone like him.”

“Watch it. Someone like me is also friends with you. Some might say that’s unfathomable too,” he retorted, grinning when you reached out to swat him. Dodging your swing, Youngjae shrugged. “Yongguk and I go way back. And he’s new to this area. It’d be unsavoury of me to leave a friend in the lurch.”

Grumbling, you looked around the bar, hoping something came up to prevent Yongguk from joining your group of friends tonight.

You had enough of him last Friday night to wish for this one to be peaceful. However, five minutes later, your luck was up, the tall man walking over to your booth and smiling genuinely at his friends.

Your friends.

You knew it was petty. After all, Youngjae had known Yongguk a whole lot longer than you had known him. But as his current closest friend, you felt as if the connection he had with you was just as valid. If not stronger than the one he had with some guy returning from overseas.

At first, you were intrigued by his dark eyes and wavy hair. What was his story? What made Yongguk tick? That curiosity had been burned by his curt responses, barely answering you before talking in-depth with Jongup and Youngjae about their youth. You were bitter, feeling more and more like the outcast around your friends than you ought to.

Yongguk made no attempts to get to know you, half the time you believed he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. A sour taste formed in your mouth and was difficult to swallow down with the beer you consumed.

Daehyun chuckled at your side. “Y/N, slow down on that. Someone might take advantage of you if you’re not in your right mind.”

You heard a snort then, your eyes glancing across the table to where Yongguk sat, his lips curled up in the faintest smile.

It was then when you decided you would only ever despise him.

“Y/N! Come on!”

“No way am I working with him!” you answered, shaking your head vigorously in the process. “Nope! Nothing you say or do could make me take Yongguk on as a client.”

“Nothing? You were pretty desperate for these the other day,” Youngjae countered, and you wished you hadn’t looked up, your barriers crumbling in the face of temptation.

Snatching the concert tickets to your favourite band out of your friend’s hand, you gasped. “How did you get these?! It was sold out within five minutes!”

“I know a friend who knows some pretty important people.”

“Who?” you murmured, checking the tickets over for their validity.

“Your new client.”

Snapping your focus up, you blinked slowly. “How would Yongguk be able to get tickets like this?”

“Spend some time with the guy. There’s a whole lot to him that you know nothing about.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d like to keep it that way. Mysteries have never enticed anything further than a burn from the flame for me.”

“You’re so poetic,” Youngjae mused, clasping his hands together. “Perhaps you could illustrate something equally as grand to Yongguk’s work.”

“I’m not interested,” you announced, holding onto the tickets Youngjae went to pluck out of your grip a little too much still. Arching an eyebrow at you, Youngjae removed them from your reluctant hands.

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to ask Junhong if he’ll want to come see-”

“Junhong won’t appreciate them like I do!”

Youngjae’s eyebrow shifted up again. “Just admit it, already.”

“Fine. I’ll take him on as a client. But only because you bribed me in the most painful way. I’ll remember this.”

“Oh, completely. What’s a best friend worth if they don’t use your weaknesses against you?” Youngjae commented with a laugh, your scowl not deterring him. “I think this will be a wonderful opportunity for you both.”

“Hardly. He’s intolerable at best.”

“So are you.”

“Hey!”

Youngjae’s smile softened. “I honestly believe you could be amazing together if you stopped hating on one another.”

“You live in fairy tales, Youngjae. In the real world, Yongguk and I will be nothing.”

“So, is this not the real world, then?” Yongguk breathed into your ear, trailing his lips along the side of your neck.

“It sure feels like a dream to me,” you told him giddily, nuzzling into his touch.

For some time, it had felt that way too.

The project you worked on together had been a surprisingly great success. And in the process of collaborating, you opened up with him, Yongguk’s broody and aloof nature finally seen as shy and cautious instead.

“You don’t hate me?” you asked when the project was done and dusted, catching Yongguk by surprise.

After blinking, he composed himself and shook his head. “Why work with someone you dislike?”

“Well, sometimes talent is worth attempting to make an arrangement with.”

Yongguk cocked his head to the side. “Was it that bad for you in the beginning?”

“Considering you barely acknowledged my existence in our group of friends, yeah.”

“Ah,” he simply said, nodding softly. “I’m sorry if you thought that.”

“What else was I meant to think? You hardly answered me.”

“I was often flustered by you.”

“By simple questions?” you wondered, and Yongguk’s gaze diverted to the wall. “Why be flustered by me?”

“Perhaps you don’t own a mirror.”

Frowning at his statement, you moved closer, acutely aware of how this made him uncomfortable. Yongguk didn’t quite meet your gaze, and you slowly smiled. “No way.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Y/N.”

“We’re talking about other things than work now, Yongguk.”

“I was attracted, yes,” he admitted painfully, gathering his things up from the large table you had sat at all afternoon finalising your project.

You jumped in front of him. “Was?”

“Hm?”

“Are you no longer attracted?”

“I see you’re having fun at my expense. Might I remind you that it was you who declared me the enemy.”

“You left me no choice with how little you offered!”

“How much should I offer you now?” he asked, his hesitancy evaporating. The way Yongguk stared at you now, completely unbridled, took your breath away.

It wasn’t like you to be at a loss for words, but your answer failed to arrive in a timely fashion.

You were certain the look within his dark eyes now seemed a little too satisfied.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Should we have dinner together?”

“Why?” you breathed, and Yongguk’s expression faltered. You blinked away from his stronghold, realising the rejection you were inadvertently sending as a message. You shook and then nodded your head. “Yes! Let’s do dinner.”

“You can ask me all the questions you want to.”

“Are you trying to cause me heart failure?”

He smirked. “I know you like to talk a whole lot more than I do.”

“I’m not sure how well I’ll talk tonight.”

“Have I thrown you off?” he wondered, and you groaned loudly.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to have to deal with an incredibly smug Youngjae soon?”

“What’s Youngjae got to do with anything?” Yongguk asked, and you dismissed the question before linking your arm through his as you both headed for the exit of your studio.

Maybe Youngjae was right, you thought as you glanced up hopefully at Yongguk leading you towards his car. And as he opened the passenger door for you, you smiled.

We might just be amazing together.

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auroraphantasma · 3 years

Text

Taxes, life and death and how little we think about it.

[ao3-link]

it was once in a blue moon and the recent Wes debate/discourse has inspired me, so here’s a phic!

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Teenagers are self-absorbed things, they say.

Which is partially true. Teenagers are only as self-absorbed as any other generation there is. Older ones just like to shit on them more out of frustration, but the point is; everybody can be self-absorbed and each case can be a varying degree of it.

Children also tend to forget about things outside themselves sometimes. Like considering the immensely different life of their peers. It's like taxes to them. Nobody thinks about its existence until it's pointed out, then they spend an hour or so thinking about it and its effect on the world, then forget about it again until it's pointed out once more or come to the age when they need to deal with it and can't escape from it anymore.

Wes Weston was fourteen.

A fresh teen and with a huge personal beef with one Danny Fenton.

You see he was a normal guy. Taller than some his age, talented and sporty well enough to be on the school's very underappreciated, (fuck the football team), basketball team. He just had the misfortune to have a similar haircut to the town's ghostly vigilante, Danny Phantom.

First it was just light jokes by his team when they mused on that day's ghost fight. Easy back and forth jabs between friends where Wes pointed out how much more style he had than the ghost boy, because seriously? Who the actual fuck wears a spandex hazmat suit, beside the Fentons, unironically? It makes the table burst out hysterically, Wes included.

Sure, others made jokes like these too, meaner ones too, but they were mostly from the football team so they didn't matter much even if they stinged a bit. Fuck the football team.

Then his life turns for the worst.

He catches Fenton transform into Phantom.

He thinks he might be mistaken, then he thinks about Phantom and what he knows of Fenton. A fuse quietly gets blown in his brain as he thinks more and more about it. The jokes, the similar voice; one of his eyes twitches as he fishes out his phone to look up a picture of Fenton and put a negative filter on it and get, a slightly off color, but otherwise identical picture of Phantom, confirming the identical looks, the fucking hazmat suit his family had seemingly infinite supplies of, the fucking D and P on his chest, holy shit he knew Fenton couldn't pass up a joke but is he for real??? And then that his parents' field of work, ectobiology. Ghost science. He might not know the exact details of it but it still made too much goddamn sense.

At dinner he said nothing. His father was swamped with work and tired as always and his brother Kyle was the biggest ghost skeptic on the face of earth.

So it festers in him all night.

Next day he couldn't bear it anymore, he needed to speak about it.

He tells his team, Fenton is Phantom.

They laugh at him.

They congratulate him on finding another target for the haircut joke. He gapes in disbelief.

But before he could find the end of his wits the football team crowds their table. They overheard what he said and while most of them were laughing at him as well, Baxter seemed to be agitated.

He slams the table and makes a joke of him while the rest of the football team keeps the rest of the startled basketball team from intervening. Baxter calls him a loser for even thinking of Phantom and 'Fentit' in the same sentence and finishes the interaction with a couple more threats and his own lunch dropped on top of his head, before he leaves.

His team only makes an awkward cough and a poor attempt to cheer him up.

After lunch and a missed class to clean his own lunch out of his hair he decides to confront Fenton.

He corners him with his freaky friends at his locker. Fenton looks tired, with bags under his eyes and a bruise kind of showing on his arm.

His frustration with this whole day makes a clear appearance in his voice as he states what he knows and what he had seen. He complains about how his friends laughed at him and how the football team probably won't get off his case ever again. His voice is demanding even though he himself doesn't even know what he is demanding and Fenton-

-Fenton's face goes through a journey of a myriad of emotions before it stays blank. As he looks down he can see his fist clench and an eye twitch before his head snaps back up, his face now sporting a faux smile.

Fenton snarks back and even has the gall to make his eyes glow at him as he tells him nobody will believe his word.

So he storms off enraged.

This is the beginning of their archrivalry and his life gets even worse.

His reputation and friendships tank as time goes and he is adamant on not giving up proving the truth, this was personal now after all.

A joke rumor starts up that he tries to set up Fenton as Phantom so bad because he is actually Phantom.

He stalks him and gains more and more evidence but only grows as a joke in the eyes of Casper High.

Fenton keeps being a ghost, fights other ghosts and then makes fun of him the next day.

And so it goes on.

And then the school and the elder Fentons decide to keep a presentation on ghosts which the entire school is forced to attend.

And then, of course, it gets attacked by a ghost.

And, of course, then Phantom shows up to save the day.

And then, of course, Amity park's most infamous ghost hunters, the Fentons, attack him.

…

There might be a tad tension by the student body as Phantom plummets to the gym floor after being shot down by a bazooka and it really doesn't let up until the bleeding Phantom finally escapes them again.

He doesn't see Fenton again until the end of his next class.

He runs into him as he heads for his own locker and they make eye contact. He can't help but slow down, and glance over at him, brows furrowed, trying to see a show of bandages that might hide under his clothes.

Then the little shit makes his eyes glow as he winks at him and asks him how his last ghost fight went and Wes loses his temper and screams at him.

After all, it's like taxes. You don't think about it.

#Danny Phantom #Wes Weston #phic #aura attempts to write again #i don't have a better writing tag

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

683 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

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becomewings · 4 years

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The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 3 / 4

« pt. 2 | » pt. 4

Introduction

The following sections for JiMin’s and HoSeok’s arcs are 4.5k and 4k, respectively. As with pt.2 of the series, I have included “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts. This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Stopped Time

SeokJin’s primary goal in JiMin’s story is to free him from the hospital psychiatric ward to which his parents have him committed before he gives up on life. Much like his sudden, unexplained absence in The Notes 1, JiMin is not even present in the first two episodes except for an introductory cutscene. In a hospital hallway on an unspecified date, he plays on the colored tiles and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. (This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) Everything goes black except for JiMin and the door. A nurse taps him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality, and hands him pills.

The playable story begins on 22 April Year 22 with SeokJin attending a meeting organized by the patrons of the Songho Foundation. Seo HyunJung, the city’s Deputy Mayor, suggested it to SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, at the inauguration ceremony. (SeokJin attends the inauguration ceremony on 11 April in many loops; it plays out in episode 2 of JungKook’s arc.) SeokJin scans over the crowd, reflecting that while the pretext of the meeting is to discuss community development, in reality it is a social gathering to advance individual careers. These sessions make him uncomfortable, but this time he is attending of his own accord with the intention of meeting someone.

This someone is a woman who actually approaches him first, introducing herself as Sim SeonMi. SeokJin knows that she is JiMin’s mother. He has met her in previous loops but needs to pretend that this is their first time meeting. His goal is to bring up JiMin naturally and persuade her to discharge him from the hospital. Before he can broach the subject, the high school principal, Jo JinMyung, joins them. SeokJin uses his arrival as an opportunity to bring up school and guide the conversation toward JiMin by first asking if they know each other. “We’ve met a few times at gatherings. I was told her child used to be a student at our school,” answers Jo JinMyung. “Ah, really? I attended Jeil High too,” says SeokJin. Sim SeonMi looks taken aback, and he asks for her child’s name. She tries to avoid the question by saying that they probably won’t know each other due to their age gap, but when pressed again she relents. “His name is Park JiMin.” “I know JiMin! We were close. Is JiMin doing okay?” SeokJin responds brightly, wondering if she will provide an empty lie. Instead, she excuses herself with the claim that she needs to greet someone else.

SeokJin quickly wraps up with the principal and begins to casually approach her again. He stops when he overhears two women mention her name. “There’s no gathering she doesn’t attend these days. Looks like her husband’s star is on the rise, thanks to her efforts…” The player has the choice to listen quietly or butt in. If SeokJin stands by, they speculate that she was invited because her husband’s company is one of the patrons. If he interrupts, they caution him to stay away from her. In both routes, SeokJin learns that Sim SeonMi doesn’t have the best reputation and that rumors of her hospitalized son are spreading. Their blame on her helps explain what underlay her hysteric responses in previous loops.

Though it’s uncomfortable, SeokJin reapproaches her when she is alone. She greets him a little coldly. “You don’t have to be so formal to me. I’m JiMin’s friend,” he assures. “Is that so? How friendly you are.” Sim SeonMi smiles awkwardly and keeps looking elsewhere as though for an escape. “It would’ve been nice if JiMin’s father was here… He’ll join me another time, so you can say hello to him then.” “Yes. I’ll make sure to bring my father along then,” SeokJin replies, hoping to snag her attention. Her eyes change at the mention of his father. “Shall we do that, then? It’ll be even better with the Assemblyman.” SeokJin brings up JiMin again by either asking if he still attends Jeil High or how he’s doing. Her uneasy answers are “These days? Yes… Of course” or “...He’s fine,” respectively. SeokJin requests JiMin’s phone number, rendering her silent for a long moment. “That’s a bit difficult. I’m not sure I can give out JiMin’s contact information without his approval.” SeokJin attempts to convince her by stating that they were close friends in school yet lost contact when he studied abroad. But all he gets from her is, “Then I’ll ask JiMin, and make sure to contact you if he says it’s okay.” Sim SeonMi taps him on the shoulder and quickly walks away.

By 25 April, SeokJin still hasn’t heard from JiMin’s mother, so he decides to visit her and reveal that he knows JiMin was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric ward. Uncle JunHo, his father’s secretary, intercepts him before he leaves the house and asks where he’s going. SeokJin either answers that he is heading to school or meeting a friend to work on assignments. He declines a ride from JunHo in the first path but can’t conjure an excuse to not accept in the second. In both, JunHo comments that it’s not easy being the family of a public official and that he noticed SeokJin engaged in a long conversation with Sim SeonMi at the meeting. SeokJin explains that she is his friend’s mother, and JunHo advises him not to get too friendly with her because she doesn’t have a great reputation. In the second path, he also adds information about JiMin’s father that catches SeokJin’s attention because he has not heard anything about the man. Apparently Park JinWook is one of the foundation’s board members. ‘He’s pretty remarkable. He entered as a researcher and became a board member… The one thing that people like him want most is connections,” JunHo muses. He cautions SeokJin to “be wary of any advances [he] can see the intent of.”

The scene cuts to the exterior of an apartment building after SeokJin has either driven himself or been dropped off nearby by JunHo. He considers the public assessment of JiMin’s mother: she works hard to elevate her husband’s status but ignores her own son in favor of the family’s reputation. Sim SeonMi happens to step outside before SeokJin enters the building. She looks wary when he says, “I haven’t heard from you, so I decided to come see you myself.” In an effort to persuade her, SeokJin begins with either “I want to see JiMin” or “I came to see you because I know everything.” In the first path, she lies about not getting in touch with JiMin yet because he is studying abroad in the U.S. SeokJin is stunned by this egregious falsehood. “From what I’ve heard… JiMin’s locked up in a hospital. He’s at the Gyeong Il Hospital, isn’t he?” A similar reaction occurs in the second path from the point of SeokJin mentioning the hospital. Sim SeonMi hardens and objects to the phrase “locked up,” stating that JiMin is an inpatient because he is sick. “SeokJin, I appreciate that you’re worried about JiMin… But I’m his mother, and that means I know what’s best for him.” The paths converge as she tries to leave, claiming they have nothing left to discuss. Persuading her to release JiMin from the hospital seems impossible. “I’ll look into it on my own. I’m going to see JiMin, no matter how hard you try to stop me,” SeokJin warns. Sim SeonMi glares at him, voice low and cold. “‘SeokJin. If I can give you a word of advice… Adults have reasons for everything they do. You should forget about this.”

The beginning of episode 3 visits JiMin’s perspective on 27 April. He has relocated temporarily to the surgical ward due to an injured wrist. After treatment, he returns to his hospital room to find his mother arranging some items she brought. JiMin approaches nervously, wondering if she thinks he has caused a problem again. “It doesn’t look too bad, thankfully,” she remarks, glancing at his wrist. Her concern is unfamiliar yet welcome. “Do you know a Kim SeokJin? He said he attended Jeil High.” The mention of SeokJin surprises JiMin, but he tries to answer passively because of her angry tone. “Yes, but why are you suddenly ask—” “Did you contact him?” Sim SeonMi interrupts, halting her organizing to stare at him. “Why are you so immature? Do you ever think of anyone outside of here?” Injury throbbing, JiMin doesn’t know how to respond. “If you want to leave, tell me why you’re doing this. Tell me instead of embarrassing me by contacting some random person! Is that why you hurt your wrist? To rebel?” she demands. JiMin tries to explain this isn’t true, but she doesn’t listen. “I’m really tired, too. How many years has it been? How long do I have to suffer because of you?” Sim SeonMi leaves, the rant having done little to expend her anger. JiMin knows that her worries are pointed at herself, not at him; he is someone who makes life harder for her. He decides not to talk about anything else because he doesn’t want to make things even more difficult for her.

The story cuts to SeokJin loitering outside Gyeong Il Hospital, mulling over what action to take since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. (The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.) SeokJin knows that he will be the first suspect if JiMin disappears now and that he must act carefully since he was unable to persuade JiMin’s mother. As the day grows dark, he spots Sim SeonMi rushing into the hospital on her second visit. SeokJin hurries after her, worried that something happened to JiMin. The panicked voices of a medical team emerge from JiMin’s room. Doctors crowd around someone laying on the bed. “No, JiMin!” SeokJin hears Sim SeonMi scream followed by the sound of shattering glass.

The loop resets, and the game rejoins SeokJin on 10 May standing at a road and reflecting on the last failure. “If JiMin isn’t saved while he’s in the surgical ward, he makes his choice days after he returns to the closed ward. But it happened too quickly this time. What pushed him?” he wonders. He recalls Sim SeonMi’s final words before the loop ended. “No, JiMin! I’m sorry. I was wrong! You can see your friends; you can do anything you want… So please, open your eyes!” SeokJin realizes that he may have caused Sim SeonMi to act out of the ordinary, which in turn affected JiMin’s choice. It’s his fault, and he made JiMin suffer more. He thinks, “Even though I’ve experienced losing my friends before… No matter how many times it repeats… It never gets any easier.” SeokJin decides to abandon persuading JiMin’s mother to avoid provoking her and reverts his plan to sneaking JiMin out like in earlier loops. But first, he must focus on a more pressing issue—rescuing HoSeok after he collapses on the bridge that day.

After a cut, HoSeok awakens in SeokJin’s car and is shocked to see him. “Wow, is it really you? How long has it been?” “Lean on me for a bit longer. You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell?” SeokJin checks. HoSeok assures him that he’s all right and asks how SeokJin saw him. When SeokJin says he was just passing by, HoSeok remarks, “Wow! That’s so weird. Thanks for saving me.” It’s the first time SeokJin has heard something like this. He remembers JiMin in a previous loop telling him, “This is where I should be.” Does JiMin really want to leave the hospital? SeokJin believed that he did, but now he’s less confident. “HoSeok. If you had someone in front of you who wanted to die because living was too difficult… What would you do?” he asks. HoSeok answers without hesitation, “Well, I would help them.” “Even if that person doesn’t want my help?�� says SeokJin. “ Isn’t helping them the right thing to do? Even if you don’t know why they want to die… They need to keep living for something to change,” HoSeok muses.

SeokJin drops HoSeok off at Two Star Burger before returning to the hospital alone, his friend’s words sticking with him. Even though JiMin isn’t guaranteed to be happy when he leaves the hospital, he needs to stay alive to have even the opportunity for happiness. Still uncertain how to proceed, SeokJin heads to the hospital lounge to organize his thoughts before visiting JiMin. Through an open door, he spots JiMin trudging down a hallway. SeokJin either calls out to him or watches him, but the latter is the result regardless because JiMin doesn’t hear him in the first path. JiMin stares at the door as people come and go and eventually returns to his room.

On 7 May, JiMin roams the hallways of the 5th floor surgical ward. He was moved there about ten days earlier after he ran into someone and fell. The surgical ward is not too different from the psychiatric one: the hallway is a little longer, and it has a lounge in the middle. But the freedom to move around in this space brings him joy that he doesn’t have in the psychiatric ward. He even wanders around at night when no one is around and dances in the lounge. Despite this newfound freedom, his body stops at the same point in the hallway—where the psychiatric ward ends four floors above him. After reaching his line again, JiMin returns to his room. He assumes a student occupied the bed before him because he finds a forgotten workbook in the nearby drawers. Remembering that he used this workbook in school, he flips through and reads the notes scribbled in the margins. “I want to go to a PC cafe, too…” he murmurs, spotting the note “wanna go to the PC cafe later?” JiMin finds a haphazardly folded paper tucked into the pages and unfolds it curiously. “Career… plan?”

The story cuts to 10 May with SeokJin, from a hidden vantage point, watching JiMin sit in the hospital lounge and read a book. It reminds him of their days in the classroom hideout. “He seems okay right now.” SeokJin receives a call from Uncle JunHo about the scheduling of a Songho Foundation seminar. During their conversation, a loudspeaker announcement summons JiMin to the 2nd floor physical therapy room. He drops the book and runs out of the lounge. Once finished with the call, SeokJin tries to find the book JiMin was reading. He doesn’t see it among those scattered around the lounge and thinks that JiMin must’ve had a reason to hide it. Hoping it will provide him a clue to understanding his friend, SeokJin hunts around either the window or trash can with no luck before turning to the vending machine. After scooting a bookcase out of the way, he is finally able to rescue the item. SeokJin deduces that the workbook doesn’t belong to JiMin because it’s Year 2 material and JiMin was admitted to the hospital in his first year. He finds the detached sheet with two different types of handwriting and determines which belongs to JiMin. The game provides a quick flashback shot of JiMin filling out the paper. “Aspiring Career Path: Will I be able to go to university too? Scholastic Activities: What should I learn in Year 2… Extracurricular Activities: Join the dance club HoSeok started.” SeokJin wonders what JiMin felt as he wrote in the answers. He considers how JiMin people-watched from the hallway and looked happy reading the workbook. “You want to leave, don’t you?” SeokJin thinks. “Let’s get out of here. So you can be the one to decide what kind of life you want to live.” He resolves to break JiMin free.

On 11 May, JiMin stops at the invisible line in the hallway again. He stares at the door before turning around and bumping into someone. He is shocked speechless when he realizes that it’s SeokJin. The next episode continues from this moment but switches to SeokJin’s perspective. He calms JiMin down before bringing him to the lounge, giving the excuse that he was in the hospital to visit someone else. JiMin’s cheeks are hollowed, his hands skinnier than normal. SeokJin wonders if he can inspire JiMin to act if he tells him that he’ll be able to do all of the things he wrote on the career plan once he leaves the hospital. He either asks, “JiMin, are you injured?” or “How long have you been in the hospital?” In both paths, JiMin refers to his wrist injury and the time he’s been in the surgical ward rather than the psychiatric one. He looks grim when he can’t give a proper answer to either “When do you get discharged?” or “Are you sick?” “I think I have to go now. It’s almost time for treatment, too…” JiMin stands to leave, avoiding his gaze. SeokJin rushes after him and blocks his path, knowing this might be their last chance to speak if they say goodbye already. “JiMin, I’m here because I know everything. You want to leave this place, don’t you? You’ve been here for two years.” JiMin steps back but doesn’t run away. “I just happened to hear… how your mother locked you in the psychiatric ward,” SeokJin explains. JiMin shakes his head with a frightened expression. “No. I’m here because I’m sick.” His eyes falter when SeokJin presses, “JiMin, I can help you. Let’s get out of here together.”

Short flashbacks play from JiMin’s perspective alongside his thoughts: “At first, I wanted to leave. I called my mom and cried until my voice went hoarse, asking her to take me home. That I didn’t want to stay here. But she didn’t listen. Because this is where I should be…” Aloud, JiMin speaks in a voice that sounds like he has given up on everything. “Even if I leave, I’ll eventually come back.” SeokJin shakes his head. “What’s important is how you feel. JiMin, you really want to stay here? That’s okay with you?” Depending on the players’ choice, he either continues, “Do you really not have anything you want to do?” or “‘You really want to stay here in the hospital?” In the first path, SeokJin tries to remind him of something he must want to do like studying or dancing. “I don’t… have anything like that,” JiMin lies. In the second path, JiMin says it’s better for him in the hospital because outside people treat him like a freak. SeokJin remembers the women whispering about Sim SeonMi and her hospitalized son at the Songho Foundation meeting. In both paths, JiMin is pale and shaky. SeokJin decides to ask one more time. “You don’t want to go outside and see your friends?” JiMin seems to perk up at the mention of “friends,” but he does not respond or lift his gaze. SeokJin’s parting words are, “Think about it, JiMin… I’ll come back to visit again.”

The next day (12 May), SeokJin reflects on his failure to persuade both JiMin and his mother. “What can I do to help JiMin get over his fear and gain courage?” he wonders. The career plan comes to mind again with JiMin’s notes of college, studying, and dancing—the things he wants to do outside of the hospital. This prompts SeokJin to remember a day in the classroom hideout when he filmed HoSeok dancing. On the sidelines, TaeHyung complimented HoSeok’s moves and asked if JiMin could dance like that. Gaze full of envy and longing, JiMin answered, “No. How could I do that?” “HoSeok! JiMin says he wants to try!” TaeHyung called. Flustered, JiMin tried to stop him, but HoSeok looked over. “Do you want to try?” JiMin insisted that he couldn’t, but TaeHyung pushed him forward and HoSeok gladly demonstrated the routine. JiMin hesitated at first to attempt it alone but began to move at their encouragement. In the present, SeokJin believes that he has found an answer in this memory. “TaeHyung, who pushed him forward… and HoSeok, who believed that he could do it. Maybe one of those two will help JiMin muster up the courage.”

SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him persuade JiMin, considering that he was the first person to notice how JiMin was feeling when they watched HoSeok dance and helped JiMin take action when he hesitated. (We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.) On 13 May, SeokJin visits TaeHyung’s convenience store to explain JiMin’s situation, and TaeHyung immediately agrees to help. Late that night and with little planned, they sneak into JiMin’s hospital room. Sensing their presence, JiMin turns on the light and is especially surprised to see TaeHyung. “We’re here to get you out of here, JiMin,” he says. “Did you think about it?” SeokJin asks. When JiMin hesitates, TaeHyung presses him to answer honestly. “Park JiMin, do you like being here? Staying here is awful! Let’s leave. You can think when we’re outside.” TaeHyung forces JiMin to his feet even as he hesitates and protests about the impending night rounds, although he does not push TaeHyung’s hand away. SeokJin knows this is hasty but decides to trust TaeHyung. Out in the hallway, he reflects that if even he spoke the same words, JiMin would not agree. SeokJin has encountered moments like this before where his friends solve problems that he cannot fix alone. “TaeHyung seems to be JiMin’s answer, just like YoonGi needed JungKook,” SeokJin thinks. (JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward.)

The elevator arrives as they turn the corner, its doors opening to reveal Sim SeonMi. SeokJin warns, “Hide. It’s JiMin’s mom.” She walks past without noticing them. SeokJin quickly presses the elevator button, but it has already left. “JiMin, quick!” TaeHyung calls. “TaeHyung, I just…” “You can’t look back,” TaeHyung says firmly. He and SeokJin pull JiMin towards the stairwell, but JiMin stops walking. “What’s wrong?” asks TaeHyung. JiMin’s expression is on the verge of crying yet also angry. “I can’t,” he whispers. “Park JiMin, we don’t have time for this—” TaeHyung is interrupted by Sim SeonMi’s distant voice. “Where’d he go? The bathroom?” SeokJin tugs JiMin’s arm, but he looks afraid again. “SeokJin, I… I can’t do this. I don’t think I can.” SeokJin either soothes JiMin himself or has TaeHyung talk to him. In the first path, he takes JiMin’s trembling hand. “It’s safe for me here.” JiMin shakes his head. “No, JiMin. Something bad will happen if you stay here,” SeokJin cautions. “No, I have to stay here. That’s what’s right. I want to stay here,” JiMin insists. In the second path, SeokJin shoots TaeHyung a look, and TaeHyung in turn scans over JiMin. The tapping sound of shoes rings through the silent hallway. TaeHyung begins, “JiMin, if you stop here…” The paths rejoin when Sim SeonMi spots them and calls to JiMin, face livid as she approaches. “Oh… Mom.” The color drains from JiMin’s face. “Please… Please! Can’t you just stay put?” she demands sharply.

TaeHyung attempts to intervene, introducing himself as JiMin’s friend. Sim SeonMi does not look at him even when he explains that JiMin didn’t expect their visit and they were just taking him outside so as not to disturb the sleeping patients. SeokJin chimes in too, hoping their flimsy excuse will work, but Sim SeonMi orders JiMin back to his room. Looking defeated, JiMin trudges out of sight. Sim SeonMi finally turns her gaze on SeokJin, regarding him with the same expression as she utters the same words from the last loop. “I didn't know you were JiMin’s friend.” She warns them not to visit him again like this because he is very sick and it will interfere with his treatment. Before coldly turning to leave, she touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. (This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1.) Her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. (SeokJin’s observation echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.) TaeHyung yells after her, “What’s wrong with him?! You can’t even spare the time to talk to us?!” SeokJin cautions him to stop. “Let me go! JiMin! Park JiMin!” TaeHyung’s voice rings loudly in the hallway, but no one answers. As they leave the hospital, he asks, “Do you think JiMin will be okay?” SeokJin cannot respond because he knows the truth: when JiMin returns to the psychiatric ward, he always makes the same awful choice.

The story cuts to JiMin sitting on his hospital bed and staring at his feet, unable to face his mother. He regrets following SeokJin and TaeHyung. “It was a lie, wasn’t it?” Sim SeonMi asks. “What those kids said earlier. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” JiMin apologizes, throat catching. “What were you going to do? What could you possibly do outside of this place?” she demands. JiMin remembers all the things he thought about alone in the lounge: going to school, making friends, and learning dance from HoSeok again. “I want to live a regular life. It’s nothing that special. Why is it that I’m not allowed to dream?” he thinks. “JiMin, let’s focus on getting better first. When you’re all better… I’ll let you do whatever you want once you’re discharged. But you know that now isn’t the time. Let’s do it when you’re back to normal,” Sim SeonMi advises with a power in her voice that he can’t fight. Questions pile up in his head: what is getting better, and what is normal? But he holds it in and nods, not wanting to make things any more difficult for her. “Okay, Mom. I will…” As he speaks, it dawns on him that he’ll never get to leave the hospital.

JiMin moves back to the psychiatric ward after SeokJin and TaeHyung’s visit. The place is still the same: a man mutters that he’s not crazy; a child stays glued to the window, waiting for their mom. “And then there’s me, unable to progress because I’m locked in the past. If nothing changes even as time flows, how is it any different than time standing still?” On 19 May, JiMin stands in the bathroom with the water running. He sees and hears the falling drops as rain and smells a sharp stickiness. Reflected in the water in the sink, he sees a vision of himself on “that day.” (This is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.) “...I hate it.” JiMin covers his eyes. “I want to forget everything. I want to rest.” The glass shatters, concluding his arc.

Someone Left Behind

HoSeok’s story opens on 11 May Year 22 with SeokJin providing some chronological context. So far, he has not made it to June once in the loops because HoSeok collapses from his narcolepsy and JiMin is still trapped in the hospital. SeokJin can encounter JiMin naturally if he admits HoSeok to the hospital after his collapse on 10 May, but HoSeok has an accident in the hospital stairwell and falls into despair over his leg injury. (10 May is the date HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and this is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.) Even if SeokJin prevents that accident or helps HoSeok avoid admittance to the hospital entirely, his narcolepsy grows worse over time after 10 May. SeokJin determines that he needs to control HoSeok’s narcolepsy in order to save him, and he heads to Two Star Burger where HoSeok works to begin earnestly investigating.

A cutscene plays out at the restaurant: HoSeok, wearing a manager’s tag, watches two friends eating at a table while someone places their order with him. His expression is distant and briefly sad until he catches himself and smiles brightly at the customer. When the door chimes, he greets the new visitor and realizes it’s SeokJin. This is apparently their first time meeting in this loop because HoSeok heard from the other guys that Seokjin returned. SeokJin asks how he’s doing, and HoSeok replies, “Me? Same as usual.” SeokJin knows that “same as usual” means HoSeok’s life has a set, monotonous routine: working his part-time job, going to dance practice, and occasionally visiting the children’s home. Sometimes, he also comes to the bridge over the river and watches the scenery. The scene transitions to this location later at night as SeokJin narrates this. He stands at a distance so HoSeok doesn’t see him. HoSeok’s out-of-character, melancholy expression worries SeokJin. He hasn’t observed any changes to his friend’s daily routine, and HoSeok hasn’t collapsed recently—so why does he keep collapsing on 10 May?

The narrative cuts to 3 May. (I double-checked the dates and can only assume that this is a new loop, although a reset is not specifically mentioned—or else the opening date was a typo.) SeokJin mulls the situation over alone for a while but ends up going to NamJoon out of frustration. NamJoon and HoSeok share similarities, and they’re both responsible for other people. Believing that NamJoon knows HoSeok best, SeokJin visits his container. NamJoon greets him warmly. JungKook is already there, killing time after school. SeokJin mentions that he saw HoSeok a few days earlier at Two Star Burger but couldn’t really talk to him because he was busy. NamJoon suggests inviting him to join them after work and bring some hamburgers too since JungKook is hungry. SeokJin either calls HoSeok himself or lets JungKook call. In the first path, HoSeok says he’ll come as soon as SeokJin mentions that a few of them are together. In the second path, while JungKook is on the phone, SeokJin asks NamJoon how HoSeok is and learns that he practices dance at the cultural center every day. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok is pushing himself too hard. The paths rejoin: before HoSeok arrives, SeokJin inquires about his narcolepsy too. NamJoon doesn’t know much except that he’s still taking medication for it and seems to be doing okay. It seems that no one dares to bring it up since HoSeok doesn’t speak about it openly. The conversation trails off while they wait, although it’s not awkward—it reminds SeokJin of old times together.

HoSeok arrives with a cheerful greeting, wafting in the smell of fresh hamburgers. “These hamburgers were hand-made by the employee of the month!” He rustles through the bags and produces a kid’s meal boxed toy, giving it to JungKook. “Here’s your Children’s Day gift!” JungKook pouts that he’s not a kid but seems pleased to receive a gift even though it’s a couple days early. HoSeok explains that he has to be at the children’s home on 5 May. NamJoon asks if they’re hosting an event that day. “It’s not really an event… I’m going to see the families,” says HoSeok. He plans to bring hamburgers and play with the kids rather than bring gifts. SeokJin is surprised to hear that almost twenty children, ranging from young kids to high schoolers, live at the home. “‘That’s more than I expected. It must be fun when everyone plays together.” HoSeok invites him to come along to take photos of everyone, and SeokJin agrees with a high-five. NamJoon declines because he’s too busy, and JungKook hesitates. HoSeok assures him not to feel pressured, causing SeokJin to reflect on how he has always been the “mood-maker” whose cheerful personality eases awkward situations and defuses disagreements. While lost in thought, he notices HoSeok taking out his medication. “How are you these days? Do you feel better?” NamJoon checks. “Hmm. I don’t have any symptoms, but I shouldn’t be skipping these.” A grim expression flashes across HoSeok’s face. SeokJin thinks, “It doesn’t mean he’s alright just because he smiles in front of people.” He guesses that HoSeok must feel scared of his condition, not knowing when he’ll collapse next. It’s not enough for SeokJin to prevent the accidents he can see or to stop HoSeok from getting injured—he must save him from the fear that isn’t visible. SeokJin resolves to find out what makes him collapse. Even if the condition isn’t curable, discovering the cause might help HoSeok get better.

On 5 May, SeokJin meets up with HoSeok at the children’s home, which is located near Yangji Stream. HoSeo looks happy and explains that visiting there is like coming home. They bring their respective gifts of hamburgers and snacks inside, and all the kids rush to HoSeok in excitement. One of the home’s staff greets them. HoSeok introduces her as Kim JungHee. He calls her “auntie” and regards her as someone who has been like a mother to him. As SeokJin helps her set the table with food, he thinks that the children’s home feels like an ordinary family home and HoSeok looks like the dependable older brother among all the kids. After taking all the requested pictures later, SeokJin joins HoSeok to watch the children play outside. “You’re on good terms with the kids,” he observes. “I’ve only been out of the children’s home about three months now, so I know them all,” HoSeok explains. (He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.) SeokJin either comments, “Auntie seems like a great person. She treated me well and we’ve only just met,” or asks, “How old were you when you first came here?” In both paths, HoSeok speaks with visible adoration for Kim JungHee. In the first path, he mentions that although she’s scary when mad, she never gets angry without a reason. “Auntie JungHee is just… like a mom. She’s mom.” In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was seven when he moved into the children’s home. He describes how Auntie would sing him songs that his mother listened to instead of a lullaby when he had trouble falling asleep, and that was the first time he cried after coming to the home. SeokJin begins, “Then, HoSeok, when you were little…” But a boy’s cries interrupt him before he can ask if HoSeok experienced narcolepsy when he was younger. “What’s wrong, JiHun?” HoSeok asks in concern. The sobbing boy shows him a broken toy rocket. “My mom… gave this to me.” HoSeok is at a loss because it looks impossible to fix. “I’ll bring you a new one next time. Don’t cry, JiHun. Okay?” The boy keeps crying despite HoSeok’s attempts at consolation. Before SeokJin can think of another tactic, HoSeok speaks up, drying JiHun’s tears. “JiHun, do you want to go with me to see a real rocket?”

At HoSeok’s request, SeokJin drives them both to Yeongsan Bridge, one of the bridges that crosses Yangji Stream and that HoSeok frequents. SeokJin is perplexed about what could count as a “real rocket” as they head to HoSeok’s usual spot on the bridge, and JiHun appears suspicious but excited. “Look over there!” HoSeok points to the train departing Songju Station in the distance, picking up speed on the tracks. “Wow!” JiHun exclaims. “What do you think? That rocket looks cool, huh?” asks HoSeok. “Rocket? That’s a train,” says the boy. “Look closely! It’s a rocket.” HoSeok beams. JiHun asks HoSeok why he calls it a rocket. HoSeok explains that the front end of the train is pointy like a rocket and that it takes people somewhere far away. (He also refers to the trains as rockets in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.) SeokJin realizes that from his vantage point on the bridge, HoSeko has been watching the train that leaves Songju. “JiHun, you can wish on the rocket, too!” HoSeok describes how the rocket can carry dreams because the people who ride on it have dreams. JiHun wishes to become famous so his mom can find him. HoSeok falls silent for a moment before resuming his chatty demeanor. Together they wish on the rocket for JiHun to see his mom again. JiHun asks HoSeok what he wishes for so they can wish it on the next rocket. HoSeok whispers in his ear. “Wow, you too?!” JiHun exclaims. HoSeok shushes him, so SeokJin does not learn HoSeok’s answer.

After dropping JiHun off at the children’s home, SeokJin and HoSeok relax at a bar. HoSeok thanks him for his help that day. SeokJin asks if HoSeok visits Yeongsan Bridge frequently to look at the trains. HoSeok smiles bashfully over his drink and explains that he liked visiting it when he lived in the children’s home. “Is that when you came up with the rocket story?” SeokJin asks. HoSeok replies, ‘Yeah. The people getting on the train look so cheerful and happy. It almost makes me want to get on there with them, too.” He stops abruptly and calls out to a customer on his way out. The young man is introduced as DongJin, a friend who also grew up in the children’s home. SeokJin invites him to sit with them, hoping that he knows more about HoSeok, but DongJin declines since he’s with other company. Before departing, he mentions that he will stop by Two Star Burger to see HoSeok soon. After his friend leaves, HoSeok tells SeokJin more about his childhood. SeokJin understands why he considers the people at the children’s home his family.

A little tipsy now, HoSeok brings up another memory. The whole family at the children’s home goes to Yangji Stream on August 30th for the yearly fireworks, but when he was about nine, he had to be admitted to the hospital for a check-up. SeokJin either asks, “Did you miss the fireworks that year?” or “Were you sick?” In the first path, HoSeok describes how he snuck out of his hospital room and up to the rooftop to watch the fireworks. Along the way, he found a little kid crying in the stairwell who was looking for his mom and wanted to leave, and he brought the boy to the roof so they could view the fireworks together. He doesn’t know who the kid was or remember his face. (See the Additional Thoughts section at the end for who I hope this kid really was!) In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was falling asleep without explanation but the doctor said there was nothing particularly abnormal. SeokJin tries to ask a leading question to get him to reveal more, but HoSeok’s expression is grim. The paths rejoin with HoSeok asking SeokJin if he has attended the fireworks festival too. He looks wistful when SeokJin replies that he went with his family when he was younger. HoSeok brings up DongJin again. “He’s a really lucky guy. Even though it was pretty late, he got in touch with his parents and moved out to go live with them.” His eyes reflect bitterness. “DongJin and I… both dreamed of going to the fireworks festival with our parents. I guess he’ll achieve his dream for the first time this year.” SeokJin recalls HoSeok’s rocket story and asks if that’s the dream he told JiHun about earlier. HoSeok dismisses this: his dream now is to become famous for dancing. SeokJin remembers him mentioning this in high school. “Right, you said you wanted to become famous as a dancer so it would help you find your mom… Are you still dancing because of that?” HoSeok says that was why he first started but he grew to really love dance. “You don’t have any plans to go find your mom, then?” SeokJin asks. “Why would I go anywhere? My home, work, and friends are all here.” HoSeok laughs, but it seems like he is just holding on rather than truly feeling happy. “I just… like where I am.”

Episode four begins on 8 May, Parents’ Day, in HoSeok’s perspective. As promised, DongJin visits him at Two Star Burger and asks if he can get a job there because he needs money. HoSeok is taken aback since DongJin supposedly has moved out of Songju to live with his father after reconnecting with his family. “What happened to your self-reliance support fund?” DongJin confesses that he gave it all to his father, who said that he needed it to buy them a house but hasn’t contacted him since receiving the money. “I think my expectations were too high. They abandoned me once. Why wouldn’t they abandon me a second time? I wish I hadn’t met them…” DongJin’s voice wavers. HoSeok assures him that his father must be busy looking for houses. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll contact you soon. I’ll look into a job for you.” DongJin thanks him multiple times before leaving. After work, HoSeok returns to the bridge and leans on the railing. He often does this even when there are no passing trains—watching the flow of the river empties his mind and puts him at ease. But the calm water cannot still his thoughts today. He thinks about the many children at the home who want to be reunited with their parents, including JiHun, DongJin, and himself. HoSeok is honest about his feelings, acknowledging that he envies DongJin for being able to contact a parent, even one who let him down. He closes his eyes and remembers the day his mom abandoned him at the carousel. In the memory, she hands him a chocolate bar and instructs him to count to ten before opening his eyes. The screen goes black after “three,” and at “nine,” the player hears the sound of someone falling. (The carousel memory is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.)

The story cuts to the next day, 9 May, outside Two Star Burger. SeokJin is uneasy knowing that HoSeok collapsed yesterday, two days earlier than he normally does in the loops, and hovers nearby to keep an eye on him. HoSeok announces that he’s heading out for a delivery and heads outside to the delivery scooter. A passing woman reminds her daughter to count before crossing the street. “One, two, three…” HoSeok watches them cross the street and collapses again. “HoSeok!” SeokJin cries. He gets permission from the restaurant manager to take a still-unconscious HoSeok home to his room that overlooks all of Songju City. SeokJin helps HoSeok onto his bed before looking around his room. The player has a choice to look at the items on the desk or a familiar planter on the dresser. In the first path, SeokJin clicks past the screensaver on HoSeok’s laptop and sees that the web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. (This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) He remembers HoSeok mentioning that he’s happiest when dancing and knows that he still runs Just Dance, the dance club he started in high school. “I’m sure he’d do well if he applies,” SeokJin muses. In the second path, SeokJin recognizes the plant as the one HoSeok tended every day in their classroom hideout. He wonders what HoSeok was thinking when he brought the plant home and how he feels caring for it. The paths rejoin with HoSeok stirring on the bed, mumbling “Mmm… Mom… Don’t go…” SeokJin recalls that HoSeok called for his mother when he fell asleep in high school. “Is the memory of losing his mom related to his narcolepsy?” he thinks. “Are you okay, HoSeok?” SeokJin asks when HoSeok opens his eyes. HoSeok is confused to find himself at home. SeokJin explains that he happened to see him collapse as he was passing by and assures him that he spoke to his manager. “HoSeok, you know how you keep collapsing… The hospital doesn’t know why yet? You don’t have any idea what makes you collapse, either?” he presses. But HoSeok shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

On 10 May, HoSeok receives a call from one of the younger kids from the children’s home while getting ready for work in his apartment. The kid informs him that Auntie JungHee isn’t working at the home anymore because she has been diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. She is scheduled to have surgery, but the chances of success are low. HoSeok’s mind goes blank, and he hangs up. When he rushes outside, he runs into SeokJin. “I stopped by because I was worried. Are you headed out?” asks SeokJin. Consumed with the thought of getting to Auntie, HoSeok says he needs to visit JungHee and doesn’t have time to ask why SeokJin is there. SeokJin follows, offering him a ride. The player chooses to have HoSeok either get in the car or refuse the ride. In the first path, HoSeok pretends to be calm when explaining the situation to SeokJin, but his voice noticeably trembles. In the second path, he declines because he’s afraid that speaking about it will make it come true, and then he runs to the bus stop.

The story cuts to HoSeok standing on the bridge, unable to remember how he made it to Auntie’s house after saying goodbye to SeokJin. He can only recall the face he saw through one of the open windows of Auntie’s house: JungHee laughing as she chatted with someone. The news of her illness and the low success rate of the surgery seems like a lie. She was the first person he could rely on after HoSeok lost his mom. He can’t shake off the vision of himself standing in front of the carousel “like an idiot.” Head spinning, he thinks, “I just wanted them to stay by my side. Is that too much to ask? What kind of terrible thing have I ever done?” The perspective switches to SeokJin as he watches HoSeok walk precariously across the bridge, looking both shocked and deeply sad. He reflects on his failed attempts to prevent HoSeok from collapsing here. Even if he stays with HoSeok like he did with JungKook or intervenes like he did with YoonGi, HoSeok always runs to JungHee’s home and then collapses on this bridge on his way back. SeokJin is aware that JungHee has cancer (so the first path of the branching choices has happened at least once, or he found out in earlier loops). The extra collapses of this loop weigh on SeokJin’s mind too. Something changed after HoSeok met DongJin, and SeokJin regrets taking him to the bar on 5 May. He looks on as HoSeok inevitably staggers and falls in the same spot.

SeokJin calls 119 and has HoSeok admitted to the hospital. As before, HoSeok is placed in the same hospital room of the surgery ward as JiMin. SeokJin decides not to visit him because he is afraid of running into JiMin and unsure of what will play out if he does. Now that HoSeok is in the hospital, there is no way to avoid the future accident in the stairwell. A few days later, SeokJin scopes out the scene. He mulls over the repeating scenario of HoSeok chasing down the stairs after a woman he mistakes for his mother. SeokJin connects the dots between HoSeok calling for his mother in his sleep and the way he cried in front of his Auntie’s house. “Everything has to do with ‘mom.’ If HoSeok’s narcolepsy is because of ‘mom,’ does that mean this accident is connected to the idea of mom, too?” In other loops in which SeokJin successfully prevented the stairwell accident, HoSeok continued to collapse more frequently until he eventually did so in the street. SeokJin contemplates how his condition apparently worsens after he sees a woman that reminds him of his mother.

The day after HoSeok is admitted to the hospital, 11 May, SeokJin invites NamJoon to meet him at a cart bar after his work shift. NamJoon brings up HoSeok first. Unable to say that he was the one to call for help, SeokJin pretends to be surprised that HoSeok is in the hospital. NamJoon reports that HoSeok had a minor concussion and is staying there for a couple days so the doctors can run additional tests. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok dreamt of his mother again and feels a pang at the image of him haunted by nightmares. He proceeds to tell NamJoon about their visit to the children’s home, meeting DongJin, and learning about the auntie’s illness. Cautiously, SeokJin proposes that HoSeok’s collapsing may be related to his mother. NamJoon mulls it over before agreeing. “I guess it could. Thinking about his auntie might have led him to think about his mom.” “I’m sure he feels like he’s losing his mother a second time,” SeokJin adds. NamJoon asks if he knows HoSeok’s wish to become a famous dancer in order to find his mom, although his dancing grew into a genuine source of joy. “So I thought… Dance had become Jung HoSeok’s cure. Something that helps him hold on. The thing that helps him bear something he can’t otherwise. That’s what dance is to HoSeok. Don’t you have something like that, SeokJin?” NamJoon regards him silently after this, leaving SeokJin much to contemplate. They promise to visit HoSeok together at the hospital. SeokJin hopes that if NamJoon knows just how much dancing means to HoSeok, he may figure out something from HoSeok’s reaction in the stairwell that SeokJin has missed. He just needs to figure out a natural way to get NamJoon into the stairwell at the right time.

On 12 May, SeokJin and NamJoon meet at the hospital. SeokJin suggests that they take the stairs since the elevators are crowded and lies about HoSeok being on the 3rd floor to strengthen his excuse. When they arrive on the 2nd floor landing, they hear footsteps and voices from above. The woman descending the stairs with a child is the one whom HoSeok keeps mistaking for his mother. SeokJin needs to stall until HoSeok comes down too, so he either suggests that they buy some snacks to bring or mentions that he may have got the wrong floor number and checks his phone. Moments later, they hear pounding footsteps and HoSeok shouting, “Mom!” NamJoon locks eyes with HoSeok and, unaware of what is about to happen, turns to follow the woman. “Ma’am! Excuse me!” Caught off guard, SeokJin is too late to grab HoSeok, who falls and screams. As he rolls on the floor clutching his leg, sealing the injury that will prevent him from dancing, the glass shatters.

SeokJin involves NamJoon in several more loops after that, but his attempts to save HoSeok end in failure. He wonders again if he should admit HoSeok to the hospital at all, but decides that if the incident is connected to HoSeok’s trauma, it needs to be solved rather than avoided. On a new 12 May, SeokJin stands near the hospital stairwell, prepared to intervene himself and ask HoSeok about his mother afterward. He spots JiMin emerging from the 2nd floor physical therapy room and pressing the elevator button. Hiding out of sight in the stairwell, SeokJin mulls over his options. If he prevents HoSeok’s accident, he still needs to get JiMin out of the hospital too—an effort that has been unsuccessful so far due to JiMin stopping at the exit or later having a seizure when they pass the arboretum. “Maybe the answer to HoSeok is… JiMin? What if… this incident is the variable between HoSeok and JiMin?” Heart pounding, SeokJin begins to hope that they can save each other. He doesn’t have enough time before HoSeok comes down the stairs to figure out what to say to JiMin and decides that he will just have to make the reason for his presence in the hospital believable. “JiMin!” he calls. “SeokJin? How are you here—” Looking shocked, JiMin steps back like he’s about to run away. SeokJin realizes that they haven’t met in this loop yet, and JiMin strongly dislikes people knowing that he’s in the hospital. With no time to explain, SeokJin leaves him behind and rushes into the stairwell. But he’s too late to catch HoSeok’s fall, and the story concludes with the glass shattering once again. (Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.)

Additional Thoughts

JiMin’s mother, Sim SeonMi, becomes one of the most fleshed-out adult characters in the BU narrative so far thanks to his story. We already knew the most about SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, due to his role in The Notes 2. I’ve had an inkling of a suspicion that JiMin’s parents were connected in some way to SeokJin’s father, so I was satisfied to see this confirmed in the game. I’m curious about JiMin’s father and the lack of details surrounding him. He has only been depicted once in The Notes 1, when JiMin returned home days after sneaking out of the hospital with his friends.

Though it’s never explicitly stated in the texts, the Wings Short Film #6 MAMA depicts that HoSeok is diagnosed with Munchausen’s syndrome, a psychological disorder in which the individual pretends to be ill or deliberately produces symptoms of the illness. His prescription pills are actually placebos. On 16 May Year 22 in The Notes 1, HoSeok confesses to JiMin that his narcolepsy is fake, although he doesn’t feign symptoms on purpose.

I was personally a little disappointed with the lack of new information in HoSeok’s story. While his relationships with the auntie and other children from the home are explored in greater detail, the most significant plot points if his arc have already been covered as of The Notes 2.

I have no proof for this, but I want the unidentified crying boy who young HoSeok met in the hospital stairwell and brought to the rooftop to see the fireworks to be JiMin. If HoSeok was 9 at the time, then JiMin was 7. He has been in and out of the hospital since the arboretum incident (earlier that same year), so it is plausible that he had an overlapping stay with HoSeok in the summer of Year 11.

As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

Stopped Time — tl;dr commentary

In the opening cutscene, JiMin plays on the colored tiles in a hospital hallway and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

The Songho Foundation patron meeting that SeokJin attends on 22 April Year 22 was suggested by the city’s Deputy Mayor at the inauguration ceremony on 11 April. That earlier ceremony played out in JungKook’s arc.

Before the loop reset, SeokJin waits outside the Gyeong Il Hospital as he plans his next move since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.

In this story, SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him free JiMin from the hospital. He hopes that TaeHyung will be JiMin’s “answer,” just like YoonGi needed JungKook. JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward. However, SeokJin and TaeHyung are caught by JiMin’s mother while trying to leave the hospital with him. We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.

Before coldly leaving SeokJin and TaeHyung to rejoin her son, Sim SeonMi touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1. To SeokJin, her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. This echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.

At the end of the story, the vision JiMin sees reflected in the sink water of “that day” is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.

Someone Left Behind — tl;dr commentary

In the story’s opening, SeokJin refers to HoSeok’s collapse on 10 May. This is the date that HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and it is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.

When SeokJin observes that HoSeok is on good terms with the kids from the children’s home, HoSeok explains that he’s only been out of the home for about three months. He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.

As he does in the game, HoSeok refers to the trains as “rockets” in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.

HoSeok’s memory of being abandoned at the carousel is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.

When searching HoSeok’s apartment, SeokJin notices the laptop’s web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

At the end of the story, SeokJin hopes to gain JiMin’s help to save HoSeok but ends up spooking him because they haven’t met in that loop yet. Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.

Did you learn anything new from these stories that I did not specifically mention? Let me know in the replies or tags! Please stay tuned for part 4, featuring TaeHyung and the Epilogue.

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austennerdita2533 · 3 years

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I was doing some idle musing on Rory's boyfriends and Austen heroes, and what I came up with was that Jess is part Mr. Darcy and part Frederick Wentworth, and Logan is part Henry Crawford and part (in his best moments) Henry Tilney. Any thoughts?

I think those are good Austen-to-GG-boyfriend classifications all around!

Jess has quite a few of Darcy's social anxieties in that he doesn't seem to like being around large groups of people at once, prefers to keep to himself, and doesn't talk or open up easily. Both characters also have a propensity for being taciturn and standoffish at times. They can rub some the wrong way as a result. In addition to that, they're introverted intellectual individuals who have embarrassing or disappointing relatives (i.e. Lady Catherine, Liz Danes). Their first "I love you" declarations are on par in Disaster Fireworks, too, don't you think? I mean, Darcy point blank calls Lizzie's entire family an embarrassment who is beneath him in social class AND manners and then still excepts her to accept his hand in marriage, which is so unbelievable it's hysterical, and Jess tells Rory he loves her after pulling a cross-country disappearing act that ended their relationship only to disappear AGAIN immediately after he blurts out the words, not even pausing long enough to blink, or like, to roll down his window so she can shout her reply at him as he drives by on his way out of town. It's next level Don't Do This romantic foolishness on both their parts. They deserve an award or a badge of honor or something to commemorate their mutual totally-bungled-that idiocy. 😄

Like Wentworth, Jess is the "suffer in silence" type. (I'd argue he takes after Luke in that way.) They both venture off on their own paths after they experience heartbreak, finding themselves, making something of their lives. For Wentworth, that means going to sea and amassing a fortune. For Jess, it means writing a novella and later working at Truncheon. And clearly they have the whole pining for the girl they love thing in common. Plus, there's that sense of mutual understanding that ripples through those two dynamics. Something that exudes "I know you better than anyone" energy because words aren't always necessary. They fall short. As Wentworth writes in his infamous letter to Anne at the end of Persuasion: "You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others." Jess and Wentworth are able to notice things about Rory, about Anne, that everyone else overlooks. Or plain don't see. The connection they share never truly dwindles no matter how much time has passed, either. It burns beneath the surface like an ember, waiting, flickering softly in the dust of what once was, of what still could be, perpetually on the cusp of catching flame again.

I'd also make an argument for Jess having some Mr. Knightley in him as well. They're both emotionally repressed as hell, for one. The frustration is rife, I'm telling you! Jess has a hard time expressing, sometimes showing, his feelings for Rory and I've always thought that falls in line with Knightley's "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" vibe. And while Jess doesn't lecture in the same way that Knightley does with Emma, he isn't afraid to ask Rory the hard questions, he doesn't hesitate to deliver the harsh truths she needs to hear. Jess challenges Rory to be better, to be true to herself, in the same way that Knightley does with Emma.

Onto Logan now. I definitely see a lot of Henry Tilney in him and a decent amount of Henry Crawford as well. I've always considered Tilney to be Austen's most charming, sociable, good humored, and extroverted hero, and I think that tracks well with Logan. He's also outgoing, seems to have no trouble making friends, and when he puts his mind to it, will and can charm the pants off of almost anyone he meets. (Gilmore grandparents, especially. But he's no slouch with Luke, Lorelai, or Christopher either, is he?) Tilney and Logan are both bright, witty men with active playful minds. I think those traits act as catnip for Rory and Catherine, it's what attracts them. They like the stimulation. The never-know-what-they're-going-to-do-or-say spontaneity. It's adrenalizing emotionally, intellectually, and sexually. Another similarity between the two men is that they each have fraught relationships with their fathers who have an "image" or "expectations" for their sons to uphold. The fathers view their name, or the social strata where they belong, to be superior to that of other people. Tbh, Mitchum Huntzberger and General Tilney should form their own Cad Dad Club because they're both cads. 😂

Henry Crawford and Logan share a considerable amount in common, too. Wit, attractiveness, and considerable charisma aside, they also both come from wealth. They're privileged, entitled, and have essentially had free reign to indulge their whims and vices throughout their lives without many consequences. I think Crawford's more wanton in his exploits with the opposite sex than Logan, though. The man doesn't just flirt he seduces. And he does so without much remorse. Granted, I know Logan was a bit of a playboy, a casanova, or whatever you want to call him, when he and Rory first started up but he commits to her eventually and loves her. He does his best to make her happy. And he is a present, caring, devoted boyfriend most of the time (the bridesmaid shagfest and jetting off to base jump, cliff dive, I forget the specific thing rn when he's upset, notwithstanding) whereas Crawford's feelings/intentions with Fanny are a little more hazy. It's hard to know whether he was actually in love with her or if it was about the chase, since she wasn't responding to his advances in the the way he'd grown accustomed or had hoped she would. Fanny never trusts Crawford. Rory does love and trust Logan, so there's a marked difference there.

In addition to Tilney and Crawford, I also think it could be said that Logan has some of Mr. Willoughby's good traits. They're both passionate individuals, for one, and aren't afraid to show it. They lay it all out there. Go after things. Live life to the fullest. I admire that in both of them. Fanny and Rory needed a little bit of that in their lives, I think. It pushed them out of their comfort zones. In a good, productive way. That said, the men's zest and spontaneity could teeter into recklessness as well, which is behavior they both exhibited in different ways and at different times.

I'm sure I could come up with more if I thought about it longer but that's all I've got for now.

Anyway, thanks for the ask, sweets! This was fun to muse over! xoxo

#stellaluna33 #replies #the loveliest of lovely people #ashlee bree talks gilmore girls and jane austen

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

“You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” Wangxian with rabbits? : ) If you like?

Wei Ying released the latch carefully and slid the window back. It had taken him a while to figure out how to do it, but by now, he was a pro at getting inside any window even while drunk. He felt a little bad having to sneak around like this, but he didn’t want to wake Jiang Yanli in the middle of the night. At the same time, he didn’t want her to have to give him another scolding for camping out on a park bench somewhere because he missed the last bus home. So sneaking in and borrowing Jin Zixuan’s overpriced sofa for the night it was. It wasn’t like he cared about Jin Zixuan’s inevitable whining, after all.

He fumbled around in the dark for a moment, trying to orient himself. But strangely enough, he didn’t encounter furniture where he expected it to be. Was he that drunk, or had they recently redecorated the living room without telling him? Was this some kind of mischievous plan concocted by Jin Zixuan? The ridiculously giant flatscreen TV was gone, in any case. He wouldn’t even be able to binge on some mindless late-night TV show before he inevitably conked out. Instead, there was… a cage?

Curious, he got closer to the cage to inspect this new addition to the living room. It was, in fact, a large animal cage! And as he watched, there was a movement in the little hutch at the end of the cage. A moment later, a rabbit poked its little nose out, wiggling it curiously.

“Heyyyyyy, babyyy,” Wei Ying cooed. “What a cutie you are! I never knew Dajie liked rabbits.”

The rabbit, maybe hoping for a snack, cautiously hopped out of the hutch. In the darkness, he looked kind of greyish, but in daylight, he must be a pretty white.

“Aw, you are so pretty! Come here, little beauty! Is it fine if I pet you?”

With clumsy fingers, he worked to undo the latch of the cage door. Disturbed by the noise, a second rabbit hopped out of the hutch. This one was black.

“Aw, another one! Come to papa,” Wei Ying coaxed, stretching his hand through the cage door.

The white rabbit came to him easily. Wei Ying lifted him out of the cage and carefully set it onto his lap. Then he picked up the black one, lifting it to his face.

“Such good children,” he cooed. “So well-behaved. You deserve some cuddles.”

He pressed a quick kiss onto the little black rabbit’s forehead.

Wei Ying was starting to feel really tired, and sitting upright seemed like too much of a chore after sneaking through the window. So he lay down onto the carpet on the floor, and then placed the two rabbits onto his chest, where they would be comfortable and where he could pet them.

They really were very good children, not scrabbling around but sitting on Wei Ying’s chest peacefully, content with Wei Ying softly ruffling their incredibly soft fur.

“I wonder if the peacock did something dumb and bought you as an apology,” Wei Ying mused. “It would be so much better if Dajie just kicked him out. She can keep you two, though. I think I like you. You are very soft. I like soft things.”

One of the rabbits hopped forward and managed to somehow cram itself under Wei Ying’s chin, as if snuggling up to him. The rabbit was so soft, and it was such a sweet gesture that Wei Ying nearly cried.

“I think I need some rabbits, too,” he said, blinking tears out of his eyes. “And if you’re behaving badly, I can always make rabbit stew.”

The next moment, the light in the living room suddenly turned on, and Wei Ying was momentarily blinded by the sudden glare of the light.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“What the hell!” Wei Ying groaned, trying to shield himself from the stabbing pain of the bright light. “That hurts!”

The next thing he knew, the two rabbits were removed from his chest.

“Noo!” Wei Ying whined. “We just became friends! The cruelty!”

But no mercy awaited him. Instead, once his vision cleared, he found a perfect stranger staring down at him, the two rabbits safely cradled in his arms.

“What do you think you are doing?” the stranger asked again.

“What the fuck are you doing in Dajie’s house?” Wei Ying shot back, a little hysterical. He’d never seen this man before in his life. What was he doing in his precious sister’s house?

“This is my house!” the stranger exclaimed.

That gave Wei Ying pause. With blurry eyes, he looked around. The general architecture of the house seemed to be quite similar to the one Jiang Yanli shared with the peacock, but the furniture most definitely wasn’t. The furniture here was all elegant dark wood with white and blue accents, absolutely nothing that Jin Zixuan would ever want in his gaudy house.

This was also the point where Wei Ying remembered that his sister lived on a street with several houses that were built around the same time and looked remarkably similar to each other, and uh. His orientation might not work best when he was inebriated?

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groaned. “This is not Dajie’s house. Shit, she’s going to kill me. I’m just going to show myself out. And maybe drown myself in the next body of water. I promise I wasn’t trying to rob you or anything.”

He struggled to his feet, trying to find his footing. Somehow, the movement made him feel a little dizzy, and before he knew it, he’d grasped the stranger’s arm to steady himself.

That brought him eye to eye with the rabbits again.

“Awww babies, I’m so sooorry,” he cooed to them. “We only just met and it’s already goodbye. Be good children for your papa, okay?”

He leaned forward and gave both of them a little smooch.

As he straightened up, he came face to face with the stranger. And what a handsome stranger it was! Such pretty, dark eyes, and such elegant eyebrows! And that mouth! So kissable! Did he know that his mouth was very kissable?

“Do you know you’re really, really handsome?” Wei Ying asked the stranger. “Like, so handsome. Kissable handsome. Oh! Do you also want a kiss? I would totally kiss you. Ah, but I’m a man. Maybe you don’t like getting kisses from men. What a waste though. I would totally kiss you. And do wicked, wicked things with you. Well, not that I’ve ever done wicked things with anyone. I would make an exception for you, though! Too handsome not to be kissed.”

The handsome stranger was not at all impressed, apparently. Without comment, he untangled himself from Wei Ying and went over to the rabbit cage, placing the rabbits back inside the cage. He didn’t close the latch before giving both of them a quick petting.

It was very sweet, Wei Ying thought. He also wanted someone to put him to bet with a little bit of gentle petting.

“I’m, uh,” he stuttered, “just going to show myself out, I guess.”

But before he could return to the window he had snuck in from, the stranger had taken a hold of him and was pushing him down the hallway.

“Oh,” Wei Ying said as the stranger opened a door that clearly led to a bedroom. “Is this some kind of kinky porn situation? ‘Please, don’t call the cops, I’ll do whatever you want!’ Am I doing it right?”

The stranger did not comment, but placed him on the bed and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he handed Wei Ying a pair of pyjamas.

“Good night,” the handsome stranger said. “Do not disturb the rabbits again.”

And then he was left alone.

Wei Ying considered a window escape for a short moment, but he was already sitting on a very comfy bed, he was tired, and it was cold outside. Inertia was already claiming him. With a shrug of his shoulders, he wriggled out of his own clothing and clumsily slipped into the (very comfortable) pyjamas. By the time his head hit the pillow, his eyes were already closed.

---

Wei Ying woke up in an unfamiliar room.

He panicked for a moment. Fuck, where was he?

But then his mind was generous enough to remind him of his little criminal break-in last night, and he shot out of bed in a panic, scrambling to slip into his clothes. He had broken into a stranger’s house! And played with said stranger’s rabbits in a dark living room!

Okay, the rabbits had been very cute.

But still!

He left the bedroom, hurried down the hallway and burst into the living room without ceremony.

There was the same stranger from last night, Wei Ying saw with relief, his precious little rabbits settled in his lap as he was feeding them some leafy greens.

“I am so sorry!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “I totally broke into your house last night. And you even let me sleep here! I guess I really have to thank you for not calling the cops on me.”

“Hn,” the strangers replied, and gave another green leaf to the black rabbit.

“I’m Wei Ying, by the way,” Wei Ying said awkwardly. “In case you want a name. For the police. Or, uh.”

The stranger finally deigned to look up from the rabbits in his lap, and look at Wei Ying properly.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, and then he turned back to his rabbits.

A pretty name for a handsome man. It seemed unfair somehow.

Wei Ying stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, unsure of what he was supposed to do now. But the rabbits were right there, adorably munching on their leaves. Wei Ying inched a little closer, hoping against hope that he would manage to get another cuddle in before he was kicked out of the house.

Lan Zhan looked up when he saw Wei Ying approach, but turned his attention back to the rabbits without comment, so Wei Ying chose to interpret this as permission.

Once he had come close enough, Lan Zhan lifted the black rabbit and held it out for Wei Ying to hold.

“This is Ying,” Lan Zhan explained. Then he pointed at the white rabbit still in his lap. “This is Guang.”

Wei Ying laughed. “Guangying. I see. You are terrible at naming things.”

Lan Zhan sent him a flat look that clearly spelled people who drunkenly break into other people’s homes have no room to complain.

“Sorry,” Wei Ying laughed. He cradled Ying to his chest and cooed at him. “A-Ying is a good child, despite the terrible name. Ah, you are so cute, I want to eat you.”

Lan Zhan sent him a stern glare that made Wei Ying laugh again.

“No eating the rabbits, I see,” he hummed as he bumped noses with Ying. “Just a lot of kisses and love.”

“You promised me one too.”

“What?”

Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan in confusion, but Lan Zhan was still feeding Guang, not looking at Wei Ying.

“You said I’m too handsome not to be kissed.”

Wei Ying blushed deeply and hid behind little Ying. “Oh my god, don’t listen to my drunk babbling! I can’t believe that after I broke into your house, I also harassed you.”

“So, not handsome enough to be kissed?”

“What?”

He peeked out behind Ying and found Lan Zhan gazing at him with a peculiar look in his eyes. When Lan Zhan was sure he had Wei Ying’s attention, he lifted his finger to his lips and tapped them twice.

Wei Ying burned. There was no way he could possibly–

He strode forwards to deposit little Ying safely back into Lan Zhan’s lap. But before Wei Ying could draw back and flee to safety himself, Lan Zhan had taken hold of his arm and drawn him in.

Their lips brushed gently, and when Lan Zhan released him, there was a smile on his face.

“Payment,” he said with evident satisfaction. “Go to your sister. She must be worried.”

And Wei Ying, still blushing furiously, could do nothing but flee. This time, out of the front door and not the window.

What a payment, he thought as he hurried along the path in front of the house. Stealing someone’s first kiss like that. How could he take the words of a drunken man seriously!

He turned a corner and watched the house disappear. Never again was he getting lost in this street!

…but maybe he might want to break in again. Just for the rabbits. To make sure Lan Zhan was treating them right.

---

* Ying as in 影 yǐng, not 婴 yīng.

* Guang as in 光, the same character as Hanguang-jun. :3

* So it’s…. light and shadow, basically. Hahaha.

#kuro answers #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #prompts #enter21

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machi-kun · 4 years

Note

For the writing prompts, 48 ‘meeting again at the high school reunion’ :D

👀👀👀👀👀

****

“That’s Steve Rogers.” Tony gasps. “It can’t be. It - That’s Steve Rogers. Oh, my God!”

“Oh, my God.” Pepper says, long-suffering.

“Did you know about this?!”

“Yes, Tony, I keep tabs on every single one of our former classmates - of course not, why would I know this?”

“He’s tall!” Tony exclaims, maybe a little too hysterically, because a few heads turn in his direction, shooting him confused and worried looks. “He used to be shorter than me! And he was skinny, he had asthma, he - what happened to him?!”

Because something must have happened! Something, because people don’t just grow like that out of nowhere! Not that it hasn’t been years, because it has, but Tony thinks has the right to be shocked; He is not one for wet sciences and genetics, but he can’t imagine how much can he assign Steve Roger’s utter and complete transformation to “grow spurt” and not straight up “scientific experiment gone incredibly out of hand”, because that shouldn’t be possible.

Steve used to go up to Tony’s shoulder - look at him now! What the hell.

“Can you calm down for a second, it’s not a big deal.” Rhodey says unimpressed.

“How can it be not a big deal-”

“It really isn’t.” Rhodey insists, sounding maddeningly bored. “People get grow spurts all the time, just because you didn’t doesn’t mean other people can’t either.”

Tony sputters, wildly offended.

“And it’s not like he’s all that different. You can still definitely tell it’s him.” Rhodey muses, taking one long, considering glance at tall, built like a goddamned tank Steve Rogers, and he dares to snort a laugh at the sight of Tony’s utter bafflement. “And don’t act like you didn’t have the most ridiculous crush on him when he was small, because you did, and everyone knew. This is nothing new for you.”

“Not everyone.” Tony rebuffs, which is stupid, because what he meant to say is that he didn’t, he didn’t have a crush on tiny Steve Rogers, except maybe he kinda did, okay, and who is Rhodey to make fun of him for it, when he had a crush on Wilson for an entire year?

“Wow.” Pepper says, blinking slowly, halfway through a laugh. “That was very convincing, I am very impressed.”

“Actually - you know what, I will not stand here and have all these lies about me - I am leaving you both here.”

“Go talk to Steve, then.” Rhodey dares.

“Fine!” Tony says, huffing. “I will!”

He takes two steps forward - and stops.

“I-”

“Tony.” Pepper threatens before he can even turn. “Go.”

Alright. He can do this.

It’s just Steve Rogers. No big deal.

Christ, it’s Steve Rogers.

It should not be a big deal, but it kind of is. It is for Tony, at least. Okay, maybe Rhodey is right and Tony did have a bit of a crush on Steve back then, but - how could he not? Okay? Tony’s pretty sure half the class had been kinda in love with the guy, even if Steve used to be, and Tony’s quoting here, “like that” and “no one wanted to go out with him”. Which was, for starters, not true, because Tony would have definitely gone out with Steve if Steve had asked, and two - Tony knows for a fact that Steve and Sharon dated for a couple of months just after their graduation and Steve had definitely still been tiny when that happened, because they still talked back then.

Tony missed him, when he moved to the West Coast. He didn’t want to stop talking to Steve, it just happened. Steve had always been amazing. And gorgeous. And Tony liked him, a lot. Of course he missed him.

Tony just... He never told him that, because how could he? How could he tell Steve that and not completely give himself away, with that ridiculous crush of his?

But he’s an adult now. He can handle Steve Rogers, as pretty and incredible and freakishly built he might be. He’s fine. He’s got this.

“Steve Rogers!” Tony bellows, with practiced ease and smugness, gesturing to Steve with unabashed appreciation. “Look at our leader, ladies and gentlemen!”

Steve turns to face Tony and - oh.

Oh, Tony doesn’t have this. At all. Nope.

“Tony.” Steve says, and his voice is deeper now, Tony feels like he’s going to combust. “God, it’s so good to see you!”

Tony has to look up to face him now - his absurdly blue eyes, his cheekbones, his lips - oh, Christ, Tony might still be a little bit in love with Steve Rogers.

“Great to see you too.” Tony pats him on the shoulder - all muscle, just like the rest of him now - and pretends he’s not shaking. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” Steve smiles, and steps back so he can make room for Tony to step forward, and only then Tony realizes that the other people present, meaning the people he just rudely and loudly interrupted in favor of his flawless act of totally not being affected by the sight of Steve, are Wilson and Sharon.

“Tony, hey.” Sharon greets him kindly, and Wilson surprisingly also cracks a smile and raises his drink in a welcoming gesture.

“The whole class rep team together!” Tony exclaims, a little delighted, a little fucking terrified. “Where is our resident troublemaker, then?”

“Standing right next to you?” Sharon laughs, and pays Steve no mind when he shoots her a very unimpressed glare. “C’mon, Steve, we all know between you and Barnes, you are definitely worse.”

“Yeah. And hey, you know just because we ain’t kids anymore doesn’t mean Barnes can’t kick your ass, right, Stark? In fact, he might kick your ass harder, so you watch out for that.” Wilson jokes, his expression full of amusement.

“Barnes loves me too much.” Tony says, and Wilson full-on snorts, the sound echoing in his cup as he takes a sip. “What? He does. We all know that his problem with me was because he secretly loved me and totally not because I broke his arm on PE once.”

“Was it now?” Steve teases, and Tony has to lock all his muscles like they’re made of stone to prevent himself from shivering.

“Sure it was. You should know, Rogers.”

“Yeah.” Wilson laughs, half-hiding his shit-eating grin on his cup. “You should know.”

“You shut up.” Steve says, and when Wilson and Sharon laugh, his ears go adorably pink. “Why don’t you go talk to Rhodes?”

“Oh, yes, please do.” Tony exclaims, jittery with joy at the idea of making Rhodey’s life just a little bit harder. If he can poke fun at Tony, Tony is definitely allowed to poke back. “He’s gonna love seeing you, Wilson. Tell him I sent you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you just tryin’ to get Steve alone, you ain’t subtle.” Wilson jabs, but before Tony can even process the words fully, let alone react to them, Wilson claps a hand on his back and steps out, supposedly, to find Rhodey. “Good seeing you, man.”

And he just leaves. Worse, Sharon leaves too, with a nod and an all-too-knowing look in her eyes, and then, Tony is suddenly left alone with Steve goddamn Rogers, who Tony may or may not still have a ridiculous crush on!

“So.” Tony exhales, harshly. “No Barnes?”

Steve looks at him like he’s amused, smirking at a private joke. “Jerk’s late. I set him an alarm and everything, but you know how he is.”

“I do? I guess I have vague memories of our glorious highschool days but clearly, I missed something.” Tony jokes, trying to be suave, but Steve is smiling like the way he used to smile when Tony fumbled with his words, when Steve made him flustered; and it’s making him flustered all over again like Tony is still fifteen and very very charmed by the tiny class president. “Because I don’t remember you being...”

“This size?” Steve gestures to himself, and Tony is a weak man, because he can’t refuse the excuse to look.

“Guess you could say that.” Tony teases. “I didn’t know art school could do that to you. I would almost guess you joined the army.”

“You knew I went to art school?” Steve asks, delighted, and - shit.

“You always talked about it, when we were younger. And I knew you could do it.” And because Tony’s mouth doesn’t know how to stay shut, he accidentally says, “And I’ve seen a show you did once. A gallery, I mean, an exhibition. The one in Boston?”

“The one for my family.” Steve clarifies, eyes going all gentle and fond.

“Yeah, that one.” Tony clears his throat. “Sarah must have been really proud. How is she, by the way?”

“The same as always. Nothing can stop her from kicking my ass when I need it.” Steve admits, a little embarrassed, and Tony can’t help but give a hearty laugh because yeah, that’s the Sarah Rogers he remembers, and suddenly, he’s overcome with nostalgia for the afternoons he spent at the Rogers’ place, feeling far more comfortable than anywhere else in the world.

“God, I miss Sarah.” Tony confesses.

Steve pauses, and he looks at Tony with such an intense gaze Tony can’t look away. “And she misses you. We still talk about you sometimes.”

Tony blinks. “You do?”

“Tony.” Steve tilts his head, playfully, like he can’t believe Tony’s surprise. “Ma practically adopted you the moment you stepped a foot inside her house. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have trapped you there and never let you leave.”

“Well, for Sarah Rogers, I wouldn’t have minded that.”

“Neither would I.” Steve says, to Tony’s complete shock, and his face blooms ina flush of heat, mortifyingly. “But I had enough problems on my plate without Jarvis breathing down my neck.”

“Jarvis loves you, he always did.” Tony complains, childishly, in reflex. “I was the one always getting a speech when it was you who was always getting into fights and getting us both bruised!”

“You didn’t have to fight with me.”

“I definitely did.”

“You should come over, sometime.” Steve offers, suddenly, talking fast, as if he’s trying to get the words out all at once. “See Ma again. She would love that.”

“I-” Tony chokes. “Are you sure?”

“Tony. I really missed you. We both did.” Steve gulps down hard, his jaw working almost hypnotically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep in touch.”

Tony shakes his head frantically. “That wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine. It just - a lot of things happened, and-”

“We both had a rough time.” Steve interrupts, gently, and Tony gives him a silent nod. “I know it. But I think we both could use a win now, couldn’t we?”

Tony pauses. “Is taking me home to meet your mom a win, Rogers?”, he says, feeling daring.

“Definitely.” Steve says, coy, and slowly, he looks Tony up and down, all of him, as if he’s drinking in the sight, and that look, in Steve’s blue, sharp eyes, make Tony tremble where he stands. “And this time, I might not let you leave either.”

What happened to Steve Rogers! Tony wants to scream, mind going a hundred miles an hour, hysterical. I don’t know how to handle this!

“We can do that.” he says instead, nonsensical, short on breath.

“Alright.” Steve says, satisfied. “Give me your number.”

“What?”

“Your number.” He smiles. “I’m not giving you the chance to second guess this, Tony. I know you. I’m calling you, and we’ll go out sometime. Does that sound ok?”

“Sounds awesome.” Tony admits, just a little winded. “I’d love that.”

“Good.” Steve puffs his chest out, just a little, like he’s proud of himself, and when Tony finally gets out a business card from his wallet and awkwardly writes his personal number on the back, it takes all his strength not to react to the brush of Steve’s cold fingers against his when he grabs the paper.

Steve stares at the number like Tony has just given him the greatest of gifts.

And when he looks up at Tony and the sentiment in his eyes does not fade, Tony can’t do anything but exhale slowly, deeply, a ridiculously infatuated sigh.

“It’s great seeing you, Steve.” He says.

“You too.” Steve echoes, just as fond. “Can I call you tonight?”

Fuck.

“Yes.”

“Then I will.” He smiles.

Crap.

Tony definitely still is a little bit in love with Steve Rogers.

#stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #ask #anon #machi writes #Anonymous #its time for another round of machi sneaks in their other ships into the stevetony fic #this time is samrhodey and staron

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fanfic-mind · 3 years

Text

Blood on my hands (all that i've gained and all that i've lost)

pairing: merthur

warnings: non

status: fanfic draft, Part 1/? (~ 2300)

It’s yet again an hour of need for Camelot. But the weapon they need to safe kingdom and people comes with a price. Only those who prove that they are powerful and wicked can receive it. The knights of Camelot don’t have enough evil deeds to be worthy of the sword. They think everything is lost - until Merlin speaks up...

A magic reveal story in which Merlin makes good use of being a morally grey character. Because, yea, Merlin-is-the-victim-reveals are swell and all but he is capable of making his own decisions and some of them are pretty shady. There is still a good amount of Uther bashing included.

Somehow they get into a situation that requires someone with blood on their hands - figuratively (otherwise it wouldn't be a problem because seeing how often Arthur and Merlin and also Gwaine get wounded by just existing they probably wouldn't even have to injure anyone)

Maybe a god of the Old Religion guards a weapon they need to kill the magic beast of the week or to destroy a cursed item.

In any case: they are really desperate. People are dying and this is their last hope, their last resort.

To their misfortune, this weapon is guarded by a very cunning and wicked god and they will only give their weapon to someone who has the power and the will to use it for evil deeds

There is a test that must be passed by the one who wants to receive the weapon. They must prove that they did enough evil deeds to be worthy of it.

Arthur quickly fails his test because despite some wrongs he's done he is way too just and noble to be wicked

The only knight that seems to get at least a few moments more of consideration is Leon who has done some terrible things - however under Uther's orders which isn't quite powerful enough

"Ahh, Uther Pendragon," the god muses, "Him i would have given the weapon. Such rage and blind hatred and, oh yes, so much blood."

Arthur grits his teeth and sets his jar. he wonders if his father would be disappointed in him for not living up to this legacy of his. he wonders - not for the first time - why he wanted to be like his father once and how he managed to end up being so different.

The knights discuss their strategy. non of them is wicked enough to pass the test. they have wicked people in Camelot's dungeons. But Camelot is three day rides off and their quest is really urgent.

They could separate and seek for wicked folk, but the chances seem slim and the risk of them keeping the weapon as they receive it seems too big

People are dying and they need to do something now.

"there must be another way to destroy it," Lancelot suggests, though they've been over this. His eyes stray to Merlin, but Merlin seems caught up in thought.

If there was an easier way to do this, Merlin and Gaius would have come up with it by now. asking the god had been their idea in the first place.

"What if there isn't?" Gwaine argues heatedly. "We can't have waisted six days for nothing. This is probably our last chance."

"so what do you suggest?" Lancelot interrupts somewhat irritated. They temperaments are heated at this point. And suddenly knowing each other’s worst deeds doesn’t exactly lighten the mood. "All of us failed the test. i wouldn't have thought that I'd ever be angry about being found too good and noble."

Gwaine shrugs with a grimace. He hadn't thought that he'd ever be deemed good and noble in the first place.

"maybe there's a way out of that," Arthur says. He hasn’t spoken in a while and all heads turn towards him.

"what do you mean, Sire?" Leon asks, looking uneasy as if he already knows and doesn't like it.

"If you're not noble enough, you proof your nobility by doing good deeds," Arthur starts matter of fact. "so, logically, if I'm not wicked enough, i prove my wickedness by doing an evil deed."

The god smiles a toothy smile.

"To murder just anyone obviously isn't evil enough" Arthur says, looking at the god with disgust. "so it must be somthing worse. murdering a friend, for example."

"My king, with all due respect, this is madness," Leon say carefully.

"sir Leon, that's the point." Arthur says sourly.

"is that really it?" Gwaine shouts at the god who watches his outburst unimpressed. "You want us to slaughter each other?"

the god laughs, distant and hollow and the earth seems to vibrate with it. "The weapon can only be taken by those of power who are wicked and cunning enough to wield it." the god repeats his earlier words.

"So there's not even a guarantee," Gwaine says, throwing up his arms. "Arthur, let's just leave and see if we can find something else."

"there is nothing else, Gwaine, you said so yourself!" Arthur returns. His expression is incredibly pained but determined in a way that makes them all shudder. Leon, Percival and Lancelot unconsciously get into fighting stance.

Gwaine takes a few steps to put himself between the king and Merlin who is the most vulnerable

Arthur nods to himself, seemingly coming to a decision in his head. Tehn he draws his sword . "If either of you kills me while i try to kill you, that might be enough too" he muses

They all stare at him in horror, unable to believe that he will go through with this.

"My people are dying," Arthur says, his tone pleading, "if i have to sacrifice my good conscience to help them - well, it is a price i must be willing to pay. I'm sorry. But all of you swore to protect Camelot at all costs too."

Arthur halts for am moment then nods grimly. "Don't try to sacrifice yourself. I'm sure that's not what he's looking for" Arthur nods towards the stony god who smiles.

"you can't be serious" Mordred whispers.

"I'm afraid i am. Now, it's been an honour. truely. and i hope - i hope I'll still have your respect afterwards. Though, i can understand if you can't trust me again."

"that's enough."

They all turn around. Partly, because they had forgotten about Merlin who has been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. and partly because they have rarely heard this sort of tone from him. harsh and demanding. a voice more fit for a king than his manservant.

They stare at him and he makes short eye contact with Arthur before he steps forward, in front of the statue that the god is using as a vessel.

"test me." Merlin says. his voice is determined and his shoulders are set.

Arthur let's out a short laugh, because clearly this is absurd, right? Merlin is the best and kindest of all of them. Actually, coming to think of it, if he's really honest, Merlin probably is the reason Arthur is not like his father. Merlin makes him better. Merlin makes him want to be better.

A few of the knights share his sentiments, laughing slightly hysterical with tension but still perplexed over this development.

Only Lancelot steps forward with a frown as if to pull him back, but merlin raises a hand without looking at him and he stops in his tracks.

Arthur who was about to say something stops too.

The god looks more alive than before he seems to stretch himself to his full height as if he has waited for this

"welcome" he starts as he has with all of them. "young warlock, tell me your deeds."

lancelot tenses, casting a worried glance back at the king who stands there, sword still drawn, eyes fixed in Merlin as if he doesn't understand any of this

Lancelot doesn't either. Even if Merlin is a sorcerer - what evil deeds can he possibly have done? Saving Arthur's life over and over without ever seeking credit doesn't have a ring of evil to him.

"I am Merlin, and they call my Emrys." Merlin starts.

Some of the Knights gasp. Emrys is a name they know by now.

Lancelot wonders whether Merlin considers his identity an evil deed in itself. The possibility breaks his heart a bit.

"I was born with magic. I am the most powerful sorcerer there is."

Merlin takes a deep breath.

"i lied to all my friends. I let them think they can trust me, that they know me. But they never will. I could kill them just by looking at them. I am magic and i killed many behind friends backs and before their eyes, but never revealed myself to them"

"I am a slayer of my own people," he continues, his voice hard, "I killed many creatures and men of magic to protect their murderers - the king and his son. I did it out of self-righteousness and out of selfishness because...” for a moment, Merlin halts, but then he continuous with the same hard tone as before, as if something is forced out of him, but he wants to stand for it.

“I loved Arthur more than my own people. i let many of them die even though i could have helped them if i had revealed myself. But i couldn't bear the thought to be separated from him so i stayed quiet and watched them burn."

The god nods Merlin on. They all stand in shock. They know from before that Merlin won't be able to stop telling his deeds before the god thinks he is done.

"I killed the witch Nimueh even though she told me i have to pay with a life to save Arthur's. Instead of giving my life as i promised, i killed her."

"I killed Mary Collins, Afanc, Aulfric, Sophia, Cornelius Sigan, Myror and many more. "

Merlin's voice falters a bit, but he seems to pull himself together visibly, because his voice is clearer again when he keeps speaking.

"My betrayal to my people is so great, my wickedness so deep, i considered to kill a child on the mere possibility that he could threaten what was mine in the future."

Mordred makes a quiet stricken noise.

No one dares take their eyes off Merlin, but Merlin himself turns his head slowly.

There is a gasp of horror when they all see that his eyes are glowing yellow with magic.

Up until now, no one except Mordred and Lancelot had truly believed it.

"I tried to kill Mordred when he was a child and i wish his death even now though he is kind and serves Arthur."

Lancelot looks at Merlin with complete bewilderment as Mordred sobs.

Merlin doesn't answer Lancelot's gaze, he just turns around again.

They can hear him take in another breath and it sounds more halting than before.

"I knew that my friend had magic and i saw her turmoil and her fear of being killed. of being burned by her own kin like all of the others. but instead of helping her, i left her in the dark. I told her to trust me - she trusted my - and then i poisoned her."

Merlin stops for a moment, his voice sounds rough as if speaking becomes quickly more difficult.

"I gave Morgana poison in full intend and watched her as she died and i regretted when she was healed."

"Only i had the power and knowledge to save her, but i turned my head from her suffering, i killed her when she didn't know better than to turn to her sister, it was me that made her what she is today."

There is another short pause. Lancelot is desperate to see Merlin's face. To demand how this all really went. Because though he knows that Merlin is bound to say the truth by the power of the god, he still thinks there must be a mistake or a trick. This is not Merlin. Merlin would never...would he?

"I conspired with and freed the dragon that attacked Camelot which led to the death of many innocent people. I attempted to kill Arthur on multiple occasions."

Lancelot frowns. This one he knows to be untrue. Merlin didn't want to kill Arthur. it was Morgana's doing that he went after him.

"i saved Uther Pendragon's life - more than once. I let him live even though he slaughtered my people. I saved his life even though i didn't have to. I never killed him even though i had many opportunities."

Merlin pauses then, looking up at the god.

"Do i really need to go on?" he asks and it sounds almost indifferent. except they know Merlin and they know how his face looks when he sounds this way.

The god leans their head to one side slowly. the stone his vessel is made of groans.

"You are worthy, young warlock. More than you know. Into your hands i command my sword."

Suddenly, there is noise and light and they cover their eyes, everyone except for Merlin and Mordred.

They can't be sure but they think they can hear Merlin's voice through it all, speaking a foreign tongue. Then, it's over.

When the air clears, Merlin stands alone, the stone vessel of the god has crumbled to pieces, a big sword in his hand. For just a moment, when he turns around to face them, he looks nothing like Merlin at all. His eyes are golden, and his face is grim, lips pressed into a thin line. His posture is straight and majestic and he holds the sword like a warrior. His appearance strikes them with fear. He looks like power incarnate.

The others notice from the corners of their eyes that Mordred kneels before him. and even as they are completely bewildered, they have an urge to do the same.

The next moment though, it's all gone, and Merlin looks like he's never handled a sword before. His eyes are blue and his cheeks messy with dust and tears. He sinks to his knees and the weapon falls from his hands - is pushed from his fingers as if through magic, landing on the ground with a strange sound.

Merlin looks after the sword with disgust clear on his face. Then he looks up and suddenly he looks afraid.

To be continued

#merthur #magic reveal #merlin fanfic #merlin x arthur #merlin

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pinkprimrose05 · 3 years

Text

GX Month Day 7: Ojama Delta Thunder!!

@gxmonth

"That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!"

...I'm not giving Manjoume a hug. I...*cackles evilly* am gonna make him suffer as much as the actual Duel Links players do, maybe even more. And I'm not the least bit sorry, because hey, he gets something out of it in the end!

Manjoume Jun was not having a good day.

The Ojama Duelist grumbled to himself, kicking a non-existent pebble into the air as he made his way to the Duel Studio. The picturesque environment of Duel Links -too clean, too perfect- never ceased to amaze him and many others, but right now, he was too damn pissed to care about that.

After all, it's hard for one to appreciate the technology behind a game's setting when that same technology had just fucked up their entire collection of cards- And in the middle of a Duel no less!

The door slid open as he walked through, revealing rows upon rows of multicolored tables placed on either side of the massive ground floor that was the Deck Editor section, leaving a clear path to the spiraling staircase of clear blue glass that led to the Card Catalog and several other, more obscure sections. After all, the Deck Editor was the single most popular part of the Duel Studio, if the couple dozen Duelists buzzing around all day long were anything to go by.

Manjoume plopped down on a chair at the first empty table he could find, fishing out the single Deck box in his pocket and dropping it on the yellow, round surface. The twenty cards inside the box spilled out over the table (he had hundreds of those for fuck's sake!), and their owner groaned in frustration as he rifled through his completely reset Deck....Scratch that, it wasn't even his own Starter Deck. Battle Warrior? Flame Manipulator? What the hell?!

Briefly, he considered the benefits of marching up to Isono and demanding an explanation and solution to what happened, but that idea was shot down almost immediately. It's not like the guy would be of actual help; the last time someone asked about a bug in the game Isono had literally told them, quote unquote "Please ensure that no other house utilites are interrupting your connection, such as a microwave oven.", and while Manjoume was no tech expert, even he could tell how much of a half-assed excuse that was.

Stupid Duel Links and its stupid customer service-

"Manjo-kuuuuuuun!!"

Startled out of his thoughts, Manjoume only had enough time to gasp before a familiar blue blur put him in an unexpectedly tight headlock, already rambling at rapidfire speed straight in his ears.

"I'm so glad I could find you today!!" Kylie squealed "Had no idea I'd see you here, but that doesn't matter- do you wanna Duel?? I've been working on a new Deck and combos for days now and I can't wait to show you-" the second-year abruptly paused when she caught sight of the cards spread on the table, letting go of Manjoume in favor of taking a better look at them "Waaiiiit a minute, what's with those cards? They don't look like anything you normally play-"

"-It's Manjoume-san." He sharply interjected in a mix of annoyance and exasperation, shooting a glare at the oblivious blunette standing next to him as he massaged his neck "And yes, those aren't my cards. The game just randomly decided to reset my connection in the middle of a Rank-Up Duel of all things, yeet off all my Decks into nonexistence, and then gave me a shitty Starter in exchange, so now I'm stuck with almost zero gems and no way to recover my progress, which is just fucking splendid considering how close we are to the next KC Cup."

Manjoume sighed "Fuck this. Just, fuck this."

Truthfully, he wasn't as mad about the progress he lost as he was about losing his cards. It hadn't even been thirty minutes and, while he'd never admit it out loud, he already missed his trio of obnoxious Ojamas. They've been through thick and thin together, and it felt unnatural to have them just up and disappear like that. The last time they've been away from him wasn't exactly something he wanted to remember, and while the situation here was nowhere as severe as the Dark World, it still felt wrong for the air around him to be so quiet.

Kylie, who was uncharacteristically quiet as she listened to her 'friend' ranting about his current predicament, nodded along "So you...basically got your account reset?"

"No shit, Sherlock." Manjoume deadpanned in response. Kylie put a hand to her chin, humming thoughtfully with closed eyes, before suddenly slamming a hand on the table and nearly shocking him into falling off his chair.

"I GOT IT!" She exclaimed, snapping her fingers with a bright grin "This reset bug happened once to someone I know- I don't know if you remember Ruby from Heartland Academy, but anyway, she also lost all her progress a couple months ago after she got booted out of a Duel, and it turned out that her cards were just scattered all around the Duel World, so we went around asking everyone we could if they saw them, Dueled those who had some, and we got all her cards back in the end. It must be the same with yours, so let's get going and find them all!!"

Without warning, she grabbed the Legendary Duelists's hand, hauling him up and out of the Deck Editor before he could even get out a word. Manjoume gasped and spluttered along the way, trying to tell his companion to slow down a bit to no avail; as talking someone like Kylie out of anything was like trying to build a Deck around Cold Feet.

That didn't stop him from actually looking around and asking, though. If there was even the slightest chance of him finding his cards this way, then he'd be damned if he didn't at least try and go through with it. Compared to staking it out at the North Pole for a barely synergic mishmash of a Deck, to going down a haunted well in an empty forest for a bunch of 0-ATK monsters that were -figuratively and literally- bottom of the barrel, Dueling a couple chumps and scavenging for some lost cards was nothing, and he was ready to do so much more to get his partners back.

"See? I told you Aniki would come find us in the end!"

...I take back everything I said, Manjoume thought, cringing in disgust as Ojama Green and Black hugged each other and began prancing around him in circles, babbling and crying tears of joy while they were at it How could I ever miss this shitfest?

He just did, somehow. It hadn't taken too long to find the two Ojamas anyway; the sound of them banshee screeching weeping their asses off by the fountain was all he needed to know they were somewhere out there, and by some lucky miracle, their cards didn't get sprayed to oblivion with all the water by the time he came to retrieve them. As for his other cards, he and Kylie had stopped by the Shop, the Card Trader, the PvP Arena, the Gate and the Duel School, asking everyone they could about his cards, and beating the shit out of those who had some and refused to give them back

(Well, Manjoume was the one who did that, and only to Evan and Zachary, but that wasn't the point here, was it?)

By the time they decided to return to the Duel Studio for a small break, they'd gathered practically all of his key cards. He couldn't care less for the bunch of staples he lost -he'd just reroll the Selection Box or whatever-, so the only missing card that actually mattered, as much as it stung his ego to admit it...

...was Ojama Yellow. And after what happened with his brothers (and with Fairy Dragon, which he found resting on top of a very inconveniently high branch of a tree), Manjoume fully expected the third Ojama to be sleeping in the trash can or somewhere equally stupid. Because if he wasn't, he'd have found him before any other card by simply following the sound of high-pitched crying mixed with a lot of screaming and weird Ojama noises-

-A sudden rattling sound interrupted the noiret's thoughts for the second time that day, and when he stopped to locate its source, he let out a long, drawn-out sound between a sigh and a groan. Surely enough, the sound was coming from the trash can by the cliff, which was shaking wildly and practically begging to be opemed. Feeling a migraine coming up, Manjoume turned left, walked up to the can, and with some difficulty, pried the lid off.

"ANIKIIIII!!"

He instantly regretted it (he didn't) when the snot-faced creature that was Ojama Yellow exploded in his face, crying uncontrollably as he tried to hug Manjoume (keyword being 'tried'). His brothers all but sprang up from their cards, meeting him in a hug midair and effectively plucking him off his master for a bit as they all laughed and cried and did everything in between.

"Aww, look at how happy they are!" Kylie gushed, eyes almost sparkling. She lightly smacked Manjoume's back "You sure have a funny bunch of spirits, luckyyyy~"

Swatting away the Ojama trio and a pair of Catnipped Kitties before they tried sneaking up on him for a hug, Manjoume folded his arms and snorted in response "Yeah, sure."

But regardless, he found his lips quirking up in spite of himself. If it were me from three years ago, he mused I wouldn't have bothered with any of this in the first place.

But this wasn't the him from three years ago. This was the him of today, the Manjoume Thunder who'd gone through so much shit and learned from it to become a better Duelist, a better Duelist, and a better person. And while he had many people to thank for that, he also had to give credit for the monster spirits that followed him through all of the aforementioned shit, because as cringy, messy, bombastic and obnoxious as they might be, they were his partners, and he wouldn't give them up for anything in this world-

"WILL YOU FUCKING STOP THAT??!!"

-Unless they tried to hug him again. Pissed beyond reason, Manjoume chased after the quintet of Level 2's, ignoring Kylie's hysteric laughter and the surprised yelps from other Duelists as they dashed around the area in circles, all the noise merging into a cacophony of angry hollering and frightened squeaking, among other sounds.

In the end, some things never change....for better or for worse.

~~~~~~

Screw the actual Duel Links game for not including most of Manjoume's low-ATK monsters in his Starter/Lv 10 Deck (why tf is Catnipped Kitty a main Box card 4 years after his release?), and double screw them for splitting his Ojamas and Dragons into separate Decks.

I hate how his higher level Decks in the game completely disregard the former half of his cards; those are the ones that actually stuck with him in a meaningful way, not the Armed Dragons...they deserve some more recognition, so why not mix both archrtypes and slap in Ojamatch?

Also, yes, Standard Duelists actually exist here, so I decided to throw in my favorite GX girl AKA Kylie and have her interact a bit, and boy is she fun to write.

Headcanon: Kylie considers Manjoume (and everyone else, but especially him) her best friend because she basically has Yuuma's mentality of 'Anyone I Duel becomes an amigo!', and by sheer dumb luck, the two keep logging in at the same time and often get matched up in PvP Duels.

That's part of why she's so familiar with him (and also why she calls him Manjo-kun) and as you can see, Jun does not approve.

Aaaand this would be everything for Day 7! Expect to see me again...in a week from now. By Day 15 to be exact. In the meantime, if you’d like to follow my prompts for the month, I’m posting them all on ArchiveofOurOwn: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83489824

#gxmonth2021 #chazz princeton #jun manjoume #Standard Duelist #Ojamas

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lemonsandstrawberries · 4 years

Text

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve is being forced into getting a Twitter accounts and logs into Tony’s for inspiration - one mistake later, he finds more than he asked for. Meaning, his boyfriend has a tickle kink and Steve has a lot of thinking to do.

length: 5 468

a/n: Happy Friday 13th! *throws confetti* To celebrate I am posting a fic that contains one of the biggest fears for people with tickle kink - someone finding out when you are not ready to tell them. It has a happy ending, promise! Hope you all will enjoy this fic, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed! fic inspired by this prompt.

—————

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

Long story short - Steve was getting a Twitter account.

Long story long...

It all started with a certain PR meeting held for the Avengers team, just this time, it was Steve vs the whole PR team. The problem was simple - Steve didn't like social media and didn't have an account on any of the numerous websites and apps. Fighting with aliens, planning new missions, schooling SHIELD agents - those were the zones he felt comfortable in. Some thought that the hidden reason behind the hostility towards social media was, that Steve, born in the 1920s, had a problem with using modern technology. Some called it endearing, some pathetic, the truth was, that Steve fairly quickly mastered each piece of technology he was given, skillfully using any given device. After all, he wasn't dense. Many apps were quite useful, some just plain entertaining, and it required a lot of navigating, but he managed to find some favorites. Just when it came to social media… Steve didn't feel like sharing his private life with unknown faces. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked having direct contact with people and as much as he liked to take a stop during his random walks in the city to talk with people who called themselves his fans, it quickly became too overwhelming. He wasn't good at such things and always thought he was too awkward and not what people expected. Steve didn't like that kind of pressure and didn't like the almost weekly notices from the PR team that he needed to make himself more 'accessible'. By no means, he was expected to stop and talk to everyone who ever called him or share mission details with strangers, but he needed to create a more public persona for Captain America and Steve Rogers.

Hence, Steve was encouraged to take a plunge into the world of social media.

And he really, really, really didn't want to do that.

One - it was pretty tedious to keep up with everything. Tony eagerly showed him all social accounts he had - Twitter, Instagram, Facebook profile, Youtube, and it all just gave him a headache as Tony chattered which media was good for what and gladly showed him his own Instagram page (mostly workshop photos and meals Steve had prepared for him, which was kinda sweet) and if Steve became slightly interested in that, his interest dropped after hearing about filters and tags. Too much work.

Second - he didn't have time to keep his theoretical accounts active and post new content regularly. Or more, he didn't want to make time, preferring to spend it on reading or training or hanging out with Tony or anything else, really. He had been gently suggested, that some celebrities (Steve's eyes widened a little after hearing that - was he a celebrity?) hire someone else to run their social media accounts. Steve shook his head at the proposition, knowing that none of his teammates did that and so he shouldn't either, not mentioning that everything posted wouldn't be sincere.

Third - Steve considered himself not an interesting person. He didn't have Tony's charisma, who, of course, had the biggest social media following ever, Thor's flair, which made his Youtube channel where he tasted food sent to him from all over the world by his viewers a huge success or Clint's humor, whose Internet activity limited to commenting on funny animal photos and home videos and people loved him. Even Bruce, seemingly even more awkward and distant when it came to dealing with a privacy-invading crowd, was doing great, kindling the interest of young kids in science with a series of easy to repeat experiments at home and railing about the importance of protecting and preserving the environment. Even Natasha didn't have a problem, her social media accounts full of useful self-defense tips for everyone who needed to feel safer. Steve just couldn't find anything in himself he would like to share with the world. He liked to keep his art private, his relationship private, and his whole life private.

It should be the ending statement.

It wasn't.

And so Steve, feeling scolded, got back to his and Tony's shared floor, planning to hide, except that he was assigned a very simple task for the week.

Get a Twitter account.

Steve sat heavily on the couch, putting elbows on his knees and palms around his cheeks, definitely not pouting. Why on Earth did he need a Twitter account? Wasn't it enough that from time to time he appeared on Tony's account, being the supportive boyfriend, and allowing Tony share the photos of their date nights or even the short movies from Steve's training when Tony was proudly showing off Steve's impressive physique and using those damn filters and making small stars and glitter swirl around him.

Speaking of Tony, he could use his boyfriend's advice... Steve checked his phone and knew that Tony was still stuck in a business meeting, and won't be back for an hour or so and as much as he wanted to not think about the Twitter issue it kept coming back to him. What was he supposed to write on Twitter? Something that wouldn't give too much about him, but would be safe and entertaining. He needed inspiration. Maybe a walk would clear his mind but as Steve was getting up, he noticed Tony's tablet laying at the edge of the coffee table.

Well... Tony wouldn't mind if he took a peak, right? Granted, he never used Tony's tablet before without his boyfriend’s permission. It felt too personal and barging on privacy and it was almost a silent agreement between them that Steve won't touch Tony's electronic devices and Tony won't look through Steve's sketchbooks without prior agreement. But it was different, right? Tony's Twitter account was out there, for everyone, so it didn't matter if Steve would install the app on his phone and check the account, or go to the source and look through Tony's account. It might even help him to understand better how the app was working.

Steve took the tablet and unlocked it, searching for the Twitter app. Letter T on a blue background. Steve pressed it and skimmed over the screen, looking at the design of the app. Huh, it looked very different from the account owner's point of view. He scrolled down the screen, seeing a lot of text, too much text because wasn't there a limit of signs per tweet? Further, into the app, Steve saw more of things he didn't recognize, didn't see any posts from other Avengers, instead of images and gifs and -

"Woah," Steve gaped, taking in what he was seeing. He quickly scrolled up, his face becoming heated, unsure what he just saw. For a minute, he turned the tablet in his hands, trying to decide if it really belonged to Tony and not someone else, but who else would have a hot red and gold cover, resembling the design of the Iron Man suit. It had to be Tony's tablet, which meant...

Those posts were Tony's. That account was Tony's. Tony had two Twitter accounts? Steve looked back, just now noticing that it wasn't Twitter after all. At the top of the screen on a background of dark blue in white letters was written Tumblr. Steve didn't hear of the app, it wasn't listed as one of the most popular ones for celebrities and that's probably why Tony used it for -

Steve wasn't exactly sure for what. For something secretive. Something he wanted to hide. Things he didn't admit even to Steve.

Cautiously, Steve scrolled down again, trying to keep an open mind and be more cautious. He wasn't a prude, he knew that people had different kinks and it was completely normal. Heck, he and Tony had a very healthy sex and intimate life and the sight of Tony tied down for their playtime always made Steve's blood boil with lust and desire and they did indulge in some kinks, Steve current favorite one included spanking Tony's bouncy ass and watch it jiggle and the skin turn red. Tony had no problems with sharing his kinky fantasies and Steve was always willing to give it a go, sometimes proposing things on his own, like wax play, which wasn't only sexy but also artistic - Tony's body colored with drips of different colored wax was a beautiful sight. This... This was something different, Steve didn't think to consider.

There were pictures, that without context seemed innocent, like an array of feathers on a pillow. Some were less subtle and showed a part of sucked in stomach, escaping from a coming closer feather duster. The gifs were the most intriguing - a tied up, blindfolded man, laughing and squirming, while a different man was...

Tickling him?

Steve's brow furrowed as he watched the gif, frame by frame. There was no doubt that it was tickling, fingers gliding over tied man's armpits and sides. Steve expected this to be a prelude, something more to follow, but it was all. Tickling was the main point. Steve blushed when he realized that if there were gifs, there had to be a video and who knew how long it was. How many minutes would it take to bring someone to the brink of hysterics, to make them crumble, but at the same time make it pleasurable? People were not forced into filming porn and following that principle, there were not forced into filming tickle kink videos.

And that being said...

"Huh..." Steve mused out, bits of information falling into one picture. They never discussed it, but in the back of his head, Steve had this thought that Tony enjoyed being tickled, or at least didn't mind terribly. The way he squirmed between Steve's tickling hands but didn't try to run away. How he laughed and screamed for mercy whenever Steve targeted a sensitive spot and always seemed a bit disappointed when the tickling ended but masked it with a smile and complaints of being assaulted. Sometimes, Steve just felt provoked into tickling his boyfriend, like that one time, Tony had taken his sketchbook and hid away, refusing to say where he hid it and Steve had to tickle the information out of him until Tony was absolutely incoherent from laughter and breathless.

That was cute. All those shared tickle moments were cute, but Steve never thought that they could be... hot. And intimate. He looked back at the gif, at the way the tickled man arched and bucked, but was not able to escape the ticklish strokes delivered over his skin. What if Tony was the one tied and spread in the chair and Steve was the one standing behind, dotting his fingertips over the bare torso, having that sense of power and control, enjoying the ticklish tremble of the bothered skin. It became a tempting image in his head.

'Guuuuys, I don't know what to do.'

Steve's eyes caught on some text among the images and gifs. A separate post.

'I still can't tell my bf that I like being tickled. I just can't! There is this block in my head -'

Steve read the text, feeling that he might know the author.

'I even did that thing you recommended with hiding his stuff away -'

Definitely knew the author. At the top of the post, he saw a name, probably the username and clicked on it. Blue background color, and image of feathers and the username in white bold font. The Spare Parts Man.

That was one major hint...

Steve scrolled down this page, seeing more text and images of people being tickled, some like, a gif that was of a zoomed in stomach, the belly button tickled by a tip of the feather, signed with a 'omg, goals', whatever that meant. Steve tried to search for the text he saw on the previous page, but couldn't find it anymore, instead saw more posts, where people seemed to be interacting with the author.

'Hi, SP! I was the one who sent you the asks with hiding your BF's stuff -'

'I am sure your BF will understand, from what you said, you are dating for a long time -'

'You still didn't tell him??? What are you waiting for, GO GO GO!'

Steve pursed his lips together, feeling upset that Tony was so willing to share with strangers, but not with him. This whole site seemed so secretive, and while Steve felt a bit betrayed, he started to think about things from Tony's perspective. Tickling wasn't a mainstream kink. Bondage, spanking, food play - all the things they had tried seemed to be more acceptable in the sex world while tickling... Some people enjoyed it, some hated it. Steve was somewhere in between. It could be a fun thing among loved ones, but could quickly become overwhelming and unbearable. Steve didn't think about it earlier, but he really liked tickling Tony. He loved the way his body twitched, the sound of his laughter, and the feeling of closeness and trust in the action. For Steve it was fun. For Tony, it had to run much deeper, forming stronger connections than it did for Steve.

'I don't want to lose him. What if he thinks I am a freak?'

No, Steve would never think that. Tony was the great love of his life and Steve accepted him on every level.

"Oh, babe..." Steve sighed softly, reading more posts, some screaming nervousness as Tony was pouring his heart out, feeling miserable with his inability to tell Steve the truth, some so heartwarming and oozing happiness when Tony was describing Steve's last tickle attacks and how incredibly good and completed it made Tony feel.

That. Steve wanted to make Tony feel like that every day. Satiated and fulfilled and safe.

No more secrets.

Carried on the moment, Steve pressed on an icon with a pencil and began to write.

***

Tony was bored. So, so bored. He caught a glimpse of Pepper sending him a scolding look and straightened up in his seat, pretending to pay attention. He just wanted to go back home and curl up next to Steve, feeling Steve's fingers stroking his hair and maybe, if he got lucky, Steve would rub his belly, using just enough pressure to make him smile and feel like melting. He started to smile at the thought and Pepper sent him a confused look. Uh oh. He better control himself. Tony grinned sheepishly at Pepper and set his face in a schooled, thoughtful look, trying to focus his attention on the meeting. Just half an hour more... It was all ending statements, so it was nothing bad if he decided to check his social media, right? Cautiously, Tony took out his phone and unlocked the screen, keeping the phone under the table. A new tasting video from Thor, with a package of sweets sent from the Netherlands. Tony made a mental note to drop later to Thor's floor and ask if he had any stroopwafels left to share because they were amazing with black coffee. Clint commenting on funny cats videos, Tony added it to his watch later list. As usual, his own social media were bursting with notifications, people raving over Iron Man and asking for more videos of Steve training routine, which, Tony couldn't blame them, the sight of his boyfriend working out was heaven. He even decided to check his Tumblr, curious if anyone sent him some more tips or maybe just left him a nice message -

Oh, that was weird. Usually, he had maybe two or three messages, some reblogs, and a few comments. This time, his app was bursting with notifications and Tony didn't post anything that could cause such a commotion in the last days.

'WHAT. WHAT????"

'Nooooooo... Please don't break up with him! He loves you so much!'

"The hell, dude! You invaded your bf's privacy like that?? You're the worst!"

Tony didn't understand anything. Maybe he clicked and shared something by accident. There was a slight possibility that his account was hacked. Maybe -

Maybe it was way, way worse.

There was a new text post on his main, one he didn't write.

'Hi, this is Spare Part Man's boyfriend. I found this account by accident and me and my boyfriend have a lot to talk about once I see him.'

No. No, no, no.

"Tony? Tony, are you okay?!"

Tony didn't realize he started to hyperventilate until Pepper's voice brought him back. Everyone was staring at him and Tony felt like vomiting.

"I am fine," Tony said, not meaning it, his voice coming out squeaky. "Can we - excuse me, I have to go," Tony rambled out, sending a sorry look in Pepper's direction and trying to walk out of the conference room as calmly as possible. It felt like the whole world was spinning around him, making him feel nauseous. Tony stumbled to the window and pressed his face against the cool glass, trying to soothe his heated skin and get his thoughts back in order.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, staying as his hidden fantasy and dark secret. What if he deleted the account, right here, right now, would he be able to convince Steve that it never existed?

No. Steve wouldn't fall for it. And Tony felt so stupid for creating that account in the first place, but he needed a place to vent. He didn't plan on socializing, sharing his life, just get the urges out and move on. He just... Wanted to feel accepted. Find people who thought the same as he did. Not feel so alone.

And he would end alone because Steve definitely was going to dump him.

***

"I am back!"

Tony was a genius. He had numerous diplomas to prove it. Yet, he decided that the best thing to do would be to march into his and Steve's shared floor, acting like nothing ever happened. Maybe if he managed to keep his cool he could put this whole Tumblr thing as a social study. Just a research on kinks. No biggie. He could do this.

"Tony, come to the bedroom for a second!"

Somehow hearing Steve's voice made this situation very real and not like Tony imagined it. He couldn't say anything from the tone of Steve's voice, it was neutral, not angry, but also wasn't the cheerful, loving one Steve had towards him. On usual days, Steve would come to him, resembling an excited puppy and lick his face - kiss, Tony meant kiss, and then they would sit on the couch and share their day. Their bedroom was a private, closed space and once Tony set his foot there, there was no way back.

Feeling a nervous twist in his stomach, Tony peeked into the bedroom, just to feel if the situation was as bad as he feared. Steve was on the bed, forehead creased in thought, and was looking at the space in front of him until he spotted Tony from the corner of his eyes.

"Tony - " Steve started, sitting up straight, pulling shoulders back.

"No, Steve, I - " Tony walked into the bedroom, trying to make his voice strong. Just remember what he had planned and it would be fine. "I want to talk first, okay?"

Steve blinked and frowned lightly, but kept his lips tight. Alright, if Tony insisted.

"Okay," Tony nodded, trying to give himself some courage and began to pace around the room. "I know you found my Tumblr account," he said the obvious, struggling to keep his voice firm. "And - and it was not true, you know that, right? I just - research - an experiment to - ahh," Tony quickly got lost in his words, noticing Steve's look changing to a confused one. "I - ah, fuck, fuck, fuck - " Tony couldn't get any coherent words out and stopped and hid his face in hands. He continued to quietly curse, not knowing how to get out of this mess and not lose everything.

"Babe..."

Tony almost jumped away, when Steve came closer and wrapped arms around him. After a moment of hesitation, Tony buried himself into his soldier's arms, his face pressed against Steve's neck. Probably the last hug he would receive from Steve. This whole thing won't make Avengers stuff awkward at all. What if Steve would quit the team? Tony couldn't imagine not being able to see Steve anymore. He needed him. He would change, he would do better. Steve couldn't break up with him.

"Of course that I am not breaking up with you," Steve said suddenly, and Tony winced, not realizing he said it out loud. "Is that what you thought?" Steve asked, sounding shocked. Reluctantly, Tony nodded. Somehow he was used to being rejected and walking away from problems was one of the things he did and expected the same happen to him.

"God, Tony," Steve said in an exasperated huff, not believing how quickly this whole thing could escalate in Tony's mind. Then again, he should know, because Tony did think too much and sometimes didn't stop his thoughts on time, letting them drag him deeper and deeper. "Tony, I am not breaking up with you," Steve said again, just to make sure the words sunk in his boyfriend's head. "And I am sorry," Steve gently put his thumb and forefinger under Tony's chin, encouraging him to eye contact. 'Sorry you turned out to be messed up in the head,' Tony finished in his mind, looking into Steve's blue eyes.

"I am sorry for barging into your space when you didn't feel ready to share yet," Steve said, closing the distance between them and leaning his forehead against Tony's.

What?

Tony didn't reply, just stared, his brown eyes widening. Steve was... apologizing to him? Not the other way around?

"I read some of your blog," Steve said and Tony panicked again, Steve holding him closer when he felt brunet's body tense, "and I understand how hard it is for you to talk about it and how important it is for you. I really do. If anything, I am... a bit disappointed you didn't tell me. Why didn't you?"

Tony's mouth twisted into a scowl. He was disappointed with himself too, but it was hard. Harder than admitting that he liked being pinned down by Steve, or spanked, as it all seemed... simpler. It was obvious why people who enjoyed it were turned on by it. Tickling wasn't easy to explain.

"I wanted to," Tony finally spoke, his voice coming out quiet, "I didn't know how," this wasn't a good answer. Tony closed his eyes, not able to look at Steve. "I was embarrassed, I guess."

"Hmmm," Steve hummed in understanding, waiting for Tony to continue, but he didn't say anything more. Tony had no problems with voicing out his needs on his site, but face to face with Steve, he was fumbling and struggling for words. Anonymity gave him a sense of control which was being stripped away from him, layer by layer. Maybe with time, Tony would open more, and it was on Steve's side to nurture that vulnerable mindset until Tony would feel strong enough and confident to voice out his true needs.

"Then... can you tell me why you like it?" Steve tried, sounding gentle and not judgmental. Keeping an open mind was the key here.

"I don't know," Tony said quickly, sounding defensive. He didn't mean to, but it was stranger than him. He didn't want Steve to judge him, to think less of him, but... It was Steve. Steve who was always so understanding and didn't laugh at him and did his best to keep Tony feel accepted. It won't work if Steve would be the only one willing to share. "I guess," Tony corrected himself, trying to be more open, "I like the trust in it. And closeness," he said, tugging on Steve's clothes and hiding more into his boyfriend, "and, uh, it feels good."

"Feels good?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted, burying his heated face deeper into Steve's neck. "Feels really good. Especially when you are the one ti - doing it."

"Oh," Steve said, carding his fingers through the short hair on the back of Tony's head. Tony shivered, just slightly, from the light touch, smiling against Steve's skin and Steve felt an urge to touch him all over. This time differently, more aware and more intimate, paying closer attention to the reactions. "So... you wanna do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Tony moved away from Steve, showing a confused face. That kinda felt like mocking him, but Steve's face was honest. And it would certainly change the mood and make Tony feel better about this whole day. "I don't know," Tony said, just to be safe, "do you want to do it?"

"Heck yeah."

"What? You do?" Tony asked, his mouth falling agape at the enthusiasm.

"Sure. You like it and I like tickling you too. It's a win-win, right?"

Tony started to smile in relief. It was really happening. Steve accepted one of Tony's darkest secrets and even wanted to take part in it. Tony could barely wrap his mind around it, already feeling excited and giddy.

"So?" Steve asked again, eyes sparkling, waiting for permission from his boyfriend.

"If you keep asking, it takes the surprise factor AWAAHHAHA!" Tony's newly found boost of confidence was efficiently cut off when Steve latched hands to his sides and squeezed repeatedly. Tony doubled over in laughter and squirmed away, watching with a pounding heart as Steve followed him, smiling beautifully mischievous. "No, no, no, wait, Steve! STEHEVE!" Tony screeched in laughter when Steve ran forward, pushing Tony on the bed, and falling with him. "ACK! STE - hahaha! Waaait!" Tony wailed when fingers were going up and down his body tickling intensely. When Tony became pink in the face and a little breathless, Steve stopped, leaning in and kissing Tony's smiling lips.

"I love you, babe," Steve whispered, looking at his lover.

"I love you too," Tony answered, his heart hammering from the ticklish rush and all love he had for Steve.

"Are we good?"

"We are good," Tony assured, still not believing that everything turned out so great.

"Good," Steve smiled, and just now Tony realized that somehow both of his wrists were in soldier's hold and Steve easily pinned his hands above his head, leaving his torso exposed. "Because now," Steve said, sitting on Tony's thighs and slowly sliding his free hand under Tony's shirt. "I want to test every ticklish spot on you."

"Oh fuhahahck - " Tony wriggled uselessly, his stomach sinking in when Steve gently ran fingertips over the soft skin. "Steve, Steve, pleaheehehehese!"

"This is just your tummy and you already are so ticklish. It is a very promising start."

"Ahhahaha!"

"Oh, is this rib ticklish? How about this one? And this one?"

"GAAA HAHAHA!"

"Oh look, the higher I go, the more you laugh. Sooo, this means that when I do this -"

"PFF HAHAHAHA!"

"That's one ticklish armpit you have, babe! Let's find out if the other one is as ticklish -"

Steve was grinning, watching Tony crumbling and laughing, coming apart under his fingers. Steve was right, it was a win-win for both of them.

***

"You should write on your Tumblr."

"Huh?"

"You should," Steve repeated, rolling on completely naked Tony and kissing his lips, "write on your," a kiss on the chin, "Tumblr," Steve finished, blowing a raspberry into Tony's neck.

"HAAHAHA! Stoooop," Tony tried to swat Steve away, feeling too blissful to move. Of course that a long, intimate tickle session changed into an amazing make out. It was incredible how the tickle foreplay increased their appetite and how wonderfully responsive Tony became.

Steve laughed and rolled on his side, looking at Tony with adoration. Laughing made Tony ten times more attractive in Steve's eyes, and Tony was off the scale to start with.

"I am serious, babe," Steve tried again, gently poking his finger all over Tony's bare belly, making him squeak funnily and curl up, "write on your Tumblr. Everyone has to be worried."

"Ah hahaha... Ohkahay!" Tony agreed, shielding his stomach with one hand and using the other one to reach for his phone. "Uhh... Should I update and delete it?" Tony asked. With everything working out so great, there was no reason for him to keep that account. No more secret lusting, when he had it all in real life.

"If you want to," Steve said truthfully, "or maybe you can keep it for a bit longer because I might need some inspiration on how to take you apart."

"Ahhh, not sure if I want to give you access to that sort of power," Tony teased, opening the app. "Huh, people kinda hate you."

Steve shrugged, understanding that what he wrote, did sound menacing, even if it wasn't his intention. "Just write that we are fine and your boyfriend plans on fulfilling your each and every one tickle fantasy."

"You do?" Tony asked, voice trembling with excitement.

"All of them, babe," Steve assured, smiling broadly. He had remembered some of the things he read and gifs he saw, and could easily imagine Tony on the receiving end.

Looking enthusiastic, Tony got to writing. Soon, Steve got up and leaned over Tony's shoulder, looking at the screen.

'Hi, guys. Sorry for the sudden silence but as you saw we had a situation here. It is all good now, me and BF talked, and he turned to be all sweet about it, not bragging, I just had my first tickle session and it was amazing! So, I just wanted to give you an update, that I am fine. More than fine. My BF said that I can keep this Tumblr if I want to and he will even use it as an inspiration, so aaaah, can't wait. Just don't give him any ideas! I am gonna talk to you all soon, but for now, I and my BF have plans. See you later!'

After the post got published, Tony and Steve didn't have to wait for a reaction.

'AAAAH! I AM SO GLAD EVERYTHING IS FINE! YOU BOYS HAVE FUN NOW!'

'Awesome, couple goals.'

'That's great, dude, but I hope your BF apologized.'

"That's the one that doesn't like me, right?" Steve squinted his eyes, pointing at the last comment. Tony laughed and nosed Steve's cheek playfully.

"It is okay, I like you," he smiled. "Do you want to have a nickname? That will make it much easier for me to write when you are involved."

"Um, sure," Steve said, not entirely sold on the idea, but not wanting to shot Tony's idea down. "You call yourself Spare Parts Man, right?" Steve asked and Tony nodded. "Soooo... How about you call me Iron Man?"

Tony's smile dropped in surprise, and he laughed mockingly. "Seriously, dude?"

"Hey, the darkest place is under the candle," Steve said, sounding defensive.

"Fine," Tony agreed, rolling his eyes dramatically. He reblogged the post and added an update.

'BF wants you to call him Iron Man. I know, lame.'

"Ack!" Tony almost dropped his phone when Steve scoldingly pinched his side. Soon the first comments came.

'Ah you sound like a superhero couple, how cute!'

'I am shipping you both. #relationshipgoals'

'Wow, your BF is not very creative, isn't he? But fine, let it be IRON MAN.'

"Write to this one that I don't like them either," Steve hissed, looking at the last comment.

Tony laughed and turned to Steve, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Long and sweet. The kind of kiss that was the perfect happy ending to a tickle kink coming out story.

"Oh, interesting!" Steve suddenly said, ending the kiss too soon and looking at one of the comments, smiling wickedly.

"What is int - noooooo!" Tony wailed, understanding the reason behind the smile. It was stronger than him and Tony started to panic. "It is a lie, Steve! Don't believe the lieeee no no aaah HELP!"

Steve laughed, wrestling Tony down and pinning his hands once again. If Tony was already getting this worked up, there was no way Steve would back up.

"No, please!" Tony giggled, kicking his legs, trying to wriggle away, as Steve's menacingly moving fingers were getting closer and closer. "I cahahahan't!"

Somehow, Steve didn't believe him. Instead, he believed the comment.

'Hey, this is for Iron Man - I am sure you know already, that SP's stomach is really ticklish, but did you try tickling his belly button specifically? From what SP writes it is a very ticklish outie. Have fun!'

When Steve pressed his finger over Tony's outie delicately and Tony burst into giggling, almost maniacal laughter, Steve was in heaven. It was settled, Tony was keeping his blog for further tips for Steve.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #stevetony #tickling #tickle kink #tickle fic #upperbody tickling #fanfic #fanfiction

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awkwardpenguinproductions · 3 years

Text

Rebellion

Part 8 of Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The prisoner is tiny.

That’s the first thing Zuko notices, when Banli Squad returns triumphant from their mission with a figure wrapped in heavy iron netting like a landed fish. Tiny, and young. Zuko would be damned if the kid was a day older than eleven. The top of their bald, tattooed head barely comes up to the middle of Zuko’s chest.

White hot rage shoots through him as Zheng shoves the Avatar down the corridor ahead of him, radiating smugness like a fucking peacock. He wants to rip that netting off and carry the kid away from here, away from Zhao who acts like the entire Stronghold and everyone in it is his to do whatever the fuck he wants with.

The plan, dum dum, remember the plan, he chants to himself, and holds onto his control with both hands and every ounce of stubbornness in his body.

Do you think it’s true? The Avatar’s returned? Zuko had demanded, barely waiting for the Commander’s office door to close behind him. The announcement had been made twenty minutes ago, and Zuko had immediately followed the older man to his office when he’d left the mess hall.

Commander Toshiaki hadn’t replied immediately, but had reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of rotgut. He’d poured two cups, knocked one back, and pushed the other toward Zuko, who sipped at it warily, grimacing at the taste.

The Commander had dropped into his desk chair and tilted his head back for a moment before beginning to sign. I can’t imagine the Fire Lord making an announcement like that unless there was some truth to it. Either way, it changes things.

No kidding! Zuko had snapped. The Commander shot him a Look, and Zuko had winced and signed a quick Sorry, sir.

The Commander had sighed silently. If anything, all it does is move the timeline up rather a lot. It shouldn’t take the Avatar very long to gather followers and allies, and as the main aggressor in the war, the Fire Lord will be their main focus.

Instead of waiting for Azula to come of age and then to get impatient, we just cut her out of the line completely, Zuko had realized. Instead of the war dragging on for another four years or more, the Avatar can help us end it sooner. Within the year, even!

The Commander had nodded. We need to stay alert for opportunities slip away and rendezvous with the Avatar and their followers. I have a list of Troop members who are willing to defect. When the opportunity presents itself, you will give the signal, and the Yuyan Archers will disappear.

Zuko meets the Commander’s eyes, and blinks. The Commander blinks back.

Zuko slips down a service corridor, and races back to the Yuyan dorm. He grabs the bag he’d kept prepared for this exact scenario and his dao, and shimmies up into the ventilation shaft. With his most recent growth spurt, it’s a bit of a snug fit, and Zuko suddenly has to wrestle back the panicked thought of oh Agni what if I get stuck. He pauses, breathes a few deep breaths, and continues on to the bathroom, where he gets his Blue Spirit uniform on as fast as he can. His hair gets tied back into a braid, the length of which is tucked under his tunic and hood. His dao go on his back, every single throwing knife he owns is strapped somewhere on his body, and he carefully burns the clothes he was wearing in the brazier that heats the water for the ofuro. The bag his Blue Spirit materials were in gets folded up as small as Zuko can possibly make it and tucked into the back of his belt. Could be useful later.

He fastens his mask as securely as he possibly can, and Cadet Zuko of the Yuyan Archers disappears. In his place stands the Blue Spirit, ready for war.

By now the Avatar will have been secured in one of the cells at the top of the Central Tower, where the most powerful benders are kept for holding. Zuko ensures that he has left no trace of his presence in the bathroom, and makes his way upstairs as fast as he can, employing every shadow-walking technique he knows to avoid detection.

It’s caution well spent, because the upper detention level is crawling with Stronghold guards. At least a dozen of them. Zhao may be a pompous ass and a creep to rival Koh themself, but he’s not completely stupid. These guys must be new, though, or they came with the Admiral, because they are not nearly as wary of dark corners and high shadowed ceilings as they should be.

It’s quick work knocking the idiots out and looping lengths of chain around their ankles to hang them from the rafters like freshly hunted game. If this were a training exercise, he would’ve just left them where they had fallen, but Zuko can’t afford the possibility that they’d wake up and be able to come after him and the Avatar. Getting out of the Stronghold is going to be hard enough, no need to alert anyone to the breakout any earlier than necessary.

Only one of the cells has a guard at the door, who is reaching for the signaling horn as Zuko peeks around the corner. Zuko grabs a bucket of water kept for the guards to drink on duty in one hand, and throws one of his knives with the other. The horn is knocked out of the guard's hand, and as Zuko rushes him the man shoots a rather paltry plume of flame at him. Zuko doesn't miss a beat as he throws the water into the strike, then whips the bucket into the man's leading foot to break his root.

Thank Agni for Mika's "learn-to-fight-with-any-kind-of-random-shit" lessons, he thinks a bit hysterically as the man goes crashing to the floor. He binds the man with his own handcuffs, borrowing a second set that had fallen from another guard's belt to bind his ankles, and ties a length of cloth he finds in the last guard's pocket into a gag.

He takes a minute to retrieve his throwing knife and to breathe, and he can very distantly hear Zhao's ridiculous speech echoing up from the main courtyard.

Zhao had arrived about two weeks after the Winter Solstice, just in time for the Fire Nation Armed Forces' rumor mill to have built up a full head of steam. He had swept into the Stronghold like he'd owned the place, towering over Colonel Shinu in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate the much shorter man, but he had still been a Commander at the time and the Colonel had quickly put him in his place. The complete 180° turn the man's personality had taken at that point had completely creeped Zuko out, had reminded him uncomfortably of Azula, and he'd done his absolute best not to be caught alone with him.

A few days after Zhao's arrival, Commander Toshiaki had indicated that he'd wanted a meeting, and Zuko had met him in his office.

Zhao has been trying to convince Colonel Shinu to allow him to use the Archers in his hunt for the Avatar, the Commander had signed as soon as the door was closed behind Zuko. The tension in the older man's body had been obvious, his signs rigidly composed.

There's no way the Colonel will go for that, Zuko had replied, trying to decipher the Commander's body language. Disapproval, maybe? Or anger? Either were rarely seen from the stern but kind officer, and therefore hard to recognize.

He may no longer have a choice. The Commander's jaw clenched. Anger, then, and Zuko had felt proud of himself that he'd felt no unease at all around the Commander as he'd struggled to hold his temper. A messenger hawk arrived last night. Zhao has been promoted to Admiral by the Fire Lord.

Fuck, Zuko had stated into the whirling chaos of his mind. With that wonderful piece of news, it was only a matter of time before the Avatar was captured.

My Prince, I also have reason to believe that your safety could be compromised should Zhao discover your identity, the Commander continued. He has been overheard making… comments… about your performance in the Agni Kai against the Fire Lord, as well as voicing theories as to your current location and opinions of how you should be treated when returned to royal custody. A small, distant part of Zuko had mused that if the Commander had been a bender, he would’ve seared the top of his desk black in his rage.

I believe, Prince Zuko, that it would be prudent of you to consider vacating the Stronghold sooner rather than later. The Commander had looked like every sign he’d made had been physically painful, which had eased the pain in Zuko’s own heart of being ousted from his home again. This time was not for someone else’s gain or convenience, but for Zuko’s own safety. And it wasn’t going to be forever, like his abandonment. No matter what ended up happening, Zuko knew he would see his Troop, his family, again. Kai would hunt him down, to say nothing of the rest of Chihese Squad and the Commander himself.

I understand, Commander, Zuko had replied, smiling at his commanding officer. Depending on how quickly the Avatar is apprehended, the Blue Spirit should be able to escort them away without too much effort.

Famous last words, Zuko growls silently to himself as he picks the lock on the cell. It’s a new model, something Zhao had installed in the last couple of weeks as he prepared to imprison the Avatar, and Zuko hasn’t had enough opportunity to practice picking it between avoiding Zhao and smuggling supplies and his belongings out of the Stronghold with his squad under the guise of “wilderness training”.

It takes forty-seven seconds more than Zuko really cares to admit, but he does finally get the cell door open, and he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

The Avatar is chained hand and foot in the center of the cavernous cell, arms held out and fastened to the two huge torches that provide the only light in the room. Their odd yellow, orange, and brown clothes are tattered and splashed with mud, and their skin is ghostly pale. Their stormy gray eyes are huge in their face as they stare at Zuko.

Zuko draws his dao, and rushes forward in a form meant to build momentum. The Avatar screams and cringes back, squeezing their eyes shut. Zuko’s blades slice cleanly through the chains holding their arms, and it takes the Avatar a moment to realize that they aren’t hurt and to stop screaming and open their eyes. They stare in bafflement at the manacles on their wrists, which Zuko also slices off. He finishes with the cuffs on their feet, and strides back to the cell door.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” The Avatar’s voice calls out, high with prepubescence and stress. “Are you here to rescue me?”

Duh, Zuko thinks, opening the door and making sure the coast is clear before turning back and making a vague come on gesture.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Avatar mumbles, warily following him. Their footsteps are barely audible against the steel-clad floors, and Zuko has to listen extra hard to make sure they’re still with him.

“My frogs!” The Avatar gasps, and Zuko has just enough time to think what? before those nearly silent footsteps go pattering off in another direction. He clenches his teeth behind the mask and follows, catching up as the Avatar is kneeling on the floor trying to catch a bunch of half-frozen wood frogs. He grabs the kid by the collar of their weird tunic and hauls them away, and cringes when the little idiot hollers for the entire Stronghold to hear, “But my friends need to suck on those frogs!”

Zuko switches his grip on this absolute moron of an Avatar from their collar to the front of their tunic, (gently) pushes them against the closest wall, and flicks them between the eyes hard with his free hand. Then he puts his finger against the grinning mouth of his mask for quiet.

The Avatar has the grace to be chagrined, at least. “I’m sorry,” they whisper. “It’s just— I got captured ‘cause I was gathering those frogs ‘cause my friends are sick and the crazy old lady on the top of the mountain said that they needed to suck on the frozen frogs to get better and I’m really worried about them— my friends, not the frogs— but I know I gotta be quiet so we can get out of here, right?”

Great Agni and all the stars, how is this kid the spirits-damned Avatar? Zuko bites back a sigh, nods sharply, and makes a note that the Avatar has ill companions that need treatment. The Avatar nods back, eyes huge in their pale face.

Zuko leads the way to the main sewer line, which the pair of them follow out of the Central Tower and to the back courtyard. A quick peek through the bars above their heads reveals that the coast is clear, and Zuko points upward to indicate to the Avatar that they need to pull themselves up through the bars. The Avatar follows without a word, and they break for the rope that hangs from the top of the Stronghold’s innermost wall, left there by one of the Archers on Commander Toshiaki’s orders.

They’re halfway up the rope when the alarm sounds. Zuko can hear Zhao shouting that “the Avatar has escaped!”, and some bootlicker responds with “There! On the wall!”. Zuko has five seconds to curse his fucking luck before the rope in his hands goes slack and they start to fall.

The Avatar does something, and with a roar of wind Zuko feels himself slowing down in midair, and they both land gently on their feet. Zuko draws his dao and points with one to the gates starting to close. As one he and the Avatar start running for the gates as Zhao shouts "Close all the gates immediately!" like the gatemen don't know how to do their freaking jobs.

"Stay close to me!" The Avatar tells him, and all Zuko can do is nod and try to keep up as the Avatar zooms towards the gate, faster than a normal human can run. Zuko's no slouch, racing against Jiyoti will ensure that, but after airbending a line of guards out of the way, the Avatar seems to forget that Zuko can't run as fast, because they book it for the gate and leave Zuko in the dust.

He gets cornered, surrounded by guards with spears, and it takes everything he has to keep from bending, because if even the slightest spark slips from his blades he’s done for. Abruptly the guards disappear, blown away by the Avatar’s airbending, and Zuko has a moment to wonder why they don’t bend any of the other elements before the Avatar swings a broken spear like a trebuchet and Zuko goes flying.

He lands on top of the innermost wall and immediately tucks into a roll to bleed off the momentum. He hears the clomping steps of the guards approaching and snaps to his feet, swords out and held at the ready, and then something slams into his upper back and a steel band wraps around his chest under his arms, and with a jerk he’s flying again.

They land with a crash on the intermediate wall, and Zuko’s blades clatter away. He doesn’t have time to grab them, though, because the Avatar’s been cornered by a guard at least twice their size. Their makeshift staff has been knocked away, and Zuko doesn’t think before he grabs the guard around the middle and throws him off the wall.

They reach the other side of the wall just as more guards come up the bamboo emergency ladders. The Avatar blows the first two ladders clear with their airbending, and Zuko just finishes clearing the third and barely has time to sheath his blades before the Avatar is handing him one of the ladders with a hurried "hold this!". They have the second ladder in their arms, and they jump onto the parapet of the wall and step onto the third ladder, pushing it away from the wall.

"Jump on my back!" The absolutely wolf-bat fucking crazy Avatar calls at him, and Zuko can do nothing but obey. His momentum and weight are what tip the ladder over fully away from the wall, and the Avatar maneuvers the ladder in his arms so that the pair of them stilt-walk across the no-man's land between the intermediate and outer walls. However, some really intelligent person decides to set fire to the last ladder. Zuko and the Avatar are forced to jump for the outer wall, but Zuko can't keep his grip, and they tumble to the ground just in front of the outer gate.

Dazedly shaking his head, Zuko struggles to his feet and draws his blades as the guards converge upon them. Four firebending guards (I trained with you! a tiny part of Zuko sobs upon seeing them, I sparred with you and you laughed when I beat you!) blast at them in unison, and Zuko is ready to deflect the flames with his blades when the Avatar spins them around and defends them with airbending.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

The flames die away as Admiral Zhao himself strides forward, hands clasped behind his back as calm as can be. "The Avatar must be captured alive," he orders, scowling, but there's a triumphant light in his cold bronze eyes that Zuko immediately hates. Then his words hit, and Zuko immediately knows what to do.

Sorry, kid, just trying to get us out of here alive, he apologizes silently to the Avatar, as he crosses his blades under their chin, razor-sharp edges each a hairsbreadth from the delicate pale skin of their neck. The Avatar makes a strangled "ulp!" sound, and Zuko presses himself against their back and stares Zhao in the eye.

A vein throbs in the man's temple as he grits his teeth in frustration. "Open the gate," he grits out, after a moment of attempting to glare Zuko into submission. Compared to Mika without her morning black tea, the guy's a rank amateur.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu hisses from his position at Zhao's shoulder.

"Let them out," Zhao snaps. "NOW."

The gate creaks open behind them, and Zuko carefully walks backward, keeping his blades rock steady at the Avatar's neck. He doesn't take a single eye off of Zhao.

They're in the middle of the last crossroads before the forest when something zings through the air and everything abruptly goes dark.

Zuko had reported to the medbay at Dr. Atsuko's order, and the Chief Medical Officer of the Stronghold had ushered him into her office at the back of the ward.

"Zhao's just sent out Banli Squad to retrieve the Avatar," she'd said brusquely. "Are you ready? Do you have all of the supplies you need, all of the things you're going to take?"

I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Zuko had replied. The Commander gave the signal for everyone who's leaving to be ready to disappear after Banli gets back. I'll be meeting up with Kai at noon the day after the Avatar and I escape to get my bow and quiver from him, since I can't exactly carry them with me as the Blue Spirit. Are you leaving too?

Dr. Atsuko had nodded. "It's time," she'd said, and for once the steel had melted from her expression and she'd actually looked sad. "I've done all I can here, but it's time to go where I can do some real good."

Where will you go? Zuko had asked.

"Here and there," Dr. Atsuko had shrugged. "I've got options. A doctor, especially one with my skills, is always in demand. Before you take off, though, I've got something to teach you," and she'd handed him a Pai Sho tile, the Lotus.

Five hours later, Zuko had been leaving the mess hall after dinner when Banli Squad had paraded the Avatar through the Stronghold.

Zuko wakes up to early morning light filtering through tall trees, a full range of vision due to his mask being gone, and the Avatar sitting curled up in a little ball on top of a huge tree root. He also wakes up to a splitting headache, and bites back a groan that's half pain and half frustration. He doesn't have time for this, the Avatar's a fucking kid, and probably doesn't know any bending besides their native element, and Zuko somehow has to get them ready to… what, overthrow the Fire Lord? Get Zuko's throne back for him?

His temple throbs, and Zuko can't quite bite back the hiss that he makes as he sits up, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, you're awake!" The Avatar exclaims, voice piercing in the stillness of the surrounding forest. Zuko winces, and thankfully the Avatar seems to notice, because their voice drops several levels of volume until they're almost but not quite whispering. "I never got to thank you last night for getting me out of there. That Zhao guy was kinda creepy. What's your name? I'm Aang."

My name's Zuko, Zuko signs, slow and sluggish with pain and the stiffness that comes with not cooling down properly after excessive exercise. What're your preferred pronouns? I don't want to assume anything.

The Avatar is watching him with huge gray eyes, and Zuko knows without them even opening their mouth that they have no idea what he just said.

Oh damn me to Koh's lair, he thinks, heart sinking. Not only does the spirits-damned Avatar not know any of the other elements, they don't know hand-language. Honestly, Zuko doesn't know why he'd assumed that they would, the Yuyan guard their language with the same ferocity that they hunt their quarries.

"Is that… talking? With your hands?" The Avatar asks, eyebrows sliding up the blue arrow tattoo to the sky. Their voice is hushed and full of wonder. "Can you teach me that?"

Ah, a yes or no question. Zuko nods, then gingerly gets up, glancing around for his mask and picking it up where it lies next to the bed of green leaves that he'd been resting on. His blades are there too, and Zuko huffs slightly in relief as he slings them across his back. He looks at the mask, noting the large scratch in the lacquer on the left side of the forehead. That must've been some shot, he reflects, and kind of wishes he'd been able to see it.

"Uh, so I gotta get some frozen wood frogs for my friends, 'cause they're really sick," the Avatar, Aang, says awkwardly. "You want to come along? Do you have anywhere else to go? Katara could probably give you something for your head, if it's hurting you."

Zuko tugs his braid out of his shirt, cracks his neck, and gestures for Aang to lead the way.

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#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 8 rebellion #full text post

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