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xyzcekaden · 3 years

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🚍 unsuspecting sunday afternoon 🚍

by me, xyzcekaden! a pokemon fanfic about when the one you hate to love is made for you

How capable is the human heart now?

fandom: pokemon, gen 3, advanced generation characters: ash, may, steven stone in a “supporting” role ship: advanceshipping genre: romance, angst themes: friendship, pre-relationship, slowburn, 6+1 if you squint setting: modern, hoenn, pokemon universe lite word count: 4.6k rating: T

read it below, on ffnet, or on ao3!

A/N (9.7.201): So this has been in my drafts since about April 2020 😅 Sure, I'm happy to finally share something new with the small yet strong advanceshipping fandom; but more than that, I'm relieved this document can no longer taunt me with its incompletion, hahaha. Do let me know what you think! Especially with this opening formatting; I'm trying something new. :)

Nothing sensitive in the fic, but the characters are all adults so it felt fitting to rate it T. Title taken from the song of the same name by the Backstreet Boys, and its lyrics/sentiments are interwoven throughout. The narrative is inspired and framed by monstaxnight's anonymous ask. If you recognise it, it doesn't belong to me. Thanks for reading!

~~~

fall for someone whose body would start fires

On a Saturday, May asked Ash to come over the next day. “I need a second opinion on something,” she had said. “It’ll be super quick.”

Of course, ‘super quick’ means Ash has enough time to set his switch up on May’s gigantic living room tv and play a few rounds of his favourite fighting video game while she gets ready for something or another in her room. He always acts like he has better things to do than help her with her sundry weekly ventures, but they both know he’d rather do ‘nothing’ with her than ‘something’ on his own somewhere else.

“Okay, Ash, are you ready?” May’s voice rings out. “Yeah,” he answers distractedly, strategically button smashing.

“So I kept the jeans from this last outfit, but this top I just got two weekends ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet,” May narrates as she exits her room. “I had the, frankly, brilliant idea of using the jacket from Outfit 1 and pairing it with those heels you paid for for my birthday, et voila!”

The clacking of heels stops at the entrance of the hallway. “What do you think?’

Ash redirects his attention to May. His avatar dies on screen, just like his voice dies in his throat.

“You, um, you look great.”

In actuality, May looks smoking hot, but that’s not new for either of them. His best friend is supremely attractive, and he knew it and had no problem acknowledging it normally. This time, however, May doesn’t just look physically great, she also looks like she feels like she looks great. He doesn’t know how much sense that makes; but there is decidedly something different, and Ash feels a strange sense of dread in his chest.

May beams, taking the inarticulate response in stride. “Well that’s a winning endorsement if I ever heard one! Now let’s just hope Steven has as great of a reaction.” She turns to one of the many full-length mirrors stationed around her condo and reviews the outfit with a critical eye.

This brings Ash out from his stupor. “‘Steven’?” he repeats as he sits up on the couch. “You’re going on a date?”

“It’s not a date,” May replies in a tone that clearly conveys that she would not be opposed to it turning into a date. “My dad is having dinner with an old business partner, and the guy’s bringing his son along, so me and Max were invited, too. We were kinda friends back when we were young, but it’s not like we’ve kept in touch or anything. I just figured I should make a good second first-impression… You know, for my dad’s sake.”

Ash can tell the last bit was just something she’s telling herself to rationalise why she’s trying so hard, and it doesn’t sit right with him. He slinks back down on the couch dejectedly and halfheartedly starts a new game.

He finds himself wondering how often they hung out and how much whatever-that-number-was-teenth impressions were worth. He hopes it’s a lot.

~~~

fall for someone who always runs from his kiss

“… And I was right! They were roommates!” May boisterously ends her story, almost losing her ice cream to physics as she wildly gesticulates.

They’re just strolling around the park that’s honestly nowhere near either of their apartments; but over the years, it became their park anyway. They didn’t even set plans to hang out today, but it kinda just happened―a recurring theme in their friendship, admittedly.

For his part, Ash hides a smirk with a lick to his own ice cream, not bothering to say or do anything to protect her treat. If she hasn’t learned by now, she never would. “Oh my god, they were roommates,” he deadpans instead.

May sends him an unimpressed smirk and lightly smacks Ash’s shoulder. He yelps. She yanks her hand back as soon as she realises, but the damage is done.

He blinks down at the cold, vanilla, rainbow-sprinkled stain before raising his gaze to meet May’s equally stunned one.

They stare in silence for a moment, then May cracks a conciliatory grin. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry?”

He shrugs it off easily. “I probably deserved it,” he says, making peace with the knowledge that his previous unwillingness to protect her ice cream from any accidents is the undoubted origin for his current poor luck. He nods toward the path. “Shall we?”

“We passed by a restroom a little bit ago. We can clean you up,” May disagrees, tugging on his arm in the opposite direction.

“‘S fine,” he argues as he tries to continue walking forward.

“Ash, it’ll stain!” She tugs harder.

“It’ll be an improvement!” He’s overpowering her, but not as easily as he’d like.

“Why are you being such a butthead about this!?” She’s pulling with all her strength now, this being a matter of pride to her at this point.

“Come on, May!” Ash heaves one last time.

They tumble head over feet onto the ground, but that’s not the reason Ash feels like his world has turned upside down.

May’s body weighs comfortably on his, his hands naturally settle on her waist with hers on his chest, and his brown eyes bore into her blues. Their ice cream has fallen… somewhere, but Ash doesn’t concern himself with that considering this is the closest they’ve been since they first met.

They’ve been toeing this line since then, too.

I’m gonna do it, he thinks to himself.

He closes his eyes.

He leans in.

May scrambles away.

Ash sits up and blinks at the sight of May’s confused, furious eyes. “Ash, what are you doing?” Her voice croaks like her throat is dry. It makes him clear his own before dumbly responding, “I was trying to kiss you.”

“Why??” she asks, her voice strangled. He pushes himself off the ground warily as he watches her hold herself, bite her lip, shake her head in a panic; and somehow in all of that, he understands.

“I thought it wasn’t a date.” Ash tries so hard not to sound accusatory, but her wince in response proves it didn’t work. It also proves his fear correct.

He turns, hiding as if the people walking by could discern his transgression and shame by the sight of his face alone. Besides, his mind can conjure up an image of her running away just fine on its own.

Ash notices the remnants of their impromptu outing splattered on the ground near his feet. He picks up what he can and stomps over to the nearest trash bin, throwing it in as hard as he can to let out some of his frustration.

He hopes he hasn’t gone and screwed everything up.

~~~

fall for someone whose lips belong to someone else

They don’t talk about it, and then it’s too late.

“Ash, this is Steven,” she tells him softly, as if it could make up for how it feels like the sight of her arms wrapped around the guy’s torso and his arm casually thrown over her shoulder assaults him every time he blinks.

“Steven Stone. It’s great to finally meet you. May speaks of you highly,” Steven introduces with a dignified air. Not pompous, no; he is just someone who was raised being told that he was going to do important things and who happened to believe it.

They shake hands, and Ash’s fingers feel cold, a marked contrast to how there’s something in his chest that’s burning.

Inside the restaurant, the waitress asks if a table is okay, and no one asks for a booth instead. In his seat, Ash is neither directly in between nor directly across from the newly-established couple, and he wonders if this is where all his luck went into.

Lunch goes better than expected.

Ash was prepared to hate the guy, but what is there to hate? Steven has a decent sense of humour, loves pokemon but loves rocks even more, and is COO of the biggest enterprise in Hoenn. He is a safe, sensible choice. This guy isn’t going to break May’s heart.

As the meal winds down, Steven offers to pay for everyone; but Ash still has his pride. In the end, he manages to negotiate paying for just his own plate and drink, knowing he has no right to battle for the privilege of paying for May’s.

He wouldn’t even do so on a typical occasion anyway; but as far as Ash is concerned, Steven’s presence throws all of the friends’ typical rules of engagement out the window.

They say goodbye and part ways in front of the restaurant.

A few steps later, Ash snaps his fingers as he recalls something. He turns around to remind May of their movie plans in a few days, and he is met with the sight of the couple sharing a sweet kiss on the corner while waiting for the light to change.

Steven could never break May’s heart, but he sure can break Ash’s.

Ash turns back and continues walking. He hopes May can remember on her own.

~~~

fall for someone whose touch is way too much

May insists that nothing has changed between them, but clearly something has because Ash doesn’t remember ever being so anxious about her proximity before.

He had always been aware of her, though. Always. When your first meeting is saving the other from getting run over by a tour bus, you quickly develop the habit of keeping track of where the person is at all times.

Between his athleticism and her natural proclivity towards tactileness, casual physical exchanges quickly became their norm: hugs and high fives, friendly elbows in the rib after a good joke and sharing a blanket as they watch a movie, (lingering touches on the shoulder and holding hands even after they’ve escaped a crowd… or did he make those up?).

They were controlled yet unmistakably affectionate markers of their relationship.

But now?

When she shifts one centimetre closer to him in line at the mall food court, he accidentally overpays by fifty pokeyen out of distraction. When she grabs his fork out of his hand to try a piece of his takoyaki, he jerks so hard at the contact that he spills his soft drink all over the table. When she pats him dry using flimsy food court napkins with a joke about ice cream in her voice and fondness in her eyes, he needs to claim a rapid-onset fever in order to give himself an excuse to cut their lunch short immediately.

These innocent touches have been an ever-present facet of their friendship since basically the beginning; and even when he realised he was in love, they hadn’t affected him like this.

Things are different now, despite what she says.

Well, maybe not things; maybe just him.

He had allowed himself to revel in their familiar touches when she was single because he could, because there was no one else that she was supposed to be able to make feel like this. Even if the feeling wasn’t meant for him, it wasn’t meant for anyone else either.

But now.

He can’t, in good conscience, allow his heart to rush and his smile to form and his hand to squeeze back. It wouldn’t be fair to May, not when she’s trusting him with her friendship and he’s taking more from her than that.

Even though he’d like nothing else than to keep that closeness, to go back to how it was between them before, this is the way it has to be now. He just hopes she can understand.

~~~

fall for someone he doesn’t want to feel for

On sleepless nights, he wonders when.

He knows the who, what, why, and how; but the when eludes him.

...

They were both breathing heavy, attention focused on the spot of the road where the girl would have flattened like a pancake if it weren’t for his quick reflexes and hero complex.

The clapping of a few passers-by snapped them out of their shock and into the realisation that he still had her protectively cradled to his chest.

They quickly broke apart, and he took the time to wave off the praise from the gathered crowd while she checked her purse to see if everything was inside.

“You got everything?” he asked after people’s attentions finally turned back towards their own lives.

“Yeah, I do,” the girl replied, and her voice was rather cheery considering the ordeal she just survived. (He would later learn that was her default.)

“Great,” he said, genuine yet awkward.

They continued staring at each other. The adrenaline from their brush with danger hadn’t worn off yet; his heart was still beating very fast.

“So, um, have a good day,” he bade after it was clear neither of them had anything more to say. He made to return to his errands, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“You saved my life, and you’re just gonna walk away?” she asked incredulously.

He blinked at her. “I’ll be honest; I wasn’t aware there was an after-action protocol for this sort of situation.”

She was incredulous for only a second before she giggled at him. “The least I can do is buy you lunch to say ‘thank you.’”

“Well, I’ve never turned down a free meal,” he accepts with a grin.

She giggled again then stuck out her hand. “My name’s May.”

“Ash.”

...

No, it wasn’t then. Nor was it during the meal they shared, nor at the bar where they happened to see each other that weekend, nor while they were escaping from the bar fight that she accidentally instigated that night.

...

“Is this going to become a running gag? Will I have to constantly be saving you from trouble you unintentionally get yourself into?” Ash panted after he directed her to duck into a nearby alley.

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, this automatically makes me the most interesting friend you’ve got,” May countered.

He took one extra second to check no one was following them then cut a glance at her. “I don’t know about you, but most of my friends have my number.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Smooth.” They switched phones and exchanged numbers.

“Better memorize that by heart,” he jested as he handed her her phone back. “Don’t wanna waste your one phone call at the station just because you mixed up the last two digits by accident.”

“If the next time you hear from me is because I went and got myself arrested, just leave me to rot. I must have earned it,” she smirked.

...

Luckily, the next time one of them reached out to the other wasn’t to bail the former out of jail. May invited him to a pool party for her birthday, where he handily won a water balloon fight and impressed everyone by fixing the grill for their barbeque. Their friendship continued to progress naturally: movie nights that turned into impromptu sleepovers, brunches that turned into walks around town. Several shopping trips and video games and hikes later, they were each other’s best friends. It was basically inevitable.

So when? When would he have had the chance to fall in love with her?

...

“Hello?”

“Ash, you picked up!” she sounded surprised―happy, but surprised―and he winced. He knew he’d been blowing her off a little more often lately, but making her think he’d turn down her phone call?

“Heh, yeah, sorry about that,” he said, betting on the hope that she somehow implicitly understood everything he was apologising for. “Is everything okay?”

For an extended second, she was quiet, then she said, “I need to tell you something.”

His hackles rose, and he started grabbing his keys and putting on his shoes. Maybe she finally ended up in jail. “Where are you? I can be there in ten minutes, maybe twenty with traffic―”

She giggled, and he paused. That was her nervous giggle. “May?” he asked, still wary but not about to race out of his house with only his boxers on.

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… Steven told me he loves me.”

His breath left his lungs.

“And I told him I love him back,” she continued.

All the adrenaline that had surged through his body only moments before completely left him at her words, and his limbs locked up instead. He felt cold.

“Hello?”

He didn’t even realise he had sunk to his knees until he meant to take a step back towards the couch. He just slumped onto his butt. “That’s―” He had to clear his throat. “That’s gotta be recent.”

He could slap himself. He sounded as dead as he felt. He tried again: “I mean, that’s great news, May! He’s a lucky guy. Yeah.”

She sighed with relief. Could Steven tell what her sighs meant over the phone? ”I’m the lucky one, I think,” she said happily, and that was his last straw.

“Heh, yeah, well,” he sputtered out, just to have something to say. “Listen, since you’re not in danger or anything, uh, you actually caught me at a bad time, so I gotta go. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

“Wait, Ash! Before you go!”

He held back a sigh. “What’s up, May?”

“It’s just… You’re right; it is recent. You’re actually the first person I told.”

“I’m honoured.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm that spilled out, but he backtracked quickly. “I mean it. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course, Ash; I tell you everything. At this point, it’s like I have to; nothing would ever feel real otherwise.”

He shut his eyes. He really couldn’t take this anymore. “I know what you mean. Same here.”

She made a cute sound, a quiet little ‘hmm,’ and that was when the first tear spilled out. “Alright, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’ll text you later!!” she promised.

“Later,” he repeated, both an echo and a goodbye; and finally, blissfully, he ended the call.

...

When, when, when?!

That was supposed to be one of the sweetest moments of her young adult life, and she called on him―trusted him, even―to be happy for her. When did he get to the point where he couldn’t even do that? Instead, he recalls it now as he struggles to fall asleep, playing the memory at half-speed over and over again in his imagination, and all he does is hope.

He desperately hopes it’ll stop hurting so much.

~~~

fall for someone with the sweetest rebel heart

When he finds out he didn’t get the promotion he was vying for at work, there’s no one else’s comfort he sought but May’s.

“I’m sorry that happened, Ash,” May soothes as she rubs rhythmic circles into Ash’s back. They’re in her condo, noticeably nicer maintained than Ash’s flat, side by side on the sofa. It is the first time he’s let her touch him in weeks, and he really needs it. “At least now they know you’re interested? It might be your turn next time.”

Ash snorts but nods anyway. He’s usually the type to look at the bright side, but it would be an understatement to say that he is simply disappointed. After all the L’s he’s been taking in his personal life, he had been hoping at least something would go his way professionally.

May continues, “Just make sure not to let this setback actually set you back. Keep putting your best foot forward, and I know you’ll win those guys over… just like you did with me!” She ends with a wink, trying her hardest to inject some levity into the situation.

Just like that, Ash’s mood sours even more. “You can’t say that to me, May,” he angrily replies as he shuffles out of her hold.

“What are you talking about?” she pouts as she feebly tries to get him to lay back against the couch so that the cold air can’t get under the blanket they are sharing.

“I didn’t ‘win you over,’ clearly.” He shrugs off her touch and scoots away. He has spent so long trying to keep his bitterness inside, but he doesn’t have the emotional wherewithal to regulate himself right now. He’s tired of trying to get over things that make him upset.

May frowns, the furrow between her brow getting deeper as she sits up straight on the sofa. “Ash, why are you talking like that? I meant, like, how we became friends, obviously. I didn’t grow to love you by accident.”

Ash stands then, balling the blanket up and throwing it back on the couch. “I bet Steven wouldn’t be too happy to hear you say that.”

She follows suit, her voice elevating in volume as if to match. “I bet Steven wouldn’t appreciate being judged by someone who’s only met him once―despite my efforts otherwise, might I add.”

“I bet Steven would love to hear his girlfriend say she loves another guy.”

“I bet Steven isn’t dumb enough to think I can’t love you both.”

“You don’t love me, May!” Ash finally explodes.

He has never raised his voice like this, not to her, but he’s tired. He’s tired of loving someone he can’t have, he’s tired of hating himself for it, and he’s tired of the guilt when he takes it out on her despite all his attempts not to.

She looks like she’s torn between yelling right back or kicking him out; and before she could make up her mind, he collects himself enough so he could bring his voice down. He states simply, “Not the way you love Steven.” Not the way I love you.

He doesn’t say it, but he can tell she hears it anyway. He clears his throat and turns around, trying to hide without running away. “Hearts don’t work like that,” he murmurs into the room.

He makes to leave, but May’s hand on his shoulder stops him. She forcibly turns him back to face her, and Ash is shocked at the determined set to her face. Her eyes, bluer than a water stone and twice as powerful, hold him as captive as they always have. “You listen to me, Ash Ketchum.” Her tone brokers no argument. “If you thought for a second that I stopped loving you because I fell in love with Steven, you clearly underestimated what my heart is capable of.”

Her grip on him tightens, as if making sure he is still with her in the moment. “It’s big enough for the both of you; and if that’s not the way hearts are supposed to work, then I’ll just be the exception that proves the rule.”

She pulls him into a hug then, like locking that promise between them, and he dares let himself hope she means that.

~~~

fall for someone whose heart needs sewing up

Ash wasn’t expecting a knock on his door this late at night, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to see a beautifully made up May Maple standing in the hallway, mascara-tinged tears and runny nose notwithstanding.

"Steven is moving to Alola to support Devon Corp’s expansion," is all she said, but even that much is hard to make out through her watery voice.

The news sinks in, and Ash’s heart feels like someone moved it three centimetres to the left: still there, still functional, but not at all where he needs it to be.

"You’ve always talked about going to Alola," is the only way he could respond, thinking of all the times they’ve imagined taking a week off and vacationing in the tropical region. He won’t, can’t let himself think about anything else or else he’d break down.

In his heartbreak, he cannot recognise May's tears, which are too raw and too loud to be that of someone bearing regrettable news. These are the tears of a confused, broken heart.

"Ash, I'm not going," she sniffles, still stiffly standing outside his door. "He asked me not to."

Finally understanding that he misunderstood, Ash is even more disoriented than he was before. "Why would he do that?" he asks, obviously still trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was happening.

"I don’t know!" May yells while clenching her fists and stomping a high-heeled foot. It is the most movement she's made since he opened the door. "I demanded a reason, and he spewed nonsense at me! He said―" and she stops. Her whole body slumps back into stillness but without the stiffness of before. She continues quietly, "He said he didn’t want to see what I’d look like with my heart so far outside of my chest," like a guilty confession. Ash is at once reminded of their almost-fight a month ago, and he still isn’t sure what this all means.

He almost asks, Why wouldn’t he believe your heart was right where you were? or How capable is the human heart now? but he doesn’t.

Instead, he finally welcomes May inside. He sits her on the couch and helps her take off her heels before she wraps herself up in the blanket he keeps there―a blanket he only has, he remembers, because when she first visited his apartment, she insisted his couch needed one. She doesn’t just hold the blanket around her shoulders; she hides her entire frame within its folds. He merely sits on the couch next to the lump and places a solitary hand on top, unsure where it was resting yet hoping it is providing comfort nevertheless.

He wonders if May ever let Steven see her like this, the way she needs to shut out all stimuli as if to physically recreate her darkest moments. He wonders why he loves that she does that, even though it causes him so much selfish pain to be close enough to see her like this but shut out from her healing.

"I don’t think I have a boyfriend anymore," May says at length, voice dampened by the space and fabric between them.

It would have been the happiest news of Ash’s adult life if it weren’t for the extreme melancholy that laced her tone as she said it out loud.

He squeezes his hand into a fist on top of the blanket, his signal that he’d like to hug her if he could.

"I would have missed you if you left." Ash gives a nonsequitur-confession in response. May burrows deeper into the blankets and says nothing.

Instead, she reaches a hand out from a heretofore unseen opening in the fabric and holds on to his other hand tightly.

Ash stares at her slender knuckles, made paler from her firm grasp, and stops hoping.

He gently plies her fingers from his palm and tries not to feel guilty about the shocked, embarrassed way the hand pulls back into the blanket as he leaves her there.

The love of his life needs compassion right now. This is not his opportunity to sweep her off her feet; this is not his second chance.

He returns from the bedroom, settles back into his place on the couch, and forces May out of the blanket.

~~~

May jerks her head up, shocked and angry and still embarrassed from her rejected attempt to seek Ash’s comfort, but she is quickly mollified into confusion. The expected sight of Ash’s lit up form in his lit up living room ends up being no different from the blackness from which she thought she was rudely taken.

It is so dark under the extra, larger blanket that she can’t even see Ash’s nose even though she can sense his head is mere inches from hers.

His hands find hers in the darkness and squeeze. Relief flashes through her as she finally surrenders to the deep, thick slice of heartbreak.

May wants to see his face, but she settles for a hug.

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #advshipping #advanceshipping #ash ketchum #may maple #aamaylove #satoharu #unsuspecting #xyzc*

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weakzen · 4 years

Text

Touch

After another nightmare about Murphy, Mason surprises the Detective with a visit—and a few unexpected things more.

pairing: female detective/mason rating: 18+ warning: smutty smut, trauma, murphy creepiness - see tags on AO3

AO3 version

The blood comes closer.

It races forward, whipping around each coil before surging down the straightaways in a rush of crimson. It takes its time somehow too, winding in long, lazy loops, meandering through the tangled labyrinth of tubing so slowly that a fleeting bit of hope tries to spark in my chest.

But I know better. The blood never stops.

It always comes closer.

Isn't it thrilling, Detective?

Closer and closer.

We'll be inseparable after this!

His words jolt me into a sudden frenzy and I thrash against the bindings and the solid weight of his hand pinning my hip to the table. A ragged, primal scream tears from my throat as I jerk and twist until the straps slice into my flesh. I snap forward to bite the needle lodged in my arm, to rip it free with my teeth, but his hand clamps around my neck and slams my head against the table. White light and pain explode into my vision, and his fingers tighten ever-so-slightly in a warning I don't heed.

But it doesn't matter.

No matter how much I struggle, his blood comes closer. Closer and closer.

And there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Fear spikes through me as I continue resisting in a body that begins to feel more and more distant. All I can hear is the loud echo of his heavy, excited panting. All I can smell is his sweat mixed with a sickening metallic tang. And all I can feel is the clammy hand pinched around my thigh, his fingers squeezing with anticipation and—

There will always be a part of me inside of you.

I twist awake from the nightmare with a heaving gasp.

Bile surges hot into my throat and I swallow hard against it. My heart thunders in my chest, pounding something wild and desperate into my skull, into my ears. For a terrifying moment, I can't sense anything except the deafening throb of blood.

But…

Slowly, gradually, it recedes to the sound of rain.

And I finally choke down a long, shuddering breath.

I'm not sure how long I lie there afterward, sucking in air, my body buzzing unpleasantly while I stare at the ceiling, but eventually I become aware of just how warm I am and kick myself free of my joggers and the sheets. A shiver ripples up my spine as my bare legs are exposed, and I absently blow at a few damp strands of hair plastered to my cheek. After another long moment, I sigh and roll over to put my feet on the floor, burying my face in my hands while I wait, once again, for the trembling to die down.

Never thought I'd miss the semester when my roommate's alarm clock blasted me awake every morning while she power-slept through it, but… here I am. Getting more misty-eyed and sentimental by the second.

Ah, the halcyon days when the mystery of who left the dishes in the sink was the biggest concern in my life.

Snorting softly, I crack my neck a few times before I push off the bed and shuffle into the bathroom. I don't bother with the light. Or the mirror. I already know I look like shit. Instead, I hunch over the sink to alternate between drinking from the tap so greedily I start coughing and drowning my face in the cold water. I bury it in a towel afterward too, for good measure, pressing myself so deeply into the cotton that it's actually a little difficult to breathe.

I don't know why I do it. Or why I stay there as long as I do.

Silent. Stiff.

Suffocating.

But I don't pull away.

Not until I hear the faint squeaking of cloth and realize my fingers have twisted themselves into fists and I'm clutching the towel so hard that my hands are shaking. As I stare down at it, something else twists inside me too. Some fierce and overwhelming urge that demands I keep going. That I tear it in half. Rip it up. Shred it apart entirely.

My jaw clenches under the force of it, until my teeth start to squeak too.

Then—for some absurd fucking reason—I picture Nate kneeling over the destroyed towel, a sad little frown on his face as he bemoans the thread count.

And a laugh sputters out of me instead.

It's long and wheezing and only slightly hysterical, but I can't help it. The image is just so— ridiculous and bewildering and, honestly, pretty fucking funny.

As my body shakes with laughter, I drop the towel into the sink and curl forward to put my face in my hands. Tears bead at the corners of my eyes and my stomach starts to hurt from the effort. Tightness cinches around my chest too, and claws up to lodge in my throat. Heat prickles and swells across my face, and my lip trembles and my eyes begin to sting and I suddenly know exactly what's fucking coming.

So I brace against it.

It doesn't matter.

And I hold it back.

It doesn't. It really doesn't.

Until it gradually passes.

It's over and done.

I take a deep, shuddering, and practiced breath afterwards, sniffling just enough to clear it away before I flick the unshed moisture from my eyes.

Then, without another thought, I whip the towel around the rack unharmed and walk back into my room.

I move towards the bed, but I pause as I pass into the cool air flowing in through the window. My arms fold instinctively against it, even though the chill brushes pleasantly across my uncomfortably hot face. I glance over at the damp and tangled mess of sheets awaiting me and frown. I frown harder knowing, as usual, I'll probably only end up twisting around in them until it's too bright to pretend I have a chance of falling back asleep.

And, with that decidedly unappealing thought in mind, I turn to face the rain instead.

The tang of cold moisture and pine drifts inside, and I inhale it eagerly. I always did enjoy late summer in Wayhaven, when the storms roll back in to chase away the heat. The towering dark clouds, the breeze snapping every banner, awning, and flagpole in the Square, the promise of wet earth on the wind and the heavy stillness right before the downpour rips free—it's hard not to get excited in the presence of something so magnificently powerful.

Lightning flickers across the sky as if in agreement, and thunder follows it a few moments later in the distance, a long and low rumble that rattles the glass in the windowpane.

I smile softly, shifting a hand to stroke my neck while the breeze soothes my flushed skin.

Yesterday afternoon seems so distant now, though. I remember that excitement when I left the station, the stupid little grin on my face when it started pouring and Tina's shrieks as she ran back into the doorway to shout goodbye. I remember driving up here too, with my window rolled down, nothing but total contentment in my heart as the rain streaked over the windshield and across my knuckles. And I remember walking into the Warehouse, jacket dripping, and that dull ache of happiness that rolled through me as familiar voices called out in greeting and my eyes fell on the steaming mug waiting by the spot where I usually sit.

I remember it, but… right here, now, alone in the dark once more, it's hard to believe any of it actually happened to me.

It's hard to believe I ever really felt that way at all. It almost seems… borrowed. Like all of its brightness belongs to someone else entirely.

And this shit, right now, is what I truly am—and all I'll ever know.

A familiar tightness claws up my throat again. My eyes start to sting.

"Scared of the storm, sweetheart?"

I startle immediately and startle hard.

My attention snaps to the doorway, only to recognize a dark and familiar figure leaning against the frame.

Fuck—I hadn't even heard him open the door! Or knock, I want to add, before I remember it's Mason and doors are one of the few things he actually won't do.

Shit.

I take a deep breath, roll my shoulders back and shoot him a smirk that I don't really feel.

"Petrified.”

Mason smirks in return. "Then maybe I should come in and make you feel safe. Hold you very close to me until it passes."

I can't help the soft chuckle that escapes my lips as I glance away. My arms folds a bit tighter around myself and I shift slightly on the spot. “Not sure I'm in the mood for that kind of comfort right now.”

“Lucky for you, that's not the only kind I can offer.”

My brow arcs in question—and curiosity. I'm not sure how much I believe him, but… I am always interested to see what he'll try.

Without looking away from the window, I give him a small nod of invitation to come in.

The door clicks shut, and heat soon radiates across my bare skin through the loose, open-backed shirt I wore to bed. Mason's hands slide over my hips from behind, his fingers splaying briefly, giving just the slightest squeeze, before he wraps his arms around me and settles them into a fold beneath my own. He rests his chin on top of my head too—something new he's started doing lately, though I suppose I am at perfect chin-resting height—and he gently pulls me back against him.

A sigh escapes me as he does, louder than I would've intended. And maybe he wasn't entirely bullshitting about that comfort.

Because I can't deny just how damn good it feels to be held by him, even now.

My eyes flutter shut as I sink further into his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Smoke and sandalwood envelop me, as does another scent underlying both, something dark and pleasantly rich and unmistakably him. Something familiar too, achingly so, that makes my breath hitch over the sudden and unexpected swell of fondness spreading across my chest.

My shoulders sag, my head tilts back, and the tension knotted around my throat loosens. His chest rises and falls against my own breathing, sometimes aligning so we press together fully on an inhale, and I slowly realize I don't think I've never felt this relaxed in anyone's arms before.

That is, until I also realize he definitely felt every part of my reaction—right down to the slightest bit of movement—and I inwardly cringe.

Thankfully, at least, he doesn't care enough to comment about any of it. I cringe a little further, hoping that small mercy extends to anything he witnessed while he stood in the doorway.

Or noticed before he opened the door.

My back stiffens again as I try not to think about just how far he can hear across the Warehouse… I bite my lip to suppress a groan.

“How long were you standing there anyway?"

"Long enough."

A weak chuckle escapes me. “Well, that's not embarrassing…”

“'Cause there's nothing to be embarrassed about,” he states, his words delivered so casually and matter-of-fact that there's no room to doubt his belief in them. “Especially not with the view you provide,” he adds, his voice dipping into a low rumble.

I chuckle again despite my unease—and my surprise. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Glad to know I add a little brightness to your morning too, sunshine.”

His scoff ruffles my hair and I swear I can almost feel his eyeroll. My smile widens.

I lean against him even further, and his arms tighten around me in response. Comfortable silence blankets us, as it often does, and I try to relax into it, into him, closing my eyes once more as my fingers trace idle paths over my neck. The gentle downpour continues outside, steady in its intensity with soft, irregular tings and the occasional roll of thunder.

“Guess the rain ruined your rooftop solitude this morning,” I murmur absently.

"I wouldn't call it ruined."

I hum in acknowledgment and my attention slowly returns to the storm. The rain falls lighter now than it did earlier, when I made the decision—because of Nate's unusually strong encouragement, even for him—to spend the night at the Warehouse rather than drive back into town. Something about my car having 'questionable traction, even under ideal circumstances' and 'certainly a lot of spirit, if not much else,' to which I countered that he and everyone else needed to start having some faith in the most reliable, tenacious, and clearly valuable member of our team.

I mean, a muddy road is nothing. That car has already survived the jerks, stops, and stalled clutches of a teenager with a learner's permit, four years of designated driving for sloppy, belligerent classmates, overnight parking on some of Vancouver's shittiest streets, a hockey riot, Tina spilling a full milkshake across the dash, Adam crashing into it from multiple angles, Mason doing his damnedest to destroy the suspension from the backseat, aggressive karaoke in the front seat with Felix, a standoff with a fucking moose, and that's not even half of what I can remember.

And even after all of that, it continues to rumble along, coasting like it has a full tank when the fuel gauge dips into the red, rattling change loose from its crevices whenever I want a coffee, providing occasional shelter to the neighborhood family of raccoons.

I just think it deserves a little more respect is all. But I know they'll all come around eventually.

Even if I have to make them.

I grin—though it falters somewhat as my fingertips brush over the scar on my neck.

It… feels worse than it looks, in more than one way. Which is a fucking shame, if not completely fitting, because of course that asshole didn't even have the decency to leave me with a badass scar. All this one does is pull uncomfortably if I turn my head too far, but… it doesn't bother me anymore, not really.

My fingers stop directly above the pulse throbbing beneath those gnarled ridges and dips.

It doesn't matter.

Frowning, I continue to stroke my neck, more intently than I had before. And maybe that's why, or maybe it's the nightmare still wrapped fresh around my mind, or the fact it rained that night too, but the memory of Murphy's bite suddenly slams into me as hard as his mouth did.

He chewed a little.

When I fumbled for my throat, my fingers slid across torn flesh into muscle. The blood burned my hand as it poured out. Slick. Hot. A stream of wet fire rushing over my fingers and down my arm to drip from my elbow, down the middle of my chest, my stomach, sinking heat into my underwear and the cold, sweat-soaked gown plastered to my skin.

It burned sickeningly hot, but not as much as Murphy's tongue did, when he dragged it up the length of my neck and pushed it into me.

I startle hard when my hand is suddenly snatched from my neck.

“You always this tense when it rains?”

“I'm not tense,” I say unthinkingly, then cringe at my obvious lie.

Mason scoffs and smirks so hard I can feel it through my skull.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. “I'm just, uh… stiff with appreciation.”

His smirk widens. “What a coincidence—”

“—So am I,” I say at the same time as him, then roll my eyes. He laughs, his body shaking against my own, and I can't help but smile too. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a few lingering kisses to the spot I was just touching. He squeezes me tighter for a moment, then folds our arms back around me, his hand tucked over my own.

I take a deep breath and try to relax once more.

“…I actually really like storms,” I say a moment later, in an attempt to keep my mind from wandering again.

“So do I.” Silence briefly falls over us again, until he adds, “The air always smells cleaner when it rains. Sharper, in a good way. And there's so much noise all at once, it all kind of… blends together and almost fades away. Makes everything else fade away too.”

My eyes fall shut again as I enjoy the rumble of his words against my back. “Makes everybody flee inside as well.”

He snorts. “That's always a nice bonus for anything.”

I hum in response. Then he surprises me by speaking further.

“…I don't like being out in it much either.”

“Because it's cold?”

“Freezing, yeah. But more because it stings.” His fingers twitch slightly against the top of mine. “Feels like being stabbed over and over again by millions of tiny needles.”

I hesitate for a moment, briefly pressing my lips together, then I slide my fingers upwards to lace partway through his. Mason stills behind me, and I don't need to turn around to know he's pinning me with a gaze.

Then his fingers curl between mine in response.

A pleasant ache twists in my chest, and I give a small nod toward the window. “…Does it feel that way even in something gentle, like this?”

“If I stand out in it long enough, yeah.”

I huff softly. “Guess showering can't be much fun for you then.”

He chuckles deeply, squeezing me in a decidedly more suggestive manner as he presses his hips forward. “You're always welcome to join me and make it better.”

I open my mouth to reply, but quickly forget what I meant to say as I actually think about his proposal. More specifically, as I think about sliding against his wet and soapy skin. And his hands gliding across mine. And, of course, the fact that he's more than strong enough to hold me up against the wall…

My breath hitches as I bite my lower lip—and Mason descends, grinning, to hook his chin on my shoulder.

“You want me to tuck you in, sweetheart?” he asks, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a pleasant shiver down my body.

“Why do I get the feeling the way you'd tuck me in is identical to the way you toss me down for a fuck?”

He chuckles. “Because they are the same. You just aren't naked right now.”

“That's it?” I turn to face him, my brow raised and a growing smirk on my lips. “Not even gonna offer me a little tenderness and care?”

“Nope,” he replies simply—then scoops me up over his shoulder like he's done so many times in the past.

For a moment, my mind jumps back to when he first carried me like this, over that tree so long ago, but the thought disappears when he unceremoniously dumps me onto the mattress.

I huff and roll over into a somewhat more dignified position. “Thanks.”

“You can thank me when I'm done.” Amusement and desire play across his darkened features.

“Yeah? What else do you need to do?”

“You, obviously.”

I laugh, but the thought is rather tempting right now. Far more so than when he first showed up…

“May I join you?” he asks, his voice dipping into a husky rumble. There's a sharp gleam in his eyes and a hungry grin on his lips.

An answering one pulls at my own lips. “You know the rule.”

His grin widens. “It's the only one I actually like,” he growls before practically tearing his shirt off.

No street clothes in my bed, I told him once, the first time he tried to flop onto my duvet in jeans. Only house clothes and underwear are allowed—or nudity.

And he wastes no time getting to that state.

I scoot over to make room for him, though he still manages to sprawl out practically on top of me as he flops into the bed. He stretches out with exaggerated laziness before folding his arms behind his head and fixing me with a smirk. It's obvious he's temping me to look at him.

And, of course, I do.

The dim light coming in through the window softens the muscled planes of his body. I let my gaze roam over the long and familiar lines of his form, biting my lip as I take in the contours of his bare shoulders and chest, the ridges of his abs, and the trail of dark hair leading down his stomach to the very apparent arousal on full display.

“Look as much as you want, sweetheart,” he purrs, letting his thigh fall atop my own as he spreads his legs even wider.

Chuckling softly, I let my eyes linger there for a moment before I glance back to his face, where it's clearly evident he's been enjoying the attention. I roll onto my side just as lazily and prop my head up on one arm. Then I reach over to skim my other hand down his torso, keeping my palm flat and close enough to his skin to feel his warmth, but not close enough to actually touch him.

He watches my movement intently, breathing in through his teeth as my hand moves lower and lower. When I reach his cock, I curl my hand around the base as though I'm about to grasp him, my fingers circling closer and closer as I move my hand up his length—but right as I'm about to make contact, I keep moving, closing my hand into a fist after it passes by the tip entirely.

His hips roll forward to follow, and I grin as he lets out a frustrated growl.

“But don't touch?” I ask, giving him a wink.

Mason scoffs, but the broad smile on his face says the teasing pleased him more than anything else. He licks his upper lip and scoots closer to me, until we're pressed together, his side against my front, and his face close to mine on the pillow below.

“You can touch as much as you want,” he replies, gazing up at me through half-lidded eyes and long dark lashes. He begins to slowly rub his leg against mine. “And I know you want to.”

His words rumble over me, low, invitingly, and very accurately. I inhale slightly as he nudges his knee against my legs, asking me to part them—then more sharply as I oblige and he slides his thigh between my own, although not quite as high up as I would like.

Heat spools low in my belly as I rock my hips forward slightly, leaning into his warmth. My gaze travels up our bodies. Our bare legs tangled together. The sliver of my stomach brushing against his skin where my shirt is pulled up. The rise and fall of his chest, just waiting for me to reach over and touch him for real this time.

But a question surfaces in my mind before I do. A concern.

Something I've wondered about for a long while now, but has been in my thoughts with more frequency lately.

Because he's been touching me more lately, outside of the bedroom.

A lot.

Pressing his shoulder against mine when we stand by each other for a group meeting. Splaying his hand across my back while we lean over to examine something. Reaching over to brush strands of hair from my face after I blow them away in annoyance.

And a multitude of other tiny ways to try and fluster me because words alone rarely cut it anymore.

I've played back with my own teasing touches, of course, but…

It's a lot of effort on his part just to get a reaction out of me. A lot of painful effort too, for someone so hypersensitive that even a gentle rainfall against his skin could cause agony.

Much less what it must feel like for him when he's exposed like this and touched so directly.

So intimately.

I glance back up to catch his gaze, only to find him already watching me with those pretty grey eyes.

“…Doesn't it hurt you, though?” I ask quietly, before I can stop myself. “Being touched when your senses are so heightened?”

All trace of amusement and desire drops from his face instantly. He frowns and looks away.

I glance away as well, regret lurching in my stomach to an almost sickening degree. My fingers curl around the hem of my shirt and begin twisting the fabric.

Of course I had to fucking ask. Of course.

I know this… arrangement between Mason and myself is superficial and meaningless, even if the more stupidly curious part of me sometimes forgets. I've always appreciated his honesty about that, how upfront he's been from the very start about not wanting to know me or share himself. After how hard Bobby almost fucked me over… it's a relief to be around someone so direct about his intent.

Someone who isn't going to pretend to care about me in order to get what he actually wants.

Mason would never do that. He's a good guy. We have a good thing. And I don't want to fuck things up between us just because I'm terminally fucking nosy.

I shouldn't have pried. And definitely not about something like that.

I take a low, steadying breath and ready an apology on my lips, but his voice cuts through the silence first.

“Yes.”

My eyes snap to his face, only to find him already staring at me again. There's a strange, piercing intensity in those grey depths now, something I've never seen there before.

“It does, most of the time,” he continues, holding my gaze, his brow furrowing and his jaw tightening slightly as he pauses for a moment. “…But not with you.”

My breath snags over his words and suddenly it's my turn to look away and frown.

I want to dismiss it as just… more innuendo. An obvious invitation to slip out of my shirt and roll on top of him. And I'm sure he meant it like that, and I'm sure he wants that too, I know, but…

There's an edge to his tone. A heaviness to his words.

Like the calm and undeniable weight of a storm before it breaks.

My stomach does an uneasy flip, and I don't know if it's because I'm scared of whatever it means—or because I'm excited.

I really don't know what to say in response, either.

…So I don't say anything.

I just…

Thunder rumbles somewhere far away from us as I reach over and brush my fingers across Mason's stomach.

His eyes shut and he inhales sharply through his teeth as I slowly flatten my hand and begin caressing him there. His abs dip and roll with my movement, and his hips join the motion when I start to tease my fingers further down. I stay there, just long enough to give him some hope, my fingers inching closer and ever closer, until I abruptly change direction to the sound of another frustrated groan.

Chuckling quietly, I keep my touch soft as I follow the path of dark hair up his torso. My fingers ruffle it lightly along the way, briefly detouring out across his freckled skin to graze his nipples. He moans quietly in response, and chills prickle across his flesh. His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, and I continue upward, passing the cords of leather looped around his neck, the shard of quartz catching the faint light, until my fingers glide into the hollow at the base of his throat.

Slowly, I draw a single finger up the long column of his neck. His head falls back to allow it, his chin rising in the air, his body arching too, as my fingertip drags up through his heavy stubble and briefly catches on the edge of his jaw before it flicks free. His tongue darts across his lips, but I don't give him time to recover before my hand immediately veers in to cup his cheek, gliding slowly again until he's nestled fully in my palm. I roll my thumb across his soft, slickened lips as his hand slides up my side.

Desire churns in his eyes as he stares into mine. Desire and that same strange intensity.

My breath snags again and I bite my own lip, dragging my thumb to the edge of his, until it catches and flicks free.

Then I kiss him.

I keep it as soft as my touch, even as his lips press eagerly against mine, even as it deepens until we moan into each other. Our tongues slide together, hot and wet, and I lean into him, pulling my hand away from my head to find the arm he still has folded behind his. Our fingers immediately lace together when our hands meet, and he curls his other arm around my back to pull me against him. Our kiss becomes more urgent as we move together, his thigh sliding further up between mine as a familiar heat begins to build and throb between my legs.

We're forced to break for air eventually, our foreheads pressing together as we pant against each other. I swipe my thumb across his cheek and give him a brief kiss.

Mason breathes out a moan and kisses me back. “It always feels good when you're touching me,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick and hoarse.

A smirk twitches at the corner of my mouth, and I move as though I'm about to start kissing him in earnest again—but instead I only graze my lips against his before I pull away. He follows again, and then breathes out a chuckle against my mouth as he reaches down to smack my ass.

A sharp laugh bursts from me and I offer him a sly smile. “Even when I'm teasing you?”

“Especially when you're teasing me,” he replies, a smile of his own gleaming in his eyes.

He kisses me briefly, then moves his mouth to my neck, where he presses wet kisses against my skin before grazing his teeth over that spot he knows I like. Chills of pleasure ripple across my body, and I inhale sharply as his thigh starts to glide higher between mine, closer and tantalizingly closer to the ache between my legs. I roll my hips forward to meet him—but just as we're about to make contact, just as I can feel the heat and the barest brush of him through my underwear, he pulls away entirely.

And suddenly it's my turn to groan.

“Makes it all the sweeter when I get to pay you back for it,” he whispers against my ear, grinning.

I smile too, even as I huff a little in response and roll my eyes. Then I reach down to grab his cock, teasing my fingers along his length.

“Guess this means I'll just have to put my hands on you even more often.”

“As much as you want, sweetheart,” he groans, his eyes shuttering closed as he grabs my ass and squeezes. “As often as you want.”

We kiss again, and his hand moves up to cup my breast, his thumb briefly circling my nipple through the fabric before he slides his touch to my stomach, to the bare flesh exposed at the bottom of my shirt. He strokes my skin there, breaking away from our kiss to look into my eyes as he nudges the fabric up with his thumb.

“And I'm more than willing to do the same for you,” he states simply, staring at me with such a heavy intensity that it feels like I might actually fall into his gaze.

His words are innuendo. A silent ask for permission. A promise of pleasure.

And something more.

Again, my breath hitches and my stomach does a tiny flip. Again, I'm not sure what to say in response.

…But, whatever he's offering, I think I want to find out.

I think maybe I want it too.

So I kiss him again while he slides his hand under my shirt.

His thigh surges up fully against me, dragging sweet pressure against the heat between my legs. I moan into him, tightening, squeezing his leg between mine as I grind against him. We move together like that, hands still clasped tightly, while he kneads my breast and I stroke him the best I can from what our position allows.

But it's not enough—and soon we're forced to briefly disentangle so we can reach each other better.

He rolls onto his side to face me, and I hook my leg over him, giving him ample access to cup me through my underwear. His fingers stroke and tease me through the damp fabric before he slips his hand inside to touch me more directly. I gasp as he does, and he grins, giving me a low growl of appreciation when he feels the full extent of how wet I already am.

He strokes his fingers along the slickened length of me before drawing upward to circle my clit. I bite my lip and hiss as hot pleasure arcs through me, but I can't contain the moan that soon breaks free, or the way my hips start to rock against his touch. I capture his lips in another kiss as I drown in the sensation, and I do my best to concentrate on him as well.

My hand glides along the hot and solid length of his cock, rolling his foreskin along his shaft as my thumb swipes over the sticky wetness at his tip. He groans against my lips and thrusts into my grasp. Then he slides his fingers into me, not giving me any time to recover before he withdraws and plunges back in, drawing his strokes in long lengths that hit my clit with each pass and tear sharp, guttural cries from my throat.

Pleasure coils inside me as our foreheads press together. We exchange moans and gasping breaths, the only noise in the room aside from the rain and the slick sound of his fingers fucking into my cunt.

But even that stops too soon, as Mason withdraws from me with a departing flick that makes me twitch and groan.

He slides his fingers into his mouth as he holds my gaze, sucking on them for a moment before pulling them out with a deliberate pop.

Then he wraps his hand around the crotch of my underwear and yanks them down my thighs.

I barely have time to kick myself free of them before he rolls me into his lap between his legs. My shirt soon follows, as he sits up to tear it off me and toss it somewhere into the darkness. I shift my legs to curl around behind him and he's already kissing me again, pulling me against him. I taste myself on his tongue as it rolls against mine, as we roll against each other, his hands clutching my hips and my fingers curling into his hair and the sweet, aching grind of his shaft rubbing against my cunt between us.

But it's not enough.

I lift my hips up and his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, steadying it for me. Holding his gaze, I slide myself against the tip a few times, watching the anticipation build in his expression.

Then I sink down onto him.

We both groan loudly. And he groans even louder as I wiggle my hips back and forth to get as much of him inside of me as possible.

Grinning briefly, I wrap my arms around him as we begin to move again.

Mason swipes my hair away from my neck and buries his face there, kissing greedily while his hands curl around my ass and squeeze. Heat begins to build between us, slowly and deeply, as we rock together. Sweat prickles across our skin where we touch, a few beads trickling down between the press and roll of our stomachs. I push my face into the soft curtain of his hair and breathe, inhaling his scent, until his teeth graze that spot on my neck and tear a gasp from my throat.

My head falls back and my hand follows.

I fumble behind myself to brace my weight on my arm, leaning away from him slightly until I find that sweet angle where pleasure surges and drags in a loop with every thrust. My eyes fall shut, breathy moans escaping me as I drive myself against him and begin rubbing my clit with slickened fingers. He curls his hands around my hips in encouragement, snarling his own urgent groans while he rolls his hips in time with mine.

My hair sways against my back, and I lose myself in a haze of sensation, in our moans, in how good he feels, how much he fills me, the heat of him between my legs, the aching throb, the spiraling build of pleasure against every right spot—

A breathy, desperate, needy growl cuts through all of it, something I've never heard before.

Something I briefly mistake for my own.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart.”

My eyes snap open to see Mason staring at me intently with dark eyes, dark waves of hair framing his face.

And his fangs fully bared.

My heart catches for a moment—and his eyes widen a little in surprise.

Then all I feel is an electric and overwhelming thrill surge through my entire body.

His eyes widen even further.

Even so, our rhythm barely stutters. I fall into it again, my eyes shutting as my head falls back too.

Another growl escapes him, softer this time, but still just as breathlessly needy. Then his hands slide up my back as he pulls me closer.

“C'mere.”

Mason's arm cradles my lower back as he holds me tightly against him. His hand curls behind my neck and my breasts crush against his chest hair as we move. He shifts us and his hips slightly, until everything aligns once more to hit all the right spots. I sigh deeply as he does, moaning and clutching him hard while we rock back and forth towards the edge.

His movements become more intense and directed to guide us there. His fingers tangle in my hair and he buries his face into my neck, kissing along my throat as our breathing become more urgent. I tilt my head and angle myself into his lips and his tongue and his growling moans.

And into the tips of his fangs that graze across my skin and jolt me straight over—

A familiar tension coils in my throat and belly.

“Fuck, Mason—”

And bursts into pleasure.

I cry out and arch into it, into him, clenching tightly as it pulses through me in waves. With a few harder thrusts, he shudders against me quickly after, his own orgasm taking him with a loud groan. He presses his face into my neck and breathes heavily, so much that I almost miss the quiet and ragged whisper that escapes his lips.

“Alex…”

I don't know why, but… even in the haze of climax, something about the way he says my name catches in my throat and makes my chest ache.

My brow furrows and I hug him tighter, pressing my own kisses into his neck.

We stay wrapped in the afterglow for a long moment, our heartbeats thundering together, both of us unmoving except for the rise and fall of our chests and the late twitches of pleasure. A pleasant buzz fills my body, making my limbs tremble slightly. I relax into it, my eyes slowly falling shut, until he shifts to press his forehead against mine.

He stares at me for a long moment, a lazy smile gracing his lips and nothing but contentment in those beautiful grey eyes.

Then he smirks.

“If I knew you'd like the fangs so much, sweetheart, I would've brought them out a lot sooner.”

Heat immediately flushes across my cheeks. His smirk widens, revealing the smallest hint of pointed canines.

Despite my blush, I roll my eyes and try to scoff, but a smile tugs at my lips and a laugh comes out instead. He grins too, but his eyes soon flutter shut, and it's only when a breathy little groan escapes him as well do I remember that he's actually still inside of me.

So, of course, I clench around his cock slightly for effect.

He inhales sharply, but it quickly drags into a chuckle and a broad smile. His eyes shine brightly as he moves in to bite my neck, growling as he teases his teeth against my skin. Chills prickle across my flesh and a pleasant shiver ripples down my spine. I laugh again, then hook my chin over his shoulder, smiling as I nestle against him.

My eyes fall shut, and a quiet swell of happiness rolls through me as I savor the moment. The rain falling outside, the cool night air brushing over us, the feel of him clutching me tighter as he sighs and presses a long kiss to my neck.

I sigh too, heavy with comfort and contentment, reluctant to move. Even to brush away the strand of hair tickling the side of my face from the breeze.

I absently blow at it, knowing it won't do much.

Mason reaches up to tuck it behind my ear.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #twc m #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

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yeojaa · 4 years

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SUGAR HIGH, chapter xvi. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary. You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing. jeon jungkook. mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags. angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional baggage, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating. general

word count. 1550

chapter 16. Ending Scene

Now, that's a question. He knew his reasonings were poor - unfettered doubts with no bearings - but they existed, nonetheless. How could they not when they'd sat in the cavern of his chest for the better part of his life, unattended like a wilting garden? It was simply an unfortunate consequence of unrequited love.

Weeds grew where hands couldn't reach. It was neither your fault nor his.

"Say it again.” He means it like a question but it fills you like a demand, sloping your mouth around syllables you'd repeat until you were hoarse.

"I love you.” The kiss he rewards you with is breathtaking, quite literally tearing the air from your lungs with the intensity of it. "I love you,” you repeat like a mantra, if only to draw that same fire from him. You want him just as badly as he needs you and you revel in the realization and the power it brings. You're drunk on it.

He keens against you, edging at your throat and smiling giddily when the profession never stops. "I could listen to you say that forever,” he admits, easily, with little shame.

"I could say it forever.” And you could. You'd give him this, every day, for the rest of his life. It'd be as easy as breathing, you think. That was the power of your love. It existed in every action and inaction. Unconditional, as it should be and as it had been since you'd been children.

The frame of his arms holds you relentlessly, crushing you to his chest as he exhales the happiest noise you've ever heard. He's back to being the boy you love, if not a little waterlogged. You can still feel the wet of your tears and his, carved into your cheeks and anywhere he'd brushed against.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

It's honeycomb, scratchy and saccharine, sinking behind your molars and all over your hands. It sends you miles over the moon, flying on a sugar rush you don't want to come down from. Each kiss, each caress - it's another inch given into your addiction.

You don't mind. Really, you'd happily perish if it meant going out this way.

You roll your eyes at the beautiful boy in your arms and it hurts a little, strained from saltwater. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?” The return is tender as always, further softened by the hand that drags the length of his cheekbone and settles affectionately on his shoulder.

"There was never a good time. You were always in a relationship or... something.” As if that's the most obvious thing in the world, though you find meaning further than he intends, catching all the things left unsaid in between.

You pass a kiss over his temple, tickled pink by the soft tendrils of off-blue and not-black. "I wasn't always in a relationship,” you insist. It's true. There'd been times throughout the years that you'd been alone.

No, not alone. You'd had him.

"You know what I mean.” He mumbles his response into the stained satin of your neck, nosing softly there. "You were either in a relationship or getting over one and I didn't ever want to be a last resort.” Your heart aches when he puts his concerns to you, lets them linger in the spaces he can't fill with his physical self. "I wanted you to be with me for me."

You know how hard the words are for him. It'd taken him years and years to come to terms with his emotions - in all aspects of his life. Even now, he was still growing, learning, evolving in ways you couldn't even begin to fathom. It was, after all, one of realities of being an international superstar. He had to grow up so fast.

You appreciate every verbalization he offers, tucking vowels and consonants into the corners of your heart for safekeeping.

"Jeon Jungkook, I'll always love you for you.” You've caught him in your line of fire again, cradling his sharp jaw in the palms of your hands. He tries not to meet your gaze - directs it to the freckle on your shoulder - but you remain steadfast. "You’re my best friend. Have been my whole life."

There's a sadness in your voice that creeps his eyes back to you, purely out of concern for your well-being.

"How could you ever think I wouldn't want you?"

Weeds grew where hands couldn't reach. It was neither your fault nor his.

"Couldn't help it.” Another half-answer. You've had enough of those.

With a strength that surprises even you, your mouth finds his. Lips mould and meld, reshaping in a new kind of promise. Like the ones you'd always made, but with fewer parts. Better, in a way. "I'll make it up to you."

"You have nothing to make up for."

You're not sure whether he believes it but you sure as hell don't. You'd put him through hell these past few weeks - made him wade through an inferno like some poor soul - and here he was, soothing your ache as if it were his own.

"But I do,” you pepper kisses over his nose, insistent. "I have years and years to make up for."

He scoffs, rough and low. Not because he doubts the intensity of your words, but because he's suddenly very amused by a thought. "I don't think you could make up for fifteen years, no matter how hard you tried. It just isn't possible, realistically."

The smugness on his face only acts as an accelerant to your actions. You're crowding every inch of him in chaste pecks, from the top of his head - which smells vaguely of hairspray and his shampoo - to the faded scar. You leave no patch of skin unattended, taking his words as an unnecessary challenge.

You linger at his cheeks, the taste of salt stilling your persistent motions.

He takes that as an unspoken forfeiture, his own hands shifting to draw you away until he can see you clearly. When he glimpses the consternation in your brow, mockery flies out the proverbial window, instead replaced by concern. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry."

You've said it enough times tonight that he shakes his head, laughter dragging his shoulders and filling your senses. "Stop saying that."

"I can't,” you retort, fingers tracing the path his tears had carved. They're stark beneath your touch, distinct by the natural flush of his skin beneath the carefully applied makeup. "I hate seeing you cry."

Jungkook's head tilts, eyelids fluttering closed as he nuzzles into your caress. "And I hate you seeing you cry, but you do it all the time anyway.” It's meant to make you laugh. When you don't immediately, he pries an eye open, surveying you closely. Your lips are pursed and you're not quite meeting his eyes, instead focused on the sadness that has long since dissipated.

"I'm serious.” You're pouting and he thinks it looks too good on you. It shouldn't, but it does.

"So am I. Stop it. I just told you I love you."

The reminder does perk you up, if only a little. He sees it swimming in the back of your gaze, just beyond the worry that circles like sharks.

“Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy or something?” Brow lifts, quirks high, and for a moment, all of the tension in your expression is gone. You study him steadily, thumbs brushing the delicate hollows of his eyes and where the cut little crow’s feet imprint.

“I think your fame is getting to your head.” It’s gently teasing, soft as feathers.

There’s the girl he loves – the sweet thing who picks him up when he’s down, who has him full belly laughing without trying. It feels so utterly good to have you here like this, wrapped in his arms and held like you’re meant to be. It’s the best feeling in the world. He won’t even let your half-hearted teasing deter him. “It’s actually your fault,” he drawls into your palm, a satisfied humming chasing the words out.

“How is it my fault?” You’re scandalized in inflection only, soothing ministrations drawing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, like you’re a breath of fresh air.

“You’ve given me everything I could ever want. My ego’s pretty big cause of that.”

It’s so matter of fact that it leaves you speechless, your fingers pausing in their gentle combing through his hair. It makes him laugh, the breath spilling over your violet-marked skin. His hands smooth over your sides, across the small of your back, settling happily into the pliable flesh of your thighs. “What?”

Honestly, you’re not even sure. You’ve traded affections all your life, pressing them into linked fingers and childish giggle fits. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” Jungkook’s looking at you like you’re crazy. There was no way in hell he was about to tone down his feelings for you when you’d just finally – finally! – gotten over the biggest hurdle. No, he’d shout it from the rooftops, crush you with the weight of it. He hopes you won’t mind.

When you drag his chin, tilt his face towards yours with hands that feel deliberate, he blinks owlishly up at you. He’s not sure what you’re looking to convey – he can’t read it in the constellations swirling in your irises. He wishes he could.

But he’ll settle for the words that come instead, filling him with all the light of the stars. “I love you.”

notes. hello, dear reader! thank you for sticking through this tiny whirlwind of emotion. for the most part, this story has been wrapped up. they love each other! they're gross and perfect!

i will be continuing their story with a bunch of one-shots detailing their relationship and the ups and downs. there won't be a lot of rhyme or reason - just things i want to get out. mainly stories that explore their dynamic, really. their first date, meeting while on tour, etc. these will be done under a different title (but as part of the same “series”). if there's anything you'd like to read, please let me know.

i appreciate you sticking it out to this point. wishing you healthy and happy! xo

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #work.zip #bestfriends.zip #sugarhigh.doc #jungkook.doc

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benchowmein · 4 years

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just watched the first hobbit movie and

by god they really thought people wanted an extended 10 minute framing sequence so we could see frodo instead of, like, a depiction of bilbo’s everyday life as a young hobbit, and of the shire generally

bilbo is played so weirdly (there’s that bit where gollum says he’ll eat him and martin freeman was like oh okay i’ll react like i’m in the office) and like 90% of that could’ve been solved if they’d just hired someone who could play bilbo better. stuntcasting just because sherlock was big at the time doesn’t mean much when you’re adapting one of the best selling novels of all time and also one of the most successful film trilogies of all time a decade ago

if we got to see some of bilbo’s normal life instead of the weird opening sequence that would make characterising bilbo as being pulled between bagginsian and tookish tendencies a lot easier, and that’s important for many reasons, the biggest one of all being that the plot doesn’t work if bilbo is characterised as standoffish and uneager to please anybody when that’s like his driving motive in the book

also the first like half an hour of this movie effectively takes place in the interior of bag-end, some shots of the shire would also have differentiated that. also bilbo’s skin looks weirdly yellow idk if it’s my tv screen or his clothes not suiting martin freeman or the makeup but that definitely isn’t his usual skin tone

the comedy from the book is leeched out in favour of like...jokes about burping and snot...and like LOTR wasn’t popular with preteen boys because of the toilet humour lol just make jokes that stand up by themselves

the misty mountains song was gooood but idk i never thought of the dwarves like they are in the film AT ALL. also i get WHY they showed us flashbacks of erebor falling to smaug (and erebor pre-smaug) but if they were going to make it exposition i don’t know why they couldn’t make it be an opening narration done by a dwarf. i guess they didn’t want it to be too similar to galadriel but i mean they also randomly inserted her into the film for no reason so

for god’s sake the trolls are obviously meant to be west country, not cockney, if you’re going to be classist at least represent more than one accent

the overindulgence in epic fight scenes is why this film is 3 hours long. every scene is three times longer than it should be. i guess the general criticism is that the hobbit is a children’s book and they’re trying to make it like lotr but still...the action sequences still don’t hold up! arwen taking frodo to rivendell is genuinely a wonderful scene rich with action and with high stakes, as is frodo and the boys outrunning the wraith, and they’re just chase scenes! don’t bother if they don’t hold up by themselves is what i’m saying

can i just say that the grass in this movie was way too green...like everything looks so fake and fantasy compared with lotr and i am certain the weird frame rate has something to do with that...

also the extended flashback to the battle outside moria...not good...like how many battle sequences do we neeeeeed

richard armitage looks so weird as thorin and WHY IS HIS BEARD SO CLOSE! big bushy beards are so obviously a sign of strength for dwarves (they even have a “may your beards never grow thin” line in the book) so why does thorin, a character who is ostensibly image-conscious and proud, trim his????

radagast was weird and that’s coming from someone who stans radagast from the pithy little tolkien wrote about him. also the bit where he sees sauron is stupid as is the fact that he cares about this one hedgehog when the foxes and birds are also dying like i get it but whatever. also the daughters of ungoliant are weird and idk why they’re there tbqph

thunder battle!

the great goblin is the worst character in this whole film and idk why they had him sing a song that wasn’t in the book (i’m pretty sure) when there are lots of good songs to pick from. sorry you don’t want this film to be seen as low-brow so you won’t have the wargs speak or sing but you WILL have this goblin sing in falsetto about killing dwarves? get over it also why is he so BIG

the gollum bit was really good especially the bit where bilbo is going to kill him! i also like how gollum has his little pocket but if you want you can imagine he is wearing the ring on his dick

the escape from the goblin caves is a bit trashy but also fine i guess...its like a weak lotr scene but in the hobbit that’s wonderful to me. if they make a lotr theme park i have no doubt that would be in it (though moria is the more obvious choice)

the ending was sooo drawn out and i am concerned that the next film will just retcon thorin’s apology to bilbo for being mean, and obviously his final downfall is a direct result of his greed and avarice so he’s just going to immediately forget the lesson learned when he tried to kill azog

why is azog here honestly and why does he have symmetrical scars like he’s been whipped or something idk idc lol

oh boy the gold in the final smaug bit looks fake...i guess that’s because obviously that much gold will never look REAL to us without it actually being real or whatever...but could they not have desaturated it or something...

apparently desolation of smaug is better but i am...aware that the battle of the five armies will be awful because honestly how can you possibly turn like 5 pages of book into 3 hours of film

#the hobbit

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donotexterminateupgradepudding · 5 years

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Further defining the relationship between the Doctor and Clara Oswald; Season 9 episode 1 & 2

Blargh. I’ve been busy with work stuff and getting ready for some travel so it has been taking longer for me to sit down and actually get this going. To make my life easier, I’ll try to work on smaller chucks of season 9. Hopefully, this will prevent me from getting too involved in the post.

After the Doctor and Clara are reunited in the Last Christmas special (one of the more emotionally rewarding Christmas specials might I add) they are back to traveling together. Episode 1 starts with the Doctor doing a solo trip where he encounters the a young boy, Davros in a creepy handmine field. Upon learning his name, the Doctor flees seeing that he shouldn’t help the creator of the Daleks himself! And thus the tension builds as he hides while Davros’ snake servant goes in search of him.

Of course, Missy decides to catch the entire world’s attention and Clara is summoned to U.N.I.T headquarters and we get a badass scene of her riding her motorcycle to the Tower of London. The biggest shift in how she behaves is how she acts like the Doctor when talking with Kate and the others as they try to determine what is happening. Clara throws out big picture ideas and almost automatically starts thinking of all of the possibilities that this could be. She has always been a self-assured and intelligent person, but she commands authority now.

As Missy expects Clara appears with the U.N.I.T. and the two of them have a very tense conversation about the disappearance of the Doctor. As Missy really wants to have the full attention of the Doctor, she will stop at nothing to rile up Clara and insult her including her hurtful words asking about if Danny is still dead. Missy presents the Time Lord confession dial to Clara stating it is the equivalent of a will. She makes it clear it is delivered to his closest friend of the eve of his final day. Clara’s reaction here is her at her best trying to give nothing away to Missy. Her concern is evident, yet she knows she can’t be riled by Missy and must remain calm both for her safety and the Doctor’s.

Clara glances down at the dial, back at Missy, back at the dial before reaching for it before it zaps her.

She has a look of complete shock as it hurts her. Clara believes herself to be the Doctor’s closest friend. She declared it to Danny when he was just another cyberman. Yet, Clara is not a Time Lord. To add insult to injury, Missy points out that Clara is like the puppy with the random couple. This implies that Missy and the Doctor are like a married couple and Clara is just some dumb pet. I get that the Master/Missy isn’t supposed to be a nice or sympathetic character, but I really personally hate Missy. She spends all of her time trying to state how intellectually advanced she is, how she has risen over feeble and dumb emotions yet it is 100% clear that she is extremely jealous of Clara and the Doctor’s relationship. She set their relationship into motion, but she’s not a fan. Missy and Clara have a very tense exchange as Clara implies that their relationship must be love and Missy is totally offended by the remark and can only retort back Time Lords are better than that. Clara clearly hit a nerve, not like Missy will ever state the truth.

Missy wants to state that her level of friendship with the Doctor far exceeds any understanding that Clara may have, so thus, she can’t even begin to comprehend a 2000 or so year relationship. Honestly, not matter how old the Master may be, I really think as a character he/she will never develop a deeper understanding of “humanity” as a concept that includes Time Lords and humans.

The 10th Doctor has stated that he’s observed people who have done more in 20 years than 80 years implying that time does not always equal wisdom or accomplishments. He also stated he was just a young one at 90 implying as well that even though Time Lords live much longer, they clearly mature at a slower rate than humans or other species.

Being the overly analytical nerd that I am, let’s say a 90 year old Time Lord is like a 13 year old human. It means that at 2000, the Doctor is like an ~ 289 year old human. Therefore, Time Lords can be more mature and wiser than a standard human, but not as much as one would expect with a different rate of maturation.

Back to the whole Clara - Missy face off, Clara clearly isn’t buying this and provokes Missy by stating that she’s to believe that Missy is best friends with the Doctor and turned good. Obviously, Missy takes immediate offense to the concept of being good and kills two of the U.N.I.T staff in the area. Of course Missy threatens to kill the rest of the U.N.I.T people in the area, but is caught when Clara tells her to kill her next. It shows that despite all of her bravado and her Time Lord intelligence, she can’t figure out where the Doctor is since she isn’t as close as Clara is.

Therefore, Clara wins by telling her to prove that she is serious. She only needs to point at the plane above her to get her point across. And with that, Missy has no choice but to obey.

Oh sure, she tries to write it off as something easy and something that she couldn’t actually do anything bad with; yet at the end of the day Missy has to recognize she is out of her depth.

The framing then shifts where Clara is not the one seated and Missy is standing behind her since by her own admission, she can’t find where the Doctor is and Clara is the only person currently who can.

This also gives Missy a chance to put a vortex manipulator on Clara while she is distracted, thus removing her from the assistance of anyone else. I have to admit, if Missy is so smart, she should have figured out what it took Clara all of 10 seconds to put together - where is the Doctor having a crazy party.

As Clara ponders what will let them know he’s there, Missy states it will be a small anachronism. Of course both are shocked as he enters playing guitar on a tank . . .

The Doctor then tries to have some hilarious stand up a few hundred years too early and Clara cringes at his fish tank joke while Missy seems . . . not amused? befuddled?

Clara then asks Missy what’s the matter with him. She’s never seen him like this - and she has seen the 11th and 12th Doctor, so she got to compare to totally different personalities.

He immediately hears her and pulls his sunglasses down a bit to get a better look at Clara and Missy.

Clara then wonders if he heard them and realizes that they are there. Instead of verbally answering, he proceeds to play some of “Pretty Woman” by Roy Orbison. Of course based on their facial expressions both Missy and Clara think the song is about her and likely not the other. However, Clara wins for having the more totally adorable smile.

As he continues to play, the camera will quickly switch back to them for a moment where Clara beams, Missy then gets a side glance over at her before she stops smiling and is more serious looking. The camera pans back to the Doctor and then back to a very flattered and happy looking Clara who only stops smiling with her teeth as he finishes playing as if she were caught on tape.

Now the lyrics for “Pretty Woman” aren’t very deep or anything like that, but they are appropriate for the relationship between the Doctor and Clara. Pretty woman, walkin' down the street Pretty woman the kind I like to meet Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy

Pretty woman won't you pardon me Pretty woman I couldn't help but see Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me

Pretty woman stop awhile Pretty woman talk awhile Pretty woman give your smile to me Pretty woman yeah, yeah, yeah Pretty woman look my way Pretty woman say you'll stay with me 'Cause I need you, I'll treat you right Come with me baby, be mine tonight

Pretty woman don't walk on by Pretty woman don't make me cry Pretty woman don't walk away, hey, OK If that's the way it must be, OK I guess I'll go on home, it's late There'll be tomorrow night, but wait What do I see? Is she walkin' back to me? Yeah, she's walkin' back to me Oh, oh, pretty woman.

The Doctor is always lonely - the Doctor travels through time and space yet can never have a friend able to keep traveling with him. Therefore, these lyrics really fit both of them at the beginning of season 9, the only person they have is each other.

Clara runs down to ground level while Missy continues to watch from above. The Doctor has to visually look at Missy before she will even come down while Clara was already there waiting for him. She then comes up to him and asks how he knew she was there.

Clara: Did you see me?

Doctor: When do I not see you?

Clara: What, one face in all of that crowd?

Doctor: There was a crowd too?

Clara: Wow, we’re doing charm as well now, are we? [laughs] Which one of us is dying?

As she states he’s “doing charm” it means she is impress with how he’s grown as a person and is trying to impress her. Of course it totally works, she’s beaming at him here as she smiles, though obviously concerned.

After some nervous glances between the two of them, he then hugs her. She’s thoroughly overwhelmed as the Doctor has initiated a hug between the two of them.

Clara can’t keep up with these changes. This all makes sense. Clara, like the 12th Doctor uses her quick wit and sarcasm to deflect when she’s not sure what is happening. She’s clearly concerned based on her facial expression, but she has to be strong for him since his hugging means he’s worried.

And we get that worry as the camera finally shows his face as he tells her it is a great way to hide your face.

When they finally break from the hug, she’s able to guess that he’s throwing a party, but this was not the type of party she was expecting. The lighting in this scene is telling, his light eyes dart back and forth and when she pulls away we see shadows under Clara’s eyes. She knows this is not the Doctor and he deflects her by stating he’s been many men and all of him is invited to this party. 12 may have come a long way with his emotions, but at a time like this he really still doesn’t know what to do. He also has to deal with Missy as he then introduces her as the wicket stepmother. He also uses this transition to place himself directly between Clara and Missy.

It is quite clear that he’s protecting Clara since he already realizes that Missy brought her there and he can’t trust Missy with Clara alone.

There is a bit of chit chat and eventually Colony Sarff, Davros’ snake errand boy shows up and confronts the Doctor. He states he followed his friends to the location and asks for the Doctor to come see a dying Davros.

The sonic screwdriver is thrown down before him and he looks ashamed and can’t say anything only able to reply to Clara’s comment that it used to be his sonic.

Not surprisingly, Missy has to ask what the Doctor’s facial expression is. I waffle on if this implies that Missy knows exactly what that facial expression is and only says that so that Clara states that he’s ashamed. This is him feeling ashamed for some sort of action.

Clara looks on with great concern as she asks him what he’s done. That then leads to the rest of the flashback explaining what happened at the beginning of the episode. Upon learning that the boy’s name is Davros, the Doctor freezes and is unsure what to do. As the fog rolls in, he uses that as a chance to escape as the fog obscures the TARDIS, yet the tell tale sign sound of it departing before returning to the current events implies that the Doctor abandoned a young Davros.

The Doctor agrees to go and says the lamest good-bye to Clara ever as he just turns to her before turning his back to snake errand boy. In true Clara fashion she barely even glances at Missy before she springs into action stating that they will come with him.

And with that, the trio are transported to the ship as they travel to where ever Davros is.

While waiting to meet Davros, the Doctor reveals that he’s the creator of the Daleks (a surprising thing for Clara to not know seeing that she knows tons about the Doctor) and that the bigger question is “Who created Davros?” as an almost rhetorical question.

As Colony Sarff comes to take the Doctor away, he and Clara have a very awkward conversation. She immediately calls him out on giving the confession dial to Missy. Therefore, the Doctor knew she was not dead and he had someway to reach her - though she was unable to find him without Clara. This clearly does not sit well with Clara. She’s the one who is supposed to be able to lie, not the Doctor to her, Clara. Their facial expressions are so strained, he’s trying his best to look calm and looks so sad as he hid things from Clara while she tries so hard to look tough.

The tension between them is so palpable you can almost taste it. Clara is off her game, he ran off to 1138, had a crazy party, made it so that Missy and Clara would have to find him, he tried to coldly say good-bye and how she’s stuck in a holding room with Missy who keeps trying to kill her.

When Missy and Clara get captured escaping from the room and the Doctor sees her trapped in the room with the TARDIS, he begs Davros not to hurt her.

There is then a discussion between Davros and the Doctor about how compassion was his weakness and he asks himself why he let him live when he stumbled upon him as a boy in his present time. The Doctor looks quite distraught as the Daleks wait for Clara to run before zapping her, the TARDIS is “destroyed” and the episode then ends with the Doctor deciding to save Davros to save his friend. I would say this scene is a complete parallel to the 9th Doctor and Rose when they were on satellite 5. It appears that Rose was killed by the laser beam, instead she was transported to the Dalek command. This is the exact same thing, I’m sure the Doctor knows that Missy would have messed with the vortex manipulators, the big question is if she only made it that hers would transport her elsewhere while Clara ends up dead.

Already this meta has gotten out of hand and I haven’t even gotten to episode 2.

The second episode makes it very clear that indeed the Doctor knows that they are fine (again as long as Missy didn’t kill Clara on purpose). With Clara hanging upside from the rope (where did Missy get the rope? and the stick?) Missy makes Clara take her “Doctor intelligence test” to determine if she should keep or alive or not. Of course Clara, knowing the Doctor so well, is able to determine not only why Missy wasn’t dead in the first place, meaning the Doctor knows that they are still alive and that the Doctor always assumes that no matter what, he’ll win.

Missy seems to need some convincing as to if the Doctor is actually thinking that, which Clara simply states, he’s expecting them to pick up the slack for him. Therefore, they should assume that they will win. All of this must annoy Missy on several levels since she wants the Doctor’s attention but has to deal with the puny and pitiful Clara.

Since the Doctor and Clara are separated, I’ll only briefly [try to briefly] get though parts of the episode.

The Doctor is upset and steals Davros’ Dalek chair and a laser as he messes with the Daleks. They point out that he does not use violence, confident that he will not actually fire a weapon at them. They do seem to forget that the 10th Doctor clone did commit Dalek genocide, but for some odd reason that doesn’t count. . . .

However, Clara is involved and this is clearly foreshadowing to how far he will take things for Clara. Really, the Doctor has two great enemies, the Daleks with Davros and the Time Lords, well the Time Lord establishment that is.

Meanwhile, Clara and Missy are stuck in the Dalek sewers as Missy really defines how she really can’t work with anyone despite her opinion that she is a great friend of the Doctor. Clara is 100% correct that they are not a team and the entire time it is like the worst Time Lord - human team, with the Doctor and Clara making the “best” Time Lord - human team. I digress.

The Doctor then gives his demand to the Daleks, that he wants Clara Oswald returned unharmed and alive and he even makes sure it is broadcast through the whole city so Clara and Missy can hear it as well. Missy comments on it while Clara only listens. Clara clearly is trying to understand what it all means. What is interesting is that Missy states this is the Doctor without hope . . . upon saying that Clara only shifts to look at Missy in shock.

Does Clara think he’s actually without hope? She does look like she’s holding back tears, but she is unusually silent and instead Missy keeps commenting. With Danny’s death Clara was talking non-stop when she was upset. Now, she’s oddly silent.

To be able to infiltrate the Daleks, Missy makes sure to stick Clara in a Dalek casing, which has the added benefit that, she can no longer say her name . . . this is a bit of an odd thing since when Clara’s part of her self that had been scattered through the Doctor’s timeline was her Oswin Oswald, who was a fully transformed Dalek and could still say her name. I think you wrote yourself into a little contradiction there Steven Moffat. . . not like your whole weeping angels issue between “Blink” and when Amy and Rory get stuck in 1880 something. Sorry dude, your writing is not the most consistent.

The point is, everything that Missy does, is to use Clara to her advantage while still keeping her expendable and Clara just had to roll with it. . . . the whole thing highlights how her relationship with the Doctor is so much more equal even though there are times Clara will act as bait to assist the Doctor.

A huge portion of this episode is dedicated to philosophical discussions between the Doctor and Davros as Missy tries to use her negotiating skills with the Supreme Dalek. I’m personally surprised that they can’t figure out that Clara is in the one Dalek shell, it is one hell of an assumption to make after the Doctor stole Davros’ chair.

The Doctor being himself, knows that Davros will likely try to take advantage of his compassion, a constant theme these two episodes but damn well knows he’ll also wake up the zombie Daleks.

Missy runs into wake up the passed out Doctor and has procured the Dalek laser. The Doctor immediately asks where Clara is and if she is fine, while Missy is upset he’s not asking about her at all. Of course he gets the last laugh and runs out with his confession dial and runs into Clara. He stops as the Clara Dalek says “Doctor.” and he tries to tell her to run. The framing of this shot is good, we see Clara at the end of the hall and then it switches to a view behind Clara looking at the Doctor.

This is a classic “reunion” style shot as two characters approach each other after being separated. The issue is that the Doctor thinks it is a regular Dalek and the weird Dalek programming won’t let her explain things clearly (really seriously, this plot inconstancy is bothering me, Clara should be able to override the Dalek programming since she already has done it).

Missy confirms that it is Clara and then tries to convince the Doctor to kill the Dalek as it is the one that killed Clara. All of her cries that she is his friend and that she would never hurt him eventually result in the the Dalek saying “mercy” which is enough to get the Doctor to step back a second and realize that something is off with this Dalek (as well as Missy’s insistence to kill it). Upon realizing that it is Clara, he lowers the laser and tells her to open the casing and helps her figure out how to open it.

He is at a loss for words as he sees Clara as tears run down her cheeks.

She’s trapped inside and he reaches his hands out to hold her face as she cries and really, we don’t get a great look at his face as it is shaded most of the time.

What is clear is he feels terrible about everything and to steal an oft used phrase from the 10th Doctor, he states that he is “I am so sorry.” Since the 12th Doctor is much less social and has only had one companion so far, Clara, the guilt he must feel this time has to be immense.

It is clear that when he tells Missy to run, it is a threat that if Missy doesn’t leave him and Clara alone, there likely will be consequences.

The action then skips back to them returning to where the TARDIS was. They return to the location and Clara looks perplexed why they were not shot when the Doctor reveals the TARDIS is fine and with that statement Clara is beaming and smiling as he explains things to the Daleks.

This is clearly and expression of deep love and appreciation for the Doctor here.

And back to form, now with Clara, he can show off as he looks back at her softly with that spirit in his eyes.

He has his Clara Oswald back safe and sound. He knows what he needs to do. With that he puts his sonic sunglasses on with more bravado than necessary (since it is all for Clara) and we get a repeat of how she looked when he had the invisible watch and was playing around with her. The two of them look like two idiots who can’t get enough of each other. What seals the deal is when the Daleks ask what is happening.

The Doctor’s reply.

Oh same old, same old. Just the Doctor and Clara in the TARDIS. [Clara giggles]

As they escape it is just the regular old Doctor and Clara looking at each other, smiling, beaming at each other. The two of them are 100% into each other and the fact that he makes it sound like they’ve been at this forever and will be at it forever shows how different 12 is compared to some of the other Doctors. He’ll do anything to hold onto Clara. This really is the normalization of the two of them as an inseparable duo.

As they watch the Dalek city on Skaro succumb to the zombie Daleks, she asks if she’ll get to know what is on the confession dial, but she damn well knows he’s not going to tell her.

As he discusses the ability of Clara to get the Dalek to say “mercy” he ponders how it would be left in their programming so to speak.

Realizing that it was the Doctor saving young Davros (and giving him his sonic) that it was himself who then allowed himself to save Clara. He sprints off to the TARDIS and rescues Davros and only tells him that mercy matters, and likely based on Missy’s behavior, he tells him that friends and enemies likely doesn’t matter but that mercy does.

The first two episodes of season 9 serve a purpose both to shadow what will happen at the end of the season as well as show how far the Doctor will go to make sure that Clara is safe and sound. His love for Clara is almost extreme compared to his love for others that he has traveled with before.

I found their reunion at bit flat, when they reunited during the “Last Christmas” episode, it felt much more of a connection between the two of them. Instead, we the viewers barely get anything, we don’t even get to see him pull her out or hug her. Did they think this would be too much too early?

Overall, they do set up the depth between Clara and the Doctor and really highlight how much they love and care about each other while Missy acts as a foil to both of them wanting to have the Doctor’s full attention, yet never able to do so. It seems like episode 1 did a better job of connecting Clara and the Doctor, while episode 2 fell flat for sure and just didn’t seem sincere enough even though there were dramatic events.

It went from the Doctor almost shooting Clara to them back to normal as the TARDIS materializes around them and no discussion of this afterwards. Clara was unusually silent as well in the episode, it just felt off. By this point, they should have had a long detailed conversation about what happened, but no, he hops back into the TARDIS, saves young Davros and the episode ends.

#doctor who meta #doctor who #Twelfth Doctor #twelve x clara #clara oswald

18 notes · View notes

passiontaee · 5 years

Text

agust d | m

pairing: yoongi x jeongguk

genre: slice of life

ratings: m

warnings: got some smutty smoot in here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

word count: 7381

summary: jeongguk is a student and yoongi is a popular underground rapper. jeongguk suddenly becomes obsessed with yoongi thinking it’s because he admires yoongi so much. but after getting to talk to him after serendipitously meeting jeongguk starts wondering if it’s really admiration or something a little more. plus, he sucks yoongi’s dick. many times.

a/n: my first drabble/one shot with smut >:) my best friend doesn’t call me the smut god for no reason

also here’s 7k of yoonkook, ive never written this much in my life so yall are welcome :)

↬ s.

“Guess who’s your best friend?”

Jeongguk turns to look at Taehyung in confusion, but zeroes in on the two slips of paper he sees between his fingers. His instinctual reaction is to make grabby hands at him to see what treasures his best friend is bringing for him, but as he makes an attempt to grab the slips, Taehyung jerks his hand back at the last minute, giggling evilly. Jeongguk hates him.

“You would be if you let me see what’s in your hand?”

“Hm. Yeah probably. Here,” He’s sporting a shit eating grin and Jeongguk is momentarily a little afraid of what he’s got up his sleeve—Taehyung is always finding ways to get them fucked up in a variety of ways and it’s to the point where Jeongguk doesn’t even question it anymore—but he takes one of the slips as Taehyung makes sure the other is still in his possession. Weird flex, but okay. He focuses on the slip in his hand, staring at it before it registers what holy artifact he’s wielding in his possession.

Agust D tickets.

Taehyung, his actual best friend in the whole universe, has managed to snag two tickets to Agust D’s next performance.

“If I was into you I’d get on my knees and suck your dick right now,” he stares up at his best friend with literal sparkles in his eyes. Truly, Taehyung is a rare breed of best friend.

“I mean, you haven’t heard of broblows?”

“Taehyung I’m not sucking your dick.”

Said male holds his hands up in surrender, but his smile is still bright as he stares at Jeongguk, who looks starstruck and amazed. “Yes, but who got you Agust D tickets? You can suck his instead, that’s fine,”

Jeongguk chokes as Taehyung continues. “You know, since you yourself said the D in Agust D stands for dick,”

“I did not!”

“Explain why your YouTube search history is ‘compliations of Agust D’s bulge’ then Jeon. You’re not fooling anyone,” Taehyung leans in to pinch at Jeongguk’s cheek, causing the younger to whine in complaint. How dare Taehyung call him out like this? He swats at him, only making Taehyung laugh more. Pouting, he turns his attention back to the ticket, only for his eyes to bulge out of his head. Taehyung looks at him, momentarily concerned. Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but is interrupted by Jeongguk answering without prompting.

“The show is tonight!” He squawks, shooting up and shoving Taehyung away. Almost in a panic as he runs over to his closet. “I don’t have anything to wear,” this is a big deal; he’s meeting his idol and there’s no way he’s walking into the venue looking crusty. Kim Taehyung had lost his mind.

“Alas! That’s the second part of the surprise! Since I love you so much, I managed to go shopping during my time out and I personally bought you something to wear!” he grins, brighter, and points to the door. “It’s in my room though, so go fetch!”

Jeongguk’s sure if he was into Taehyung he’d be on his knees right now.

“There’s so many people in here,” Jeongguk huffs, though stays close to Taehyung. Nearly glued to his back as the elder navigates through the crowd of bodies. He’s already feeling a little exposed in what Taehyung bought for him to wear. Sure, he knows he wears a lot of bland colors—a variety of blacks and whites—but Taehyung had decided he’s getting fucked tonight and had thrown leather pants at him and a snug fitting white shirt. To flaunt your teeny tiny waist, was his excuse, but Jeongguk isn’t at an Agust D concert to get fucked. Unless Agust D himself is throwing out dick then he’s all for it maybe. He wants to cry, but this is a dream come true so he knows he better enjoy this moment because who knows when he’s going to be able to see Agust D again. This close. Thank goodness he’s got a rich best friend, because he’d never thought he’d be getting backstage tickets to see him either.

“Are you nervous?” Taehyung whispers into his ear, reaching for his hand to hold. It’s a common thing he does whenever he senses Jeongguk being uneasy and he’s honestly grown used to it. It’s comforting really, and Taehyung is very perceptive to him. Jeongguk nods though at the question, and Taehyung squeezes his hand comfortingly. “That’s okay. I’d be nervous too if it was like RM or something up there. Agust D is pretty good too though,” he jokes, but everyone and their mother knows how much of a slut Taehyung is for the rapper RM. There’s a lookalike at their school who works in the Literature department as a TA that he was trying to lure into his bed that Jeongguk had met before. Namjoon’s pretty nice. Too nice for Taehyung and far too pure for him. But the words bring him comfort, and he even cracks a smile.

“How much longer til the show starts?” He can’t remember what the bouncer had said, but there’s other people performing. Opening acts from smaller artists that nobody’s really paying much attention to. Some are, but others are only here for the main event.

“Mmmm, maybe half an hour. Give or take a few minutes. I dunno though, these opening acts are pretty sick,” he praises, looking up at the stage at someone who’s up there rapping. He’d seen this person before, knew him from one of his music appreciation classes. Park Chanyeol was pretty popular around campus anyways.

The opening acts come and go, and by the time Agust D comes up they’re already feeling the hype from the previous artists. Not as good as the main event, but him and Taehyung are a bit biased anyways. Jeongguk feels a little more loose, less tense, and he’s sure that Taehyung is probably ready to jump on that stage and rap with Agust D. Leave it to Taehyung to get hype and pull something like that. But thankfully, he doesn’t and Agust D safely arrives onstage. As the opening beats to one of his popular songs begins to play, Jeongguk freezes, a look of excitement and astonishment on his face from being so excited and honored to be here, in this moment, with his best friend as he watches his idol explode on stage. Syllables flying out of his mouth as he raps about his dreams, his ambitions, and their fucked up society. He follows along, grinning the entire time, with sparkles in his eyes as he stares up at Agust D as if he were God himself. He’s having the time of his life, making eye contact occasionally as the ball of fiery energy moves across the stage, accent pouring through with his cut through cyphers. Jeongguk can feel his heart thundering in his chest during all three songs, though it picks up when it’s all over, an Taehyung is bouncing beside him as he follows a group of fans to Agust D’s backstage area. Adrenaline bursts through his body, yet so does a small sense of dread and a bit of fear. He would be meeting his idol. In the flesh. He feels like he’s about to faint.

“Agust D is so cool! Oh my God, I want to have his babies!” a group of girls squeal as their friend shouts this. Taehyung elbows Jeongguk lightly in the ribs, smirking.

“Don’t you want to have his babies too?” His eyebrows wag suggestively, and Jeongguk turns beet red and ducks his head.

“H-hyung that’s biologically impossibl—”

“Next!” A woman with wire framed glasses looks over at them, the group of girls disappearing into the room. It’s their turn next, and said woman eyes them suspiciously almost. They shuffle forward, prompting her to ask their names.

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk. My friend is his biggest fan,” Taehyung blabs. The woman mutters a calm ‘that’s nice’ and nods, peering inside the room. About ten minutes pass before the girls exit, all flustered and giggly. She then turns to them with a grave expression on her face.

“Don’t touch him, no photos. Do not be lewd or anything either. Be respectful and don’t be in there too long. There’s more people behind you so ten minutes max.” She sounds as though she’s reciting from a script, but steps aside to allow them inside. He allows Taehyung to lead the way, not wanting to make a fool of himself. He would be positively mortified if he stumbled and fell on his face in front of Agust D. So it’s best to allow Taehyung to meet him first. No big deal.

He’s not what Jeongguk expects.

Yes, he’d seen him up close and personal from the front row, but seeing him now is entirely different. He’s no longer in his stage attire and has dressed down into an oversized hoodie with a baseball cap covering his ash blue hair, staring lazily at his phone as he sits on a couch. Jeongguk is sure he’s seeing an angel right now, and is unable to sit and admire the tiny man because Taehyung decides, then and there, to open his mouth and introduce them.

“Hello! Oh man, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung,” he pulls Jeongguk from behind him, and points at him. “This is my best friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He’s a huge fan.” The blue haired man looks up at them lazily, staring the two men down, then moves to stand. Making his way over to them and holds out a hand for them to shake. Taehyung takes the bait and shakes his hand excitedly but Jeongguks stares at it stupidly. Agust D just blinks at him, waiting for Jeongguk to snap out of his stupidity and just shake his hand. Taehyung, meanwhile, has shuffled away with a sly grin, heading over to the refreshments table. It takes Jeongguk a few moments to buffer before he’s embarrassed, and shakes the man’s hand.

“Sorry,” his voice is soft. He doesn’t catch the quirk of the lips from the rapper who watches him, moving to slide his phone in his pants pocket, then his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He takes in Jeongguk’s appearance, seemingly pleased, and shakes his head.

“Your friend said you’re a fan, so it’s no big deal. It’s not the worst thing someone’s done when they meet me,” he’s reassuring and Jeongguk wants to dissolve on the spot. Instead, he brings his head back up to make eye contact, meeting Agust D’s intense gaze. His mouth goes dry as he struggles to formulate a sentence. A coherent one at that.

“I uh, your music is really good.” Nailed it. It’s not very eloquent, but the rapper seems to not mind it. Seemingly amused at the blubbering idiot in front of him.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite song?” This gets the cogs in his brain turning as he tries to cypher through the endless soundtrack of Agust D songs in his head, playing them and trying to figure out if he’s even got a favorite. But he finds one and settles on it.

“I like all your stuff, really. Your music just speaks to me on a deeper level. The lyrics are really raw and authentic and anybody who knows music can tell that you did it all by yourself. You don’t sugar coat either. You’ve got some lighter stuff too, and sometimes you sing, but there’s just this intensity in your raps that just really hit me in my chest. Like in your song, First Love. It’s a really emotional piece and it just. . .I dunno. It’s really good. All of your stuff is,” he sounds like a blubbering idiot, but Agust D looks thoughtful. Pleased with his answer and analysis. Jeongguk doesn’t think that anything he said makes sense, but Agust D seems pleased.

“Your friend’s right, you really are a fan,” there’s a grin on his face, and Jeongguk is unsure how to interpret it but something tells him he’s scored major brownie points with his favorite artist.

“That was the shortest ten minutes of my life,” Taehyung complains, bumping into Jeongguk who’s trying his hardest to stick the straw in his matcha. Grumpy because he agreed. It indeed was the shortest ten minutes of his life, but Agust D seemed impressed with him and they had a good conversation. A conversation he wanted to continue, but his time had been up so he’d had to begrudgingly cut the conversation short and leave. Much to his chagrin.

“You were on your phone the entire time,” He fusses, bringing the straw up to his lips. Taehyung shakes his head, seemingly offended but Jeongguk knows he’s not.

“Yeah, to give you time to suck his dick, but obviously that didn’t work.” Cue Jeongguk choking on his drink. They continue walking, heading back to their shared apartment when something slams into his back. He barely is able to process it, turning around and catching someone in a beanie and facemask. Confused and hesitant, he tries to see under the mask, hiked up beneath sunglasses.

“May I help you?”

The person shuffles a little to grab something out of their coat pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and shoves it in his chest. Jeongguk has little time to process it and ask what this was for before the person turns and walks briskly the opposite way. He’s confused, but unfolds the paper to see what’s on it.

An address. A phone number. No name thought? The script is a little messy but he can make out what it says.

Text me. I’d like to meet up and talk some more. -AD

Taehyung, he can feel, bounces behind him. Trying to peer at the cryptic message left by the shady person but Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little. Was Agust D trying to get in contact with him?

“What is it?” Taehyung whines, trying to make a grab for the paper, but Jeongguk shakes his head and shoves it in his pocket.

“Nothing. Just a note from a girl in my lit class,” he lies, but Taehyung buys it. Grinning and wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ohohohoho, which one?”

Calling. . .

Calling . . .

“Hello?” A smooth voice picks up on the second ring and Jeongguk gulps at the sound. Indeed, it is Agust D and indeed, this person had gifted him with his phone number.

“H-how’d you find me?”

“Oh, that was easy. There’s not many Jeon Jeongguk’s in town and you’re pretty popular. All I had to do was search for you on Naver and boom, got you. It was fairly easy, honestly. I also searched for your friend too, just in case,” This makes Jeongguk a little flustered, as he hadn’t expected Agust D to go into such depth trying to find out where he was and get in touch with him. He’s a little more than fanboying right now. “But, I wanted to continue our conversation some more. You know your stuff,”

“Yeah, I’m a music major so I kind of have to,” he blurts, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The man on the other end makes a noise of surprise.

“Ahhh, music huh? I majored in that too in college. College was meh, but music made it a little better. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty two.”

“So young. . .,” there’s a sigh on the other end. “I can’t talk for long, but we should meet up at the address I gave you. Sorry for shoving it in your chest like that, I tried to be a little secretive,”

“Wait, that was you?”

“Why would I send someone else to do my dirty work? Of course it was me. Why, are you shocked?” There’s a smirk in his tone that Jeongguk hears quite well, and he goes quiet at it. Chosing to ignore the fact that he’s being teased.

“When do you want to meet?” He responds instead. There’s a pause and a rustling of paper, before Agust D clicks his tongue.

“I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Are you?”

“Yeah, I get out of class at noon.”

“Perfect. Meet me then and we can go get coffee or something,” Jeongguk’s delusional mind races and clenches on the idea of going on a date with the famed Agust D, but he knows that logically this is just them going out to get coffee and discuss music. That’s it, that’s literally all this is. But the delulu in him is jumping out very loudly and he’s making it more than what he is in his head.

He’s a little chilly, but it’s worth it.

Standing outside the building, a small hole in the wall coffee shop in a quieter part of town—the address on the slip of paper—Jeongguk patiently waits for Agust D to show up. So nervous he feels nauseous. The type of nauseated that he knows he’s not going to vomit, but at the same time he still feels that it’s possible. Nervous to make a blunder and nervous to sit and talk to the man that’s the background of his computer. Who he idolizes far too aggressively than he should. But luckily he doesn’t have to wait long, because he’s approached and grabbed by the arm, pulled inside wordlessly. He knows who it is almost immediately and makes no attempt to scramble away. Instead, he tries to memorize how the hand feels wrapped around his forearm—larger than he’d anticipated—and the strength behind the pull. It’s gentle, but firm. Commanding almost. He’s sat at a table in a far corner and Agust D moves to sit across from him. Pulling the mask he’d been wearing down and under his chin, his round cheeks on full display. Jeongguk thinks his brain just melted.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was on the phone with my manager,” the first thing that comes out of his mouth is an apology. An apology. He almost blurts out that it’s an honor to wait on him and that he’d willingly wait on him hand and foot if he asks, but doesn’t. Instead, he slides his cold hands between his warm thighs to warm them up, chuckling sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I wasn’t waiting very long.” He’d really only been waiting maybe five minutes, but he’d wait an hour in the cold for him. He doesn’t admit this though. The ash haired man seems okay with this, pulling out a menu to look at. Jeongguk stares at him, wordlessly. Still unable to believe this is happening. He’s probably staring for maybe three minutes before Agust D speaks up, but doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t think I’m on the menu,”

Jeongguk, flabbergasted, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, dropping his eyes and staring down at his lap like a scolded child. Ignoring the soft laugh that comes from across him as the horror fills him. What is he, a stupid, starstruck teenage girl?

“Here. There’s only one menu and I know what I want. You can get whatever, I don’t mind paying.”

He looks up then staring at the laminated menu slid in front of him for him to look at. On it are an assortment of drinks and snacks, along with pictures. Small ones of the various drinks, the signature drinks in each category. He’s still a little clueless about coffee, so he searches and successfully finds the frappe-like drinks. A safe choice, because he doesn’t want to look even more stupid in front of his idol. When he finalizes what he wants, he looks over at Agust D, who’s typing away on his phone. Seemingly feeling his gaze, he then proceeds to turn his phone off and place is face down on the table. Away and out of sight. His attention then focuses on Jeongguk.

“So, you’re a student, you’re twenty two, and you’re majoring in music. Your best friend is Kim Taehyung and you’re my biggest fan? What else should I know about you then? Or well, what do you want to know about me?” He brings his hands up to lock beneath his chin, both elbows on the table. Jeongguk stares at him, stares at his face, then moves down to his hands, and lastly to the table top as he squirms. He knows quite a bit about him, but isn’t sure what he should ask first.

“Uh. . .what’s your favorite food?”

The question is sudden and makes Agust D laugh a little, taken off guard. Jeongguk wants to cry at how his eyes disappear and his smile brightens when he laughs. This is unfair.

“You’re my biggest fan and you don’t know my favorite food? Jeongguk-ah, I’m disappointed,” he teases, but Jeongguk thinks for a moment he’s serious and stiffens. But then relaxes, mentally scolding himself for being so sensitive. Goddamnit.

“Haha, right,” he gives a light chuckle, kind of nervous. Agust D senses this and leans over, playfully petting his arm.

“Relax, yeah? No need to be all uptight and stuff. You don’t have to be so scared to talk to me. I’m not going to bite or anything,” he’s reassuring, voice soft and even offers a smile. Jeongguk tries to relax a little, knowing he’s right. He can’t be acting like he has something stuck up his ass.

“Oh, and you don’t have to call me by my stage name either. Call me Yoongi for now on.”

Yoongi.

He’s really scored brownie points?

“So yeah, I really think that the pop version of hip hop is a joke. Idols don’t even right their own damn raps so it’s not even real hip hop. And the concepts? Disgusting. Offensive. Electric fucking chair,” Yoongi’s more animated with a bit of caffiene in his system, Jeongguk notices. So is he, but he’s still on his first frappe and is still loosening up by the time Yoongi breaches coffee number two. It’s honestly exciting to see, and though they came here to talk about music, there’s not been much music talk. Mostly Yoongi asking about what he does on a daily, and how his classes are. He’s observant and seemingly interested, and the attention makes Jeongguk a little shy but also it excites him. Never before had he imagined being this close with his idol to the point of getting coffee and sitting and chatting like this. This must be a dream come true?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Next time you listen to like fucking Seventeen or something, pay attention to their rapping, then think about their rapping and pay close attention to it. Then compare it to like Jay Park or Park Chanyeol or something. Huge difference,” he points out and Jeongguk knows what he’s talking about, but begs to differ, considering he’s a vocalist.

“Mmmm, yeah but different styles. Pop is more vocally, if that makes sense, and what you guys do is more rap based. So of course the pop version is more ‘bubblegum’ because of the style. I don’t think pop is meant to be as hardcore as like hip hop but I do agree some groups don’t execute it well. I’m speaking from the vocalist side of the spectrum,” Yoongi looks at him then, surprised.

“You sing?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk wants to be the floor. The entire fucking floor. Just melt into the floor and become the floor yes.

“. . .yes?”

“How come you didn’t tell me? Honestly, you look like the singing type. And you’ve got a soft voice so honestly I kind of called it. You don’t give off rapper vibes and you’ve got a nice body that looks like you dance, but the vocals thing is kind of obvious,” he brings his cup to his lips to take a sip, as if what he said wasn’t a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal. Yoongi just grilled him, read him, and delivered a verdict.

“I have a nice body?” He stupidly blurts out. Yoongi looks at him then, eyes sharp as he takes in the visible aspects of his body.

“Yeah. Does nobody tell you that?”

Well yeah, but not famous people who he’d willingly let step on him.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Yoongi hums at this, thoughtfully.

“I bet you’re pretty popular with the girls on campus.”

Jeongguk has never been more flustered in his life. It’s not a lie, but in reality he’s popular with everybody.

“I guess?”

Yoongi simply nods thoughtfully, but then smiles at him. It’s almost uncharacteristic but Jeongguk is still blinded by it. It’s even a little sly, and he wonders what the rapper has up his sleeve.

“I’ve got a performance tomorrow night, you and Taehyung should come.” Jeongguk would be a fucking idiot to turn this down. He’s got a paper due in three days but fuck school.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can get you backstage too. But you’ll be special guests, so you can hang around a little longer. Actually, I’ll make sure you guys get to stay the latest,” Yoongi’s so powerful that Jeongguk almost whines at this. Wow, God is good.

“Uh, okay that’s. . .yeah that would be amazing actually,” he even cracks a smile. At this, Yoongi leans over, a little in his personal space, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He can smell his shampoo from this close distance as well.

“After that though, do you want to come over? To my place? We can talk more and stuff.”

Jeongguk swears at that moment his brain shuts off and powers down. The Windows shutdown sound effect has never been louder.

“You must’ve really sucked his dick good to get us better tickets and VIP passes for free,” Taehyung hisses in his ear as they’re finally led backstage for their special VIP treatment. Nearly everyone is gone but Jeongguk knows for a fact that Yoongi isn’t. Neither is his team, but he knows that they won’t bother them. Taehyung is just here as a cover up, because he’s pretty sure that Yoongi had invited him over for one thing and one thing only.

He’s totally not afraid.

Sure, one should be honored that their idol seems a bit interested in them and wants to hook up, but this is Yoongi. This is highly important and it had been a while really since his last hookup. He definitely had to make sure he was prepared for this. He didn’t even know Yoongi was into guys, to be quite honest. So not only was this a surprise, but it was a fucking honor. This special occasion called for his best outfit; more leather courtesy of Taehyung, and an over-sized sweater. Pairing sexy with cute? Perfect. Something in him tells him he’s overthinking this invitation and there’s nothing happening, but the suggestive tone in Yoongi’s voice at the invite tells him otherwise. He’s really about to get his back blown out.

“I haven’t even touched him, you freak,” Taehyung sticks his tongue out at this, wiggling it and causing Jeongguk to smack his arm.

“Please never do that again,” he whines, but Taehyung just laughs, shrugging off the request and marches right into the backstage room. This time, Yoongi seems to be expecting them. Not on his phone and is instead sitting on the couch inside the room, his hairdresser fixing his hair. For what, they don’t know, but his eyes zero in on the two guests as soon as they enter.

“Hey! Thanks for the tickets again. You’re the best,” Taehyung praises, though steps aside for Yoongi to see Jeongguk, knowing that despite his politeness and hospitality, he’s really more interested in Jeongguk. Which is fine, Taehyung’s still trying to slide to RM’s dm’s anyways. But it’s only fair to thank him for allowing them both to come, though this is mostly for Jeongguk.

“No problem. You guys seemed to have a good time last time, so I decided to treat you again. I felt bad that we couldn’t finish our conversation last time,” he looks at Jeongguk again, though they both know that they finished that conversation. Jeongguk bites his lip.

They talk for a while, mostly sharing banter and mostly Taehyung embarrassing poor Jeongguk, but it earns laughter from Yoongi so Jeongguk feels it’s a win win situation for him. But then Taehyung 'mysteriously' leaves them, saying that he'll see Jeongguk later and that he's got an exam in the morning. Jeongguk sees the look that Taehyung and Yoongi share and wonder if Taehyung is in on this plot? But it results in him being left alone with Yoongi, and is the reason why Jeongguk finds himself at Yoongi's apartment later, with a lapful of the rapper who's tongue is shoved down his throat. It escalated quickly, but he can't find it in him to care. Not with Yoongi grinding down directly against his crotch, growling into his mouth. Jeongguk is well aware that he’s a switch, and isn’t sure whether Yoongi plans on fucking him or expects to be fucked, but either way he’s prepared for both scenarios.

“Take. . .this off. . fuck,” hands grope at his sweatshirt, greedy and cold. The feeling of the coolness of Yoongi’s fingers on the sliver of skin revealed from him tugging at the sweater makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. It’s so delicious, so delightful. He fumbles a little as he blindly removes his hands from where they’d been digging into the rapper’s hips, rocking them back and forth against his own, to pull at his sweater. Pulling away from the softness of his lips to remove it and toss it away.

In the split second of him removing the sweater, he finds his back pressed into the couch, Yoongi hovering over him. Eyes taking in the newly revealed skin now his for the moment. Curious yet experienced hands brush against the smooth, untainted skin. A blank canvas that Yoongi feels he’s free to mark and do as he pleases with. Jeongguk stares back up at him, then down at the pale hands against his chest. Watching as they ghost over the definition of his abdominal muscles, and up to his pecs. Pointer finger of both hands circling the small areolas before brushing against the pinks nipples, already pebbled from the earlier stimulation. He wants to be mortified with the moan that he lets out, Yoongi managing to figure out so early how sensitive his nipples are, but the way Yoongi looks at him has that dissipating. The look in his eyes is hungry, and a little mean. The sadist in him loves it.

“Ah, you’re sensitive huh? Make that noise again for me,” Yoongi’s voice lowers as he focuses on tweaking and pinching the nubs. Thumb and forefinger working together as his head moves down. Peppering warm kisses from the hemline of Jeongguk’s pants across his abs. Over the ridges and grooves as he works his way up. Ignoring how the younger squirms beneath him, bucking up into his touch and whining out squeaky moans as Yoongi gets meaner, less gentle with his musings. At some point he starts biting the skin, sucking hickeys into the smoothness there to mark his territory. Jeongguk’s in heaven, if Yoongi can’t tell.

“Hyung p-please,” he begs, unsure what for. Yoongi finds this amusing, chuckling at the desperation in his voice.

“Please what? What do you want hyung to do?”

Honestly, he doesn’t know. He’s unsure if he wants more of this or if he wants something else. As he’s trying to figure this out, he feels something wet on his left nipple, then a bit of force. When he looks down, he sees fluffy ashy hair.

Ah.

A leg wraps around Yoongi’s waist as he grinds up into him, rutting desperately as his cock swells further into his jeans. It’s uncomfortable and he’s leaking precum. But he dares not tell Yoongi to stop, not at the way his tongue flicks over the pebbling nub like no tomorrow, sending jolts down his spine. Pleasant jolts of lust, of desire. It’s over moments later when Yoongi withdraws, sitting up on Jeongguk’s hips and reaches down to remove his own shirt, tossing it away and bending back down before Jeongguk has a chance to be amazed at the litheness of his body; to take in the pale, pristine skin. He’d seen a tattoo or two in the process of Yoongis stripping and Yoongi leaning back down, mouthing at his neck hotly and whispering filth into his skin. His body is on fire and he’s rock hard. This is a problem that needs to be fixed.

But he can feel the thickness of the rapper’s own erection against his abdomen. Can feel how aroused Yoongi is and is pleased he’d managed to get him as horny as he himself was. He wants to leave marks too, thinks it’s unfair that Yoongi’s greedy mouth is leaving a trail of destruction up and down his body. He plans in his mind to return the favor later, but honestly doesn’t see a problem wielding battle scars from letting Yoongi take him in such a lewd manner. He’d dreamed about this far too many times and wondered was this a one time thing that would mean nothing, but in the time he’d spent in diving in headfirst into the Agust D fandom and in the short span of two weeks of knowing him, he was sure that perhaps he was a bit more than attached, and hoped it meant something deeper than just a quick screw on the couch. As great as this was, he knew he’d be devastated if that’s all this was.

Hands are at the front of his jeans as Yoongi’s mouth presses a trail of kisses up from his neck over his cheek and to his mouth, chuckling against his cupid’s bow. Jeongguk finds himself giggling by reflex as well, hearing the snap of his button and the sound of his belt being unbuckled.

“You ever had your cock swallowed?”

The question confuses him—is he asking had he ever had a blowjob?—and he regrets stopping to think, because when he zones back in with an answer, Yoongi’s scooting down his legs, pulling him by his arms back into a seated position. Moving to kneel in front of him on the floor, focused on getting his pants and boxers as far away from his body as possible. Jeongguk just watches, a little numb and unsure how to help. Yoongi seems to get it though, and shuffles the useless articles of clothing down his legs. Moving closer and leaning in to nose along the length of his cock. Hands on his thighs for leverage. Jeongguk should be embarrassed, but he’s not—oddly enough. He’s far too aroused to be embarrassed about having Yoongi’s mouth so close to him like this.

Yoongi seems to get tired of that, wanting to dive right in. Without using his hands, he stares directly up at Jeongguk, making eye contact, and licks from his balls up to the glistening head of his cock, slowly. Taking in the taste and the texture before bringing a hand to hold it upright. Jeongguk swears, tilting his head back as Yoongi repeats the motions, eyes dropping to focus on the task at hand. Jeongguk spreads his legs apart for better leverage, almost sure he’s going to end up cumming right down Yoongi’s throat in the process of all this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he sighs as the rapper starts to wrap his lips around the tip, lapping up the excess wetness coming from the slit then sucks. Slowly, gently. Tongue cushioning the head as he slurps all over it. Sloppy, wet. The sounds echo up to his ears and Jeongguk just groans; the feeling and the sounds a bit too much for him. He wants to grab Yoongi by the head and fuck his throat but they’re not there just yet. Close, but not quite.

After a few moments of teasing, flicking his tongue through his slit and rubbing it all over the bulbous head, he starts to take him inch by inch into his mouth. His cock doesn’t fit all the way initially, but Yoongi seems to know what to do about this. His left hand wraps around what doesn’t fit and he jerks in tandem with his sucking. Bobbing his head up and down. He knows what he’s doing, and Jeongguk wonders should he be a little ticked that Yoongi’s done this before or thankful that he’s not a noob slobbering all over his dick like a teething baby. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t mind if he was new at this, because either way he’s sure he’d enjoy it. One of his hands shoots down to tangle into the pale blue locks shielding his view, lulled by the wet suckling noises and the suction from that heavenly mouth. Swears, praises, and filth pours out of his mouth, eyes scrunching closed as his hips involuntarily buck into the rapper’s mouth. He’s so horny it’s pitiful, and nearly blows his load when Yoongi removes his hand, easing him down his throat. So this is what he meant by swallowing cock.

“F-fuck yeah,” he stammers out, growling a little at the end because it feels heavenly. He’s not sure just yet who’s getting fucked but he knows for certain that if he’s doing the fucking he hopes Yoongi’s ass feels a lot like his mouth. Hot, warm. Tight. He’s nearly positive he’s going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be too bad, he thinks as Yoongi swallows around his length. Yoongi stays still for a moment, before pulling off with a sharp gasp, coughing a little and taking his erection again, jerking it sloppily. Using his own saliva as lubrication.

“You like that?” Jeongguk nods stupidly. Bucking into that fist desperately. “You gonna cum?” He nods again. Yoongi seems pleased by this, and takes in a breath really quickly. Preparing himself for what he’s about to do.

“Fuck my throat til you cum then. And then after I’ll return the favor.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to take this at the moment, too busy trying to get Yoongi’s mouth back on him, but knows that he’s glad he’d attempted to prep himself earlier. Yoongi takes that moment to give him what he wants, starting slowly from the tip and moving down. Inch by inch just like before but it’s a little quicker than last time. He gags, but stays down a little longer. Digging his nails into Jeongguk’s meaty thighs as if to tell him to go ahead. Jeongguk can feel his throat relax, and takes that as the green light to start. So he moves his hand back to his hair, his other following closely behind to tangle into the slightly dry strands. Getting a grip first before he rolls up, sending a sharp thrust down the rapper’s throat. He hears a gag, feels the hands tightening on his thighs almost as a warning, but for a moment he feels daring and does it again. And again, and again until he’s got a decent rhythm, chasing his orgasm which is shockingly close. He’s not even mad, considering this is the best blowjob he’s had in a while, and well. It’s Yoongi. He’s lasted longer than he’d anticipated, he thinks, but it only takes a few thrusts before his body tenses and he hisses out a sharp Yoongi as he cums in spurts down the rapper’s throat. Holding him there for a moment before Yoongi’s shoving at him.

He releases him then, but Yoongi doesn’t shove him away. No, what he does instead is move to lick up his release, then sucks the remnants directly from his cockhead. Jeongguk’s sensitive, but that doesn’t make him shove Yoongi away.

When Yoongi finishes, he looks up at him, licking what had spilled onto the crease of his lip away as he makes eye contact with the younger, who’s trying to get a grip. Chest heaving up and down as he pants. Yoongi moves to stand, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to stand. He nearly stumbles, but Yoongi either doesn’t pay attention or chooses not to comment. Instead focused on pulling his head down so that he can lick into his mouth, allowing Jeongguk to taste himself on his tongue.

“Get all the way out of your clothes,” he breathes the command against Jeongguk’s mouth, and he wastes no time kicking the clothes away. Allowing himself to be led by Yoongi’s mouth as the rapper starts to fumble with his own belt, backing them towards his bedroom—or so Jeongguk thinks.

“You two are so gross,” Taehyung complains, sitting across from Jeongguk and Yoongi who’re cuddled up into each other. Its gross, really. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, leaning into Yoongi more who’s arm tightens around his waist to keep him close. Taehyung pouts.

“Are you jealous that you didn’t meet RM and end up dating him?” Jeongguk’s playful, grinning cheekily at his fussy friend who just looks away, the answer obvious as he picks up his iced tea and loudly sips from it.

“I’m actually really good friends with Namjoon, I can hook you guys up,” Yoongi tries to be helpful, reaching for a potato chip. Shoving it in his mouth. Both Jeongguk and Taehyung stare at him. Flabbergasted. Yoongi looks up at them slowly, back and forth between the two.

“What?”

“Namjoon is fucking RM?!”

Yoongi looks confused. “No? Namjoon is RM. Wait, how do you know Namjoon?”

Taehyung lets out a screech which draws attention to them, grabbing his head in both hands and laying it on the table. Jeongguk simply laughs as Yoongi looks at them in confusion, obviously left out of the loop and mortified at the noise that came from Taehyung.“He’s our TA for our lit class. Taehyung’s been ogling him since he walked in and never put two and two together. Small fucking world,” Jeongguk cackles, reaching for his soda as Taehyung lays his head on the table, having what appears to be an existential crisis. Yoongi still doesn’t understand, but finds it funny nonetheless.

“Hyung, please get me backstage tickets. I need them.”

“I don’t know about that. Not everybody hits it off backstage like we did. Plus, I think Namjoon likes someone else,” The look on Taehyung’s face is priceless. Even Jeongguk looks a little sad about that, but Yoongi laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m kidding. We can do a double date or something. Just don’t be too much of a, whatever you are, or you might scare him away,”

“Do you mean a thirsty hoe?”

“Yeah that,”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Taehyung whines, straightening up. He thinks for a minute, before looking at Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.

“Hyung pleaseeeee. I’ll love you forever,” he begs. Yoongi pretends to think about it, but acquises and hands him his phone.

“Here’s his number. Don’t be weird about it or you might scare him away,” he instructs, but Taehyung simply snatches the phone and gets up, waddling away with it pressed to his ear. Yoongi sighs, then looks at Jeongguk.

“You weren’t like this, were you?” he asks as Jeongguk shovels two fries into his mouth. He feels caught, nearly chokes, but then shakes his head as he washes it down with his soda.

“No. I was less eager to meet you,” he admits, averting his eyes. “I was scared I’d fuck up and you’d hate me.”

“Nonesense,” Yoongi insists, stealing one of Jeongguk’s fries. Jeongguk rolls his eyes.

“It’s not everyday you meet your idol, you know. I was scared I’d make a fool of myself and you’d kick me out or something,” Yoongi seems to think this over, but snorts.

“You made a fool of yourself and I ended up fucking you until you screamed like a wanton bitch so honestly you had nothing to worry about.”

Jeongguk chokes on his soda, sputtering out and wheezing at this. Taehyung returns then, smirking as he slides back in the booth in front of them, handing over the phone.

“I have a dick appointment with RM tomorrow at 7. Jeon, I need to borrow those leather pants you used when you and Yoongi-hyung fucked.”

Jeongguk chokes again.

↬ x.

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#bts fics #bts fic #yoonkook drabbles #yoonkook smut #rapper yoongi #agust d #student jungkook #platonic taekook #taekook as best friends #yoonkook

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spectrumscribe · 5 years

Text

lonely and craving feedback

below is a rough draft section from my original novel, North of the End of the World (wip title), and i just.... wanna see what people think of it’s tone so far? i’m gonna come back and smooth shit out later, but for the most part this is the basics of what i want it to be like.

all below the cut. it’s a dystopian setting, with adult characters, so while nothing too pg happens in this tidbit i still wanna remind yall to be careful with yourselves.

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Colorado City. It’s the biggest one in the province, the rest of them scattered towns, clinging to other ruins. Colorado City is tangled, dirty, and overly full, even with it’s large size. It’s not even in ‘Colorado’, wherever that is. It got built on some other city, up in the northern of what was Alberta, Canada.

Colette doesn’t really care if the name is all wrong; it’s a city, it’s where she lives, that’s the end of things. She doesn’t need to know more than that to get by.

Colorado isn’t anyone’s home, far as she’s concerned. It’s just a place they’ve all gathered to clamber over one another; clawing out lives for themselves in a toxic environment, with nowhere else to go. Wasteland towns pop up and get swallowed up in the same month, sometimes. The only consistency anyone can find is here, or another big city. For whatever reason, the biggest of the ruins stay where they are; persevering through the fallout and standing tall.

They’ve even remained sturdy enough that new structures could be built around them, and under them. There are so few places left for humans, where they can defend themselves from the world. They’ve had no choice but to remain in cities like this, forcing it to accommodate them. Multiple levels, suspended between buildings, created to provide more room in their crowded metropolis. The same treatment done downwards; just as equally tangled and packed in.

Colette likes her burrow on the below ground levels. She likes it because the lights in the area are always malfunctioning, because skittering creatures make home in the shadows, because everyone else hates it and she enjoys being contrary.

She also likes it because finding work is easy. Someone who knows the underground like her is valuable, good for odd jobs. Colette has a near flawless success rate in whatever errands she’s given- be it locating an item, delivering something, just about anything, really.

And, unlike most other folks, Colette isn’t scared of the dark, or what hides in it. She’d walk through a pitch-black tunnel no problem; she wouldn’t even flinch. Nothing there is of any real threat, honestly; nothing to be afraid of. It’s what’s inside of people that scares her.

Still, she needs to eat. So, whenever she wakes up each day or night, Colette rolls herself out of bed to get dressed and head out. She knows the hotspots for the sorts of jobs she wants; quick and short, but decent enough pay. The people who frequent those hotspots know her well enough to refer interested parties.

Tonight, Colette wants something she can get done in a few hours. She’s still sore in her left leg from where someone got a lucky kick in. Serves her right, underestimating the thief she’d been sent to steal from. Stupid kid couldn’t have been older than fifteen, but he fought like hell to keep the package he stole.

Colette had kicked the shit out of him in exchange, and pried the package out of his singed hands. The consequences of his theft far outweighed the gain from it, in Colette’s opinion. All the kid had to show for it were burnt fingers and an introduction to the heel of her boot.

She kind of feels sorry for the nameless thief, because that’d been her at some point. But, she learned. She got smarter and tougher. If the thief is lucky, he’ll live long enough to do that, too.

The bar she’s visiting tonight is closer to a giant hole in the wall than a proper establishment. The painted sign on the concrete ceiling says High Street’s End, but the tunnels have no real streets, so most people just call it Jerry’s. Colette calls it a shithole, personally.

She’s woken up in the afternoon today, so the dinner rush hasn’t started yet. There’s plenty of after work drinkers, though, scattered in numbers large enough Colette knows she’ll get to eat tonight.

She lifts her scarf a little higher, over her chin. The strung-up lights of the bar wash out her already sun deprived skin, bleaching her long, tangled blonde hair to near white. Colette has two layers on, a thick sweater and long coat. It hides how lean she is, bulks up her small stature. Doesn’t help the fact that her feet dangle when she sits down on the metal bar stool. A glass of water is set in front of her on the counter, clean and clear.

Colette takes it and drinks it in just a few gulps. Good water is hard to come by; many sources are tainted. Jerry’s bar is special because of that. He can purify it, no matter how filthy.

He’s also older than nearly anyone else around here, making it to the point where his hair is almost pure white and grey. Colette doesn’t much like people, but she has something like fondness for Jerry. He’s a stout set man with a trim beard, paired with a sense of humor that’s as endearing as it is annoying.

“Evening, Russian Colette,” Jerry says with a cheeky grin, leaning on the counter. “You on any particular errand right now? ‘cause I’d rather you didn’t break my furniture again with a brawl.”

Colette shakes her head no. She digs a coin out of her pocket and flashes it in front of Jerry, the five-dollar digits imprinted on it making her point clear.

“Ah, job hunting,” Jerry says, nodding. He takes the coin and digs into his own pockets, producing a notebook. He flips through it, the arthritic swell of his fingers stiffening the action by the slightest margin. “Well, let’s see here… got a few requests for runners up to the topside, two for finding missing persons, an advertisement about a prophet geared educational group…”

I hate being upstairs, Colette signs, though it’s mostly for her own benefit, and those missing people are dead or shipped off already. The group thing is a scam. Probably another con to catch any young magicians without anyone watching them.

“What’s that?” Jerry is bemusedly confused by her hand signs, like always. “You know I only recognize my name in all that hand waving, right? Use a paper, woman.”

Colette raises one hand and lifts a single finger. Jerry guffaws.

“Now that I know the meaning of,” he says, chortling still. “Sorry, but that’s all I’ve gotten today. And you already refused everything else I have.”

Colette snorts. The other jobs Jerry has on offer are as shitty as the newest ones. She passed on all of them because they either paid like shit for an enormous amount of effort, or because she knew she wouldn’t be able to complete it and so wouldn’t be paid.

She taps her glass pointedly. Jerry obliges her a refill of water, right from the tap alongside his beer options. As he hands it to her, he says, “Think on it a little more before you leave, alright? Your good business is good my business, and you haven’t taken a job from here in a few weeks.”

Colette shrugs. She’ll think about it, sure. She’ll think about how stupid the jobs are, and then she’ll leave to find better ones.

Jerry moves on, going to greet other customers coming in. Colette sips slowly at her water, enjoying its sweet freshness. As much as she’d like to buy another five waters, and a hot meal on the side, Colette is counting her coins and not liking the numbers. Jerry’s right; she’s been skimming without serious jobs for a while. Any longer and she might have some trouble.

And speaking of trouble; Colette turns on her stool, hearing a chair be knocked over and rancorous laughter. She raises an eyebrow at the poor guy who’s the butt of the joke. He’s big, bigger than almost anyone Colette’s known. Tall and well fed. He’s also got clothes that lack the level of wear and tear hers has, that everyone’s around here has. Nice deep green coat and a shiny leather satchel; boots that could be new, all the buttons on his shirt still.

He doesn’t look like someone who’s a member of the Families in the city, though. Those sorts never come down here anyway. The guy looks about her age, maybe younger. Early twenties, likely. He’s got a soft cheeked face, with equally soft dark curls framing it. Colette looks at his skin and thinks of the grove of acorn trees she once saw; nuts light as sun to dark as earth. He’s between that, the sort of brown that lets you know it’s not too early or too late to eat the nut.

Colette pushes away the memory of that warm fall, from somewhere far in her past. The guy picking himself up off the ground may look as strong as an oak tree, but he’s clearly no better than a dried twig. Colette can give him a single glance and know he’s easy prey, a target for anyone to take advantage of.

Not her scene. Colette does some pretty terrible things to make ends meet, but she doesn’t cross the line like that. Kicking a thief around is one thing; robbing someone of everything they have is quite another.

Colette grimaces, watching the out-of-towner huff and scold the group of men he’s sitting with. Now she feels all melancholic about how awful everyone here is. She finishes her drink of water, annoyed that her evening has barely begun and it’s already been spoiled.

Colette whistles at Jerry to get his attention, rubbing her fingers together to show she wants one of the jobs. Her mood is quickly sliding into prickly grumpiness; she might as well ruin it further.

When Jerry asks which job she wants, Colette jerks a thumb across her throat.

tbc

#spec ocs #NTEW #shorthand for north of the etc.#My writing #any kinda takeaway you have is accepted as a response #criticize compliment whatever #this is my Big Project for the next few months and i wanna know if its starting off good

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lightsandlostbells · 6 years

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Skam season 3, episode 7 reaction

AKA The One Where The Boy Squad Saved the Day

Episode 7 of season 3 is simpler compared to other episodes, artistically speaking - for most of it, there’s no slow motion, no big music moments, or any other Skam hallmarks. That is, until Even’s dramatic ass shows up at the very end. Which is quite fitting, in a way.

SEASON 3, EPISODE 7 - “Are you gay?”

Clip 1 - Eskild becomes Isak’s guru

Eskild tries to help Noora get over William by showing her the wonders of Tinder. I don’t know if his distaste for William in S4 was something Julie invented that season, as maybe a nod to the part of the audience who did not care for William or Noorhelm, but in-universe I would buy Eskild developing that grudge against Willy around this time. I don’t think he quite knew how much of her S2 angst was William-related, considering she wasn’t an open book and she was dealing with assault-related trauma as well. Here he knows she’s hurting for reasons directly to do with William.

Noora liked the guy on Tinder with the guitar, awww. William apparently had a guitar, as we saw during the More Than Words scene, but he was never shown playing it or talking about music.

“I just think you’re the kind of person who always has to do the right thing. You always have to be so good.” Hmmm, this says a lot about what Eskild thinks of Noora and her role in Kollektivet. Although I think in this case it mostly has to do with what Eskild says a moment later, about how everyone knows William isn’t going to come back. He really doesn’t think William will return for her and believes Noora is limiting herself by waiting for him. Just because Noora will wait for William doesn’t mean William will wait for her (which ... may have been true, it’s never clear in S4).

While watching this clip in real time, I wondered if, with all these moments reminding us that William is gone, Thomas wouldn’t come back for like a cameo in this season finale. Regardless of my personal feelings on the ship, Julie spent a full season on Noorhelm, and since there were Evak/Noorhelm parallels this season, if Evak ended up together, then Noorhelm would get some closure, right? It was actually a little surprising that she would tank her OTP like that without a hint of his return.

Noora is making tea in a Star Wars mug. Is that her mug, or someone else’s? Who’s the Star Wars fan in the flat? Tbh ever since Eskild made that Warhammer reference in the first episode, I kind of like the idea of him having sci-fi/fantasy nerd tendencies. Imagine if Kollektivet had a tabletop game night, omg.

Isak has a little smile for just a fraction of a second at Eskild’s dramatics over the Noorhelm saga.

Eskild is really tired of Isak apologizing for the gay pride incident. I think once he got some distance from the situation, he remembered that Isak is young and just coming out, and not perfectly educated on all issues regarding to the LGBT community. Eskild himself likely made some similar mistakes when he was younger and newly out of the closet. Life is a learning process, there’s no point where any of us reach Mount Woke and forevermore say the right thing and hold all the right opinions about issues of social justice.

Also, at a certain point you just want people to stop saying sorry for their mistakes, because you’ve stopped caring about what they did and just want to move on. And sometimes it becomes more about the person saying sorry than the person they hurt, though I don’t think that’s the case here with Isak. But I do think Isak just does not want Eskild mad at him. He realizes he messed up and hurt someone close to him, someone that he frankly needs during this sensitive time in his life, and who already has done so much for him.

It’s hilarious how Eskild’s annoyed mood does a 180 once Isak says he needs some advice. Those are the magic words. Eskild is a dude who really, really wants to nurture others and take them under his wing. He wants to help. And he likes the idea of being Isak’s mentor. Of course there’s the satisfaction of having his opinion listened to and valued, but he also gets to help out a gay kid who’s not as sure of himself as Eskild. Really makes you wonder whether Eskild had his own guru or whether he had to go it alone - if this is a “pay it forward” situation, or if he’s telling Isak the things he wishes someone would have told him.

It’s kind of hard to think about long-term future headcanons for Skam since it existed so firmly in its present, but I love the idea that Eskild would become a counselor for troubled youth or LGBT teens or something like that.

This is also just delicious payback, because asking for help shows Isak does look up to Eskild and respects his opinion, which is what Eskild wants. It’s really fun as Carl Martin stretches out Isak’s request, playing with him. Messing with Isak is probably more satisfying than another apology. Meanwhile Isak rolls his eyes in peak bratty teenage mode. (Tarjei gives some first-rate bratty teenage face in this scene.)

Here’s the immortal guru line, ha! Didn’t Carl Martin improvise this part?

It’s really nice that Isak felt he could go to Eskild with this concern, though. Coming out to Jonas made him relax a little bit, but Jonas can’t quite understand the specific scenario of being a gay guy (or pan guy in Even’s case) and having relationship drama. There are some factors in Isak and Even’s situation that could be influenced by them being two guys instead of a straight couple, so now Isak wants the input of another gay guy. Still, Isak is mostly looking at the ground while he openly admits his concerns about this thing with Even. He’s very vulnerable, getting it all out there. And honestly, he’s indicating to Eskild that this isn’t just a casual thing with Even - he’s invested in it, otherwise would he be so confused and upset about Even going back to his girlfriend? They weren’t just hooking up, Isak thought they were going to be together.

You can see the mention of “girlfriend” being the thing that sticks out to Eskild, and Isak noticing that and starting to get worried.

I really like this exchange where Eskild asks Isak how honest he wants him to be, and Isak says, “Maybe not too honest,” at first, then changes his mind and asks for the whole truth. That’s such a good little moment because you can see that Eskild wants to protect Isak’s feelings but also doesn’t want to give him false hope or lie to him. He’s really looking out for Isak’s best interests. And Isak doesn’t want to hear the harsh truth at first, which is real and vulnerable, but then he figures he better hear it anyway, which is a mark of maturity.

Look at the bucket of cold water splashed over Isak when Eskild tells him not many guys leave their girlfriends for a guy. This is like the episode opener from episode 4 all over again, except opposed to what Eskild said to Noora - “There are people who leave their wives and families to be with the ones they love.” It’s interesting because he’s talking from a more personal perspective here, as a gay man, rather than Noora’s issue with her het relationship, and his take is more cynical.

Though even with Noora, Eskild was trying to soften the blow - it was clear he thought William was out of the picture for good, going off how he kept mentioning how Noorhelm had broken up despite Noora’s protests. Similarly, Eskild doesn’t want to let Isak down too much, he wants to qualify that he’s not God or Buddha, this is just his opinion … but he also can’t bring himself to openly lie (in his opinion) to Isak and tell him it’s going to work out fine.

Nothing like Eskild asking if his advice was helpful when Isak’s hope is draining fast, and the clip just ending there.

So I remember there was criticism of Eskild’s advice/POV here, and while I understand why because his advice is flawed and he ends up being wrong about Even, obviously, I think it’s important to keep in mind Eskild is coming from a very specific, very personal perspective, where he’s meeting guys on Grindr who are ostensibly hanging on to a straight identity while having gay sex. As that one dude in episode 2 wrote to him, he’s not gay but he likes to suck dick, etc. - and I doubt that random Grindr guy meant he was actually bi or pan rather than gay; in context he was likely disavowing any non-heterosexual identity. Eskild is talking about a specific type of guy who will have sex with men for pleasure, but would not commit to more long-term relationships with men - relationships that are perceived more negatively in society, relationships that will direct prejudice and scorn toward those involved, relationships that unfortunately can lead to terrible consequences due to homophobia, such as violence, discrimination, family disapproval, etc. He’s not getting a correct read on Isak’s situation - the guru is fallible. But his take on it is from personal experience. (Plus Isak is telling him how Even keeps running hot and cold, showing Isak affection then ignoring him, which is not going to give Eskild the best impression of the situation.)

Clip 2 - Nei, Vilde

My heart gets so warm whenever Isak and Sana are in the same frame.

“I read it last weeeeek.” Why is that one line delivery so funny and memorable? Tarjei is a human meme.

Isak is right, the correct answer is D. Sana is convinced it’s A. One of Sana’s greatest strengths is her conviction in her beliefs, but it’s also one of her biggest flaws. As we can see, sometimes she is strongly convinced she’s right when she’s not, and she can have trouble admitting that she’s wrong. (Another moment: that scene from S1 where Sana and Noora are talking about an assignment, Noora says Sana did a problem wrong, and Sana says that the answer key is wrong.) This part of the scene with Isak and Sana fighting over the answer is here to parallel the earlier scene with Sana talking about homosexuality not being supported by evolution and to foreshadow the coming scene where she does admit to Isak she was wrong about it. We can see that Sana, while a smart person, doesn’t have all the answers. She is just a teenager, after all. And we can see that she’s stubborn in her mindset, so for her to say she was wrong about something is a big deal for her.

Also, in Isak’s season he’s the one who’s got the right answer and it’s Sana who’s wrong, and I believe in Sana’s season she’s the one outperforming him, which is funny and fitting for their characters. They both think they’re the brains of the operation.

“Your own organs don’t release waste.” Sana ... do you not know what poop is....

I mean excretion takes other forms,too, but I am given to understand that poop is a globally recognized phenomenon.

Sana pinching her nose in exasperation is pretty funny, though. She must have perfected that gesture during her conversations with Vilde, but as it turns out, it has many applications!

“Just trust me, Sana, I know this.” “I trust myself and it’s A.” Character-defining statement for Sana right there.

I’d forgotten that Isak says, “This is my subject. I know what I’m doing.” Just to support all those fanfics where Isak is a scientist or doctor. Sometimes facts can be super common in fic, but not necessarily supported in canon, but this bit gives credence to scientist Isak outside of him just generally being smart and getting good grades in biology.

AND NOW, as of this week, we have Julie Andem herself saying that Isak is studying biophysics at university, for people who would like to run with her headcanons.

Isak is like, “Let’s just Google it, I’m sick of you being stubborn,” and Sana’s like, “Well, if you’re so uncertain that you have to check Google,” and I’m like, oh my god what a ridiculous duo, I can’t stop giggling at them sniping at each other. The crankiest friends, I love them.

Everyone’s least favorite teacher returns, still without a bra but this time without a racist comment. Uh, character development? (Wasn’t she some teacher at Nissen? Imagine walking into your classroom and all your students were watching extended shots of your nipples when the clip dropped earlier. Unless she usually free-boobs it, then it’s just another Tuesday.)

Isak and Sana can’t come to an agreement, so they agree to disagree by each choosing an answer and marking it. Almost like … they can agree to disagree on other topics … hmmmm...

You can see Sana frown in confusion as she reads the text, and my heart cracks a little with Isak’s response. He looks over with a smirk, teasing her about not knowing her name and it’s very cute, but his smile drops when he sees her expression. And then when he reads the text, Tarjei does such excellent and subtle acting. It’s not like Isak has a meltdown at the table or anything, but you can see him getting punched in the gut, the shock sinking in. He quietly puts the phone in his pocket, a little tremor in his voice.

Vilde, Vilde, Vilde. I actually love Vilde a lot, messy comments and opinions and all, but this is What Not to Do when you think someone you know might be gay. First of all, you shouldn’t be putting someone randomly on the spot like that, launching into such a personal question without even easing into the subject (“I hope you don’t find this question rude” - too bad, because it is rude). I mean, imagine if someone was randomly like, “Vilde, I hope you don’t think this is rude, but is your mom an alcoholic?” WTF. Second, Vilde doesn’t know Isak that well, certainly not well enough to be asking him that question. I don’t think that question would be appropriate from a close friend, either, but definitely not from their level of acquaintances. Third, if you think your friend might be gay, you should wait for them to bring it up to you, because it’s a very personal matter. It’s a sensitive topic and they’re likely to be feeling vulnerable; they might not be sure of themselves and still questioning their sexuality, they just might not be ready. Plus coming out is something each individual should have control over. With these rumors, Isak has this life-changing moment taken out of his hands.

Sana responds to the text well, though, not acknowledging it, changing the subject by asking about the next bio question, and taking care of their assignment for Isak. You know when she saw Vilde next she chewed her out.

This is probably when things really started to make sense to her about why Isak was so hung up about religion not being accepting of homosexuality, and why he confronted her about it. She realizes that no matter her point, maybe her words had some unintended meanings that weren’t the best for Isak to hear.

There’s fear in Isak’s eyes when Sana gets up. He looks at her like he thinks she might hate him now because she knows he’s gay :(

Isak is not ready to be labeled gay, really, so you can imagine how alarming this is. Not just that he had a relationship with a boy, but that he IS something. He’s something that he’s not yet ready to accept about himself, but suddenly everyone in school knows it about him?

To make matters worse, when Isak asks Vilde where she heard it, she mentions that she heard Isak and Even had a thing. So it’s not just that Isak is gay, it’s that Isak had a relationship with Even, like ... exactly how much do they know about his life?

What do you think Even thought about being outed? We don’t know whether he was out or not, whether he was OK with it. He wasn’t wearing a pan pride button until S4. Maybe he was fine with people knowing about his sexuality, but it still wasn’t Emma’s call to make, it was his.

Of course here we learn Emma spilled the beans after hearing it from Sonja. You can imagine how this went: Even told Sonja about him and Isak. I don’t have a problem with him doing that. She was his girlfriend of four years, she deserved to know the truth about why Even was ending their relationship. And she also had graduated and didn’t go to Nissen so she wasn’t exactly enmeshed in the Nissen social sphere, there seemingly wasn’t much risk in telling her. Then Sonja contacted Emma, the sweet first-year girl who she got along with so well, to warn her off Isak. I don’t think it was wrong of her to do this in theory? I guess Sonja could have said, “Hey, Isak is not worth your time,” without going into more details about Isak and Even’s relationship, but who knows how effective that would have been. I get it, she doesn’t want Emma to waste her time and get her heart broken. Ultimately it was Emma’s choice whether to keep Isak’s sexuality to herself or not. And we don’t know exactly how Emma outed Isak, since the details Vilde gives are on the vague side. It could have been Emma venting to a friend but not intending to spread it around school, except someone else happened to overhear. It could have been the friend passing it on to a friend, who passed it on to another friend, and it kept going way more than Emma wanted or predicted. Or, I mean, it could have been Emma really angry at Isak and not bothering to keep it a secret, not understanding the severity of what it’s like to be outed (because it’s 2016, Isak, get out of the closet, geeeeeez).

But whether it was through carelessness or malice, outing Isak was clearly wrong of Emma. And frankly worse than what he did to her - he hurt Emma by leading her on, but outing Isak could have had really bad consequences. Isak is lucky that his friends are good people who accepted him instead of rejecting him. Even if he wasn’t gay-bashed or something extreme like that, he could have had to deal with homophobic assholes at school. We don’t see Isak dealing with homophobes until S4, but it’s not unreasonable to think there would be some shitheads who might use homophobic slurs or make fun of him, laugh at him, etc.

Actually, although he doesn’t really deal with bullying in this season, we do see that he has to deal with people like Vilde and the dance girls, well-intentioned individuals who still make him uncomfortable with inappropriate or generalizing remarks. All of that is a hell of a lot to deal with as a gay teenager. It should have been Isak’s choice when he was ready to deal with all of that by coming out to the school. No matter her intentions, Emma took that away from him.

This is my one substantial critique of the season and the only thing I would change. I think we definitely see that Emma’s actions had negative effects for Isak, but it would have been nice to get more open acknowledgment that outing someone else without their consent is wrong. Either by someone explicitly saying that Emma did something wrong, or by Emma apologizing to Isak for what she did. Or both. Her reaction in her final scene with him does seem like she’s apprehensive about speaking to him, so maybe she realizes she messed up, but it would have been good to get this message vocalized for the audience. Don’t out people against their will.

Vilde says, “Sorry if it’s not true.” But not sorry if it is true, because Vilde doesn’t realize that it’s not the veracity of the rumor, it’s the violation of privacy.

Vilde thinks she’s being an ally, too, except of course her comments are just going to make Isak feel worse. This is what he fears - being judged because he’s gay, coming out = people seeing him as a concept instead of as an individual. Vilde is playing into the same thoughtlessness as Emma in episode 3: she’s making generalizations, and positive generalizations are still a problem. “I love gays!” is dehumanizing. Not all gay people are the same. Some are nice. Some are mean. Some are fun. Some are boring. You know. Like the rest of humanity. She’s showing that she’s slotting Isak into this neat little box, which is what she wants to avoid.

If you’ve read Ulrikke’s Skam fanfic for charity, there’s a bit where Vilde kisses Isak on the cheek because she’s trying to make him her gay best friend. But of course Isak is anything but the “gay best friend” stereotype.

It is kind of ridiculous to imagine Vilde looking at Isak and going, ah yes, there’s a guy who would make a perfect gay best friend. Like Vilde is expecting a shopping partner or someone to give her grooming tips and romance advice, and instead Isak’s preferred BFF activities would consist of lying around, playing FIFA, and smoking weed.

Clip 3 - Coming out to the boys

Jonas asks the important questions, like how does IKEA name their furniture? (And IKEA had an answer for Jonas.) (They told him to have fun at the pre-drink on Friday, lmao. IKEA was just as deep in Skam hell as the rest of us.)

The random girl saying hello to Isak is one of those innocuous-seeming things that really illustrates the negative effects of being outed. Isak is exposed. He’s suddenly a public figure. Even in a “positive” way that’s a lot to deal with; not to be a broken record but he should have been his choice when to come out so he could prepare himself for this attention.

Lmao, Magnus and Mahdi have their own little musical duo. Also, David’s rapping and dancing in this scene is the funniest shit. His comedic timing was great in this clip.

You can notice a few subtle differences in how Magnus and Mahdi greet Jonas versus how they greet Isak, because there’s still awkwardness over what happened at Emma’s party. Mahdi doesn’t look at Isak at first.

I don’t usually comment on this type of stuff but this is one of Isak’s fluffiest looks. Whenever he leaves off the snapback? Fluff factor increases 200%. Helps that he spends part of this scene looking skittish as a baby deer.

Jonas is the one to mention Isak’s pre-party, signaling that he is cool with Isak and softening the awkwardness of Isak having to do it. Jonas is such an excellent bro.

Magnus readily agrees to the party; I think he’s just such an easy-going dude and not someone who likes conflict. Jonas semi-subtly asks if they’re all in, and there’s a little moment where Isak and Mahdi exchange a look. Isak says that he won’t get violent this time, which is his way of saying he’s sorry, and Mahdi is cool with it and gives a giant lovely smile. So just like that, peace is restored in the boy squad.

I remember this was the clip where I fully turned around on the boy squad and went from, hmmm, don’t know how I feel about these teenage boys? to I love them FOREVER. Just in time for the magnificent Fredag clip.

Of course, then Magnus just has to bring up that totally wacky rumor about Isak being gay. Lol so funny that everyone thinks that!! Because it’s obviously not true!! The relief Isak must feel at making up with his friends must grind to a halt. Because it’s one thing that they’re forgiven him for the fight, but are they going to be OK with him once they learn he’s gay? He came out to Jonas and it went well, but what about these guys? Coming out is going to have to be a continuous process for him, isn’t it? And maybe it will get easier but can it ever get easy?

I’m not sure Isak planned to come out to Magnus and Mahdi when he sat down. There’s a text conversation between Isak and Jonas about telling the boys since the rumors went around, but I don’t know if Isak entered the room with the intention of coming out right then and there, or if he was just planning on making amends and then coming out to them in a different scenario, like maybe he wanted to tell them at the pre-drink (hey, it could be easier after a few drinks), but Magnus bringing up the rumors sort of pushed the issue. At least when he came out to Jonas, he got to plan the time and place and had some control over the situation.

Jonas is there, though, and he realizes that this conversation could head into uncomfortable territory for Isak. The upside is that Isak does have Jonas there for emotional support, he has at least one friend he knows has his back about being gay, he’s not doing this alone. I live for Jonas glancing at Isak during this conversation to check on how he’s doing. Which is not great - Isak is REALLY uncomfortable listening to Magnus and Mahdi talk about the rumors.

I really like how they handle this part of the conversation, though, regarding the rumors about Mahdi fighting Isak for being gay. It puts Isak and Mahdi, who haven’t always gotten along this season, on similar ground. Mahdi is also a victim of a stereotyping and generalizing, both “neutral” and negative - that he’s Muslim when he’s not, that he’s homophobic when he’s not. Assumptions that are certainly made because of his race. I can’t speak for Norwegians specifically, but it’s a widespread stereotype that POC are less tolerant of LGBT people and more likely to be homophobic. It’s a good thing for Julie to casually include a rejection of that stereotype. Also that Mahdi is really bothered and not amused by other people thinking he’s a homophobe. Magnus thinks this whole thing is so ridiculous it’s funny, while the others really don’t find it funny at all; it’s shitty for Isak and Mahdi personally, and Jonas knows that Isak is struggling.

I do love Magnus overall but I want to duct tape his mouth shut for a large part of this conversation.

Okay, he drives me up the wall here but admittedly I do get a laugh out of that satisfied huff he gives at the end of the talk, like “Good chat, glad we got that cleared up.” Having no idea the seriousness of this conversation.

Poor Isak. His discomfort throughout this clip is very well-acted, good job, Tarjei. He can’t even look his friends in the eye at the beginning.

And that eye contact Jonas shares with him before Isak starts to tell them the truth!!!! Best bro!!!! He also keeps looking to Jonas for support during the talk, before he tells the boys about Even.

The way Isak comes out here is roundabout, just like before. Like he did with Jonas, he builds up to it - he’s not just like, “Well, there’s some truth to the rumors,” or anything so direct. He starts by winding into the story about the dance chicks, taking some time to get to the point. He needs to work up to saying the words.

An interesting part is when Isak asks if they remember the guy who came up to them and Magnus is like, “The gay guy?” and Isak wants to know why he thinks he was gay. Because Isak is of course thinking about Even, not the random dance instructor. But there’s some stuff to unpack with how Isak gets maybe a little tense or alert about Magnus thinking Even is gay. There are a couple ways you could read his reaction: that Isak is still dealing with what it means to be gay and to be seen as gay, the social perception of it, and can’t turn off the part of his brain that’s full of anxiety about seeming gay, and wants to know what it is Magnus picked up about Even - could it apply to Isak, too? Or that Isak is still thinking about Eskild’s guru advice and Even’s general hot and cold-ness and wondering if Even really is gay (or bi, or pan, or into dudes) and wanting another take on it? Or you know, just confusion over how Magnus could know that much with such a brief interaction.

To be fair, all of these interpretations assume Isak believes Magnus is capable of a deeper level of perception that he perhaps is, lmao. Or, on the other hand, if someone like Magnus could pick up that Even was perhaps gay after seeing him for like 10 seconds, then what does that say about how people see Isak?

It’s honestly pretty funny that Isak is like “Don’t you remember the guy who was such a tall swoopy-haired drink of water? Didn’t him returning Jonas’ hat burn into your minds for all eternity until you pass from this world and it’ll be the last thing you see on your deathbed?” Isak, those guys were in a dance girls coma, a random dude returning a hat was mostly a non-event to them. (Yes, Jonas remembered that moment and figured out he must be Isak’s crush, but Jonas is the The Best Friend and paying close attention to all Isak-related anomalies.)

Once more, Isak comes out to people not by saying he’s gay, but by describing his actions (“We’ve had a thing”). Quickly reinforced by Magnus asking whether he’s gay and Isak reflexively rejecting the label. It goes from Isak saying, This is what I did and Magnus saying, So this is who you are? and Isak saying, No, that’s not who I am. Well, maybe a little bit.

I mean, he does say he’s a little bit gay, but I feel like that’s a concession that yeah, hooking up with a dude is not a straight thing to do, he probably feels like it would be stupid to pretend otherwise. But him fumbling with the gay label here shows how concerned he still is about the perception of others about his sexuality. He still has hangups about what it means to be gay and wants to distance himself from societal stereotypes, and he quickly backs into a defense of himself. Isak might be a little gay but he’s not SO gay he’s into every guy he meets. Which should be obvious - he’s not into every guy out there just as these straight boys are not attracted to every single girl on the planet. But Isak is very insecure. Like at its core, this part is sad to me, because he wants to make sure these other guys are not uncomfortable with him and they don’t see him as a threat. It’s completely understandable why he has these insecurities, because of homophobic ideas about predatory gay men, but it’s still depressing that he feels he needs to defend himself when the words about him having a relationship with a guy are barely out of his mouth.

However, here is another really good moment! Magnus is confused because Isak (in his eyes) hooks up with girls all the time, and Isak doesn’t really know how to say he was lying or faking, or he doesn’t want to say he is not into girls at all yet (because if he’s like, “I’m not into girls,” Magnus is going to be like, “Sooo… you are gay?”) BUT before Isak has to handle this deeply awkward moment, blessed Mahdi is like, “Well, he could be pansexual?” THANK GOD. We as the audience know that Isak is not pan (or bi) but it’s completely reasonable as an outside suggestion that Isak might be. So often this is framed as one or the other, Isak could only be gay or straight. A lot of canons won’t even bring up bisexuality, and it’s really rare to hear pansexuality mentioned at all. Bravo, Skam. 🙌

So this tense moment where Isak is suddenly put on the spot and potentially asked to explain his sexual history is diverted by his friends casually discussing and debating pansexuality and bisexuality. Is this the most #woke way they could have talked about it? Well, no, but it’s a realistic discussion and certainly a good thing for the teenage audience to hear. These characters are not experts on every social issue out there, but they’re open to being educated and sharing knowledge with each other.

Like I kind of laugh at Isak pursing his lips, suddenly excluded from his own coming out while his friends debate labels. In a way it is weird that they’re suddenly talking about whether Isak could be bi or pan right in front of him, but not with him, just among themselves. It’s meant in a good-natured way though, they’re trying to understand him. And Isak must find this deeply surreal but preferable to being grilled personally on how he identifies. Of course they could have just asked him whether he was bi or pan but I don’t think Isak was ready to answer that question.

King Jonas is like “However, he identifies, he’s having a pre-party on Friday,” because hey, that’s the most important thing here, where and when they can get drunk. (For real, bless Jonas for changing the subject before it got too strange.)

Magnus using the f-slur is jarring and not excusable and I mean, I hope Jonas later on was like, “Don’t say that word, dumbass,” and Magnus went home and Googled words not to use when your bro might be pansexual and educated himself. I’m not excusing him, but I don’t think we don’t hear anything like that from him later so hopefully he wised the fuck up.

But again, duct tape.

At least Isak does not seem rattled by it and uses the opportunity to roast Magnus. Because it’s just so easy.

Not gonna lie, the clip ending so abruptly after Magnus is like, “Huh?” makes me laugh.

Clip 4 - Love letter, kinda

Is this the shortest individual clip in all of Skam? It’s less than a minute long. I can’t remember any others that are shorter.

I love that Isak stops and takes a moment to size up his locker, bracing himself for his daily battle. And that it just … doesn’t happen. He’s downright stunned when the locker doesn’t fight him and gives way easily. Isn’t it wonderful when a problem that’s been bothering you is finally gone?

Regarding Isak’s locker of character development, the meaning is very clear. Isak came out to his friends and it’s not the end of the world. They accept him. So his locker (closet) can open without a struggle. He’s not stuck in the closet or struggling to keep his secrets from spilling out. It’s fine. It’s such a simple metaphor but it’s lovely.

And on top of that, he has another message from Even!

Even drew that damn phone twice, you can see subtle differences in each version (besides the obvious text messages).

Again, I love Even’s sketches so much. He’s has such a clever, creative, romantic mind. The “this universe” side of the sketch is acknowledgment that he received Isak’s message, but didn’t reply. The “same time in a completely different universe” sketch is what he feels he SHOULD have done, what he wanted to do but couldn’t get the courage to do, or felt he couldn’t. It’s so poignant! There’s so much longing! I swoon.

This sketch is an apology, too, because he knows Isak must have been hurt by Even leaving him hanging yet again, especially right after Even must have given him some hope with the cheese toastie sketch. This is Even acknowledging that he should have replied and in a better world, he would have.

It makes you think so much about what was holding Even back. I don’t think it was just Sonja (tbh I wonder if Sonja was really in the picture, to be discussed later), I think it was just simply his hesitance over Isak’s comment about mentally ill people. He gave Isak the cheese toastie sketch because he saw Isak was sad and wanted to let him know Even still cared, that his feelings were still there. But then, you know, Isak found the sketch and sent Even a text, and interacting with Isak again just made Even have another round of doubts. He felt like he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be continuing this thing with Isak or encouraging it. But at the same time, Even does not want Isak to be in pain. And despite his reservations, despite everything standing in his way, Even wants Isak.

The “miss you” is such a punch in the gut, too. Like we know Even misses Isak because he drew them having cheese toasties together, in another, better universe. But it’s also good to see him state the words so directly. Again, the longing. My heart can’t take it.

This is the drawing that ends up on the wall of the Evak apartment in S4. Isak saved it and they both decided to put it up, even when all the drama had passed, because it was special to them. I like to think it’s a reminder to them of what they went through to be together, and to treasure their life in the present, because going through hell was worth it to arrive at their happiness together.

Look at Isak’s little smile, awwwww.

Not to ruin this beautiful moment or anything but as people have pointed out, Tarjei is reacting to a blank piece of paper.

I think I’ve said this before but looking at Even’s drawing here reminded me of how I am an utter wreck of a human being when I think about his drawings being in the S3 header. Just Isak surrounded by Even’s sketches. Even’s mind, Even’s personality. Even as an integral part of the season, of Isak’s story. I see an Illuminati symbol surrounded by dicks and I’m overcome with emotion. This season still got its claws in me, goddamn.

Clip 5 - REUNION CLIP

This clip is just so heartwarming. When this aired the Skam train had left the station, internationally speaking, and the fandom was so happy and having such a good time with this quality content. It’s really amazing how fast the fandom grew. I think the reaction to this clip was maybe when it sank in for me that Skam was getting big on Tumblr.

The boys talking about russ music at parties reminds me of how S3 is so devoid of anything russ-related compared to other seasons. If Skam had continued until graduation, do you think we’d see the boy squad participating in russ at all, or would they opt out? I mean, I guess we have Jonas’ thoughts on the matter, but what about the others? We don’t see them planning anything, obviously, but a lot of us wanted to see the boys in those overalls. How common is it not to participate?

The way Jonas says “Nate Dogg” cracks me up.

Isak is trying, really trying to get invested in this conversation, but his mind can’t help but roam elsewhere, to Evenland. He is wearing the exact same outfit as in the Bros clip of episode 5, and it’s a similar setup, scene-wise - he’s at a pre-drink with his boys and they’re engaged in a conversation, but he’s very disconnected from it all. The difference here is that Isak has re-established that social connection with them, so Jonas is quick to notice Isak really isn’t there with them, and he checks with Isak. Not just how Isak is feeling right then and there, but making sure to ask about the Even situation. Jonas can deduce that whatever’s got Isak in a mood, it’s probably Even-related. And because Isak has opened up to Jonas, he doesn’t have to sit there in misery the whole time.

The setup of this scene is subtly different from the Bros clip, too. In that one, the boys were all on different pieces of furniture - Magnus and Mahdi on some couch, Jonas across from them on a chair, and Isak between them on another chair - and it made it easy for Isak to sit there disengaged from the group because of the distance. Here they’re all sitting around the same table, a united front, and it’s not as easy for Isak to detach himself. He’s in the same place as they are, he’s level with them.

When Isak says Even has a girlfriend, Magnus asks if he is pansexual. HOW RIGHT YOU ARE, SON. Look at Magnus, using his new vocabulary.

These boys are just darling. I kind of love how Jonas is the friend who is like 100% Team You, like … the friend who will join in with you when you’re spilling your romance woes and be like, “What is his DEAL?” and give you all that commiseration you want, but also the advice you need to hear. And Magnus is like oooo, are we talking about Even? Isak’s friends want all the dirt on their boy’s boy. Like they are invested, they are ready and willing to hear about Isak’s interpersonal issues.

But isn’t it nice for Isak to be able to talk about this with people? That once he’s no longer keeping this huge secret, he can talk with his friends about his romance problems, just like they can talk about their girl drama? It’s no different than Magnus talking about Vilde, except with less TMI. That’s the obvious contrast between this scene and the Bros clip. Isak starts off detached in both scenes, but in this one the boys bring him back in.

And to be fair, Isak could hypothetically had shitty friends who didn’t accept him, or who were theoretically OK with him being gay but didn’t actually want to hear him talk about hooking up with boys because it made them uncomfortable. Unfortunately, that happens in real life. Like … Isak was not unjustified in his fears and in his keeping secrets. It’s just that his friends turned out to be great, and that opening up to them was a positive step.

One annoying part about coming out to his friends: Isak having to deal with Magnus’ incredibly heterosexual questions. But also, it’s nice that the other boys are clearly rolling their eyes and groaning at Magnus being a dumbass, it’s treated as Magnus bieng inappropriate. And this exchange is a small but valid misconception to include in the show, because it’s a big thing for straight people to ask who’s the man and who’s the woman in a gay relationship - they’re still mapping the relationship onto heteronormative roles. Each romantic relationship MUST have a man or woman role in it. And of course that’s not the case. Not to mention this question is also clearly linked to sexual roles, like … two men having sex are two men. It doesn’t matter what they’re doing during that sex. No one’s the “woman.” (I mean, I think Magnus is asking how they decide who’s the top and who’s the bottom? But there are no guidelines for that, either, lol. Those are things people decide as individuals when having sex, it’s not a universal rule who does what. Or I guess Magnus is just very confused about how gay sex works, lmao.)

Magnus’ question always reminds me of this scene from The Office.

Isak’s roast of Magnus here is one of the finest roasts I’ve ever heard, like someone serve it with carrots and enter it in the county fair because it’ll win a blue ribbon. He goes in for the drag about straight sex and then circles back for a snap at Magnus’ lack of action! Double roasted! So roasted it’s burnt! You’re going to be chewing on that sucker and end up spitting it into a napkin. Even Jonas is impressed.

Lmao, I know Magnus is meant to be the clueless straight guy, but I like headcanoning him as stumbling into a bisexual epiphany in a few years. Like sometime after he graduates he’ll be like … ohhhhhh, that’s why I had those questions about gay sex for Isak and was so invested in Evak and was struck speechless by Even.

JONAS IS THE FUCKING BEST, LISTEN TO HIM AND HIS WISE OLD WIZARD EYEBROWS, ISAK

Really, Jonas just cuts past the bullshit and says for Isak to put his foot down about this whole Even situation. It’s now or never. Stop letting Even play with your heart. Did Jonas have a flair for relationship advice when he and Eva were together, or has he gained some wisdom from his own experience with love drama?

This scene is just such a joy! Usually in media, the gay characters are the ones who help out the straight characters with their romantic drama. Here it’s the opposite. Especially because these are straight boys who are completely fine with giving their gay bro advice on how to get his man. This is honestly great of Julie to normalize this behavior. I’ve heard comments that maybe this situation is idealized, that the boy squad are so cool with everything, but you know what? Skam, for all its realism, is frequently about ideal outcomes - not just how things are, but how they should be. Giving teenagers a roadmap of how to react in unknown situations.

Also, how great is it that Isak has been listening to endless conversations about girls, sitting through dance chicks performances, basically going through all these social rituals and bonding with his friends over heterosexual desire, feeling so isolated from it all, and now finally he’s included? His coming out has opened the door for Isak to both be honest about his own attraction to men and no longer having to feign interest in girls. Freeeedoooooom!

The boys are also using their knowledge of dating girls to help out Isak, translating it to him dating a boy. And I mean, there is a different social context with straight relationships and gay relationships, so their advice might not always fit perfectly with Isak’s situation. However, it matters that they’re not othering Isak (well, Magnus is with his questions, but those are laughed at and shut down). They’re able to maintain an easy connection with Isak, not filtering him through a different lens because he’s into a guy. Which is absolutely what Isak wants, to be treated the same.

Isak is very encouraged by the boys telling him to put Even on the spot and be blunt with him about what’s happening with them. I think it’s funny that Magnus is like, “Yeah, it sucks when she leaves you on read,” and we hear it happens to him all the time. Somehow that does not surprise me!

Isak is friendlier and not as blunt as Jonas encouraged him to be in the text message to Even, thanking Even for the drawing at the beginning. He’s human, he’s soft for Even, he can’t totally hide it. But he does make it clear that if Even doesn’t want something more, then this needs to end.

“Call me when you’ve broken up with your girlfriend.” What a line. You harness that self-respect, Isak.

They’re all so proud of their boy Isak for standing up for himself. They’re even like “Bros! Brothers!” when they clink their cans. You have to imagine that even if this thing with Even hadn’t worked out, Isak had a strong support system to get him through the heartbreak.

Lmao, Even answers immediately. Isak giving him that ultimatum and laying down the law really made him sweat, huh.

No, really, let’s talk about what Even thought when he got this text.

Now personally I believe Even was no longer in a clear relationship with Sonja when he got this text. I think whatever happened with them at Emma’s party was either temporary or ill-defined, and they were still technically on a break through all of this. Mostly because Even ends up getting to Isak’s apartment SO FAST. Like ... was Even breaking up with Sonja as he was running out the door??? Did he shoot her a break-up text during the night, after when Isak was asleep? I’d like to think he didn’t do Sonja that dirty.

But yeah, Even responds so quickly. Right after Isak sends that first text, Even realizes that he might lose him. And after all this hesitation, knowing that Isak doesn’t want mentally ill people around, fearing that he could hurt Isak, that Isak could reject him once he finds out the truth … after his efforts to push Isak away, Even can’t do it. When Isak makes plain that Even has to put up or shut up, it takes zero time for Even to make a decision. Or at least, he has to talk to Isak. The thought of losing Isak outweighs any other concerns he might have. There’s something about the simplicity of it that gets me. When there’s no time or room for doubt, Even chooses Isak in a heartbeat.

Jonas is of course the master of strategic texting. Don’t call Even, because calling will put you on the spot and bring you closer together than texting. Isak has to be a little aloof, make Even think he’s really about to let go. Play it cool. The magic words are Chiller hjemme. Lets him know you might be available, but you’re not desperate to talk with him. (Seriously, how did Jonas get this smooth?? I assume from experience but lmao, the evolution between S1 and S3 Jonas is like ... Bulbasaur and Venusaur.) (I don’t know Pokemon that well, if there’s one that has magnificent eyebrows please let me know.)

Isak’s facial expressions throughout this whole texting debate are so funny to me. He’s practically a wide-eyed innocent? He’s so earnest, he really does want to talk to Even! Plus with his little curls popping out from under his snapback, he looks very young and fresh-faced to the whole ultimatum via text message thing.

And he keeps wanting to add more to the text, like “just call me,” or suggesting a smiley, and Jonas shoots that shit down. What a character moment, honestly? Isak the young inexperienced texter and Jonas who has gone through multiple desired relationships. It is really cute that Isak wants to add a smiley! But Jonas is right, it completely would have made him seem too eager and destroyed the perception of aloofness.

What smiley would he have landed on, though? 😀 or 🙂 or 😁 or 😎? I’m partial to the sunglasses emoji myself. Chiller hjemme 😎

There is a conversation to be had, by academics who study the impact of modern technology on everyday communication, about the instinctive knowledge these teenagers have about subtleties in non-verbal expression, such as recognizing the impact that a smiley can have in changing the tone of a text message, and combing Skam for all related examples of strategic use of electronic messaging and/or social media to send messages to their peers.

STRAIGHT UP

Sometimes I think Marlon’s finest acting on the show is that self-assured look he gives Isak when he says Even will call, or that gasp of overjoyed satisfaction when Even shows up at the door a few minutes later. Those are just some damn fine expressions.

This moment where the boys sit in silence, waiting for the text, is so good! They’re hooked into the drama! They want their boy to get his man! And that forlorn shot of the phone sitting on the table among the beer cans, inactive. Not lighting up with the desired response from Even.

It’s also really sweet when the boys try to offer suggestions why Even isn’t responding. Even Magnus has a reasonable idea about checking the typing bubble. When it seems like Isak has given up, Mahdi says maybe Even is just somewhere he can’t talk right now. (Which was accurate, seeing as Even was probably hauling ass over to Isak’s apartment.)

Poor Isak, you could see how he was getting hopeful and feeling better when this whole texting idea started, he was proud of himself for being proactive and putting his foot down with Even’s indecisiveness, he had a little smile and some light in his eyes. And now, the resignation is seeping in. Tarjei does a lot of these smaller reactions so well. Isak is still smiling a little, but it’s bitter, he’s telling them that Even is going to flake again. I mean, I’m not even sure Isak is totally convinced that Even won’t respond. I feel like he does still have that spark of hope, he’s just trying to tamp it down. He knows Even has a history of running hot and cold and he doesn’t want to get too optimistic.

Guys, I’m so emotional about these kids. Tarjei is such a good actor that all of his micro-expressions are giving me pinpricks to my heart. And I’ve seen this a million times and I know that in less than five minutes Isak’s going to be shaking off his virginity like he’s a golden retriever come in from the rain, BUT. But I feel so bad for this kid and his disappointed face.

And the rest of the boys, too. They’re there with their friend Isak getting his heart broken. Even, you’re letting down not just the man of your life, but the whole crew!!!

The other boys try to make some conversation about other topics but Isak just sits there, checking his phone again. At this point, watching the clip for the first time, I definitely thought Even was headed over to Isak’s - no way could they have this random conversation about fermenting beer at school without something big to interrupt it. Also, we hadn’t seen Even at all this week, so he probably had to make an appearance. Still, that wait? Feels like forever.

THAT DOORBELL RING, YESSSSSS. Didn’t our hearts leap up at that simple sound?

How Even got there so fast is such a mystery, too. I guess he doesn’t live that far away, and he could have taken his bike, but I mean, he’s literally there in two minutes after Isak sends the Chiller hjemme text. Two minutes! Sometimes it takes me two minutes just to put on my shoes and leave the house.

I kind of like the idea that maybe Even was already in the neighborhood, or out for a walk or something, trying to work up the courage to go over to Isak. There’s an Instagram post from Magnus of the boys drinking in the kitchen, so if Even happened to see it, he could recognize it as Isak’s kitchen, he could know Isak was at home, he might find himself wandering in that direction….

Lmao, I love them asking Isak if he invited more people and Isak being like, nah, you guys are the only friends I have. It’s kind of self-deprecating but uh … also true. And of course that’s why it was important for these bros to accept Isak’s sexuality.

The boys are really into saying Eskild’s name for some reason, they do it in episode 2 as well. WHERE IS MY ESKILD/BOY SQUAD INTERACTION. I wrote this in the episode 2 recap but I want to know what the boys thought of Eskild, especially prior to Isak coming out, because that probably would have influenced Isak’s attitude toward coming out to his friends?

We don’t get a shot of Even standing outside the building, even though it would be within Isak’s POV. I’m assuming because it would have been too complicated or time-consuming to film for just a short shot. Or maybe for Dramatic purposes, it’s more striking to just have Even appear after the week by smoldering in the doorway, and it heightens Isak’s brief anxiety by keeping Even’s reveal in suspense. But what do you suppose Even was doing outside as he waited? Bouncing up and down nervously as he tends to do? Hands in his pockets? Panting from getting to Isak as fast as he could?

Speaking of Drama, lmao how dramatic is Even, that he just SHOWS UP, in the time it takes to make toaster strudel, with no warning? Hypothetically he could’ve texted I’m coming over to Isak, but of course that would ruin the intended effect of Even just landing at Isak’s door. It’s such a cinematic movie. I think love of movies is so ingrained into Even’s personality that sometimes he just does what a romantic comedy protagonist would do.

Or else Even was just not thinking anything but Isak Isak Isak must get to Isak and didn’t even consider anything but getting his ass in motion. Which frankly, I think is quite likely!

This is a very minor point but the way this clip was filmed always throws me when Isak gets up and we see how tiny the table is. They show it at the start of the clip, but the texting debate feels like some knights of the round table shit in terms of importance. It feels like it should be way bigger and instead they’re sitting at this little square.

The boys are so delighted that Even is there. And it makes me laugh so hard that Magnus is excited about getting to meet Even, L M A O. I mean, even if he assumed that Isak and Even were just going to have a long talk and not bang it out, how awkward would that have been? Who wants to meet your friend’s sorta-maybe-potential boyfriend when they’re presumably about to have a serious discussion about the fragile state of their relationship?

And of course Isak is like FUCK THAT about his friends meeting Even right then and there. Tarjei’s delivery of, “You can’t meet him, what the fuck are you saying?” is perhaps underrated in its comedy.

Lmao, Isak gets so cranky here, too, he went from soft “Smiley?” Isak to RARRRRR grumpy teenage boy in like two seconds. All thanks to Even’s presence, of course!

Bless Jonas yet again for just immediately starting to pack up, no questions asked.

This is a Romeo + Juliet song when the boys start leaving ( “Local God” by Everclear”). I believe it was used in the film when Romeo and his crew are hanging out, so it’s a bro song. We don’t hear any of the lyrics in the clip but they sure are interesting:

I feel just like a local god when I'm with the boys. We do what we want, yes, we do what we want. I feel just like a local god when I'm with the boys. We do what we want, yes, we do what we want. We do what we want. Yeah, we do what we want. Be my Romeo, Tell me all about your love, Tell me all about your pain, Baited breath and rubber gloves. Be my Romeo, My go-go Romeo, I see you twist and turn, You look so fuckin' stupid.

So yes, bro song with direct mentions of Romeo.

All the chaos and casual catastrophe of the boys getting up to leave, I love it. It’s all the typical stuff when you leave a party - where’s my phone, where are my shoes, what’s happening, etc.

Also that Isak herds them out the back door, he really does not want Even to meet them, it’s gonna be too awkward and it’ll be anything but chill if Even knows Isak sent his friends away to get some alone time with Even.

“These aren’t even my shoes!” I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, I truly love these teenage failboats with all my heart.

They are champs for leaving when Isak asked them to, like even with all the confusion this was relatively swift and efficient.

Oh my God, guys. When Isak shuts the door, "Local God” (the song associated with his friends) instantly stops, and he is left there alone, for just a second, and the opening of Lykke Li’s “Tonight” starts … I get butterflies in my stomach. Isak is nervous, I’m nervous, we’re all nervous. What good directing from Julie, switching so quickly from a comedic mood to this vulnerable romantic mood, and how she can do that in just a few seconds with some well-chosen music and a moment to breathe.

Yeah, that moment to breathe, from Isak … where he shuts the door and looks toward the other side where Even is knocking, and takes just a brief pause to collect himself, and you can see how unsure of himself he is … good acting, good directing, just. Good.

AND THEN HE OPENS THE DOOR AND EVEN LOOKS LIKE THAT

I honestly do not feel Isak opened the door with the intention of getting laid, or that Even came over with the intention of getting laid. Especially Even, actually. I think Even really just panicked at the thought of losing Isak and ran over. It’s possible that maybe Even was even going to explain a bit - I don’t know if he was going to go over everything, necessarily, but I think Even wanted to make some things clear - that he wasn’t with Sonja, or that he wanted to be with Isak. I don’t know how he would have brought up his bipolar disorder though I guess it’s possible he could have pushed himself to do so. And maybe in that little pause moment, before Isak opened the door, he thought to himself about the possibilities of what could happen when they were alone, but it was wrapped up in every other uncertainty or fear, such as Even dumping him or saying he wanted to end it, or that he couldn’t leave Sonja. But it all changed when Isak opened the door and they looked at each other; they had missed each other so much and wanted each other so much that talk wasn’t happening.

Even looks really rattled and vulnerable when Isak first opens the door, I’m sure he’s thinking over how he’s going to explain himself, maybe psyching himself up to disclose his mental illness, as mentioned. But he softens a little when he registers Isak, because despite everything, it’s Isak.

Isak is trying to keep it together and play it cool at first and then Even Hallas at him a few octaves lower than normal so that’s not happening. Lawd, Henrik.

Even starts to look a little hesitant and nervous again as they pause too long at the door, like, oh right, I ran over here without a clear invitation. Is this okay? Am I welcome? Should I go?

But obviously Isak is just like, fuck it, and goes in for the kiss. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. Isak initiated the kiss, Isak has been proactive throughout the evening, Isak is more assured in his sexuality that he can do this.

You know what else has experienced character development? Isak’s tongue.

The first time I watched that part I think my eyebrows legit jumped off my face. No offense but gay storylines on TV frequently feature dry, tight-lipped, no-homo kissing so it’s nice when actors actually kiss like they mean it. Isak and Even really want each other, it’s believable.

But seriously, this is actual progress for Isak and demonstrates that he’s more grounded and confident in his sexuality.

That moment when they break off the kiss for just a second - I’m pretty sure it’s Even who breaks it off to look at Isak, as if to ask whether he’s sure he wants this. And Isak wastes barely any time before diving back in, by way of an answer. Not gonna lie, that moment when characters stop kissing to look at each other, searching for an answer in the other’s face, is one of those romance tropes that I enjoy, so this was a good scene for me.

Even lost his denim jacket somewhere between the front hallway and Isak’s bedroom, by the way. I’m just imagining Eskild or Noora stepping over it when they got home and being like, yep, Isak had a busy night. (Linn would probably step on the jacket and not notice.)

Even shoves Isak against a wall because he is living that fanfic life.

Kudos once again to Tarjei and Henrik because they really keep kissing and stay in their character’s passionate mindset. There’s a moment where they sort of break off to start undressing and Even swoops in for another brief kiss - it feels like these two seriously can’t stop kissing, they want to be kissing, and it’s a small moment but it makes it feel like they genuinely desire each other.

Lol, Even was going to take off his hoodie first but then decided to divest Isak of his shirt, what a gentleman.

I don’t know why I love that snapback coming off but I do. It’s just funny to me in a way? Like the snapback would get knocked off anyway when Isak took off his shirt but he’s instead he has to make a Moment of it. You know shit’s getting real when the hat comes off.

This bit that goes from against the wall to in the middle of the room shirtless (they moved around!) is just so tender??? Like that bit where Even taps Isak’s lip with his thumb and gets in a quick nose rub. What the fuck.

I mentioned this in my episode 5 review but this scene is what made up the footage in the mysterious hiatus trailer that had everyone in a tizzy for 10 days, except not all of the footage in that trailer made it into this clip, so there’s extra Evak sex scene footage out there. I am sure this would be of interest to no one, obviously.

Not to be weird but I legit think it is nice that Tarjei is doing this scene with this large zit on his forehead because that’s OK! People don’t have perfect skin when they have sex.

I feel like Isak is having a spiritual experience when Even goes down his body, like he’s not even entirely there. Is this happening to me???

Also, totally a callback to the very first scene of the season, when Emma tries to blow Isak in the bathroom and he’s not having it. He does not express such reluctance when Even goes down on him. A+ narrative parallels, Julie, A+.

But this was a really good first time scene (if you believe, as I do, that this was their first time together) and a lovely sex scene that wasn’t either too exploitative or too coy. The Evak sex scenes are handled very well in this season.

And Lykke Li’s “Tonight” was a gooooood choice. How simple and painful is the desire behind those lyrics. You can just imagine how Isak and Even have been missing each other and pining, and how this song expresses the feeling that they don’t want to let each other go. And all this emotion goes unspoken, tonight they’re not going to talk about their heartbreak, tonight they’re just going to show each other all that pent-up longing.

But also, the end song over the credits, “Crave” by Pharrell Williams??? Spectacular. We watch this emotional scene set to this incredibly sweet song full of longing and vulnerability and then the credit song is just like … sex. Sex is a thing that is happening. It is the equivalent of an eyebrows waggle and a suggestive wink. Bet you can guess what they were doing after the credits rolled!

I love this show so much, oh my God.

Social Media/General Comments:

The text that Isak sends in reply to Even’s cheese toastie drawing seems so polite, like Isak rewrote it a million times trying to decide on the right tone and phrasing and everything and finally went for something very neutral, trying to reestablish the conversation between the two of them without seeming too eager.

Eskild sends Isak a long-ish text after their talk on Sunday, where he basically strives to give Isak more encouragement. You can tell he really thought over what he said to Isak because he truly wants to be helpful to him and be a good guru. He realizes Isak is young and probably in his first relationship with a guy, and Eskild can’t help but feel protective and not want Isak to get his heart broken. It’s honestly such a sweet message, because Eskild is first and foremost looking out for Isak’s well-being. Like … there’s a thing in media (and fanfic, sometimes) where a character’s friends are more concerned with making sure their romance works out, rather than whether this romance is right and good for the friend. Isak’s friends in this season are supportive of Evak, but they’re Team Isak first, and they’re not afraid to tell Isak when they think Even is doing Isak dirty or when it might not work out. See also: Jonas in this week’s Fredag clip.

Anyway, Eskild tells Isak how happy he is that Isak came to him for advice, and that’s beautiful. It’s supportive of Isak relying on his friends rather than bottling up his feelings. And he says that he thinks Isak is brave- incredible, show-stopping, spectacular, etc. I mean telling Isak he is brave? What a wonderful thing to say to a kid who’s still in the early stages of coming out and is dealing with a ton of insecurities. Eskild is the fucking best, guys.

But he’s also offering to hook up Isak with someone and help him move on to another guy if that’s what Isak wants, lol. Getting in his jab about tights and mascara but in a good-natured way.

You know who else is the fucking best? Jonas. Isak texts him about the rumors with Even spreading and Jonas is so supportive and sweet, offering to talk to the guys for Isak and telling him not to stress over it. With a heart emoji, no less ❤️

Isak also decides that he should be the one to tell the guys. My brave boy!

Jonas also posts an IG on the same day of the text with him and Isak as Simon & Garfunkel, with the hashtag #bros. Basically a show of support for Isak. Like. CAN YOU BELIEVE. My heart gets so warm thinking about these kids. Skam is a space heater for my soul.

Text between Kollektivet where Linn does not want to leave on Friday and Eskild is dragging Linn out of her cave. I mean, sometimes you want to chill, but this is probably good for Linn. Get her out of the house.

Text between the boy squad after Isak comes out to all of them. They’re able to rib him about his “family dinner” so things are back to normal.

I want to mention that Isak uses a Broad City gif. I don’t know if Isak actually watches Broad City, but the idea is pretty funny.

I know Magnus can be dense as hell but he uses a gif of Sam Rockwell in Galaxy Quest in response to Isak’s drag and like, Galaxy Quest is the greatest film of all time so clearly Magnus is a man of superior taste and intellect.

PS he says something that translates to “never giving up hope” and I’m going to take that he meant “never give up, never surrender.”

Mahdi says Friday is going to be nice because “bros united.” Awwww! That’s especially nice coming from him since he and Isak had the friction; I feel like this is his way of saying he’s really over what happened between them and he just wanted them all to be OK.

I remember when this episode was airing in real time, people had a lot of theories about what would happen on Friday. Jonas mentions an Elvebakken party and Magnus mentions a gay bar. I remember people thinking they might go to the Elvebakken and see Even, or hear about Even’s past from Bakka people, or that they’d go to the gay bar and Isak would hook up with someone or run into Even or something. Instead Isak never made it out of his apartment, lmao.

Also, Magnus being like, “I’m up for a gay bar” is not hurting my bi Magnus headcanon at all. I know, I know, he’s that bumbling straight friend. Still!

Isak texts Eskild about his second drawing and Eskild is like, “Play hard to get.” Which obviously did not work on Friday. He also calls Isak his little godkitten which is. Adorable.

As I mentioned above, Magnus posted a pic of the boy squad at the pre-drink and that’s why I think Even might have seen it and moseyed over in that direction and was already lurking in the vicinity, as to account for him showing up so fast.

#skam reactions #skam season 3 #skam #isak valtersen #evak

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 6 years

Text

Invitation

Title: Invitation Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 4,548 Pairings: sormik, onesided mikleo/uno Summary: The same thing happens every year. Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts. This year, however, things are different.

Notes: I'm supposed to be working on editing a longfic oops but one day I really felt like writing something else. I found a writing prompt I liked and put a twist on it, and this came about. I hope you enjoy the result!

Prompt: Both A and B are close friends, and they make a promise each year that if neither of them get a date to the prom they would go together. This year, A’s friend tells them that they got rejected by B because B said they already had a date. But when A asks B if they have a date, they say “No, I guess I’m going with you this year.”

Also on: AO3

The same thing happens every year.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, if no one asks them to the Midsummer’s Ball, they’ll go together. It’s the biggest celebration in the kingdom, and Sorey always convinces Mikleo to attend, even despite Mikleo’s lack of care for dances in general. And every year, without fail, someone asks Sorey to the ball, and Sorey accepts.

Five years and six broken hearts later, this is still a tradition for them. When Mikleo thinks it might be time to end it, he remembers how none of those six people have come to resent Sorey, despite him having broken up with five of them after their nights together at the Midsummer’s Ball.

Sorey probably doesn’t realise he’s even broken the sixth person’s heart. But that’s alright. Mikleo will just keep repairing it each year, allowing his hopes to rise even for a day or two, before the inevitable confession comes from Sorey.

‘Someone asked me to the Midsummer’s Ball,’ he’ll say.

And every year, Mikleo will keep his feelings to himself, nodding with a blank expression. ‘I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good evening.’

For the past five years, Mikleo has gone to the ball alone. It’s not a fact that hurts him in any way - in fact, he hardly ever feels like he’s attending alone. When he’s not surrounded by local friends, like Rose and Lailah, he’s third-wheeling Sorey and his date of the evening, though not intentionally.

Last year, it had been a pretty stranger in a blush pink dress, her brunette hair decorated with yellow carnations. She reminded Mikleo of Neapolitan ice cream, and she seemed just as sweet, when Sorey introduced her to him. They had looked good together, too, but evidently the feelings there had not been mutual. At the night’s end, Mikleo saw the girl leaving, alone, with a pained smile on her face. Sorey, on the other hand, wore a regretful expression. The two didn’t go out together again.

Though it feels like a thorn through his heart each time Sorey accepts an invitation, he tries to be as supportive as possible. Honestly, he hopes one day Sorey will find someone he’d like to stay with even after the ball. Even if that person isn’t him, he’ll be happy so long as Sorey is happy.

That’s what he tells himself, at the very least.

But he can’t help the feelings in his heart, can’t help the love he’s felt for Sorey since the third year, when he finally understood why it hurt to hear that Sorey had accepted an invitation again.

It had started as a casual tradition, but now it’s a yearly reminder of how little of a chance Mikleo has of his feelings being reciprocated. It’s a yearly exercise in his loyalty to his friend.

The Midsummer’s Ball is his grounding moment - the night he remembers his place, when it is the most crucial time for him to hide his feelings behind a mask.

Sorey can never know Mikleo is in love with him. If he does, Mikleo knows he will never get to go to the ball with him.

Or so he thinks.

A few nights before the Midsummer’s Ball, everything is coming together. Decorations of flowers and lanterns pop up in the town square, lining the streets toward the Royal Gardens where the main event will take place. The invitations are sent out, a sprig of lavender attached to the seal, beautiful cursive ink detailing the time and place of the event, all signed by Princess Alisha herself.

Both Sorey and Mikleo receive an invitation, as always. With them both being young nobles, not high in rank but close enough with the princess that their friendship earns them status, it’s only natural that they would be invited. Some years, Mikleo wishes Alisha would save him the trouble and not send him an invitation at all. If she did that, he wouldn’t have to watch Sorey dance with someone else again.

At least he’ll be able to see his friends at the dance. It is that fact which he consoles himself with. It’s not often they get to see Alisha, after all, since she’s so busy with her royal duties.

Except this year, as he relaxes in his garden, the sound of footsteps catches him off-guard. He glances over to see a familiar figure on his garden path, heading toward him.

“Good afternoon, Mikleo,” Alisha says, drawing back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

“Alisha,” Mikleo says, setting the book he’d been reading aside. “This is a surprise. You’re not busy with preparations for the ball?”

“I had a moment to spare, so I thought I might pay you a visit,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. “I must also admit that I’d hoped to find you to ask for some solace on something.”

Mikleo feels a hint of concern run through him, and he turns to pay her proper attention. “Is something wrong?”

Surprisingly, Alisha gives a little laugh, shaking her head. “It’s a trivial matter, I must admit, but I do not know who else to talk to.”

“What happened?” Mikleo asks.

Alisha takes in a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “For a year or so now, I’ve convinced myself that I have feelings for a certain person. However, when I asked him to accompany me to the ball, his response puzzled me.”

Though he’s curious, Mikleo refrains from asking the identity of this person. After all, it’s Alisha’s private business, not his. “What did he say?”

“He told me he already has a date,” Alisha says. “But then he asked why I invited him. Once I confessed my intentions to him, he seemed surprised, and told me he never thought I would have feelings for him. It was when he said that that I began to wonder - have I been wrong about my feelings all this time?”

“I must admit, I’m not sure why you thought I’d be the best person to ask about this,” Mikleo says. “I’m not much experienced in this kind of thing. Still, do you think you were wrong?”

Alisha’s eyes meet his and she sighs. “I’m not sure. I respect him and am grateful for his friendship, to be sure. Perhaps the pressure of my family telling me to search for a husband has made me think that any male friend I have might be a potential candidate.”

Mikleo nods sagely. Since she will turn eighteen this year and be of marrying age, he can see why she’d be concerned about that kind of thing. “Did you want to kiss him at all? Or to court him in any other way?”

At his words, Alisha looks thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t believe I’ve thought much of doing that with anyone, to be honest.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t think you really had feelings for him,” Mikleo says.

An expression of relief crosses Alisha’s face, and her shoulders relax. “That would make sense. Sorey must have noticed that, then.”

Mikleo blinks. “Sorey? Did you ask him about this first?”

“Oh, I didn’t say before,” Alisha says, a light pink crossing her cheeks. “Sorey is the one whom I asked to the ball.”

Things begin to fall into place for him at that moment. The first thing is a wave of relief at the thought that, though Alisha thought she may have liked Sorey, that didn’t end up being the case. His second thought, however, strikes a little harder.

‘Sorey already has a date to the ball’.

He expected as much, but it would have been nice to hear it from Sorey’s mouth. It’s harder to hide his heartbreak from someone who he doesn’t know quite so well.

Perhaps noticing his reaction, Alisha bites her lip. “It only happened an hour or so ago, though, so I suppose it’s not a surprise that Sorey hasn’t had a chance to tell you, yet.”

“I suppose not,” Mikleo says quietly.

Even though it hurts now to hear it, at least he’ll be able to keep a straight face when Sorey breaks it to him again, later on.

For now, he’ll bear this pain in his heart and do his best to move on. After all, he doesn’t know what he expected, really. It’s the same thing every year.

Sorey always goes to the ball with someone who is not Mikleo.

It’s not that Mikleo never gets invited to the ball. In fact, he usually receives almost as many invitations as Sorey, though the number has been dwindling over the past couple of years, as rumours of his reputation have gotten out.

The key difference between Sorey and Mikleo is that where Sorey always accepts invitations, Mikleo always refuses them.

For the first three years, his refusal was simpler. He never felt comfortable dancing with someone he didn’t know well, and he didn’t want to accept an invitation from someone who only wanted the comfort of his status. More recently, however, as his feelings have changed, his refusal has become indication of that. His first thought when someone asks him to the ball nowadays is not that they are a stranger, but that they are not the one person he wants to ask him out.

Of course, he knows how childish this is. Even knowing Sorey has a date, that Sorey will never not have a date, he always refuses any chance to have a date himself.

The day after his conversation with Alisha, Mikleo bumps into a young viscount on the riverside path. His hair frames the soft lines of his jaw and his blue eyes are surprisingly warm. When Viscount Uno asks him to join him in a walk by the river, Mikleo accepts.

When, after an hour of pleasant conversation and taking in the nature, Uno asks Mikleo to the dance, Mikleo accepts.

It’s with half a heavy heart that he does so, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. After all, if there’s no chance of him ever attending the ball with the one he truly wants to go with, he might as well attend with someone else, and try to move on from his unrequited feelings.

When they part, Mikleo tries to feel optimistic, despite the lingering regret in the back of his throat.

Mikleo doesn’t see Sorey until the night before the ball.

It’s not that he’s trying to delay the inevitable - no matter how little he wants to hear those words from Sorey’s mouth, he really has been drowning in work recently, thanks to his uncle’s latest research trip. Seriously, how that man thinks he can continue shirking off his duties onto his nephew, he’ll never know.

To be truthful, Mikleo doesn’t want to have to tell Sorey that he also already has a date to the dance. He doesn’t want to see Sorey being happy for him, to hear his congratulations, to hear him suggest that they could have a double date, if things go well. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if things go well, both for Sorey and his date, and for Mikleo with Uno.

But then Sorey turns up at his house that night, wearing his casual clothing and suggesting they go on a walk around the gardens, and Mikleo’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. He forgets his worries as he nods his acceptance.

The gardens at night feel almost magical. Some of the flowers close up under the moonlight, but others flourish, their petals glowing an ethereal white. Fireflies fill the air, and a calm breeze rustles the leaves on the trees. If he didn’t know better, this moment might feel almost romantic - especially as Sorey turns to face him once they reach Mikleo’s favourite part of the garden, near a small pond filled with carp and lily-pads.

“About this year’s ball,” Sorey says, his voice as light as can be. “You remember our promise, right?”

Mikleo’s heart clenches in pain, but he keeps an even tone. “Of course I do.”

Sorey’s green eyes shine as he says, “No one asked me this year.”

At this moment, Mikleo’s heart tears in two.

He feels a mixture of emotions welling up inside of him, a flurry of joy and sadness and bitter regret and confusion all fighting for dominance, leaving him slack-mouthed and with only one coherent thought: ‘Not like this, please, not now, not when I’ve already—’

Perhaps Sorey notices the horror in Mikleo’s expression, as his own brows furrow in concern. “Mikleo? What’s wrong?”

Mikleo’s voice is weaker than he’d like when he finally urges it from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Someone already asked me.”

For a long moment, Sorey looks only at him, emotions flitting past his eyes, too fast for Mikleo to read. When he speaks, his own voice is just as quiet as Mikleo’s. “And you said yes?”

Bitter regret dances on Mikleo’s tongue, and it’s all he can do to nod.

“Oh,” Sorey says. “I see.”

All Mikleo wants to do is to pull Sorey close to him, to apologise a thousand times, to find Uno immediately and take back his acceptance.

But before Mikleo can think even to apologise, Sorey moulds his expression into a forced smile, one which doesn’t completely mask the pain hiding behind it.

“I’m sure you’ll have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mikleo.”

With that, Sorey takes off, leaving Mikleo alone in the garden with the soft moonlight and the feeling of defeat.

Mikleo’s first instinct is that this feels wrong.

Dressing himself for the ball, taking time to comb his hair and to place his circlet beneath it, barely visible except as a glint in the light. Pinning an anemone to the place over his heart in celebration of a festival of flowers, hoping no one knows its meaning. Taking Uno’s arm when he comes to meet him, walking on his right and feeling imbalanced.

But there’s no going back now. He’s already made this mistake, and now he must see it through to the end.

The Midsummer’s Ball is as grand as ever. Ivy trails around the arch leading into the gardens, the sound of a string quartet playing in the distance. Lanterns light up the evening sky, and the gardens themselves are filled with blooming flowers, all cultivated for this night. Many people are already gathered in the square, laughing and drinking and generally being merry. In the distance, he can see Rose’s bright red hair tilt backward as she laughs with a tall man who Mikleo doesn’t recognise. He wishes he could go up to them and chat casually, like he does every year.

This year, however, he is at the side of an almost stranger, who leads him to the refreshment table and offers him a drink. Mikleo declines the wine, already sick to his stomach without the influence of alcohol. Instead, he takes a glass of water, sipping at it as Uno makes small talk.

He could have been with Sorey, right now. Instead of making tedious conversation about how nice the ball is and how well everyone is dressed and how much time it must have taken to set everything up, he could have been laughing at one of Sorey’s jokes, fixing his messy hair, dancing with him.

It’s a vindictive thought, but he could be having a much better night, if only he hadn’t gotten ahead of himself.

Of course, he can’t put all the blame on himself - it’s Sorey who lied to Alisha about having a date, and who put the idea into Mikleo’s head that there was no hope again this year. It’s Sorey who should have told him sooner.

But it’s Sorey who should be by his side right now, too.

“Mikleo?” Uno says, lightly touching Mikleo’s arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Mikleo chokes out, shying away from his touch. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you’d like to dance,” Uno says, glancing over to the main square for a moment, to where a crowd of couples are already spinning together. “If you’re not feeling well, though-”

“Yeah,” Mikleo says. “Let’s dance.”

He puts his glass down on the table and heads to the dance area with Uno, who seems surprised by his forwardness, but not unsettled. Once they get there, Uno puts a hand on Mikleo’s waist, taking his right hand with the other. His grip is gentle, almost like it isn’t there, his hands smaller and smoother than Mikleo is used to. They keep each other at a distance, even as Mikleo puts his left hand on Uno’s shoulder, and they begin to dance.

To say the least, it’s awkward. Though they both know how to dance, neither knows how to make conversation, and they end up dancing a foot apart without a word passing either of their lips. Mikleo keeps his gaze locked on Uno’s collarbone, not daring to look up in case he has to think of something to say.

Luckily, it is Uno who speaks first.

“There’s a man over there who keeps looking at you,” he comments. “Do you know him?”

Lifting his head, Mikleo casts his gaze to where Uno directs it, noticing a familiar head of brown hair, tidied for the event, with feathered earrings making the identity of the person unmistakable. Mikleo doesn’t allow himself to look for long enough to see his expression.

“That’s Sorey,” Mikleo says quietly.

Uno hums, and the hand on Mikleo’s hip increases its grip for a moment. “Is he alright? He looks like he’s in pain.”

At the words, Mikleo’s left hand clenches Uno’s shoulder a tad too tightly, and he bites out a quick apology. Then, in a low voice, he asks, “Does he really?”

He feels Uno’s eyes return to him for a moment before Uno replies. “He does. Perhaps he is jealous.”

“I doubt it. Sorey doesn’t get jealous.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Before Mikleo can react, Uno pulls him closer, so that rather than dancing at a careful distance, it’s more like they’re hugging whilst moving, now. His body is warm against Mikleo’s, but not in a comforting sense. Rather, it’s almost suffocating, especially when Uno’s lips brush against Mikleo’s ear, his breath tickling the shell.

“He’s definitely jealous,” Uno whispers.

As they turn around, Mikleo chances a glance in Sorey’s direction. His green eyes are sharp with pain, his lips pressed firmly together as he averts his gaze, brows furrowed deeply. At his sides, his hands are clenched into fists. Mikleo has never seen Sorey so frustrated before.

Uno guides them to another part of the floor, moving back into their former dance hold. For this, Mikleo is glad. Finally, he can breathe again, though the hands holding him still don’t help.

“Is he a suitor of yours?” Uno asks, blue eyes bearing only curiosity.

Mikleo bites his lip, turning his gaze to the ground. “No. He’s my best friend.”

“He seems to have a deeper interest in you than that,” Uno says lightly.

Where in times previous, Mikleo might have refuted Uno’s words, now he finds himself unsure. He can only stay quiet, hoping his uncertainty doesn’t bleed into his expression.

He must fail, however, since Uno’s smile is all-knowing.

“After all these years of refusing every invitation,” Uno says, “why did you accept mine?”

Sighing, Mikleo knows he has no choice but to answer. “I thought it would help me move on, since I could never go to the ball with Sorey. But he ended up asking me last night.”

“And yet, you still came with me.” Uno smiles at him, but less in kindness and more like he’s biting back laughter. “You certainly are gracious.”

“It’s hardly gracious for me to be speaking about another man whilst I’m dancing with you,” Mikleo replies, frowning up at him.

Suddenly, they stop, and Uno lets go of Mikleo’s waist. “Why are you still with me, then? If he is the one you’d rather be with, by all means, go.”

Mikleo hesitates, searching for an ulterior motive in those eyes. All he can find, however, is amusement. “And what about you?”

“I’ll be quite alright,” Uno says. He squeezes Mikleo’s hand one last time before letting go. “Go and find who you’re meant to be with.”

With a final nod of thanks, Mikleo turns and heads out of the crowd, towards where he’d last seen Sorey standing. Once he reaches that place, however, he does not find the one he’s searching for. He pushes past cheerful strangers gripping glasses of champagne, his heart racing as his eyes search for something familiar, something he knows better than himself.

They find Rose first.

“Rose,” he says, interrupting whatever conversation she’d been having with the same tall stranger from before, a man with white hair and a top hat. “Have you seen Sorey?”

Blinking at him, Rose raises an eyebrow. “I think he went for a walk, or something. What happened to that guy I saw you with earlier?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

He rushes off again, leaving his friend confused. He can explain to her later, though. Right now, there’s a more important issue at hand.

Heading out of the main ball area, he makes his way through the gardens, passing flowers of all kinds and a few concealed couples too, his eyes never lingering for too long before they continue their search. His heart and mind race, trying to see what will win - Mikleo’s stamina or the thoughts passing through his mind, filling him with worry.

‘What if Sorey is gone what if he’s left already what if he hates you what if he’s angry what if you’ve ruined everything-’

Mentally, he silences these thoughts with one counterattack: Sorey looked sad. Whether he hates Mikleo or not doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Mikleo finds him and sets things right, for both of them.

Finally, after who knows how long of searching, he stumbles across an open area with a view to the stars. Beneath the trees, looking up into the sky, is the one he’s searching for, his back to Mikleo.

Mikleo doesn’t even give himself a chance to catch his breath.

“Sorey,” he says, voice weaker than he’d like.

His best friend turns to face him, surprise painting his expression in wide eyes and an o-shaped mouth. “Mikleo? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Mikleo summons his courage and heads towards Sorey, leaving a couple of feet between them, for comfort. “Why did you lie?”

This makes Sorey’s expression become tainted by confusion, and his eyebrows turn inward. “What do you mean?”

“Alisha told me about her confession to you,” Mikleo says. “She told me you said you already had a date to the ball, but you told me that no one asked you.”

For a moment, Sorey freezes. Then, recovering, his expression turns to one of regret, a pained smile crossing his lips. “When did she tell you?”

“About an hour after it happened.”

“I had hoped she wouldn’t say anything,” Sorey admits, keeping his eyes locked to the ground.

Mikleo frowns. “If you were more straightforward about your intentions, I’d never have accepted Uno’s invitation, you know.”

This makes Sorey’s eyes shoot back up to meet his. “Huh?”

“If you wanted to go to the ball with me,” Mikleo says, trying to keep his tone even, “you could have just asked me, instead of using our promise as a roundabout way of doing things. Someone asks you every year, Sorey. Do you really think I’d have believed your lie even if Alisha hadn’t told me already?”

“I never was any good at lying anyway,” Sorey says with a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

Sighing, Mikleo shakes his head. “What’s done is done. As long as you know not to draw it out like this next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time you decide you want to go to the ball with me.”

Sorey hesitates for a moment before stepping forward, closing the distance until their chests are inches apart. “If I ask you properly next time, will you accept?”

“Just so long as you’re not an idiot about it, probably.”

“Then what if I asked you for a dance right now?”

Mikleo takes a moment to answer, more to tease Sorey than anything. “Yes, I’d like that.”

A warm light enters Sorey’s eyes, and he smiles, offering a hand to Mikleo. When Mikleo takes it, it is warm and rough against his skin, covered by the callouses of heavy labour. His other hand, when it meets Mikleo’s waist, is large and comforting, its weight familiar and new all at once. When Mikleo puts his hand on Sorey’s shoulder, it feels right.

Their chests are pressed against each other and their faces are closer than ever before, and it feels right.

They move together, slowly, to the distant sound of the chamber orchestra, trying their best to hold each other’s gaze despite their inexperience with such close contact. Still, as they continue to dance, they relax in each other’s arms, until Mikleo’s hand plays with the hair on the nape of Sorey’s neck and Sorey pulls Mikleo closer, putting his head where Uno’s had been not long before, except this time it feels welcome, sending a shiver down Mikleo’s spine when Sorey murmurs into his ear.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he admits. “Seeing him pull you close, his hands on you.”

“To be fair, it was unexpected,” Mikleo says, his chin resting against Sorey’s shoulder. “I wasn’t particularly comfortable, myself.”

“Is it okay like this?” Sorey asks, almost moving back.

Except Mikleo grips Sorey’s hand tighter, his chest pressing closer to Sorey’s.

“This is good,” Mikleo whispers.

A puff of warm breath passes over Mikleo’s ear. “I’m glad.”

They stay that way for a long time, pressed as close as can be to each other, happy in each other’s embrace.

(And when Sorey eventually pulls away, it is only enough for Mikleo to pull him in again, letting their lips connect in a lingering kiss.)

The same thing happens every year afterwards.

Sorey and Mikleo make a promise: this year, they will go to the Midsummer’s Ball together. They will spend the night dancing together, laughing together, enjoying a night in the company of their friends. They will return to that starry area and take a moment to themselves, commemorating the spot of their first dance, their first embrace, their first kiss.

They will joke about the night they got together, remembering the awkward congratulations from Uno once they returned to the main square, hand-in-hand. They will tease each other about how long they’d danced around each other for before dancing together. They will murmur the same words they exchanged for the first time that evening, once the dance ended and all that remained was the two of them, in Mikleo’s garden, reluctant to let each other go.

Because now they know about each other’s feelings, and the dance is the reason why.

And Mikleo couldn’t be happier.

#tales of zestiria #sormik #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #i'm procrastinating but that's normal around here #look at this fic i wrote!! i really like it!!!#i hope you guys like it too!!!!!!!

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garden-of-succulents · 7 years

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Ask I got: So with your post on your writing and Kent its like yeah I usually love a lot of your stuff but whenever Ngozi's line about "Kent getting all he wanted and not getting to grow and Jack getting all he feared and growing" I'm just kind of shocked you agree with that cause I mean you know Kent didn't want Jack to OD and I bet losing Jack in anyway was one of Kent's biggest fears.

plus like here the idea of growth ends up being tied to being out or closeted. Jack's maturity and self acceptance ends up being reflected through how open he is, the high point of his arc and growth as a player ended with him coming out to the world. Which unfortunately bounces back and frames Kent as immature and ties that immaturity to being closeted. [SOME BITS TRIMMED FOR LENGTH] And then make him an antagonist and frame all of his interactions with Jack/Bitty and all of his victories as negative just kind of burn my tongue

even more so when fans intentionally or not run with all that framing and end up connecting all of Kent's issues with his choice to be closeted for his career condemn his choice and point to it as evidence of immaturity or lack of self love or warped priorities, when that choice isn't just the norm but literally the only one any NHL player has ever made at this point and a choice millions of us make each and every day for our own safety, success, and happiness.

My reply: People criticizing the link between immaturity and closetedness are really on point, I think. When I was supporting N's comments about "Kent got everything he wanted, and didn't grow, while Jack got what he didn't want, and grew", I didn't know the full content of 3.26, especially the fact that Jack was going to come out on television and that Kent's teammates were going to be pretty LGBT-hostile.

I mean, I do think that Kent is immature, especially in the sense that his social and emotional development is stunted, and that his immaturity is the result of his decision to go into the NHL and be a professional player from age 18, while Jack's relative maturity is the result of his time in rehab and at Samwell. However, I don't think Kent is uniquely immature in the NHL, and his immaturity isn't linked to him being queer—I think, rather, that immaturity is a result of the incredibly toxic masculinity an NHL career demands, and the effects of that toxic masculinity. Jack's unique because his talent, family history, and financial privilege have given him the advantage of being able to fight that toxic masculinity in the way few professional hockey players have been able to.

So, I'm from Alberta. Small town with a hockey rink and not much else. Major oil-producing sector. Grew up around hockey players. I did part of my practicum as a mental health therapist at a university counselling centre in Vancouver where they had a really strong athletics program, and I had hockey players on my caseload. And the hardest thing for me to communicate to people from elsewhere about hockey culture is how relentlessly, insistently hypermasculine it is. Everything you've heard about a "man box", everything from The Mask You Live In or Men's Work or I Don't Want to Talk About It. That's what gets pushed by coaches, by commentators, by everybody—toxic masculinity is how you play. Dominate, suppress your emotions, overcome pain, win at all costs.

I am honestly saying that the entire feeder system for men's professional hockey is fucked up on a very fundamental level. From elementary school-aged kids getting up at 4am for practice and doing hockey every day and having no social lives outside of hockey, to teenagers leaving home before they're developmentally ready to be away from their families, having substance abuse issues at a grossly disprortionate rate to their peers, shortchanging their educations, and earning very little money. The system produces top players by getting them to focus on hockey at the expense of everything else, which includes their social and emotional development.

I'm talking about basic shit like "realizing when you are feeling an emotion and being able to identify what emotion it is". The inability to do this is called alexithymia, and it often comes from growing up in an invalidating environment where your emotions are never recognized, acknowledged, or accommodated. I'm talking about stuff like "not being able to tell someone about your basic wants and needs"—something that is really hard when the least expression of emotion is seen as "weak" or "gay".

So when I say that Kent "hasn't grown" or is "immature", I mean that things went so bad at the Epikegster because these are skills he hasn't developed. When he spits out, "I miss you," it comes out like it's the absolute limit of what he's capable of saying. His entire sales pitch to Jack has been in terms of money, power, and dominance—You'll be on a great team; you'll earn lots of money; you'll be better than before. It's not until he's at the end of his rope that he admits to wanting Jack back because he misses him. And therefore he doesn't see why he's failing at persuasion; he doesn't realize that Jack has an emotional attachment to the Samwell players, that his priorities for joining a team aren't just about prestige and money.

Because here's the thing about toxic masculinity: there are the things Kent really feels and wants, and the things he is allowed to admit he feels and wants according to toxic masculinity.

Acceptable masculine interests according to toxic masculinity:

Money

Power

Violence

Dominance

Competition

Prestige

Sex

Unacceptable masculine interests according to this system:

Emotional intimacy

Intellectual curiosity

Artistic expression

Play

Authenticity

Personal fulfillment

Safety

According to the system, Kent was only allowed to want to be rich, famous, and successful. Those were the only things he could admit to without being lambasted in international press outlets, because hockey media is sooooo fucked up.

Jack's OD emotionally devastated Kent Parson—and he would have been pilloried for letting it show. In that moment, he wasn't expected to feel anything except humble, grateful, and happy. So that's how he acted. Being closeted is such a secondary concern here.

So in some ways "immature" is the wrong word because Kent is an incredibly mature public figure, polished and good at keeping his mouth shut; he's mastered the art of being what he's expected to be, at being what will let him succeed at his chosen profession. It's kind of like how PTSD is a disease, a dysfunctional set of behaviours, in a peaceful, prosperous society, but it's what keeps you alive in a warzone. It's why I don't counsel hockey bros as a chosen profession: I don't respect their athletic and professional achievements enough to work with them every day. I don't think it's worth winning a trophy if you were never home and ruined your marriage and failed to look after your children, and I'm not good at honouring a belief system that says it is worth it.

But I would define "maturity" as the ability to understand your own needs and fulfill them; to live your own reality and express it in a way that satisfies you.

The ways Jack "grew" were when he admitted that something was wrong and accepted convalescence and treatment instead of skating through the pain. When he got to know himself as an intellectual and artistic person as well as an athletic one. When he made space in his life for empathy and play. Because when you see NHL players being criticized on a personal level, what's it for? For having "big personalities", for being "unprofessional" and "unserious", for being "girly". For celebrating too much, dancing too freely, being political, intellectual, for questioning power hierarchies, and for putting their personal welfare ahead of their teams' success.

(Hockey players' compliance to power hierarchies is valued above all things, but that's a different rant)

Jack's moment of maturity wasn't kissing Bitty on the Stanley Cup ice; it was a year earlier, in his own room, when he understood how he felt and acted on it, and communicated it to Bitty, thereby achieving an emotional intimacy that was more important to him than hockey. In that same room, Kent struggled so badly to understand what he wanted and why, and to express it to somebody else, that he backfired in his intended aim, injured his friendship with Jack more deeply than ever, and hurt the person he wanted to express love for.

So the dichotomy of closeted/out is super new in the comic, and super new to analyses of Kent. A lot of what we've been talking about, and the theories we've evolved, have really not been based on 3.26.

And yes, like you, I'm really leery of letting that be a consistent part of the analysis. We don't know why Kent isn't out yet (my personal theory is that it was strategic) and I'm way more willing to say he's immature because of the way that interaction with Jack went to shit, than to say he's immature because he's doing the smart thing and surviving in a homophobic-as-fuck industry.

And, as always, a lot of my fic about Kent is about him developing those things his industry wants to punish him for having--why I write about him escaping to music festivals with queer pagan poets, respecting and supporting female athletes, caring for helpless animals, developing strong aesthetic tastes and artistic hobbies, finding spirituality, fighting back against his hierarchies, admitting his problems, or quitting to raise a baby. Because I want him to develop too. But I think the draft sent him to the desert in more ways than one, and it’s a struggle for him to thrive.

#stuff i wrote #kent parson #omgcp #coming out discourse

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marvelsquicksilver · 7 years

Text

Fake Dating

Request: write a oneshot where the lead keeps getting pressured by her mum to get a date and Steve offers.

READER X STEVE

Word count: 2584

note it’s 4am and I didn’t really proof read this well, but I hope it’s okay lmao.

“Yes mum I know thanksgiving is your favourite time of the year—“ I huffed down the line—my mother had been whining on the phone for over an hour and I couldn’t seem to find a way to end to the conversation. “I’m going to be there yes, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t have to work.” She chose to ignore the fact that my job was in fact extremely important.

Steve looked up from his newspaper, a sympathetic but somewhat cynical smile etched on his face.

“Sorry,” I mouthed an apology in his direction—I really shouldn’t have been having such a loud private conversation in such an open space. “Wait what?” as I zoned back in I heard her mumble something about knowing that I won’t bring a date. “What do you mean you’re upset I won’t bring a date? Who says I don’t have a date?” I can feel my face turn bright red as Steve raises an eyebrow in concern—I wave him off.

“Well honey it’s just that you never bring one, I assumed this year would be the sa—“

“I have a date mother,” the words were falling from my mouth before I could stop them.

“You what?” she sounds astonished—I hadn’t realised I was such a disappointment on the relationship front.

“I have a date,” I repeated myself, knowing I couldn’t back out of the lie. My palms began to sweat and I could feel my heart rate increasing. What had I done? “Anyway gotta jet, duty calls—see you Friday.” I quickly hung up the call and gulped down the lump that’d been forming in my throat. What was I going to do?

“Since when do you have a boyfriend?” Steve chuckled lightly. As my partner on the job he knew me best out of everyone on the stupid base—so he damn well knew that I didn’t have a date.

“Shut up Steven.” I snapped as I fell back onto the couch, grabbing a pillow whilst I was at it so I could suffocate myself.

“Will you stop that,” he grabbed the pillow, his large frame towering over me. “Stop being so overdramatic all the damn time.”

“Why?” I threw my hands up in the classic dramatic fashion that he’d been talking about. “I’ve already dug my own grave—I mean where on Earth am I supposed to find a date to my stupid thanksgiving dinner? Every guy on this base thinks I am a nut job.”

He grabs ahold of my arms and hoists me upright. “Not every guy on this base thinks you’re a nut job.”

“Oh yeah and you’re so sure, how?” I narrowed my eyes at him letting him know this wasn’t the time to be fake sympathetic. “I’m going to die Steve, I’ll have to lie—say my fake boyfriend came down with a bout of violent diarrhoea.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs in defeat knowing full well that I won’t stop being a drama queen. “Why don’t I just come as your fake date?”

“What?!” I shot up like a rocket, “come again Rogers? Are you offering to be my fake thanksgiving date?” He really did pity me.

“Well I know the most about you,” he shrugged, “and I’m sure it won’t be that hard?” He raised an eyebrow in question and I knew he was silently asking if my family were as crazy as me.

“Well my family ARE a piece of work, but they’re nothing Captain America can’t handle.” I was lying. My family were a MESS. My mother could only be described as a walking lunatic and my dad—my dad was the complete opposite. He just didn’t say a word, my mother had the upper hand in their relationship and he just went with the flow. My older sister was a control freak and my younger brother was the textbook definition of stoner. We did not gel together at all. Steve was in for the biggest challenge of his life, but I wasn’t going to be the one to admit it.

“Well then,” he patted me on the shoulder, “I guess I’ll go pack my duffle bag.”

“Oh I could kiss you right now,” I jumped up from the couch and engulfed him in a hug—my arms barely managing to fit around him.

“Easy there Tiger, don’t want to seem too eager.” He laughed lightly. “Plus,” he smirks as I back away, “I’ve always known you had a secret crush on me.”

I almost choke when he says that. “Oh Captain,” it’s my turn to pat him on the back, “you are sorely mistaken.”

“I wish we would’ve just taken the bike,” I sighed heavily as I moved to undo my seatbelt. The sweater I was wearing was scratching against my skin and I was more annoyed at the world than usual—I was putting it down to stress. I had no idea how the whole fake boyfriend situation was going to work out, but it was making me fret like I’d never fretted before.

“Usually most parents don’t approve of the boyfriend who rides a motorcycle.” Steve smirked as he stroked his beard—I was enjoying the rugged look on him. he’d gelled his hair back for the occasion and had conducted a necessary trim on the beard, but it was just enough to make me still want him to pin me against a wall, which of course was against his better judgment—and I would never, ever let Steve pin me against a wall, cause we were partners and that was all.

“Are you okay?” he waved a hand in front of my face and I realised that I’d zoned out whilst thinking about him losing his morals.

“Hmm,” I let out some sort of noise to let him know that I was still alive and on Earth, “let’s go.”

“OH goOd Lord!” My mother sounded like she was going to have an aneurism when she opened the door—it was definite excitement, but not because her favourite daughter was home, no—it was because her daughter with not one but 5 PHD’s had brought a man home.

“Hi mum,” I felt so accomplished. “This is Steve, Steve this is my mum Lara.”

“Nice to meet you!” He handed her the flowers he’d insisted on buying even though I’d made it a clear point that my mother had the blackest of black thumbs and killed every plant in her path.

“No, no!” She engulfed him in a hug, “nice to meet you! (Y/N) hasn’t had a boyfriend in years and when she said she had one, well—“ she took a second to drink in his good looks, “I definitely wasn’t expecting you, especially because she isn’t ageing like a fine wine if you know what I mean.”

I chose to ignore my mother’s rude comment.

Steve let out a light laugh, “well, I think your daughter is extremely beautiful and I’m honoured you invited me to your thanksgiving.”

“Oh Steven you’re so sweet, come on in and meet everyone else.”

“So Steve,” my father wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin, “your mum wasn’t disappointed that you couldn’t spend thanksgiving with her this year.”

I felt like I was going to throw up, I couldn’t even chime in because I was frozen.

“Uh, no Sir—“

“Dad!” My sister spoke up, “don’t be stupid, he’s Captain America, his parents are dead!”

“JANE!” I almost stabbed her hand with my fork, it was such an insensitive way of putting it.

“What?!” she rolled her eyes, “it’s the truth?” She really was thick.

I could feel my face heating up and Steve could obviously notice my anxiety creeping up. He placed a hand on my knee, silently letting me know it was going to be okay.

“Wait,” my mother paused, “how old are you?”

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, “ I’m 25, but if we’re talking technical terms then 97.”

“That’s fucking weird,” my brother decided to join the conversation, “she’s like, dating someone older than grandpa.”

“ENOUGH.” I got up from the table. “What is wrong with you people? You have no fucking shame, c’mon Steve.” I tugged on his sweater, “lets go.”

“It’s fine (Y/N)” he shook his head, “I’m fine, sit back down—it’s too late to head back home and your mum has gone through so much effort.”

He was right, it was too late to drive two hours home and the rain had started so the roads were probably icy in the cold weather.

“Fine, but I refuse to sit at this table any longer, I’ll be in the guest room.” I didn’t want to leave him out there on his own, but god I didn’t want to deal with that any longer. They were so rude and so insensitive, they just didn’t think when they spoke and it killed me. I stormed off from the table and hoped to god Steve would be okay on his own.

“Hey,” Steve whispered as he entered the room “wait are you crying?” he flicked on the bedside lamp and sat down next to me.

“No,” I lied as I violently wiped at my eyes.

“(Y/N),” he stroked my hair back from my face, “it really wasn’t that bad you know.”

“You don’t have to lie, they’re fucking horrible.”

He let out a small laugh, “noooo, they’re just a normal curious family!”

“They’re a bunch of nut jobs who lack the intellectual capacity to think before they speak and I dragged you into this shit show because I’m pathetic and can’t find an actual boyfriend.”

He let out a deep sigh, not saying anything for a few seconds. “Look, I was going to wait till the end of this trip to ask, but obviously it can’t wait because you’re just being ridiculous every time you say you’re pathetic.”

“What?” I sat up, I had no idea what he could be asking.

“I was uh,” he held the back of his neck nervously, “I was thinking maybe I could take you on a date after this whole thing? I mean I’ve been meaning to ask for months, but we’re both so busy.”

“No.” I knew why I was saying no and it was because I wanted to date him more than anything in the world. I’d been so obvious, trying the small things, but he just never picked up on them and I knew that if he really liked me he would have gauged it. So I knew deep down that I had to tell myself I didn’t really like him and that he was just my partner.

“What?”

“I said no, you’re only doing this because you pity me and I don’t want that. You’re so perfect, and I’ve honestly been telling myself for so long to just push the feelings I have for you aside because I’m me and you’re you. You’re also my partner and I don’t want there to be any weirdness when you realised that I’m not what you want because I love you so much platonically and then have a little crush on the side. So NO I won’t go on a date with you because; a I don’t think you mean it and b I’m not good enough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! If you like me too then why not take the leap? You’d let me pretend to be your boyfriend but not actually try it?”

“Steve,” I was getting upset again, “you don’t have to lie okay. You’re so perfect and I’m this!” I signalled up and down to show off what a joke I am. “There is literally no one who could want me at this point in time.”

“Well, no.” He retorted. “Stop saying that I’m perfect and that you’re pathetic and that no one likes you—because that’s a lie, I definitely like you. You’re so damn smart, you have 5 PHDs, you’re goddamn funny and you always bring me my favourite sandwich on my birthday. Then on Christmas you try and bake my favourite cake, cause you know I miss it and even though it doesn’t turn out right I appreciate it more than anything because you tried and it’s the little things. Oh and lets not forget the fact that you’re always helping me with things on my list. You make my life feel normal and you’re always remind me to keep trying to be a better person and I want that in my life constantly, not just when I’m at work.”

There was a lump rising in my throat, “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I mean, saying yes to the date would be nice,” he laughed.

“But you’ve literally just seen my dysfunctional family in action, how could you want me after that?”

“Okay first of all, there is nothing wrong with your family! Second of all, I’m asking to go on a date with you and not your family.”

“Oh jeeze here I was thinking you wanted to take mum out on a hot date.”

“Seriously (Y/N), I want to try this.” He laced his fingers through mine.

“Yeah?” I bit my lip. I really wasn’t sure if he was serious.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I mean then yeah I guess I could go on a date with you.”

“That’s the most positive thing you’ve said all night.” He grinned.

“I mean, I was crying two seconds ago.” The night had truly been a roller coaster and I guess I could thank my mum for one thing—making things so awkward that Steve Rogers asked me out on a date.

“You know what?” He inched closer.

“What?” I breathed—he was so close I could smell what was left of the cologne he’d put on 16 hours ago.

“I was right when I said I knew you’d had a crush on me.”

I sucked in a breathe before pushing him away “oh get out.” Of course he had to mention that.

“Noooo,” he pulled me back in, “you don’t get away with it that easily.” Before I could register what was happening his lips were pressed against mine. For some strange reason the first thing I could think was that they were sweeter than I’d been expecting. I looped my hands around his neck, pulling him closer in the process. He flipped us around so that I was able to straddle him, somehow our moths stayed connected the whole time.

There was so much urgency in the way we grabbed at each other—it was as if neither of us could get enough—close was not close enough. He let out a small moan as our bodies moved in sync. I didn’t mind the way his beard lightly scratched at my skin, the beard burn was worth it when it was Steve Rogers.

His hands lay at the small of my back—his thumbs gently traced circles into my skin. “God you’re really good at this” I breathed against his mouth. “How much practice have you had?”

“I practice on my hand.” He said, with the most serious face I’ve ever seen. The two of us stared at each other for about ten seconds before bursting out laughing.

“It would seem that my funny side is rubbing off on you.” I snuck in a small peck.

He raised an eyebrow, “I was being serious.”

#fake dating fic #fake dating au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel one shot #captain america one shot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel fanfiction

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fallen029 · 7 years

Text

Costumes and Lunch

"Why do we have to come to this again?"

"Because," Elfman grumbled as he and Evergreen walked along. "Big sis asked us to help her decide on a costume for the Halloween party and, damn it, if asking for help isn't manly!"

Evergreen, clicking her tongue just a bit, unfurled her tiny hand fan before waving it in front of herself and saying, "I wasn't clear enough. Why do I have to go to this?"

"Mira wants opinions! And you're a person! So why wouldn't you come give her one?"

"Ranging from the fact I don't like your sister-"

"What? You two love one another!"

"-to the fact that I really had no intention of going over to the Strauss house-"

"Why wouldn't you wanna go there? I love it there." Elfman glared down at her then. "Are you just not man enough to appreciate it in all of its glory?"

"Oh, shut up, Elfman." Huffing a bit, she fanned herself harder before saying, "You come get me from the dormitory-"

"Like a good man."

"-say we're going to go on a date-"

"Like a great man."

"-and then, after I'm already walking with you, reveal that it's to go see your damn sister get all dressed up in stupid costumes."

"Like a manly man!"

"This is idiotic."

"You don't have to come," he told her in just as snippy a tone. "I was only being kind."

"Kind? How is it kind to make me go watch your stupid sister-"

"Watch it, woman."

"Test me, man."

And they both stopped, there in the middle of the sidewalk, to glare at one another, both sets of eyes dark. Ever reached up, to toy with her glasses, as if to taunt him, sunlight gleaming off the lenses while Elfman only tensed up.

Letting out a jagged breath, he turned from her before saying, "Mirajane's gonna make us food, if we go."

"So? Why do I-"

"And Laxus spent the night last night, so-"

"Wait, what?" Suddenly, her hand was away from the frame of her glasses and moving to fan herself faster. "Did you say Laxus?"

"Yeah." Rolling his shoulders, Elfman said, "He got in last night and, of course, came to that house that you hate so much. The Strauss house. Since, you know, he's dating one? And is actually a man about it? Unlike you?"

"If you want a man, Elfman, that's between you and your orientation."

"Wh- Hey! And where are you going?"

"Isn't obvious?" called Ever over her shoulder as she rushed right off. "To Laxus!"

Of course.

When they arrived at the Strauss household, it was to find it very busy for eleven in the morning. Usually everyone was either out of the house by then or Lisanna was sleeping off her bad decisions (Bickslow was the biggest one) in bed and alone in the house otherwise. Mirajane left for work before dawn typically and Elfman was always off training.

It wasn't a normal day, however.

Rather, it was the all important off day that Mirajane was awarded (forced to take by Makarov) once a month.

It was kind of a big deal.

She was spending that day in the most relaxing way possible; cooking.

Mirajane was spending her off day cooking.

The exact thing she did up at the hall.

If Evergreen wasn't so blinded by the sight of Laxus sitting at the kitchen table in only a pair of gym shorts, she might have taken Mira to the side and explained just what an off day was.

But he was there and honestly, she didn't care what the psycho did on her days off. Rather, her concern fell to the fact that, though Elfman had made it seem as if Mirajane was in dire need of opinions, she already had some of the most opinionated people also seated at the kitchen table.

"Oy, Mira, you should add some parsley to that."

Lisanna, from the lap of her boyfriend, giggled, "What is parsley, Bicks?"

"Heck if I know." Bickslow stuck his tongue out. "But I bet she should add some to that pot there."

"Yes, well," Freed remarked from the third chair at the table. "You certainly know much about pot, don't you?"

"Elfman," Evergreen hissed as he came through the backdoor after her. It led, of course, right into the kitchen, where the scene was unfolding before her. "You didn't say that the...others would be here."

"Didn't think I needed to," he remarked. "When aren't they?"

"I know quite a lot about pots, yeah." Bickslow about bit his tongue as he snickered. "You put stuff in them and then you set them over a stove. Or a fire. They typically metallic. You gotta wash 'em when you're done with them. Uh, what else?"

"Knock it off," came the grumble of Laxus as he didn't even glance up from the Sorcerer Weekly he had resting on the table in front of him. "Before I make you."

"Play nice, dragon," Mira called from over at the stove where she was doing something or other. "And good afternoon, Ever. I guess you're here for my costume-"

"Laxus," Elfman grumbled as he went to claim the last seat at the table. "She's here for Laxus."

"I'm here for food," Bickslow announced, using the arm that wasn't wrapped around Lisanna to push up his visor. "And Laxus."

Elbowing him in the chest, his girlfriend sent the man a glare. "Bicks-"

"You too, of course, Lissy. That was just a given."

Freed, knowing his friends quite well, jumped up then, offering his seat to Evergreen. There was no way, after all, that she would be like Lisanna and 'save some space' with her boyfriend.

At all.

"There's some folding chairs in the backyard," Mirajane offered as she glanced over in time to see Ever snagging the man's eat. "Freed. They're leaning up against the house. Just grab one of those like usual."

Because what was going on was, in fact, quite usual.

For them.

As Freed disappeared out the backdoor, Bickslow took to grinning over at his female teammate.

"Afternoon, Ever," he said, nodding his head at her, to the giggles of the woman in his lap. Sticking his tongue out, the man flashed her his guild marking before saying, "So why'd you really come here? Just for Laxus? Or did Elfman promise you a good dicking down?"

Elfman choked while Ever's eyes only widened. Laxus, even, looked up from the magazine.

"A what?" That came from Mirajane, who turned around from the stove to stare at them. "A...dicking down?"

"Yep." Bickslow nodded, encouraged not by the others mixture of disgust and shock, but rather Lisanna's giggles. "Dicking down."

"Dicking down," his dolls sang. "Dicking down."

"You know, Mira," her sister went on, always one to feel more bold when she was around the seith. "What we all heard Laxus sneak into the house to give you last night."

"Can we please stop talking about these sorts of things," Elfman groaned as Ever had her chance to choke and Laxus, with a shrug, went back to his magazine.

He did give Mira a good dickin'. He gave Mira a good everything. A good tongin', good fingerin', good dragonin'.

Why feel embarrassed by it?

The complete silence they'd fallen into wasn't allowed to be gauche for long as, suddenly, they heard Freed exclaim from outside as well as the yelp of a dog.

"Freed!" Mira was rushing to the backdoor then, but it wasn't in concern out of the letter mage. "Don't you hurt my dog again! Laxus, he's going to hurt him again!"

Grunting, the slayer only flipped the page in the magazine. After his great 'dicking down' of Mirajane, the man had gotten in an equally as great snooze and awesome breakfast. Now, since Mira was off, she was going to cook lunch and dinner for him too.

And all he had to do in return was watch his extremely sexy girlfriend model some no doubt skimpy Halloween costumes for him?

Bring it on.

Dealing with Freed and the others, though, was not in the cards. At all.

He'd bribe Cana to come over and prove it if he had to.

…She could tell the future, couldn't she?

At the very least she could pretend.

Just as Mirajane was about to throw open the backdoor though, it opened at a much slower rate and a rather pissy Freed stood there, a metal folding chair in one hand, glaring at her.

"Where is my-"

"Your stupid stray mutt," the seith griped as she only craned her neck to see around him, "growled at me, bit me, and then ran off."

"But you didn't hurt him?"

"Did I hurt him? Did I-"

"Did you?"

Huffing, Freed finally pushed passed his idol's girlfriend, lugging that chair behind him. To the slayer, he said, "I administered much restraint, Laxus, for your benefit, I assure you."

Laxus, who didn't give a damn about the dog, but a great damn about continuing to, uh, dick down the demon (shit, Bickslow had just gifted Laxus his new favorite phrase), nodded but only continued to idly read through the magazine.

"You better not have scared him off." Mirajane, after peering out the door, finally shut it before turning to stare at the rune mage. Glancing him over, she said, "Are you seriously, hurt, Freed? I have bandages and gauze and antiseptic and-"

"Freed!" Bickslow was always a show off, but took it to another level in front of Lisanna. Which is why he said then, "You missed the most important conversation topic of the day."

Snorting (and slightly annoyed with the woman) Freed gave Mira a glance before saying, "I missed the costume changes? What are you going as, Mira? Disheveled?"

Tears would have started as well as Laxus and Elfman pummeling the man (although Laxus not as badly because he understood; that damn stray dog was annoying as fuck and Mira's sticking up for it was just as bad) had Bickslow, not even listening to Freed's comment (because if he had, he'd have definitely saved his joke for later and let the entertainment of the whole thing blowing up before it began engulf them all), not just kept talking.

"No," he said, not really caring for what the man said. "You missed us discussing how good I dick Lisanna."

Evergreen, still holding her breath a bit, waiting for the waterworks from Mirajane, the immediate realization of what he said and quick recovery from Freed, as well as the explosion from Laxus and Elfman, managed regardless to inform Bickslow, "You cannot make that a verb."

"I can make that a verb." Bickslow nodded his masked head. "It is a verb."

"Verb," the man's babies agreed as Lisanna, watching her sister's face for tears, held off on a giggle. "Dick verb!"

"You can say it is all you want," Evergreen went on. "But-"

"Anyways," Bickslow moved right along before the moment passed, "Elfman here's gonna dick Ever in a subpar way-"

"Are you mentally ill? Honestly?" Ever asked with a glare.

"He's no man! I know that much!" Elfman carped, banging a fist on the kitchen table and making it, and all that was on it, jump.

"-I dicked Lissy so great the other day that we don't even have to, like, dick again for at least a week-"

"But we probably will," Lisanna assured all the people that actually really didn't want to think about either of them in that situation literally ever. Laxus made a face, Elfman lost his anger and fell back in his chair in defeat, Ever and Mirajane both gagged, while Freed only blinked, still waiting on the punch line.

They weren't there yet.

"-boss, that sly dog," Bickslow went on, "he dicks Mirajane like the fucking god he is and damn, if that isn't something that deserves to be forever documented-"

"He's not," Laxus told them all as he forgot his annoyance over the whole thing and sat back, arms crossed over his chest, "wrong."

Mirajane, still stuck between disgust and tears, stared over at her boyfriend. "About which point?"

"All of them. Obviously. I dick you damn well, demon."

"Um-"

"I understand it now." Ever sat up as she forgot how annoyed she was at the seith and listened to her idol's word. "Yes. Dick. Definitely a verb."

"And," Laxus kept up while Lisanna made a gagging noise, not finding hearing about someone else's 'dicking' as great as her own, "we should definitely be documented. For future generations to study and admire."

"Are you...honestly asking my sister to make a porno with you? In front of us?" Lisanna asked. "Laxus? Or-"

"Well, obviously, I wouldn't want you to see it," he snorted. "And porn isn't even close to what it would be called. It would be art."

"I hate these things!" Elfman jumped up finally, finished it seemed. Before lunch was even ready. "It always ends up like this? You all get together and then you say things that I don't want to listen to! At all! Who talks about...sex so much? Arg! It's not manly!"

"It's actually very manly," Bickslow muttered to Lisanna who only shrugged. Mirajane, however, only made a face at her brother, washing away any thoughts of crying over Freed's rudeness and instead focus on the burly man's outburst.

"Elfman," she said with that tone. You know, the same one she'd used on him since he was a boy. Like when he accidentally shattered the backdoor window by slamming it too hard. Or when he broke that kitchen table by slamming his hands into it in frustration. Or that time he broke...well, just everything.

And at the moment, he was breaking up their family moment.

Albeit, it was an awkward one, filled with topics she didn't envision for the afternoon, but a family moment nonetheless.

"Sit down," she said. "You're acting like a big...baby."

"I'm not a baby!"

"You are so. And are babies manly?"

"They could be."

"Elf-"

"I think you guys are missing the point here," Lisanna said, shifting in the slightly peeved Bickslow's lap (his punchline was still coming and, honestly, the only person that was waiting on it was Freed; mostly because he knew by process of elimination it would involve himself). "Laxus not only wants to make a porno with Mirajane-"

"A masterful work of art, you twerp," the slayer grumbled. "The likes of which no one else has ever seen."

"-but he also wants to keep it from me," she went on as, defeated once more, Elfman slowly sat back down. He had nowhere else to go, honestly; since its inception, their little clique was kind of the only one that would accept him for extended periods of times. "Why's that, Laxus? Huh?"

"Try because she's your damn sister," the slayer grumbled with a glare. "The fuck wants to watch their sister have sex?"

"Or talk about it?" Elfman carped right along.

Shaking her head, Lisanna said, "Nope, it's because you totally think of me as, like, your younger sister and want to protect me from the depravities of the Thunder God and Satan's Soul."

Any other time, both Mirajane and Laxus would question just what 'depraved' things it was that they all thought they were doing, but at the moment, each had their own little hangups to be concerned with.

"I do not think of you as my-"

"Awe! That's so cute! Lax, you should have said that you thought that way!" Mirajane even bounced and, though he was still waiting on Bickslow's punchline, Freed was able to relax a bit, knowing his transgression against the woman was long forgotten. "That is so cute! You're so cute, dragon."

"I am not. And I don't think that way. I- Mirajane, cut it out."

But she'd rushed over to him then, to toss her arms around the man's broad shoulders, pressing kisses to his cheek. Lucky him, she was, as Freed had put it, disheveled, and hadn't gotten a chance to put on some lipstick yet, else his cheek would have been covered with it.

Oh, off days.

"Yes, please do," Ever remarked before, softly, into her fan she added, "less you start making that tape right here and now."

"Not you too," Elfman complained to which she only shrugged.

Bickslow, however, had had enough. He was gonna get his joke out, damn it, while it was still semi-relevant.

"As I was saying," the seith announced loudly, stopping them all as they were, "boss dicks Mirajane real good. Like, well, the boss. The god. Raijin!"

Bickslow's eyes gleamed behind the bars of his visor as he saw his idol sit up taller, in Mira's grasp, as if enjoying the praise...of an act that Bickslow had never seen...or even come close to experiencing from the man...but hopefully, eventually, would have the artwork on a movie lacrima to truly be struck in its awe inspiring greatness.

Yeah, Laxus was pretty high on himself that day.

"So," Bickslow said finally as the others all sat there, waiting, Freed and Ever wanting mostly to just get it over with, Elfman hoping they got off the topic of 'dicking' real soon, Lisanna in tense anticipation because her boyfriend was just, like, seriously the funniest person ever, and Mirajane and Laxus kind of lost in themselves then as the slayer's eyes glazed over in that way they only did when he was thinking about himself and the demon mostly just kept peppering his cheeks with kisses because she loved how much her dragon 'supposedly' loved their mismatched family. "The question then, Freed is this; who's the last person that you dicked good?"

Silence. Because that...wasn't funny. Even to Lisanna.

But only because there was more.

"Or should I say," the seith finished to the crickets he was getting from his (un)captivated audience, "who's the last person that dicked you good? Ha!"

Lisanna laughed, from the start of his sentence and didn't quite hear what it was. Just was supporting her man. The others, however, took it very differently.

Evergreen glared, Freed looked off in annoyance, Laxus finally keyed in on something other than how masterful he was at dicking Mirajane, while his demon let out a long sigh.

Elfman, however, spoke.

"That's it?" he asked. "That's your line? It's supposed to be funny?"

"No," Laxus grumbled as Bickslow bit his tongue to quell his snickers and Lisanna began to register what the man said, ceasing her laughter. "It was supposed to be offensive and shocking."

"That is comedy, boss. Guys." Bickslow grumbled this, not finding their lack of reaction entertaining. "It's gonna be my new thing. Lissy and I discussed it."

"We never discussed you insulting Freed," his girlfriend pointed out.

"In a roundabout way," he insisted. "You said that this dark and creepy stuff isn't working out anymore. I should go the other route! Rude! Offensive! Crude! Get highly sexual and highly anti-anything and everything!"

"Why...would that ever be a good idea?" Mirajane asked slowly. "I mean, ever?"

"It's a new character choice," Lisanna explained, sitting up straight then, as they were speaking on an idea she'd been spearheading. "A stylistic change in the middle of the game. A whole new Bickslow!"

"Go from a hard right to a hard left. Quick turn!" Bickslow stuck his tongue out again, feeling confident once more, regardless of the fact that the others were still giving him rather blank stares. "Will shock everyone!"

"Will you stop wearing your stupid getup?" Evergreen asked. "I mean, if you change out of that drab garb that you usually wear, I might support this."

Lisanna snorted as Bickslow only glared.

"I think you look great, Bicks."

"So do I, Lissy." Still with his tongue waving, he said, "And besides; Ever says rude stuff all the time."

Making a face, the woman repsonded, "I don't make jokes about Freed's sexuality."

"Why's he so embarrassed about getting dicked real good? Huh? I think it's way more offensive to find it offensive than it is to say something offensive."

Lisanna glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend. "I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded like a really hard hitting argument."

"I assure you," Ever replied, "it was not."

"I am so glad," Freed finally spoke up, "that we've all decided that what he said was even true."

"Ooh, man, Freed." Bickslow whistled. "It wasn't a good dicking?"

"I think he's implying that he's still the one doing the, uh, dicking," Lisanna giggled into her hand as Freed took to glaring at her then. "Like a top or whatever."

"Yah!" For some reason, that energized Elfman. "All real men are!"

Laxus, still watching over them all, furrowed his brow before tilting his head back to stare up at his demon. "Mirajane, why do they have to all be here?"

"Because, dragon, they're gonna help me decide on my costume."

"Can we get to that then? Please? I really don't want to hear about all their sexual histories." Then, ghosting his lips with a small grin, the slayer said, "I do, however, want to talk about recording ours for future generations-"

"Ew, are you saying you want our children to watch our-"

"No!" He made a face. "And what children?"

"The five we're gonna have."

"Come again?"

"Only on the video lacrima, right?"

"No, yeah, I get it now, Elf," Lisanna spoke then, making a face over at her sister and Laxus. "This is totally sickening."

"This is art, you moron," Laxus growled. "Or at least it will be when- Mira."

She only removed her arms from around his neck then as she stood up straight. "I have to finish cooking. It's the only way we can get started on the costumes."

"Yes, please," Ever insisted. "Move on."

"I still, for one," Freed spoke over the others, "would like to know where you all get off assuming to begin with that I cannot be interested in women."

It was a good way to get enough silence for Mira to slip away back to the stove anyways.

"Wait." Elfman frowned, glancing around. "Was that the joke? That Freed's gay?"

"That's what made it offensive," Lisanna explained as Ever only rolled her eyes. "Because...wait, what was the joke?"

"Not offensive. You guys are just pansies," Bickslow retorted.

"I thought you wanted to be offensive?" Evergreen asked. "Bickslow?"

"Well… It was just supposed to be shocking!"

"Stop yelling," Laxus finally said, speaking to someone other than his demon because it was needed. They'd all been so loud for the duration of the afternoon and it was starting to piss him off. "And why is it shocking?"

"Actually yeah, Bicks, I agree."

"Lissy, no."

Nodding, she said, "We all know that Freed's gay. Other than Elfman, apparently."

"I'd really appreciate it if you all stopped making assumptions off my life based on the very little that you ever care to learn about it," the rune mage remarked. "Please."

"Freed's not gay," Mira told them from the stove. "He's just sexually attracted to Laxus. And only Laxus. Jeez, guys, be mature."

Bickslow bit his tongue and Lisanna pressed her lips tightly together, as if she'd just tasted something sour.

Ever, however, was able to say, "I...don't think we'll all ever be mature enough, Mirajane, to say that one of our very close friends is attracted only to our significant other. Or is mentally ill more the term?"

"Mental illness is super offensive, Bicks," Lisanna finally got out, using that to take her mind off the fact that, apparently, Mira was not only alright with the fact, but so were Freed and Laxus, the former not denying it at all and the latter having gone back to his magazine. "Look into that."

"What's there to be mature about?" Laxus grumbled, so fully into his magazine once more that he didn't even look up. "I only fuck the demon. Freed knows that. He and Mira both like one another. A lot. I like having anyone around that worships me. Where is the conflict?"

Ever, not one to argue with her idol (not to mention the conversation was only increasingly becoming more awkward), looked off, but Lisanna had no innate fear of the man.

At all.

After all, he was her big brother.

"Yuck," she said loudly, sticking out her own tongue, getting Bickslow's still floating around babies to repeat the word. "Are you guys saying, like, you all sleep together or something? Because I need out of this group if so. Effective immediately."

"What?" came the exclaim of Elfman as he jumped up once more, making a face. Evergreen blushed, just from the thought, but only sat there silently as she considered all the implications.

"This is why I don't share my life. With any of you," Freed groaned as Bickslow snickered some more.

Mirajane, over at the stove, had frozen at the accusation, but relaxed some as she thought for a moment before saying, "You'll just have to watch the tape."

"All the hits today!" Bickslow remarked as Lisanna litearllly gagged and Laxus let out a long, loud sigh. "Mira's getting all the hits! You're on fire with these one liners. And to waste them on us. We're unworthy. We're-"

"No matter how much praise you shower on her," Evergreen mumbled softly, "you're not getting in on that."

Lisanna made a face at the other woman as Bickslow only snickered some more.

"Nah, I'll just take boss's word for it," he informed his female teammate as he wrapped his arms around Lisanna tighter. "Don't wanna impede on him and Freed, you know, tag teamin' the demon! Ha! I got hits too."

"You're about to get hit," Elfman growled as Lisanna, unable to decide if she should be disgusted or amused, pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a giggle. "You stupid little-"

"Be more open, Elf," Evergreen remarked.

"I'm plenty open! But you can't expect me to be okay with...with..."

"Something that's not going on?" Freed asked.

"Even the idea of that thing!" Elfman retorted.

Laxus only turned another page in the magazine before, clearly not finding any of the conversation entertaining, saying loudly, "Demon, I have read all over this damn thing and cannot find a single time that I'm mentioned."

"You're in there."

"Tell me where! What article? What is it about? You have to tell me!"

"Just keep looking."

"But-"

"They," Bickslow whispered to his girlfriend, "are clearly trying to misdirect the conversation to throw us all off the trail of your fine deduction, Lissy."

"Clearly."

"Hardly," Mirajane said, glancing over her shoulder again. "If Laxus and I were going to bring someone else into our happy relationship, believe me, we'd all have an open discussion about it."

"No," Laxus grumbled to her as, once more, he flipped the page. "We wouldn't."

"Well, I'd definitely gossip with Lisanna about it. And she tells Bickslow everything. And I'd talk with Freed about it. And he tells Ever everything. And somewhere in all that, it would make it back to Elfman, so yes, dragon, we would."

"Why do we all hang out together?" Elfman was walking off then, out of the kitchen. "Why?"

"Because we all love one another," Mirajane replied.

"A bit too much for three of us, eh, Lissy?" Bickslow whispered in his girlfriend's ear, to which he got a giggle and an elbow to his chest.

"Call me for lunch," was the muscular man's final reply over his shoulder as he disappeared into another part of the house.

"You know," Evergreen said slowly, glancing over at Freed then, dragging her eyes up and down him, as if assessing the man, "now that I think about it, the three of you are awfully close."

"I'm awfully close to a lot of people," Mira said, as if proud of that statement.

Snorting, Laxus said, "And I ain't close to no one, but the demon. Don't be fooled; if she hadn't made me, I wouldn't have allowed any of you to come over today."

"I live here," Lisanna reminded.

"I don't care."

"The sudden fascination you have all taken in my life is quite peculiar," Freed said with a frown. "Considering no one, but Mirajane was able to attend that party I had the other night."

"You invited all of your uppity, non-guild friends," Ever said with a roll her eyes. "You know I can't bring Elfman around those people."

"And I think you specifically asked me and Bicks not to come," Lisanna said.

"No," Freed replied. "I said not to come if you couldn't dress right and have a night that didn't involve getting sloppy drunk and spilling alcohol all over my floors."

"Which basically is not inviting us, bro," the seith told him to which his babies repeated the final word.

"And dragon was out of town on his job," Mirajane said with a nod. "But I had tons of fun."

"Oh, I bet you did," Evergreen said as she got to her feet. It was just to get a glass of water though, not to go after her boyfriend.

Because, honestly, the last thing that she wanted to do was go after her boyfriend.

Mira, not catching on, only nodded. "I did. It was really great. There was-"

"Demon, she's implying that you and Freed probably slept together during it," Laxus remarked. "Or something. And she better fucking stop picking on my woman before she gets her ass kicked outta here."

"W-Well," Ever tried, but Mirajane was talking then.

"We're still on that joke?" The barmaid made a face down at the pot she was stirring. "Honest, guys, Laxus isn't very good at sharing."

"At all," the man grumbled.

And that was final.

Until Lisanna spoke up.

Again.

She was killer that day.

Honestly, Bickslow was kind of impressed.

And turned on.

But he was rarely turned off by the youngest Strauss.

"I'm sorry, but Mira said that Freed's attracted to you, Laxus," Lisanna pointed out slowly, as if dumbly. "So...if it was the three of you, wouldn't the question be on if Mira was wiling to share you?"

"We are really going to have a full on discussion over this, aren't we?" Freed groaned. "You're just going to keep dragging it out until we do, aren't you?"

"What's there to drag out?" Laxus looked up and that time, he very pointedly gave Lisanna the deadliest glare in his arsenal. "Me, you, and Mirajane, Freed, are very mature and know that this is all just bullshit to pass the time. Ever, Bickslow, and Lisanna are very immature and think that sex is funny. That the idea of people partaking in sex is funny. Hell, they probably still find toilet humor hilarious."

"Don't lump me in with them," Evergreen complained as she returned to the table. "I didn't do anything."

"And hey, if a toilet could tell jokes," Bickslow added, "I bet you'd all find it entertaining."

"That's not… But if it was, you'd totally be right," Lisanna offered up with a grin.

"Sex with you guys is immature," Laxus went on. "You and Bickslow. You two are a cartoon. Nothing more. And Ever's with Elfman is laughable for all the wrong reasons. Me and the demon? When I dick her good-"

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that word," Mira mused from the stove. "That's how this all started."

"-it's fucking art," Laxus informed them. "Literally. It's the art of fucking and it's art that shows fucking and it's just fucking art in general. Every damn time. So no, of course I don't expect for you morons to understand. How could you?" Then, glancing at Freed, he said, "And for the record, I don't know what the hell he does. At all. Top, bottom, or in-between."

"Ew, how does that work?" Lisanna asked.

"Think about it for a moment," her boyfriend snickered.

"But I know that we're not going to talk about it anymore," Laxus went on, "if he doesn't want us to. You morons. If someone doesn't want to talk about something like that, you fucking don't."

"I didn't want to talk about you and Mirajane making a sex tape," Lisanna pointed out. "But here we are."

"You perpetuated it!"

"Right, Laxus, let's pretend like both you and me know what that means. Sure."

The slayer took in such a deep breath then that even Mirajane, over at the stove, held her breath, expecting an explosion.

Slowly though, he let it out before softly saying, "Enough about Freed. If we have to gang up on anyone, why not Elfboy? He's a freak in every single way."

"He is not wrong," Bickslow told them all. "I mean, did you guys see that shirt he was wearing! Laugh a minute, man!"

"The only reason I didn't make him change," Ever replied, "was because we were just coming here. But honestly, who dresses him?"

"You should be, you know," Lisanna said. "You're in charge of him now."

"How do you get to that conclusion?"

As they delved into that, Freed only breathed a soft, "Thank you," to his idol to which Laxus grunted.

"Didn't do it for you. No one gets to make my demon sound like a whore." Page flip. "Except me. When I make this tape. This masterpiece. I need you to get me a high quality recording lacrima, Freed. And a bunch of, you know, porn tapes. So that I can look at good angles and such. High class stuff. Artsy stuff."

Blushing a bit, the man shifted in his seat before saying, "I really don't think, Laxus, that Mirajane was serious about-"

"Don't question me."

Never would dream of it.

It took another thirty minutes before it was time to eat. And, once it was, Mirajane led them all into the living room, with their plates in hand, to watch her model costumes for them.

"You know," Bickslow said as they all fell into their usual seats, "Lissy and I already got our costumes picked out."

"You mean you're not going like a dork?" Ever asked. "I understand; you're already it every day."

"Your immaturity's showing," Bickslow replied, tongue stuck out. "Idiot."

"Oh, so is yours."

Their seats had never changed since the first time that Mirajane made them all gather together, in her living room, nearly two years ago. Back when Ever and Elfman were still pretending not to date, Mira and Laxus were mostly just hot and heavy every second of every day, and Bickslow and Lisanna were just really good friends.

Which is why Laxus took up his place in the recliner, where Mira more than once at their gatherings would snuggle up and none too slyly have a bit more physical contact than necessary, but alone for the moment, as she was clearly busy. Only for the moment, of course, because as soon as she had it all picked out, he'd be dragging her right down into his lap.

Lisanna and Bickslow sat on the loveseat, on the other side of the room, where they used to to laugh and chuckle with one another as they'd mostly make soft spoken jabs at her siblings and his friends who were so disgustingly in love it made them debate the amount of grossness constantly. Those days were long gone, of course, then, as they were just as disgustingly in love as the others, perhaps a bit more on the disgusting portion, and Lisanna sat practically in his lap always.

Elfman and Ever though, whether it be current time or back a few years ago when the Thunder Strauss Tribe was just something that Mira let circulate in her silly little mind and hadn't become cemented as the family within the already tight one that Fairy Tail was, showed the grossness of their love in a very different way; by sheer hatred. So, that first day they'd all been together, who else, but poor Freed would get shoved into the center of the couch, separating the two of them as if he were a buffer. Even that chilly October day, he found himself in the same position.

Which, honestly, after that horrid kitchen experience, he was somewhat indifferent to.

The day couldn't get any worse, after all.

"Okay," Mira sang as Bickslow and Ever resorted to just giving one another the stink eye. "I have four that I'm pretty confident I might wanna be, alright? You guys can vote or just give me feedback. I don't really care. I just like playing dress up!"

Laxus nodded. "Remember that for the tape, huh?"

"Gross," Bickslow mumbled in Lisanna's ear.

"Grosser," she replied.

Before, together, they could finish though, Elfman carped, "Grossest. We get it. You guys do that constantly. It's not cute; it's annoying."

Bickslow only blinked, having taken off his visor, before saying, "I will legit never do that again. He's ruined it. He's tainted it."

"Thanks a lot, Elf," Lisanna huffed. "You ruin everything."

"Shuddup," Laxus told them all, settling into his chair. "Let me watch my demon."

"Yes, Mirajane, let's begin." Ever poked disappointingly at her food, wishing to get the entire thing over with. "The sooner we begin, the sooner it ends."

Mira's costumes were of little interest to anyone other than Laxus, it seemed, who thought they were all hot.

Mainly because they consisted of very little material and lots of skin.

Laxus liked his demon the most as the nurse.

But that demon costume.

And oh! Damn! She had this this train conductor costume which, admittedly, didn't sound hot, but it was a like the shirt a conductor would wear, but cut with this tight ass skirt and that hat and just…

Needless to say, Laxus was going to be putting his new favorite vocabulary word to use that night.

Hehe.

Lisanna, however, was impressed by something else.

"You sure are using tons of magic, sis," she remarked once after Mirajane transformed into the next outfit. "I mean, I'm assuming that you're not getting these out of a reequip space, but rather just saw them and are now transforming into them? That takes up a lot of magic, doesn't it?"

"No more than she'd waste on one of her and Laxus' typical filming days, I'm sure," Ever muttered to Freed who, annoyed with her, refused to give her a glance. Laxus, however, heard this with his dragon hearing and sent the woman a cold stare.

It was enough to get Evergreen focused back into her food.

"Not really," Mira said , doing a little twirl to show off her kitty costume that Lisanna thought looked far too close to her own transformation. It was black, of course, being Halloween, instead of Lisanna's white, but she was definitely considering some copyright infringement. But fair usage and all…. Clawing at the air, showing off the little paw-esque gloves she was wearing, Mira said, "I make a pretty fetching kitty, don't I? Get it?"

"Oh, I'm getting it all, demon," Laxus said around the rice in his mouth. "Every bit."

"Nasty," Lisanna whispered to Bickslow.

To which he replied, "Nastier."

"Nastiest," they finished together.

Then, with a grin, they both let out a breath.

There.

All better.

Laxus was so into everything...until Mirajane transformed into her favorite.

"So? What do you think?"

"I like it," Elfman said loudly, before anyone else could say anything. "In fact, I-"

"Why are you a pumpkin?" Laxus growled as his girlfriend stood there, literally, in a big orange pumpking outfit that litearlly was the least revealing thing in the damn world. "Mirajane? What is this? A joke? Toddlers wear this kind of shit. You-"

"Uh, Laxus, she's not a pumpkin." Lisanna bounced with a giggle. "She's a jack-o-lantern!"

That was true enough, he had to give her that On the front of the orange monstrosity were two yellow triangles and a jagged grin.

"Great. A jack-o-lantern. Well, I vote no." He even made a face. "Now, I was really feeling that sexy vampire number you were-"

"I wasn't really feeling any of these, personally." Bickslow shook his head. "Now me and Lissy's costumes-"

"What the hell are they?" Freed finally gave in. "Bickslow? Since you clearly want to tell us-"

"Well, if you must know," he said, sitting up taller, "Lissy's gonna wear something real revealing, right? Real alluring."

"No," Elfman and Laxus said at the same time, the latter adding, "she's fucking not."

Ignoring that, Bickslow said, "And when guys start to hit on her because, I mean, how could they not, she'll go, "Kiss my ass," right? And then I'll pop up and be dressed as a donkey! Ha! All the hit!"

"But I'm the one that you're all outing," Freed said with a roll of his eyes. "When he's hoping to trick men into kissing him."

Bickslow, undeterred, only said, "Super funny."

"Maybe you guys can just forgo that whole charade," Ever sighed, "and get one of those two people donkey costumes and just go as one big ass. Because, you know, you kind of are."

"I've always wondered about how those work, actually," Bickslow admitted. "If you're the butt, is your face just in the other persons, like, legit butt or-"

"Oh, the conversations we have in this house." Freed shook his head. "What a shame it would be if these ever came to an end."

"You're not going as a pumpkin, demon, is the point," Laxus said, bringing the conversation back to where it needed to be. "You're going as a train conductor. Or that little sex kitten thing. Or just don't go to this stupid thing at all and stay home with me."

"You're going, mister," she said as she transformed back into what she'd been wearing that day. "And I have to go; I'm the bartender on duty."

"Make Lisanna do it."

The youngest Strauss only made a face. "Ew, who works anymore? When you have a big brother bringing home the big jewels to take care of you?"

Elfman, finally, was on a topic he enjoyed. Laughing for the first time that entire day, he sat his plate in his lap before flexing, nearly hitting poor Freed in the head when he jerked his arm up.

"Ha, yeah you do, sis!" the muscular man remarked. "You have the toughest big brother around! The manliest man-"

"Elf, she's talk about Laxus, I think," Mira said with a slight frown as, done with her fashion show, she went to drop into the man in question's lap, him setting his plate on the little table beside the chair to accommodate this. "I mean-"

"Oh, no, I definitely was. Sorry, Elf." Lisanna gave him her best sad eyes. "But Laxus is the highest roller in this house, you know."

"Damn right I am." He didn't even care about the brother thing at the moment; if they were bragging him up, he'd be all their big brother.

In a way, honestly, he kind of was.

"Then why," Elfman carped, annoyed now that this had been revealed, "can't he buy his girlfriend some costumes that cover her damn stomach?"

"I didn't buy them, nimrod, or did you miss the part where Lisanna mentioned her transforming into them?"

"Be nice, dragon." Mirajane was turned in his lap, so that she could press kisses to his cheek again. Laxus only leaned back, kicking out the foot rest, so that Mira could lay more fully against him. They were the least bashful, after all, out of all of them. "Elf is your brother too."

Bleh.

Still, he had the demon right where he wanted her, a cold beer and food on the side table, and was getting to think about his future, erm, art he would be making with his woman.

Laxus was pretty set, honestly.

The others were easy to block out.

"If we're all casting votes, Mirajane," Freed spoke up then, "I too did not find one that I enjoyed."

"Well, other than someone dressing up as Laxus," Lisanna said mostly to Bickslow, but loud enough (and purposely so) that they all heard, "I don't see what he would like."

Freed, finally, turned to glare over at them and say simply, "Why are you bothering me today? Laxus told you to just bother Elfman like usual."

"Hey," the muscular man started to say. "Why-"

"Oh, shut up," the man's girlfriend said with a roll her eyes. "You know that's how things usually go."

"Maybe," Lisanna said with just as annoyed a glare as the one the rune mage was sending her way, "if someone had allowed us to go to their party-"

"I asked you to go!" Freed was getting a bit flustered. "But I told you that it was going to be a very nice dinner with some of my friends that are not perhaps used to your behaviors and to, please, behave. How was that asking too much?"

"Because you know we can't behave." Bickslow scoffed. "Not if we're together."

Nodding, Lisanna said, "We feed off one another. We're at our best when together."

"Worst," Ever said to which, honestly, everyone other than Lisanna and Bickslow nodded to.

"Better together," Bickslow's dolls sang, floating around the pair's head. "Better together."

"You either accept us as we are," Lisanna started.

"Or not at all," Bickslow finished.

"And choose," Laxus told them with a glare, annoyed that they were all still even there. He wanted some recliner sex and he wanted it then. Tilting his neck so that he could see them all he said, "If someone doesn't want you around, if you were really their friend, you'd take the hint and get the fuck out."

"No more cursing today, dragon." Mira pushed his head as the others, clearly not understanding the deeper meaning in Laxus' words, didn't respond to them in the slightest.

Sigh.

Mira surprised him when, suddenly, she bounced a bit in his lap as she said, "Ooh, but that is a good idea though."

"What is?" Freed asked. "Us all leaving?"

So they did realize what Laxus was implying. Or at least one of them.

Before he could question why, then, they weren't all marching out with their orders to leave them the eff alone, Mirajane said, "No. The other thing. About me dressing up as Laxus."

Making a face, Lisanna said, "No, Mira, I think you missed the joke."

"I didn't find the joke funny, but yes, I got it, Lisanna." To her slayer's dismay, Mirajane pushed up then, from his lap, and rushed off. "I'll be back."

"What's she doin'? Boss?" Bickslow asked with a frown.

"The fu- freak should I know?" Laxus glared after his girlfriend before, suddenly, something hit him. "Oh, no. Please, Mira, don't-"

"I know what she's doing," Lisanna said with a grin. "Obviously, Bicks, she's gonna go do just what Freed said."

"What? Dress up as… Oh. Oh, man. I'd only heard about you guys doing this," the man said with a bright grin. "Once. A long time ago. You still do it? Damn."

"Oh." Ever made a face. "She's gonna...dress up as you...Laxus. Oh, no. I can't. We won't be able to unsee this."

"You morons are the reason she's doing it," the slayer grumbled. "If you had all just agreed that she should be the conductor- Or no, better yet, if you had all just pretended to have plans today-"

"And miss out on a free meal?" Bickslow snorted. "Boss, do you know me at all?"

"Too well," he grumbled as his eyes slipped shut. "And that goes for all of you."

It didn't take Mirajane long to come out there in, of course, Laxus' fluffy coat, one of his purple shirts, and, obviously, some of his black pants, a belt wrapped tightly at her waist to keep them up. She had his headphones too, latched to her ears and, maybe, any other time, Laxus would have found this all cute, but at the moment he was annoyed and just, once more, wished the day would end.

"Wow! Mira! Spot on Laxus impersonation, if I do say so myself," Bickslow said with a nod as Lisanna only giggled.

Cigar dangling from her mouth, Mira said around it, "Well, I do get some pretty good looks at him, but thanks all the same."

"Don't you waste that cigar, woman," was all her dragon warned as he peeked an eye open. "You hear me?"

"I won't cut it."

"Better not."

"Sorry if I am misinformed," Freed said then as he glanced the woman over, "but Mirajane, you have the power to fully transform into Laxus. Why would you ever...do this?"

"Because, silly," she giggled, "if I transform into him, I've just become Laxus. Like this, it's me, but as Laxus. Understand?"

"I don't think anyone understands you, woman, no," Laxus answered. "But it's for the best."

"You look manlier as yourself, to me," Elfman grumbled, looking off. "But...I do enjoy the lack of skin showing."

Nodding, Lisanna said, "You should definitely go as Laxus, Mirajane. And you should talk like him too. In that weird way he says things."

"I don't say things weird, you idiot," Laxus grumbled. "You all say things weird."

"Lax, you can talk a bit like an old man sometimes," Mirajane said slowly.

"I do not."

"And you grunt, like, way too much," Lisanna added. "When you're annoyed."

"And boss is always annoyed."

"Shut up, Bickslow," Laxus growled. It was one thing, after all for the demon to rag on him and a complete other when Lisanna did it, but the rest of those morons were his subjects; they weren't allowed to do so.

Except Elfman.

He wasn't a subject.

He was just someone that Laxus was subjected to dealing with against his will.

"I think you grunt the appropriate amount, Laxus," Freed offered, just as Evergreen was taking a sip of her drink. Which wouldn't have been so bad, had Lisanna not came in with a quip of her own.

"Yeah, I bet you do like those grunts."

"Enough." And that came from Mirajane, standing before them, dressed as Laxus. It was quite odd, to say the least. Looking over at her sister and the chuckling Bickslow, she said simply, "What if Freed promises to invite you to his next party? No exceptions? Then will you guys chill?"

"I'm always chill," Bickslow informed her. "Dark, funny, or offensive; all of my incarnations are chill."

"Incarnations," Ever remarked. "You mean you changing however your stupid girlfriend asks you to?"

"Or however it fits the plot of whatever scheme they have cooked up," Elfman grumbled.

"But, Mirajane," the seith went on, ignoring the others, "if you're asking if an invite to the next ritzy gathering at Freed's place will get us to refocus our attacks on Elfman and Evergreen-"

"When did I get added in this?" the stone woman complained. But, honestly, she was more in than Elfman anyways.

Honestly.

"-then absolutely." Bickslow elbowed his girlfriend gently. "Hear that, Lissy? We're going to the next big gathering at Freed's place."

"I like it there, but that big stain on the carpet in the living room is a bit-"

"I got that cleaned," Freed spoke over the youngest Strauss. "And you two are the reason it was there."

"You were the one that kept plying us with wine," she retorted.

"I did not! No one else was even drinking that night! You just showed up with alcohol and-"

"Has everyone agreed that Mirajane should just be me for Halloween?" Laxus asked, finally, exasperated by them all. When the others didn't answer, because they were honestly so sidetracked by, well, the thousands of things all going on at once in that place, the slayer answered for them. "Great. Mira, be me. Now everyone get the eff out."

It didn't happen quite as fast as Laxus would have liked. They were all still eating, after all, but after about twenty more minutes of mindless conversation, he did get them out of there. Elfman was going training, Ever was not going to watch him train, as she put it, but might happen upon the same location while training herself, Lisanna had to go work because her big brother Laxus was annoyed with her, it seemed, that week and wasn't so nice with giving her jewels for dinner (he wasn't happy enough with her, honestly, and thought that Kinana deserved a break up at the hall anyhow) that night, which she then would get to spend at the guild with Bickslow, obviously, tagging along, and Freed, well, he was mostly concerned with getting out of the house without running into Mira's stupid pooch.

When it was finally just the demon and the dragon once more, Laxus was a bit dismayed to find them spend the start of that time together in the kitchen, but knew if Mirajane got the dishes done then, they'd have the rest of the night to themselves.

And considering his woman got him so hot, with those little costume changes, he figured they'd probably need the whole night.

"Mmmm," Mirajane giggled when, finally, they found themselves in her bedroom, with the door shut even though they were alone, and really with no plans of leaving again until he got hungry later.

Because he would get hungry later.

"What?" Laxus grinned in the way he only would when they were alone as he fell into the bed as well. "Demon?"

"Just thinkin'."

"About?"

"You, obviously."

"Obviously."

"And that piece of art that you wanna create."

"Babe, it's art whether we're recording or not." She was lying next to him and, turning to lean over her, Laxus stared down into her big blue eyes. Grinning, he said, "Are you serious about this though? As serious as I am?"

"How serious are you?"

"I asked you first."

"I don't think sex is ever anything be bashful about, no," Mirajane said with a shake of her head as he fell, once more, onto his back. "I mean, what is greater than that? You know?"

"It'll be so tasteful, too because, as you know, I have a high quality for such things."

"No, Laxus, I really don't know how you enjoy your porn. I really don't even know where to get those."

"Every place that sells regular movies for your lacrima sells 'em, Mirajane. Duh."

"Duh."

Turning his head to the side to stare at her, he said with a grin, "It'd really fuck 'em all up, if we really did it, wouldn't it?"

"Not if they already think that we're having threesomes. With people they know, no less."

"That was weird," he admitted. "And you weren't too much help during it all."

"I was helping Freed."

"How? By perpetuating-"

"Okay, I'm with Lisanna; do you really know what that word means?"

"I'm using it correctly, ain't I?"

"How would I ever know?"

His laugh was deep then as he said, "You never told me what that magazine said about me either."

"Oh, dragon, you were never in there."

"What? Mira-"

"I needed to give you something to do," she explained as she reached over to tickle at his chin gently. "Else you'd have fought with the others and caused problems."

"They caused their own problems!"

"But no one got hurt." Then she paused. "Other than maybe Elf's feelings...and Freed's...and mine too, a little bit, because it was mean how he commented on what I was wearing. Don't you think? I shouldn't have to get all dressed up just to cook them food. Should I?"

"Of course not, demon. They're all morons. Stupid, idiotic morons."

"And did anyone stay to do the dishes? No."

"We treat them too well."

"We really do." Leaving her hand against his chin, she drug her thumb up a bit to press against his bottom lip before, with a sly smile, asking, "So what costume was it that you liked? Dragon? The most?"

"Conductor. Definitely."

"Can you be my train?"

"Mmmm. Fuck yeah."

Giggling, she shifted again, so that it was her turn to be over him, settling over his waist quite easily. As she leaned down, she pressed her hands against his shoulders, grinning all the while.

"I'm actually kinda surprised at you," she breathed as his hands moved to push up his purple shirt she still was sporting. "Dragon."

"Oh yeah? 'bout what?"

"For someone who doesn't like to share," she said, repeating her claim to Lisanna earlier, "you sure seem fine with the idea of us, like, making a sex tape and passing it around for other people to see."

Laxus blinked. Then he frowned.

He'd been so enthralled with the idea of adoration for his excellent techniques between the sheets (or above them) that never once did it occur to him that Mirajane played a part in that other than, just like, looking hot or whatever.

People would be looking at her.

His demon.

People they knew, obviously, as those would be the scrubs that he'd be passing it out to. Or at least secretly circulating to from behind the scenes (no need to come off as a show off).

But...the idea of guys he knew...or just other guys in general...watching his demon...for some reason didn't make his chest swell with pride like hers clearly did over the idea of it happen to him (or lust; hers was more the erotica concept behind it), but rather Laxus felt himself overcome with...possessiveness.

"D-Demon, we're just kidding about this all, right?" His hands stilled beneath her shirt, his fingers cool against her flesh. "You know, just all a joke?"

"Oh, baby, are you feeling inadequate?"

"Excuse me?"

"Because if you are-"

"I've never been inadequate in any way on any day for any thing. Ever. You hear me?"

"I'm Mira, silly. Not Ever."

"Demon-"

"You say her name in here, when we're like this, and you'll get them thinking that she's in on things too. And that would be a bit odd, admittedly. Even for me." Mira's grin was wide. "She is kind of my brother's girlfriend, you know."

Laxus just stared though. "I just want to know if you're serious about...that. The recording-"

"If you are, sure." She even shrugged, as if he were asking something simple, like what flavor ice cream she wanted. "I'm actually a bit proud of you."

He felt sick. Damn it. She'd trapped him. She knew what that statement did to him.

Take out the trash?

Proud.

Clean up the bathroom after destroying it?

Proud.

Wipe his shoes off before coming into the house?

Proud.

It made him blush every time, when she'd say it. Even if her reasons were typically silly and childish.

And yes, ninety percent of them involved him cleaning up after himself.

So?

"You don't say?" he asked as they were shifted again, by Mirajane once more, her wrapping her arms around his neck and falling to the side, letting him roll atop her. She liked him there best, she said a lot, and he wasn't completely opposed to it either. "Demon?"

"I think it's very sexy and attractive that you don't act like some giggling teenage boy over something like it. That you're not...Bickslow or Elfman. That you're a man about things."

Shit, she had no idea how much of a teenage boy he really could be, when he wasn't playing it cool in front of the others. No idea.

"Yeah. A man," he repeated slowly. "So manly."

"Sex isn't something to be ashamed of or giggle about."

"Mmmm."

"And-"

"Mira, you know...I… I mean..."

"I know you're not really into it, dragon." She leaned up to nuzzle her cheek against his. "You big talker."

"Well, I mean, I'm definitely behind the concept of watching me and you on film, fucking, yeah, but sharing it-"

"How would it get you hot though? Just watching us? I mean-"

"Babe, you have no idea what even the thought of getting to be a third person and just watch me fuck the shit outta you does to me."

"Well, Freed, I think, was coming into play in that, but-"

"Don't ruin this. You've already ruined my dream of passing around how masterful I am at fucking-"

"What happened to no cursing?"

"-but don't ruin the actual thing."

Tightening an arm around his neck, she pulled him closer before saying, "Don't ruin the actual art?"

"Yeah," he breathed as her other hand slipped between the two of them to work on his gym shorts. "The art."

"The dicking down?"

And he laughed, into her ear as he whispered, "That's gonna be my new thing. Just so you know."

"And I'll be reprimanding you every time you use it in public. Just so you know."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

#Miraxus #Bixanna #Elfever #Freed Justine #Fairy Tail #Thunder God Tribe #Thunder Legion #Thunder Strauss Tribe

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bonniexbellefleur · 7 years

Text

The Winner Takes It All // self-para

“For someone who moved to a town where actual monsters could be your next door neighbor, you make it too easy for little old me to walk through the front entrance all willy nilly.” That familiar voice tingled the confines of Charles’ memory and caused his shoulders to tense the minute he stepped into the living room. Eyes cast to the redhead seated on his couch with legs crossed, natural hunter instinct immediately kicking in. “Bonnie,” Charles spoke through gritted teeth as he stepped further into the room. “Not that it’s wonderful having someone drop by uninvited while I’m away, but I am not within my chipper mood to entertain visitors today.”

Bonnie gave the man a cheery smile with a shrug of her shoulders. “I won’t take up too much of your time, Charles, this isn’t truly a social call. If it was, well...let’s just say I would have ripped those inconvenient clothes to shreds on my way to jumping your bones the second you walked through that door.” The hunter gave her a look, throwing her his best deadpan snark, “Okay, great, I’m so glad I know that.” He honestly didn’t know what it was about the Bellefleur cousins and their obsession with sex, whether Bonnie was only joking or not being the main question. Charles couldn’t say for certain if that was the case, but he had a spare silver switchblade in his pocket should the vampire look to find out. “What do you want?”

“You have to ruin the moment, Sinclair?” Bonnie sighed dramatically and pushed herself to her feet, taking a few steps closer to the man as Charles took the same amount backwards. “Can’t we take our time, drink some bourbon, have a hot night of passion by a glowing fire?” Sensing his need for space, Bon pouted and remained where she was. “This is business, Charles, it’s about that baby bouncing boy you and your fam lost about four months ago. I find it truly tragic your fuck buddy cop hasn’t told you shit, honestly, it’s not a surprise. She seems to shut down and push anyone away when the going gets tough emotionally.”

“Don’t talk about Rebekah in that way.” Charles narrowed his gaze at the woman in a suspicious glare, something telling him Bonnie knew more than she let on. “If you have a point rubbing my son’s death in my face, make it, or the door’s that way. I already spent too much of my goddamn time mourning Henry and worrying over my kids’ safety. I don’t need your fucking smug ass coming here and defiling my boy’s memory.” The redhead scoffed at this, nevertheless, allowing the silence to grow at an alarming rate. If Charles was going to be a grumpygills and lose his patience just like Raphael had, which it was clear from the man’s death glare that he was, he would have to learn how to wait for the biggest news he’d ever receive. It could’ve been thirty seconds or a whole minute that passed, it mattered not. Bonnie was the one to finally break it. “Henry’s alive, surprise!” She came out right with it in an explosion of misplaced excitement. Well...certainly misplaced for the elder man. Bonnie continued before there was time for interruptions. “Well, not technically alive, but he isn’t worm food six feet under. I’ll give it to you in a nutshell before I have to scram, though, but it goes like this: Eloise had a charming pet progeny, your dearest darling Anna, I wanted what she had, and that’s exactly what I did. I gave myself my own Sinclair in the handsome form of your son. Trust me, it hasn’t been easy keeping him tame for four fucking months, but I say I’m proud of myself. Totally awesome news, right?”

Charles did not move, he did not blink, he did not even breathe during the entirety of this vampire’s rant. Just stared. Just simply stared while his brain attempted to catch up with the meaning behind the words. He wouldn’t make the accusations that she was lying for the sick enjoyment of the world’s cruelest joke. She was a Bellefleur, after all, no matter Bonnie’s personal feelings towards her cousin. “You bitch...” He spoke in an infuriated hushed tone, “You fucking bitch...” Charles advanced towards her with a slow stride, blinding rage boiling with each step he took. “For four months, for four fucking months, you put us all in a state of Hell. Making Henry’s death look like an accident or some kind of suicide, pushing his car off the cliff with some poor asshole stuck inside, and you’re telling me,” As Charles spoke, his tone rose to a deafening shout, “that this was all about YOUR SENSELESS VENDETTA?!”

Bonnie lifted a hand to her ear and made a mocking spectacle with an overdramatic wince. “Goddamn, Charles Sinclair, no need for a shouting match. Where’s the gratitude, huh? I gave you back the one thing that was making your other two kiddies lose their minds. Of course, Raph doesn’t have a liver to destroy and Anna will wallow at her murderous actions, but now they’ll see it was a waste of precious time.”

“You expect me to show you gratitude after kidnapping and turning my son against his will while his loved ones believed he suffered a painfully agonizing death? Well, it looks like he really did.” The redhead smirked, a look Charles really needed to smack from her expression more than literally anything. “Get out.”

Bonnie pouted yet again. “Oh, come on, Charles, we-” The man cut her off. “Get. Out.” Still, she did not budge even as Charles shouted at her. “GET OUT!” The woman stood standing where she was for a moment, a smile clear on her lips as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. “Oh, and Bonnie,” His voice halted the vampire within her tracks, “I hope you enjoy these last moments of glory alive while you can. If neither of my family manage to kill you, Gideon certainly will. Undying devotion can bring the fiercest rage of them all and make the very earth beneath your boots quake. Now, imagine that rage in a dark witch lover.” Bon leered at his parting words yet disregarding them nonetheless as she opened the door and vanished from Charles’ abode.

______

After her enlightening conversation with Charles, his threats gave her food for thought. Bonnie wasn’t an idiot, of course she knew revealing the identify of who changed Henry Sinclair and faked his death as an accident would place a target on her back. She could’ve kept it secret and stewed with the satisfaction, but one slip from Henry’s lips would have cut her infamy short before she would be given a chance to brag. Bonnie indulged in the seven deadly sins on a daily basis and she had a stubborn determination not to let any of them become her untimely downfall.

Slipping into Eloise’s house was as easy as Charles’, perhaps, easier. Bonnie held a small inking of a doubt she wouldn’t be caught by the two vampires living there considering the Sinclair home only contained a human owner, however, she had nothing to fear. It appeared neither Eloise or Tiberius were nowhere to be found, their current location being anyone’s guess and not really her concern at the moment. Bonnie glided down the steps to the basement just as she did that previous day only there wasn’t anyone guarding the little vampire locked away for her crimes. In truth, she commended Anna for letting loose and having her fun like a typical teenage rebel. Something she could’ve encouraged before Anna was placed in this unfortunate prison. With a smirk that can make the slimiest heathen’s skin crawl, Bonnie pushed open the door.

The youngest Sinclair was not having an enjoyable time. She was hungry, she was weak due to the hunger, but she believed it is what she deserved for killing those people senselessly without considering the consequences. All day and through the night, she heard muffled voices from beyond that door, some recognizable and others not. At some point, Anna swore she heard her father’s, but even his faded as well. Then...there was silence. Complete and utter silence. She couldn’t tell how long she was down there without sunlight or the moon to give her any indications. Still, Anna remained slumped against the wall, pressing her entire body against the surface in a cowering position. The creaking of the metal door scraping against the concrete like nails on a chalkboard, though, immediately snapped her head in that direction and she quickly rose to her feet while using the wall for support. “T-Tiberius, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I promise I won’t-”

Bonnie’s soft laugh brought the girl’s apologies to an abrupt end as she stepped into the only dim light hanging from the ceiling. “Oh, Tibs did a real number on you, didn’t he?” She whistled. “Damn, Anna, where’s the sharp Sinclair I knew before because she is certainly not the cowering, dirty, and disgustingly smelly girl standing before me.” Anna took a step forward, her starvation carrying her on somewhat shaky legs. “Bonnie? What are you doing here?”

The redhead swept her gaze along the young vampire’s frame, taking in her extremely disheveled appearance for a pregnant pause. Bonnie mulled over the choice of bringing a blood bag for mercy’s sake and ruining Anna’s intervention in turn, but she couldn’t risk being a literal magnet for one very hungry vampire. “I dropped by your daddy’s house and gave him some very interesting news earlier today and just thought what kind of person would I be if I did not share that courtesy with you? I know how hard you’ve been hit with your brother’s death, Anna.” Bonnie moved closer until she was practically circling the girl like a hawk surveying prey. Anna followed her with her exhausted gaze as the vampire continued another long spiel, “It’s tragically heartbreaking how I had to watch your family shatter at the seams. Charles needing his children as a crutch, Raphael drinking every liquor store he could find, and then there’s you. Anna Sinclair, the new vampire, the youngest of the clan trying so hard to remain strong when she finally grew tired of it and murdered any human she could get her hands on. Anna Sinclair, the lost little girl, under lock and key as punishment for her actions. Frightened, alone, flinching at every small sound. Fearing the coven leader who placed her here. You never were going to be the same after this, sugar, and you’d be a fool to think you would be.” Bonnie finally ceased circling the brunette and stood directly in front of her. “I wonder how Henry is going to feel once he discovers his baby sister slaughtered the innocent.”

Anna kept her silence while Bonnie rambled on, never truly seeing the similarities between her and Eloise until exposed to their infamously endless rants. Anything that reached her ears wasn’t new for Anna, she had plenty of spare time on her hands to consider her current state of mind and grew ashamed at the feebleness now present with the girl. A Sinclair persevered, a Sinclair did not cower in the face of fear. They stood tall with a stiff upper lip and faced the enemy armed with their classic sarcasm and bite. She, however, wasn’t a Sinclair once she looked in a mirror. She was a scared, seventeen year old girl slapped with a life she never once asked for. “What are you talking about? He’s never going to know. Henry’s dead, okay, he’s dead. And he’s not coming back.”

Bonnie waved a finger and clicked her tongue in a tsking manner. “Oh, how wrong you are, Anna love, how wrong you are. Can I tell you a story? Let me tell you a story.” The older woman began pacing the confines of the room, gaze running along the instruments her cousin used for torturing purposes. If she were not there for important business, Bonnie would have tried a few of them on Anna for fun. “Even as humans, Ellie had everything despite our same social status and my sister felt the same exact way. We were very close, Margaret and I, much like you and Raphael. Eloise knew how much my sister fancied William and she married him anyway. The night she discovered Margaret tangled in the sheets with her husband, she brutally killed them both. You know the fury better than anyone, Anna, when you lose a sibling. It leaves you hollow and it leaves you empty. I used that rage, found a vampire willing to turn me, and set on a path for vengeance. And when I come to this bumfuck town, it’s deja vu. Eloise had everything. A hot boy toy, a torturing queen reputation that couldn’t be beat, and a stolen girl she turned to stir up trouble. Needless to say, jealousy can become a terribly delightful motivation.” She hummed lightly, “I knew I needed a Sinclair and Henry was ripe for the picking.” Bonnie stood where she was as her gaze settled on the girl’s brown hues, “I kidnapped your brother. I tortured him, turned him, and locked him away for a rainy day. That body in the car you thought was Hen? A decoy. A little compulsion here, a little persuasion there, and it was the perfect plan.”

“What?” Anna didn’t have trouble understanding a single statement, but she swore the hunger must’ve twisted the meanings in a cruel way to make her believe Henry was actually alive. In vampire form, but not stuck in a coffin six feet below the dirt. Whoever was resting in that grave was not her brother, but a complete stranger. “You’re lying to me. Henry can’t-” She felt the same way she had when Rebekah told her he was gone. Confused, devastated, stuck in a nightmare she could not wake up from. “He can’t be just...”

Bonnie nodded several times, hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried, dollface. Do you want to know what the real kicker is, though? You sliced and diced and tore out throats without a care who saw in the name of your older brother.” Anna slowly backed away as the panic set in, despair clutching at her throat with the intention to suffocate her. “No...” The woman continued on, “You committed unspeakable murder without your humanity switch flipped off and allowed the guilt to build and build and build as much as it could until it was the only damn thing you were left with.”

“No....Please....please stop...” The tears streaked the girl’s cheeks as she choked out a gut-wrenching sob she couldn’t contain.

“And would you care to find out what that means? You succumbed to the monster deep within you for absolutely nothing. Henry lives his immortal life as a vampire hating you. Your brother and father will look at you with such disgust and hatred, Eloise and Tibs will look with disappointment.” Bonnie began walking backwards in the direction of the door. “You have no one, Anna Sinclair, you are nothing. Remember that during your meaningless existence.” And then the redhead vanished.

The girl stared off in the direction of the door, having backed herself into the wall at this point with an uncontrollable sobbing she hadn’t done since Raphael’s death at Dante’s hands. Her legs couldn’t contain her entire body weight and she suddenly collapsed to the floor with a pitiful whimper. Nothing, it was all for nothing. She should’ve been joyous Henry was for the lack of a better term alive, albeit a vampire doomed to his sister’s fate. The humans whose full lives she cut short fell at the actions of not a grieving vampire, but a loathing monster...and she would have to face that.

Anna sucked in a deep breath and released it in an agonizing scream loud enough for the entire population of Killgrove Hills to hear.

The trouble is...

No one would be listening.

#the winner takes it all #charles #anna #self para #FUCKING BROBS #FUCKING BONNIE

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